While in New York City recently, a member of the Wild Cat Division, now
employed in the McAlpin Hotel, related an anecdote on Paddy O’Loughlin,
one of the division headquarter shuffers. It was after the armistice
had been signed that Paddy made a flying trip to Paris, via his trusty
flivver. Upon his return he made the following report to his buddies:
“The war ain’t finished yet, be gorra, by a hekuva sight. The battle in
Paris, which is going on right now, is a darn sight worse than we had
with the Boche. It’s a whole lot different kind of war, but a fellow
isn’t any safer on the Grand Boulevard than he was in front of a German
machine gun nest.
“The attack started no more than I hit Paris and it got worse every
minute until I left. You bet I was lucky to come out alive. The enemy
approached me as soon as I stepped out of my truck and opened fire.
She swooped down on me like a thirsty Irishman pounces on a glass of
suds, grabbed hold of me by the arm just like we used to nab the German
prisoners and tried to carry me off. I broke away from her, but I hadn’t
gone more than fifty feet before I met another detachment of the enemy.
There were two of them this time. Say, talk about your camouflage! The
Germans or French neither never had nothing on them. Their lips were made
up like strawberries, and their eyes—oh, la! la!
“They tried the same game on me and tried to carry me away, but I got
away from them. When I hit the Boulevard, it was just like trying to run
through a heavy barrage. They were all over, little cute one pounders and
big heavy seventy-fives. They used the old German mass formation on me
and when I tried to push through, it was worse than climbing over barb
wire entanglements in No Man’s Land. The rate of fire got hotter every
minute. I didn’t want to do it but there were too many of them and I had
to holler ‘Kamerad.’”
We tried to get “Paddy” to tell what happened after that, but he blushed
and said that was all.
* * * * *