This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1917 edition. Excerpt: ... puffs in the distance--German us shrapnel bombarding French planes. Where it was untouched by man, the landscape rolled away as sweet and gentle as anything France knows--grassy ridges, hill forests of soft green underbrush, chequer-boarded farms. In places, however, it was horribly creased by grotesque ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1917 edition. Excerpt: ... puffs in the distance--German us shrapnel bombarding French planes. Where it was untouched by man, the landscape rolled away as sweet and gentle as anything France knows--grassy ridges, hill forests of soft green underbrush, chequer-boarded farms. In places, however, it was horribly creased by grotesque military works; and here and there stained, battered military transport raised white dust along the roads. The guns were going in a lazy afternoon bombardment on three directions of the horizon; and far before us a black geyser spurted up now and then from the fall of a big shell. " There they are! " said Piatt Andrew, the Big Boss of the American Ambulance sections at the Verdun front. Andrew had by chance wet his lips a moment before; they shone out red from his dust-caked face, giving the effect of a clown make-up. We had brought up on the edge of a rolling meadow bordered by a wood. Parked at the edge of the trees were a score of little American Ford automobiles; in the foreground stood all the paraphernalia of a camp. There was a whoop from the tent, and half a dozen men in khaki came running toward us. They had the eager American face, contrasting oddly with the keen but sober French face which we had been seeing all day as we ran through the dunnage of the army. Another group detached itself from a knot in the grass. A form which seemed somehow familiar emerged from among them. This man--built, body and face, like a little battleship--had varied the regulation uniform by a very torn and spattered football jersey, and an old pair of golf-stockings. I had seen him before in similar clothes--where? It came back: breaking the Yale line. It was Ralph Bluthenthal, the old Princeton All-American centre. " Say, you fellows! " yelled Bluthenthal, ..".
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Add this copy of The Latin at War to cart. $61.07, good condition, Sold by Bonita rated 4.0 out of 5 stars, ships from Newport Coast, CA, UNITED STATES, published 2019 by Wentworth Press.
