Just before the war France added to its equipment the most modern of fighting devices.  It is a train of armored cars with rapid-fire guns, conning towers and fighting tops.  As a death-dealing war apparatus it is the most unique of anything used by any of the nations.  This “battleship” on wheels consists of an armored locomotive, two rapid-fire gun carriages and two armored cars for transporting troops.  The rapid-fire guns are mounted in such manner that they can be swung and directed to any point of the compass.  Rising from the car behind the locomotive, is a conning tower from which an officer takes observations and directs the fire of the rapid-fire guns.  Rails running on top of the cars permit troops to fire from the roof of the cars.  For opening railway communications this “battleship on wheels” is unexcelled.

GAVE HIM A FORK TO MATCH

The scene is a village on the outskirts of Muelhausen, in Alsace.  A lieutenant of German scouts dashes up to the door of the only inn in the village, posts men at the doorway and entering, seats himself at a table.

He draws his saber and places it on the table at his side and orders food in menacing tones.

The village waiter is equal to the occasion.  He goes to the stables and fetches a pitchfork and places it at the other side of the visitor.

“Stop!  What does this mean?” roared the lieutenant, furiously.

“Why,” said the waiter, innocently, pointing to the saber, “I thought that was your knife, so I brought you a fork to match.”

DECORATED ON THE BATTLEFIELD

On a train loaded with wounded which passed through Limoges, September 11, was a young French officer, Albert Palaphy, whose unusual bravery on the field of battle won for him the Legion of Honor.

As a corporal of the Tenth Dragoons at the beginning of the war, Palaphy took part in the violent combat with the Germans west of Paris, In the thick of the battle the cavalryman, finding his colonel wounded and helpless, rushed to his aid.

Palaphy hoisted the injured man upon his shoulders, and under a rain of machine gun bullets carried him safely to the French lines.  That same day Palaphy was promoted to be a sergeant.

Shortly afterward, although wounded, he distinguished himself in another affair, leading a charge of his squad against the Baden guard, whose standard he himself captured.

Wounded by a ball which had plowed through the lower part of his stomach and covered with lance thrusts, he was removed from the battlefield during the night, and learned he had been promoted to be a sublieutenant and nominated chevalier in the Legion of Honor.

This incident of decorating a soldier on the battlefield recalls Napoleonic times.

“AFTER YOU,” SAID THE FRENCHMAN

Lieutenant de Lupel of the French army is said to have endeared himself to his command by a most unusual exhibition of what they are pleased to term “old-fashioned French gallantry.”