"To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die."  Lieutenant Laurens Corning Shull made the supreme sacrifice for his country when fatally wounded in the famous Chateau Thierry drive, at Soissons, France, but he will live on in the hearts of the many who knew and loved him.  Born in Sioux City, Iowa, on the 17th of January, 1894, he had reached the age of twenty-four years when he gave his life for democracy.

Deloss C. Shull, the father of Lieutenant Shull, may without invidious distinction be termed the foremost lawyer of Sioux City, if not of Iowa.   The son attended the grad schools in his native city and entered the high school there in February, 1909, completing the four-year course in three years and a half.  During his high school course he was prominent in all activities in the school and especially in athletics.  He won his letters in basketball, football and baseball each year he was in school, and in his senior year he was captain of both the football and basketball teams.  In October, 1912, "Spike," as he was affectionately known, entered the University of Chicago, being graduated from that institution in June, 1916.  In the course of his university career he was elected to most of the leading student organizations and held offices in his classes and positions on committees.  He was a member of the Alpha Delta Phi fraternity, the Three Quarters Club, the Skull and Crescent, the Order of the Iron Mask, the Owl and Serpent and in his last year was selected a University marshal.  He was president of the Young Men's Christian Association during his junior year and attended the Y. M. C. A. conference of student leaders at Cornell University, Ithaca, New York.  His chief fame at that time, particularly in the outside world, was gained through his athletic reputation, and his gigantic figure became a familiar one on the baseball, basketball and football teams of each of his last three college years.  His play at whatever game he attempted was marked by a conscientiousness that set an example for every college athlete of his time, and his skill, aided by the extraordinary strength of his great stature, was excelled by few of his fellows.  He was best known as a football player.  His sophomore year he played on the 1913 University of Chicago championship team of the Western Conference.  He was chosen by most critics at the close of that season "All-Western" tackle, and was unanimously selected by all critics as "All-Western" tackle in 1914 and 1915.  In 1914 he was favorably commented upon by Walter Camp and other critics for "All-American" elevens.  He was captain of the baseball team his last year in the university.  During his course he won eight athletic "C's," three in football, three in baseball and two in basketball, having dropped basketball his senior year.

Upon graduation from college Laurens C. Shull became associated with the Messrs. Charles and Clyde Brenton, bankers in Des Moines, Iowa, who were warm friends of his family.  He was sent to one of their banks, the Farmers' Bank of Woodward, Iowa, where, beginning at the bottom, he was rapidly promoted within a year's time to the position of vice president.  During his stay in Woodward, a town of one thousand population, he coached the high school football team, and began refereeing football and basketball games throughout the state of Iowa for various colleges.  While at Woodward he became affiliated with the following fraternal organizations:  Woodward Lodge No. 460, I. O. O. F.; Peaceful Lodge No. 454, A. F. & A. M.; and B. P. O. E. Lodge No. 407, which was at Perry, Iowa, a short distance from Woodward.

On May 15, 1917, he resigned his position in the bank and entered the First Officers' Training Camp, which opened on that date at Fort Snelling, Near Minneapolis, Minnesota.  At the end of the training he was commissioned a second lieutenant in the Infantry Reserve Corps, and because of his unusual ability as a soldier and a commander of men, was selected for immediate duty in France.  After a two weeks' furlough at home he reported on the 26th of August, at Hoboken, New Jersey, for assignment to a transport.  Sailing on the 7th of September, his ship landed at Liverpool, England, whence he was dispatched to France for training in a British Army School.  Completing his course, he was assigned to the Twenty-sixth Infantry, Company F, First Division, in December, when that division was occupying a portion of the line in the Toul sector.  Company F was in the battalion commanded by Major Theodore Roosevelt, Jr.  He was later transferred to Company G, of the same regiment, which company he was commanding when he was fatally wounded on July 19, 1918, at Soissons, in the famous Chateau Thierry drive.  For his action in leading his men against a German machine-gun nest on that day he was awarded the Distinguished Service Cross by his commanding officer.

The following intimate review of the life and character of Lieutenant Shull appeared in a memorial booklet:  "Of the many who gave their lives in the World war there was one whose sacrifice was complete.  With everything before him that youth, health, seriousness of purpose and the love of literally hundreds of friends could offer, he laid down his life willingly for his country's sake.    It was with mingled emotions that Laurens Corning Shull answered the call to war in the spring of 1917.  But because his feelings were mixed should he be considered the more valorous soldier and should his memory be richer.  His was a nature which abhorred war, shunning instinctively not only war's barbaric practices but the stiffness and ceremony of things military.  He deplored dissension.  Disagreement of any kind, regardless of whether he was involved, always depressed him.  He rebelled moreover at an exacting discipline which implied both punctiliousness and subserviency, and knowing army discipline, neither the pride of soldiership nor any thought of the rewards of victory heartened him as he enlisted.  But he did enlist and at the first opportunity, because deep in his nature was an immediate response to duty.  Never in his life inspired with the spirit of adventure, this conflict between duty and dislike of the job to be done had been continuously in the back of his mind from the time when the possibility of America's entrance into hostilities first became apparent.  When the day for action came, however, his decision was instantly made; and at once he left for camp.

"In a time of war's aftermath, when encomiums and stories of heroism are common, the phrase 'a sense of duty' loses force by repetition.  But those who knew 'Spike' can utter the phrase in connection with him only with a consciousness of its fullest meaning.  This was once said of him:  'Spike never failed to square up with his duty as he saw it, even in things like football.  He never liked the game, but he thought he ought to play it, and he always went in with all his tremendous might.'  Instantaneous response to duty was a tenet of his philosophy and in the crisis it immediately fought down his dislike of war.  His battle with himself, however, though decided instantly, was no mere contest with a doubt, but the smothering of a profound instinct.  And for this reason he deserves added tribute.

"The coming of war found 'Spike' vice president of the Farmers' Bank of Woodward, Iowa.  To Woodward he had gone from college, chiefly for experience, as his plans were still vague.  By sheer application, hard work after hours, he had earned promotion to the position of a vice president in the bank.  Of no petty aid, it must be remembered, to his rapid promotion was his genial, lovable manner with everybody he met.  After seriousness of purpose this lovableness was the most outstanding of his obvious characteristics, and his command of the affections, the sentimental affections, of the men around him was constantly the wonder of his friends.

"He was supremely happy in his work at Woodward.  Writing on July 5, 1918, from France, to Clyde E. Brenton, of Des Moines, he said:  'Two years ago today I went to Woodward to gain my banking career.  I remember well how Mrs. Brenton drove us over and just how I felt in landing in that town of seven hundred people.  Determined to stick it out and learn something, I went to work on that bloody adding machine.  I was off some twenty thousand dollars when I finished, and Dick thought it a good joke.  Honestly, my back almost broke over that machine.  But I'll never forget that ten months, especially that mortgaged property which so gallantly stands unmoved, and those two ball games on the Fourth two years ago - the last I have played.'

"Though when he went there he knew nobody in town, he soon made friends, and, besides, he ploughed into the mass of work before him with all the tremendous earnestness that typified him.  His soul was essentially a peaceful soul; his dreams were dreams of peace, and he found much of content in the simple life of the town.  His easy smile at once won him an enviable position in the hearts of his new friends.  His great stature (he was six feet four inches tall) had earned him the sobriquet of 'Spike' as early as his high school days; and at Woodward, too, he at once became 'Spike,' rather than 'Laurens,' to the townspeople.

"When war was declared the following spring, 'Spike' entered the First Officers' Training Camp at Fort Snelling, Minnesota, electing to serve in the infantry.  Without fondness for the work, he nevertheless, as a matter of course, threw all his consciousness into the grind, and in August was commissioned a second lieutenant in the Infantry Reserve Corps.  His diligence was rewarded, moreover, by selection as one of sixty from the camp of twenty-five hundred for immediate overseas duty.  A two weeks' furlough was allowed this special detachment of officers for a visit home; then they reported for duty in the early part of September at the port of embarkation, Hoboken, New Jersey, sailing for France on September 7, 1917.  The convoy landed at Liverpool and the detachment was dispatched to France.  'After a very short stop in England,' says one of his letters, 'I found myself in France one crisp September morning, and I traveled for the first time on a French railway (two miles per hour), the trip lasting several days, but finally reaching our destination, the Third British Army School.'  Here the men for a month were rushed through a course of training at the hands of British instructors, comprising chiefly raiding, bayoneting and the latest phases of the technique of trench warfare.  'Finishing my training there,' he adds, 'I spent several more days on a French local, at last joining the First Division, American Expeditionary Forces, Company F, Twenty-sixth Infantry.'  This was on November 12th, when the Twenty-sixth Infantry was billeted in the little village of Giveroval in the Gondrecourt area, a training area later to become familiar to many other American divisions.

"In this dreary spot 'Spike' first felt the pangs of the hunger for letters from home; letters, of course, written but interminably delayed in those first days of un-organization.  He writes:  'Letters mean a great deal to one so far away, especially when one is unfortunate enough not to be able to parley French.  I never, as a result, have a chance to elevate myself by talking to a woman; it is always to some private or brother officer.  I know my parents will start educating me all over again when I return home.'

At the time of 'Spike's' joining his division, the Twenty-sixth Infantry had just returned from its first occupation of the trenches.  Though the Twenty-sixth was in what was officially dubbed a 'rest' period, army men know well that a unit was usually relieved at the front so that it might take up even more strenuous activities behind the lines.  So with this regiment, though the weather at that season was fearfully cold an damp, the men 'rested' by beginning a series of maneuvers over the training area which often kept the troops out for several days and nights without cover.

After two weeks of training at Giveroval, 'Spike' was granted his first leave, which allowed him a week-end in Paris.  On his return to camp he became quite ill with a persistent case of grippe and was left behind on two maneuvers that lasted the greater part of a month.  *   *   *   The long training period finally ended the last week of February, 1918, and the organization broke camp, preparing to move up to the lines.  At four o'clock on the morning of March 3d the troops moved out from Giveroval and were transported to the Toul sector, that portion of the Allied line particularly identified with the American effort.  The Twenty-sixth Infantry relieved part of the First Infantry Brigade of the same division, which had held the line since the latter part of January.

While encamped here, 'Spike' wrote to his father one of his most charming letters.  'I am writing this letter,' he says, 'on a cigar box by candle light.  The paper belongs to the company clerk and the pencil to the first sergeant.  The cigar box contains about forty American cigars which the Y. M. C. A. man brought to this forsaken village.  As I told the Major tonight, the only satisfaction in life around here was this box of cigars. He helped himself and that's why I have only forty.  My room is only half mine, as the company commander sleeps with me, or rather I sleep with him.  We have a bed just five and one-half feet long and four feet wide.  He is a big ox like myself, so you can imagine how comfortably we rest.  His being in bed is probably the cause of this letter, as I was kept up tonight figuring how I was going to get in.  The reason we are so selfish about this darned bed is that it is the first one we have seen since March 1st.  I almost wrote you for a picture of a bed, but now that we have one of the precious things it will not be necessary.

How we got to this town is quite a story.  One fine cold rainy day (as usual) we packed up and set out.   We finally landed in a ditch or series of ditches resembling Perry Creek more than anything I have seen since the good old days back in the Bancroft school.  Inasmuch as I have reached the doddering age of twenty-four I can assure you I did not enjoy the mud holes as much as when I was ten.  I can imagine my delight fourteen years ago if only such a place had been at my disposal.  But the real beauty of the place was the big hill directly in front of us.  This was known as Mt. _____.  I might as well as not tell you the name of the mountain, as I saw it printed in the Sioux City Tribune, but as all good officers say to their men, Obey the Censor's rules.  Well, it was a great place.  Every night we put up sandbags and revetments in the endeavor to cut off the view from that demned mountain, only to have them blown down in the daytime.  As the company front was so wide, it was necessary to establish a system of outposts, and as second in command of the company I had to visit these places every night.  Between the German planes and occasional shells, plus the fire of my own company, I managed to have several very interesting times going from position to another.

'One night, especially, I was ordered to patrol all the wire in front of our section, which was a distance of one and one-half kilometers.  I picked three men and started out.  We found plenty of wire and old trenches, all of which helps to give a man the shakes on a rainy night such as it was.  I finally reached a position where I had agreed to meet a gallant officer of our company, but I found him missing.  I walked along the parapet of the abandoned trenches searching for him and after some hesitation I started to examine the wire.  As there were several belts, it necessitated my going through wire for some distance in front of the position where we had agreed to meet.  After examining each belt I crawled under and stepped over the wire until I arrived back at the position, but still no officer.  My pet sergeant and I walked along the parapet of the old trench wondering where he could possibly be.  All of a sudden, "Halt, who's there?"  rang through the air.  It was one of those Tennessee Halts which is Bang-Halt!  I doubt if you could have put a dime between the side of my head and that bullet.  I dropped in a shell hole between the wire and the parapet and found my sergeant had beaten me to it.  How we both got in that little shell hole is more of a mystery than this bed proposition which now confronts me.  After firing twelve rounds of pistol ammunition at us at a range of about fifteen yards, they notified a close-by automatic gun post to open up on us, which was done.  Being close to the old trench I managed to crawl out of our shell hole during a short lull in the proceedings and make myself known to an officer who was just getting ready to throw a hand grenade into the shell hole.  He had his orderly with him and was having him wind up, too.  This was the officer I was suppose to meet and he had either forgotten about my being out there or he was mistaken about the time of my arrival.  Anyway, he took me for a German in spite of my frequent call, "It's Lieutenant Shull."  I told the Major it was safer in front of the German trenches than in front of ours.  Little things like that are bound to occur, especially since the Americans aren't acquainted with the appearance of the German soldier and particularly because they're all too damned anxious to shoot the enemy.

'One dark night after we were thoroughly fed up with the place some good old Irishmen from New England relieved us.  Long hikes in artillery formation and other long hikes in location formation, a trip in motor buses, a twenty-four hours' ride in French box cars and two days' more hiking put us in this little abandoned village.  We all know what we are here for.  The British are having a fight for their position, and we are with the French army and hope to hit them soon.  This will be my last letter for some time.  Don't worry, as I am feeling fine, and with fire in my eye.  I am good for ten Germans if the artillery misses me.  Of course, this might be bragging a bit - but, Dad, I'll try hard to get all I can.

'This bed begins to look better each minute and my captain sprawls out a little more each ten minutes and if I hesitate much longer I'll never be able to get in.  Send me socks, candy, tobacco and the Sioux City papers.'

On the night of April 1st 'Spike's' brigade was unexpectedly relieved by the Twenty-sixth Division.  Withdrawing several kilometers the tired troops rested for a few days and then entrained for the Gissor training section.  Here they maneuvered for two weeks preparing for what portended to be the greatest of all attacks.  The First Division, together with an English and a French Chasseur division, formed the infantry in the maneuvers, and, according to the plan, they, supported by the tanks and artillery and cavalry, were to make the first real counter attack at Albert.  At this time, the German offensive was at its height, and as soon as it lost its momentum the counter attack was to be launched.  

During the spring of this year both the troops and officers of the Allied armies were concerned over the plans of the coming German offensive, which everybody knew would be launched as soon as the bad weather lifted and the roads dried.  It was consequently the first mission of the infantry holding the lines at that time to capture prisoners for cross-examination.  Company G, to which 'Spike' had been transferred, received orders almost nightly for prisoners, and the men and officers of the company patrolled constantly.  'Spike,' oblivious to danger, did a great deal of patrolling - in fact, practically all of the patrolling for his company - and supervised all such work for his battalion, of which he was raiding officer.  This work, some of the most hazardous and nerve-trying of modern warfare, gave him his first real opportunity, and his devotion to his duty and his skill earned him the trust and admiration of his commanding officers and his men.  And it was as much the loyalty of those serving under him as the confidence of his superiors that won him a cherished reward, a recommendation for promotion.  Though he never lived to pin on his silver bars, Major McCloud's testimonial swelled his heart with pride, particularly the frank admission of his inability to appoint 'Spike' to company commander when he was ranked by three brother officers.  Major McCloud's recommending letter follows:

G. C. Rippetoe, captain of infantry in the United States army, wrote D. C. Skull, under date of October 27, 1924, as follows:  "I met your son in September, 1917, at the Third British Army Infantry School and was later joined the Second Battalion, Twenty-sixth Infantry.  We became very good friends and were much together up to the time he was fatally wounded.  I was within seventy-five yards of your son when he was hit and saw him fall.  I knew by the way he fell he was very badly wounded and sent a first aid man to him.  Hard as it may seem, we have not the time and would be severely dealt with if we stopped to help our friends who fall.  In this attack we were pushing forward many of the officers of the Second Battalion had already fallen.  Your son was then commanding the remnants of G Company.  I had the company on his left.  We were advancing across an open flat field.  'Spike,' as we called him, was leading his attack with his pistol in his hand when I saw him suddenly go down.  I was sorry I could not go to him, as we had been very good friends, but it was necessary I carry on the attack.  Your son was one of the most popular officers in the Second Battalion, Twenty-sixth Infantry, with both officers and enlisted men.  I have seen two or three of the men who served under him, since the war, and they mentioned little things he had done for them."