"DEVIL-MAY-CARE."

Star (Christchurch), Issue 11508, 2 October 1915, Page 3

"DEVIL-MAY-CARE."

(By COUNTRY GIRL.) (ALX KIGHTS KeSKRVJEU.) "Man dieu! what luck, what cursed luck," growled Geueral Du Croy. as he i sat nursing his shattered arm in the j chateau on the hill. "To sit here day j ~ad night listening to the pounding of the guns, and vet not be able to strike | a blow for-my beloved country. Bah!" and the old man groaned aloud, as he pulled ou£ some tattered plans and studied them slowly. Slowly the whole picture came before his tired, pain-strained eyes—all the splendid majesty of war was set on a M»age before him- _ ~ , It was glorious! It was intoxicating! He saw again the lines of troops in their retreat and advance, batteries and charges shrouded in shrapnel smoke. What hosts of guns the Germans seemed to have—they appeared to be sowing the face of the earth with .shells, he mused, and he had had so little time, only a tew short weeks of commanding not one. but many battles. Manoeuvring troops across the streams and open places, seeking the cover of forests, with aeroplanes unable to learn how many of the enemy were, hidden in the forests on his ] front—making his movements correspond with those of the divisions on his right and left "What n- life of excitement it bad been till—a fragment of a Prussian shell had shattered his right- arm. One comfort ho had and that was, the enemy had not gained the position that they so ardenly desired. No, it took more than artillery to beat back his brave troops in a country of rolling hills, fenceless fields, cut by many streams, and set amid thick woods, where infantry on a bank, or at a forest edge kept their rifle barrels cool til! the charge developed into the open. "What would T not give," he muttered'aloud, "to be able again to join in the fight, to he in the infernal din made by the rattle of rifles and machine guns, and the bursting shells, leading my countrymen on to victory?" '• Thank le bon Dieu for our brave British Allies; how strong, they are, how brave and dashing and devibmayca.iv. Devil-may-care! "Why, that is what I used to call the young Irishman, O'Callaghan,,;wbo fell so madly in love with my little Heline. If I could have foreseen this I would not harve been s>o hard on them; —but my love for' Britain was not then born, and I hated all belonging to it." And the old general shook his head regretfully. Heline's marriage with her cousin, which he had arranged, had turned out very badly. He had not even been faithful to her. and had died, by hi.-, own hand, three years after marriage. The general sighed, a-s he thought of his only daughter and her little -son. He remembered that he bad not beard from her since the outbreak of the war, and it had troubled him sore* ly these last few days. ' Was she safe? An odd fear gripped him ; he was old and weak, and the enemy were everywhere. Perhaps she had gone to her aunt's cbateaa in Paris—ah, happy thought, that was where she surely would be, and tlvo thought eased the pain at his heart.

That Heliue was unhappy lie knew, and cursed himself more times a, day than hj/ ?ared to count, that he had comfe, between her and Dovil-may-caro O'Callaghan. '* For I know she loved him, I know "

"Mori Dien ! What is that?" he med, as a low moaning sound reached him. Quickly his left ■ ami went to his sword, and he tottered in his weakness to the door, already opened by his trusty servant. "Heline my daughter. - ' he gasped ns a blood-stained woman entered. '■ Wbas has happened?" "Quick, Louis, some' wine for .Madame Bin! MV.ieu -Jean. It, is all right, my little bey." be added to ehild, ?s he began to cry. '• Grandfather will take care of you now." "Can you talk now, little Heline.?" asked the general half an hour later, "and tell me what all this menus? You are. a. morft .hadew, and your clothes nought but blood-stained rags. "What devilish tricks hr.ve those Huns been up to now?" Slowly Heline iold 'him of the fail of Antwerp, where she had been staying wit: Jean's paternal grandmother - toid him of the confusion, beyond all imagination. of the deafening clamour, the moans of the wounded the cries of the women and children at; they rushed panic-stricken from the, bombarded city—-of the oaths, screams and imprecations. She told oi mothers ko weak and ill that they could scarcely staid, 1 't alone toller forward -of white-haired men and wrmien, dropping on the road from sheer weakness "--and. <••'', saddest, aw fullest «ight of all," she added, " were the waggons frill of wounded soldiers with bandaged head-; and bodies, and white, piteous faces, and through the • fitiw'on which they lay the blood dripped, leaving a crimson trail slong tiro road." . "Mon .Dicju," sho continued, 'J Shalt never get it out of my head," and Heline shuddered as sho went oil I fieri with the others, bringing; only Marie, my maid, and my little Jean; Mario collapsed on the road, and l was pushed- on—on in the mad 'ttrugglej over mangled forms of men.

and horses, torn limb from limb in the terrible bombardment, 'I ho. s"W I of blood was everywhere, little children u-ero tortured before my eyes, old i"^ u . and women shot against the nuns ol their homes. The curse of <■«<*! J;? upon iiII (rormans who took part in the utter destruction. Heaven alone, knows how wo reached here f-a.ely. Providence just guided me to mv own: homo, and von mv, father. I diet nob even know "that vnu were hero, mue.n less wounded. The enemy are everywhere, sttrelv they must know that you are here, convalescent. Aro you not afraid?" , " Afraid, my daughter, me afraid ol a German! ' No-■-not even with one arm, but, I must he careful for mv country's sake. 1 want, to got bae-e to mv troops as soon as it. is pow-ihlo.' Old Louis burst in shouting. " Quick, for the good God's sake, the underground pit-snagc —the Germans arc on us. I sow them in the gardens.'"

Terence O'Callaghan sat up in the trench and looked about him. It " lls late afternoon, and the- light was iviinin 8' , , -a Had he been asleep, and dreaming. His head felt very heavy, and the pain was pretty bad. Swiftly his hand went up, "and he laughed, remembering that earlier in the day lu- had been hit by the enemy's tire. Why wu* every one so quiet? -All around him still figures lay, clad in khaki or grey. He, felt proud that not & few of the latter had fallen by his hand. He did not know exactly what to do. Evidently he had been left for dead by his oompanv. Where on earth was he? He, felt' sick, the smell of blood was- everywhere. Dimly ho realised that ho was isolated, that a Hue of German infantry stretched between him and tho British force.-). O'Callaghan wiped away the blood that trickled into his eyes. He had never been faced by .such a, stilt' problem before--he was in a hole. How was lie to get out of it? The trench was floored with dead. Next to him lay his old college chum Brookes, who had stepped out so gaily that very morning, in all the pride- of his glorious youth. This was war. the real, grim thing, but the guns had been saved; he could see that, and that was what counted most; that was what these brave fellows had given their lives for. Kach man of the detachment believed that the. honour and safety of the British Km pi re depended 1 on him alone, so they stuck to it, despite tlio hellish rain of shot and shell. When one reads of trenches and guns being saved, does one lealkso. the r-nguish of soul and the splendidness of heart that goes, to save them? I think not Dimly O'Callaghan remembered that the brigade which should have supported +hem had been shelled out of I existence But they had been avenged. Beneath, the fierce impact of rifle butts German skulls had shivered like egg shells, and he had helped. How he gloried in tin thought, but he was very ■ stiff and his head, was- sore. He must find a way out of his difficulty—-he could not stay longer amid this mass of slaughtered humanity -men torn limb from limb, with horrible, mutilated faces. " Tt is hell—heil with the bd off." ho groaned, as he looked around. Still, how can men die better?

Away to his left stretched a wood! which promised shelter for at least that iiicht, and he could rest, and tlu'rk out some means of getting back to his own lines, unless a Genu an bullet put an end to life for him.

Crawling on his hands and knees, be reached the woods at last, glad io be away from the sight of slaughtered men. But was he? Surely there were twio figure* lying but a few paces from where he lay. He got up and looked. Something in. the khaki figure struck him as familiar. He pulled awr,y the arm which shaded the dead man's face. God, he gasped a? he looked, "an' its my own cousin Pat. Poor old chuo. who married Mollio O'Brian, the belle of the county, only last year." And O'Ca.llagan's voice broke when he took the papers from the pockets and discovered Mollie's smiling face next his heavt. ' " And you, you Prussian hound, lulled him, but not before Pat had done for you." he added, as he gently moved I his'cousin and covered him with grass and leaves, saying as he did a short prayer, the only one he could remember"' in the burial service. I This- done, a sudden thought struck him, and he went over to the German, [ and gingerly turning him oyer, lie went through his pockets seeking for information—and he found it. Plans lof all the immediate neighbourhood, for which O'Callagan was very thankful, as he did not know in the least where he was: and what was this? A | plot to loot the chateau and capture General Du Croy, who was there, rc--1 covering from his wounds. • prior to ! taking up his command agi.m, in the j near future. The note ended with 'these words: "It is imperative that [ the general should be captured," alive or dead. Stick at nothing." All the wild Irish blood in O'Calla- ' gau was up—hunger and fatigue for--1 gotten—as he read those words "Stick I at nothing."

Even though this German were (tend there would he others—and probably the. general was in their lift rids now, being tortured--and he, the general, was Helino's father—Helino Avhoin ho loved with all his heart and soul, and whom ho hud never been able to forget, ev.»n though she married her cousin. Dimly he recalled how the general had called him " Devil-may-bare, 1 ' and sent him away with a, pain in his heart like a knife, bub there was trouble in the chateau on the hill to, night, and he must help. His countrymen and the general's were allies now, and lie must try to do his best. For Heline's Mike he must try to rescue her father from the .Prussian hell hounds.

Perhaps if ho hurried he could be in time to warn them of the clanger. Silently and alertly he made his way through the woods, bayonettcd rifle grasped tightly for death lurked on. every side, praying silently thai Heline. was not at the chateau. The thought of her being tortured drove him mad. and he quickened his steps. He had been at Louvain and knew to what lengths the Prussians went. Presently the lights of the house earno into view and O'OaPniran became even more cautious. lie had tackled ;;. big thing, a.nd single-handed he could siot "do much, bul lie mean!., to have a good try and - "Peters! hy all that's lucky." he whispered as ;> figure, came up to him and grasped his hand. "'Trust you war correspond on ts to be. around, when there's anything doing." he added. Quickly Peters told, him that ho had been watching the chateau, .and had seen several of the enemy go in. He wa.s just going off for help when O'CallagiMi arrived. The (Jermans were evidently searching the place. Stealthily they crept through the trees, Peters leaving his horse tied up, and then through xiiw gardens. The old chateau stood out grim and foreboding, as U \ a'.laghau and liu companion approached. Voi'-cs shouted upioariously, and the-, popping of corks and tinkle of glass could be beard distinctly. The enemy had neglected tr> pl.-ice guards— they were so cocksure of themselves. "Take the lillle devil outside ami shut Ids mouth for ever," a coarse guttural voice shouted. ••(>i:e chance more. Will you tell us where your grandlather isr" " I will not," a childish voice, high pitched, and shrill with terror, answered. " f will not betray my country and " He got no further. A huge (icrmau dragged the child out of the low French window, and across the grass, kicking him as ho went, and the voices insido

the chatmu became louder than ever. The sight was too much for O'Cal--1 ajalian. " Swiftly, light foofedly, ho buundeu across tlie grass, keeping always in the .shadow, and quickly his bayonet- licked in and out of tho German, who with an odd li'-tlo cough wen; to face hi.:; Maker, ere Peters coached the spot. ■• Don't cry, my hoy, you are all right now. We arc friends come to irv i i save yen.'' exclaimed O'Calhiiilmn, as In- held the child light in his arms.

lie knew thai, lie was holding Helino's child, for ihere were the f.aine violet eves, eurlv hair, and rounded cheek-, as 1 leline's own. , '• Toll us ouieMv what is happening in the vhat.u.u. so that we may .id."

At once lh.> child told tiioni; how (he Germans had crept in the gardens. hut old 1,-ouis had seen them, and iiivhcd io warn his mamma and grandfather. •' 1 stayed on and watched You know they want to kill «»rnndt'ather, hut they can't find liim. he is m the undt-n.-iround passage." whispered i.lio child " 1 can tell you. heeause vnu ar.- Knejish .and grandfather

y.vs they are all brave and true. And then I g'>t frightened, vou see .. <ou!dn't help it. fam only a, little bov vet, and when I ran down to find inani'ma the Germans wen: in the -.aloon. and they caught hold of me. and wanted me to tell where grandfather was but. if course, 1 would not. And then ' mamma r ished in to find me, and they aro hurting her now.-' O'Callaghan and Peters stared at cue another—wondering which was tho best thine, to do, and the former urged on by a Woman's scream, decided. Peters was to take the boy and ride to the camp of the Irish Guards, stationed, so said Peters, about two miles away, and get help, while lie, devil-may-care as" of old, dressed himself in the dead German's coat and helmet and impersonated him. Peters thought it was courting death- but O'Callaglmn would not listen. Heline was in danger, and save her he must. So the two' men grasped hands, and went their ways. O'Callaghan stumbled forward, in excellent imitation of the drunken enemy. He had not been a leading light'in amateur theatricals in the Old Country for nothing. Knteriug the low window, whence he had seen the child dragged, he called for wine, in low guttural tones. The ihers in the room did not take much notice of him, save to ask if he had shut the brat's mouth, and appeared, when he answered in the affirmative, quite satisfied. "They were all the worse for drink, and busied themselves firing rifles at the pictures and other art treasures in the salon, which was almost a total wreck.

Heline was crouched on a chair, torrorstricken. and old Louis lay on the floor, curiously still, n deep stain of criiuson whore his head rested. O'Callaghan emptied the decaliter, and felt better. Mo turned old Louis over with his food, and laughed, as brutally jis he could. bred his rifle at nothing in particular, and shouted for more wine. ' Heline stared at him pileou-siy, but he flourished his rifle over her head and made her march in front of him out of the salon, and down to the cellar. How he got thus far he never could tell.

Heline knelt down to draw the wine. Quickly he threw open his grey stoleu coat, and took off his helmet. And when she turned round, well—she wasn't long out of his arms. Hastily they pulled up the trapdoor, and let hemselves down into the underground passage, but not before Heline had found out that her little son was safe. Presently they came upon the old general, white find listless. as he crouched in a cranny, holding fast the plans which wore of such vital importance to his country. Explanation followed explanation as they waited for the relief to corse. The general grasped O'Callaghan's hand when lie had finished speaking, and exclaimed, ".just the same Devil-may-care as ever, dear boy, .and I thank the good God for it. You have saved us. I can never thank you enough, or repay you." O'Callaghan saluted, and smilingly answered- -with a loving glance at Heline. " Your daughter, sir, is going to do it for you—in the very near future, I hope." You will have read in the papers eve this of how the Germans realised that they had been tricked, of how they discovered the trapdoor and tried to force, an entrance to the underground passage, of O'Callaghan's gallant defence and the magnificent fighting of the Irish Guards, and capture of not onlv the Germans that O'Callaghan had to deal with, but a, whole company o <r the enemy which arrived just after he and Heline reached the subway. And you will also have read of the pleasing little ceremony which took place later in Paris—the decoration of Captain O'Callaghan with the coveted Legion of Honour.