our part; you can trust us for that. But I have never believed in having your men slaughtered uselessly. This is a Hun idea, not an American. As it is, I have lost more men than 1 care to tell about."
Shortly afterward. Lieutenant Hoyer was killed.
Here is the letter which his Commanding Officer wrote, concerning the manner of his death:
On July 1 8th your husband, who w^as an officer in my company, attacked the Germans along with the rest of us, at a point just about southwest of Soissons. 1 saw him just as the company started out. He was at the head of his platoon, and strolling along as though out for a pleasure walk. After the battle 1 learned from his men that he was calm and cool during the whole attack; and that his actions and his manner of unconcern for the bullets that were flying about gave them great confidence and courage.
"Lieutenant Hoyer carried his platoon through to the objective and then ordered the men to 'dig in' and get under cover. While they were doing this he noticed several wounded men, lying in the open, exposed to machine gun fire and snipers' bullets. He called for volunteers to go with him to bring in the w^ounded and, with two non-commissioned officers, he went out and car- ried back three of the wounded. He started on his second trip, but just as he passed a stone wall several rifles opened fire on the party and your husband, who was in the lead, fell forward on his face. The rifle fire was getting very close to them, so the other men had to leave Lieutenant Hoyer and get under fire.
"1 was your husband's company commander and 1 thought a great deal of him, as a soldier and as a gentleman — all of the men were very fond of him, too. "
��Here is a strange aftermath of the War — a type of heroism which happens not merely at the front, but wherever real men face a great emergency.
Among the many instructors at the First Fort Sheridan Camp was a Captain of Artillery named Harold Hubert Bateinan. He was 28 years old when the war started. He had been in the army since 1909, served two years in the Philippines, was in the Mexican Expeditionary Forces, and had been instructor at Fort Sheridan and Plattsburg. During the war he commanded the 1 6th Field Artillery of the Fourth Division, in the Chateau Thierry, Marne, St. Mihiel and Argonne-Meuse offensives, where he made a name for himself, both as to his ability and his courage. He typified all that was best in the Regular Army officer; a very quiet, simple man, thoroughly interested in his w^ork, efficient in his know^ledge of artillery operations and wonderfully inter- ested in the care of the men w^ho served under him. He was the kind of a man that would be followed blindly by his men, not merely because he was courageous, but because he had a real gift in showing his consideration for them. He knew that the power to command w^as not an arbitrary one, but that it grew out of the mutual relationship of dependency betw^een officers and men.
After returning from his services abroad. Colonel Bateman was stationed at Fort Sill, Okla. Late on July 4, 1919, Private Joe Bukoby, of the 14th Field Artillery, was riding along the bank near Medicine Creek. Colonel Bateman had been fishing nearby and saw Private Bukoby thrown from his horse in a deep and dangerous water. As the man was unable to swim. Colonel Bateman rushed to his assistance and swam out to him. The soldier grabbed hold of Colonel Bateman in such a way as to prevent him from giving any material assistance. The Colonel could have broken the hold and left the man to his fate, but he refused to do this. He tried his best to struggle
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