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diff --git a/old/52886-0.txt b/old/52886-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 90de35f..0000000 --- a/old/52886-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14014 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of My Year of the Great War, by Frederick Palmer - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: My Year of the Great War - -Author: Frederick Palmer - -Release Date: August 23, 2016 [EBook #52886] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY YEAR OF THE GREAT WAR *** - - - - -Produced by David Garcia, Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Charlie -Howard, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - -MY YEAR OF THE GREAT WAR - - - - -_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ - - - GOING TO WAR IN GREECE - THE WAYS OF THE SERVICE - THE VAGABOND - WITH KUROKI IN MANCHURIA - OVER THE PASS - THE LAST SHOT - MY YEAR OF THE GREAT WAR - - - - - MY YEAR OF THE - GREAT WAR - - BY - FREDERICK PALMER - - Author of “The Last Shot,” “With Kuroki in Manchuria,” - “The Vagabond,” etc. - - - [Illustration] - - - Toronto - McClelland, Goodchild & Stewart - Limited - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1915 - BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY - - - _First Edition_ OCTOBER - _Second, Third and Fourth Editions_ NOVEMBER - _Fifth Edition_ DECEMBER - - - Printed in U. S. A. - - - - -TO THE READER - - -In “The Last Shot,” which appeared only a few months before the Great -War began, drawing from my experience in many wars, I attempted to -describe the character of a conflict between two great European -land-powers, such as France and Germany. - -“You were wrong in some ways,” a friend writes to me, “but in other -ways it is almost as if you had written a play and they were following -your script and stage business.” - -Wrong as to the duration of the struggle and its bitterness; right -about the part which artillery would play; right in suggesting the -stalemate of intrenchments when vast masses of troops occupied the -length of a frontier. Had the Germans not gone through Belgium and -attacked on the shorter line of the Franco-German boundary, the -parallel of fact with that of prediction would have been more complete. -As for the ideal of “The Last Shot,” we must await the outcome to see -how far it shall be fulfilled by a lasting peace. - -Then my friend asks, “How does it make you feel?” Not as a prophet; -only as an eager observer, who finds that imagination pales beside -reality. If sometimes an incident seemed a page out of my novel, I was -reminded how much better I might have done that page from life; and -from life I am writing now. - -I have seen too much of the war and yet not enough to assume the pose -of a military expert; which is easy when seated in a chair at home -before maps and news despatches, but becomes fantastic after one has -lived at the front. One waits on more information before he forms -conclusions about campaigns. He is certain only that the Marne was a -decisive battle for civilisation; that if England had not gone into the -war the Germanic Powers would have won in three months. - -No words can exaggerate the heroism and sacrifice of the French or -the importance of the part which the British have played, which we -shall not realise till the war is over. In England no newspapers were -suppressed; casualty lists were given out; she gave publicity to -dissensions and mistakes which others concealed, in keeping with her -ancient birthright of free institutions which work out conclusions -through discussion rather than taking them ready-made from any ruler or -leader. - -Whatever value this book has is the reflection of personal observation -and the thoughts which have occurred to me when I have walked around my -experiences and measured them and found what was worth while and what -was not. Such as they are, they are real. - -Most vital of all in sheer expression of military power was the visit -to the British Grand Fleet; most humanly appealing, the time spent in -Belgium under German rule; most dramatic, the French victory on the -Marne; most precious, my long stay at the British front. - -A traveller’s view I had of Germany in the early period of the war; -but I was never with the German army which made Americans particularly -welcome for obvious reasons. Between right and wrong one cannot be a -neutral. By foregoing the diversion of shaking hands and passing the -time of day on the Germanic fronts, I escaped having to be agreeable to -hosts warring for a cause and in a manner obnoxious to me. I was among -friends, living the life of one army and seeing war in all its aspects -from day to day, instead of having tourist glimpses. - -Chapters which deal with the British army in France and with the -British fleet have been submitted to the censor. In all, possibly one -typewritten page fell foul of the blue pencil. Though the censor may -delete military secrets, he may not prompt opinions. Whatever notes -of praise and of affection which you may read between the lines or in -them spring from the mind and heart. Undemonstratively, cheerily as -they would go for a walk, with something of old-fashioned chivalry, the -British went to death. - -Their national weaknesses and strength, revealed under external -differences by association, are more akin to ours than we shall realise -until we face our own inevitable crisis. Though one’s ancestors had -been in America for nearly three centuries and had fought the British -twice for a good cause he was continually finding how much of custom, -of law, of habit, and of instinct he had in common with them; and how -Americans who were not of British blood also shared these as an applied -inheritance that has been the most formative element in the crucible of -the races which has produced the American type. - -My grateful acknowledgments are due to the American press associations -who considered me worthy to be the accredited American correspondent -at the British front, and to _Collier’s_ and _Everybody’s_; and may -an author who has not had the opportunity to read proofs request the -reader’s indulgence. - - FREDERICK PALMER. - -British Headquarters, France. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I WHO STARTED IT? 1 - - II “LE BRAVE BELGE!” 20 - - III MONS AND PARIS 29 - - IV PARIS WAITS 36 - - V ON THE HEELS OF VON KLUCK 47 - - VI AND CALAIS WAITS 73 - - VII IN GERMANY 82 - - VIII HOW THE KAISER LEADS 95 - - IX IN BELGIUM UNDER THE GERMANS 113 - - X CHRISTMAS IN BELGIUM 129 - - XI THE FUTURE OF BELGIUM 142 - - XII WINTER IN LORRAINE 159 - - XIII SMILES AMONG RUINS 177 - - XIV A ROAD OF WAR I KNOW 200 - - XV TRENCHES IN WINTER 214 - - XVI IN NEUVE CHAPELLE 226 - - XVII WITH THE IRISH 246 - - XVIII WITH THE GUNS 262 - - XIX ARCHIBALD THE ARCHER 284 - - XX TRENCHES IN SUMMER 290 - - XXI A SCHOOL IN BOMBING 310 - - XXII MY BEST DAY AT THE FRONT 316 - - XXIII MORE BEST DAY 335 - - XXIV WINNING AND LOSING 344 - - XXV THE MAPLE LEAF FOLK 350 - - XXVI FINDING THE BRITISH FLEET 368 - - XXVII ON A DESTROYER 374 - - XXVIII SHIPS THAT HAVE FOUGHT 378 - - XXIX ON THE “INFLEXIBLE” 393 - - XXX ON THE FLEET FLAGSHIP 400 - - XXXI SIMPLY HARD WORK 412 - - XXXII HUNTING THE SUBMARINE 421 - - XXXIII THE FLEET PUTS TO SEA 425 - - XXXIV MANY PICTURES 433 - - XXXV BRITISH PROBLEMS 446 - - - - -MY YEAR OF THE GREAT WAR - - - - -I - -WHO STARTED IT? - - The ultimate arbitrament--The diplomatist’s status--The causes in - the aims and ideals of the peoples--Europe’s economic relation - to the rest of the world--The economic cause--“Biological - necessity”--England’s position--Her complacency--The “German - Wedge”--The German system--Modern efficiency methods--“A - machine civil world”--The Kaiser’s mission--A German the - world over--Germany’s plans and ambitions--Her war spirit-- - Activities in Italy--The Austrian situation--The Slav-Teuton - racial hatred--France, a nation with a closed-in culture--The - Kaiser’s “peace”--The Germanic “isolation.” - - -Who started it? Who is to blame? The courts decide the point when there -is a quarrel between Smith and Jones; and it is the ethics of simple -justice that no friend of Smith or Jones should act as judge. When the -quarrel is between nations, the neutral world turns to the diplomatic -correspondence which preceded the breaking-off of relations; and only -one who is a neutral can hope to weigh impartially the evidence on both -sides. For war is the highest degree of partisanship. Every one engaged -is a special pleader. - -I, too, have read the White and Blue and Yellow and Green Papers. -Others have analysed them in detail; I shall not attempt it. One -learned less from their dignified phraseology than from the human -motives that he read between the lines. Each was aiming to make out the -best case for its own side; aiming to put the heart of justice into -the blows of its arms. Obviously, the diplomatist is an attorney for a -client. Incidentally, the whole training of his profession is to try -to prevent war. He does try to prevent it; so does every right-minded -man. It is a horror and a scourge, to be avoided as you would avoid -leprosy. When it does come, the diplomatist’s business is to place all -the blame for it with the enemy. - -One must go many years back of the dates of the State papers to find -the cause of the Great War. He must go into the hearts of the people -who are fighting, into their aims and ambitions, which diplomatists -make plausible according to international law. More illumining than -the pamphlets embracing an exchange of despatches was the remark of a -practical German: “Von Bethmann-Hollweg made a slip when he talked of a -treaty as a scrap of paper and about hacking his way through. That had -a bad effect.” - -Equally pointed was the remark of a practical Briton: “It was a good -thing that the Germans violated the neutrality of Belgium; otherwise, -we might not have gone in, which would have been fatal for us. If -Germany had crushed France and kept the Channel ports, the next step -would have been a war in which we should have had to deal with her -single-handed.” - -I would rather catch the drift of a nation’s purpose from the talk -of statesmen in the lobby or in the club than from their official -pronouncements. Von Bethmann-Hollweg had said in public what was -universally accepted in private. He had let the cat out of the bag. -England’s desire to preserve the neutrality of Belgium was not -altogether ethical. If Belgium’s coast had been on the Adriatic rather -than on the British Channel, her wrongs would not have had the support -of British arms. - -Great moral causes were at stake in the Great War; but they are -inextricably mixed with cool, national self-interest and racial -hatreds, which are also dictated by self-interest, though not always by -the interests of the human race. One who sees the struggle of Europe -as a spectator, with no hatred in his heart except of war itself, -finds prejudice and efficiency, folly and merciless logic, running in -company. He would return to the simplest principles, human principles, -to avoid confusion in his own mind. Not of Europe, he studies Europe; -he wonders at Europe. - -On a map of the world twice the size of a foolscap page, the little -finger’s end will cover the area of the struggle. Europe is a very -small section of the earth’s surface, indeed. Yet at the thought of a -great European war, all the other peoples drew their breath aghast. -When the catastrophe came, all were affected in their most intimate -relations, in their income, and in their intellectual life. Rare was -the mortal who did not find himself taking sides in what would have -seemed to an astronomer on Mars as a local terrestrial upheaval. - -From Europe have gone forth the waves of vigour and enterprise which -have had the greatest influence on the rest of the world, in much the -same way that they went forth from Rome over the then known world. The -war in this respect was like the great Roman civil war. The dominating -power of our civilisation was at war with itself. Draw a circle around -England, Scandinavia, the Germanic countries, and France, and you have -the hub from which the spokes radiate to the immense wheel-rim. It is a -region which cannot feed its mouths from its own soil, though it could -amply a little more than a century ago in the Napoleonic struggle. In -a sense, then, it is a physical parasite on the rest of the world; a -parasite which, however, has given its intellectual energy in return -for food for its body. - -This war had for its object the delivery of no people from bondage, -except the Belgians after the war had begun; it had no religious -purpose such as the Crusades; it was not the uprising of democracy -like the French Revolution. Those who charged the machine guns and the -wives and mothers who urged them on were unconscious of the real force -disguised by their patriotic fervour. Ask a man to die for money and he -refuses. Ask him to die in order that he may have more butter on his -bread and he refuses. This is putting the cause of war too bluntly. -It is insulting to courage and to self-sacrifice, assessing them as -something set on a counter for sale. For nations do not know why they -fight, as a rule. Processes of evolution and chains of events arouse -their patriotic ardour and their martial instinct till the climax comes -in blows. - -The cause of the European war is economic; and, by the same token, -Europe kept the peace for forty years for economic reasons. She was -busy skimming the cream of the resources of other countries. Hers was -the capital, the skill, the energy, the _morale_, the culture, for -exploiting the others. All modern invention originated with her or -with the offspring of her races beyond seas. Steamers brought her raw -material, which she sent back in manufactures; they took forth, in -place of the buccaneers of former days seeking gold, her financiers, -engineers, salesmen, and teachers, who returned with tribute or sent -back the interest on the capital they had applied to enterprise. She -looked down on the rest of the world with something of the Roman -patrician feeling of superiority to outsiders. - -But also the medical scientist kept pace with other scientists and with -invention. Sanitation and the preservation of life led to an amazing -rapidity of increase in population. There were more mouths to feed -and more people who must have work and share the tribute. Without the -increase of population it is possible that we should not have had war. -Biological necessity played its part in bringing on the struggle, along -with economic pressure. The richest veins of the mines of other lands, -the most accessible wood of the forests, were taken, and a higher rate -of living all over Europe increased the demand of the numbers. - -Most fortunate of all the European peoples were the British. Most -significant in this material progress was the part of Germany. England -had a narrow stretch of salt water between her and the other nations. -They could fight one another by crossing a land frontier; to fight her, -they must cross in ships. She had the advantage of being of Europe and -yet separated from Europe. All the seas were the secure pathway for her -trade, guaranteed for a century by the victory of Trafalgar. By war she -had won her sea power; by war she was the mistress of many colonies. -Germany’s increasing mercantile marine had to travel from a narrow sea -front through the channel called British. Rich was England’s heritage -beyond her own realisation. Hers the accumulated capital; hers the -field of resources under her own flag to exploit. - -But she had done more. Through a century’s experience she had learned -the strength of moderation. What she had won by war she was holding -by wisdom. If some one must guard the seas, if some one must have -dominion over brown and yellow races, she was well fitted for the -task. Wherever she had dominion, whether Bombay or Hongkong, there was -freedom in trade and in development for all men. We who have travelled -recognise this. - -When the war began, South Africa had no British regular garrisons, but -the Boers, a people who had lost their nation in war with her fifteen -years before, took up arms under her flag to invade a German colony. -India without a parliament, India ruled by English governors, sent her -troops to fight in France. In place of sedition, loyalty from a brave -and hardy white people of another race and from hundreds of millions of -brown men! Such power is not gained by war, but by the policy of fair -play; of live and let live. Measurably, she held in trust those distant -lands for the other progressive nations; she was the policeman of wide -domains. Certainly no neutral, at least no American, envied her the -task. Certainly no neutral, for selfish reasons if for no other, would -want to risk chaos throughout the world by the transfer of that power -to another nation. - -England was satiated, as Admiral Mahan said. She had gained all that -she cared to hold. It is not too much to say that, of late years, -colonies might come begging to her doorstep and be refused. Those -who held her wealth were complacent as well as satiated--which -was her danger. For complacency goes with satiation. But she, too, -was suffering from having skimmed the cream, for want of mines and -concessions as rich as those which had filled her coffers, and from -the demand of the increased population become used to a higher rate of -living. Her vast, accumulated wealth in investments the world over was -in relatively few hands. In no great European country, perhaps, was -wealth more unevenly distributed. Her old age pensions and many social -reforms of recent years arose from a restlessness, locally intensified -but not alone of local origin. - -Another flag was appearing too frequently in her channel. A wedge was -being forced into her complacency. A competitor who worked twelve hours -a day, while complacency preferred eight or ten, met the Englishman at -every turn. A navy was growing in the Baltic; taxes pressed heavily -on complacency to keep up a navy stronger than the young rival’s. Who -really was to blame for the clerks’ pay being kept down, while the cost -of living went up? That cheap-living German clerk! What capitalist was -pressing the English capitalist? The German! The newspapers were always -hinting at the German danger. Certain interests in England, as in any -other country, were glad to find a scapegoat. Why should Germany want -colonies when England ruled her colonies so well? Germany--always -Germany, whatever way you looked, Germany with her seventy millions, -aggressive, enterprising, industrious, organised! The pressure of the -wedge kept increasing. Something must break. - -Does any one doubt that if Germany had been in England’s place she -would have struck the rival in the egg? But that is not the way of -complacency. Nor is it the way of that wisdom of moderation, that live -and let live, which has kept the British Empire intact. - -Germany wanted room for her wedge. In Central Europe, with foes on -either side, she had to hold two land frontiers before she could start -her sea wedge. She was the more readily convinced that England had won -all she held by war because modern Germany was the product of war. By -war Prussia won Schleswig-Holstein; by war Germany won Alsace-Lorraine, -and welded the Germanic peoples into a whole. It was only natural that -the German public should be loyal to the system that had fathered -German success. - -Thus, England reveres its Wellingtons, Nelsons, Pitts, and maintains -the traditions of the regiments which fought for her. Thus, we are -loyal to the Constitution of the United States, because it was drafted -by the forefathers who made the nation. If it had been drafted in -the thirties we should think it more fallible. It is the nature of -individuals, of business concerns, of nations, to hold with the methods -that laid the foundations of success till some cataclysm shows that -they are wrong or antiquated. This reckoning may be sudden loss of his -position in a crisis for the individual, bankruptcy for the business -concern, war for the nation. One sticks to the doctor who cured him -when he was young and perhaps goes to an early grave because that -doctor has grown out of date. - -The old Kaiser, Bismarck, and von Moltke laid the basis of the German -system. It was industry, unity, and obedience to superiors, from -bottom to top. Under it, if not because of it, Germany became a mighty -national entity. Another Kaiser, who had the merit of making the most -of his inheritance, with other generals and leaders, brought modern -methods to the service of the successful system. A new, up-to-date -doctor succeeded the old, with the inherited authority of the old. - -That aristocratic, exclusive German officer, staring at you, elbowing -you if you did not give him right of way in the street, seemed to -express insufferable caste to the outsider. But he was a part of the -system which had won; and he worked longer hours than the officers of -other European armies. Seeming to enjoy enormous privileges, he was -really a circumscribed being, subject to all the rigid discipline that -he demanded of others, bred and fashioned for war. Wherever I have met -foreign military attachés observing other wars, the German was the -busiest one, the most persistent and resourceful after information; and -he was not acting on his own initiative, but under careful instructions -of a staff who knew exactly what it wanted to know. “Germany shall -be first!” was his motto; “Germany shall be first!” the motto of all -Germans. - -In the same way that von Moltke constructed his machine army, the -Germany of the young Kaiser set out to construct a machine civil world. -He had a public which was ready to be moulded, because plasticity to -the master’s hand had beaten France. Drill, application, and discipline -had done the trick for von Moltke--these and leadership. The new -method was economic education plus drill, application, and discipline. - -It is not for me to describe the industrial beehive of modern Germany. -The world knows it well. The Kaiser, who led, worked as hard as the -humblest of his subjects. From the top came the impetus which the -leaders passed on. Germany looked for worlds to conquer; England had -conquered hers. The energy of increasing population overflowed from the -boundaries, pushing that wedge closer home to an England growing more -irritably apprehensive. - -Wherever the traveller went he found Germans, whether waiters, or -capitalists, or salesmen, learning the language of the country where -they lived, making place for themselves by their industry. Germany was -struggling for room, and the birth rate was increasing the excess of -population. The business of German nationalism was to keep them all in -Germany and mould them into so much more power behind the sea wedge. -The German teaching--that teaching of a partisan youth which is never -complacent--did not contemplate a world composed of human beings, but -a world composed of Germans, loyal to the Kaiser, and others who were -not. Within that tiny plot on the earth’s surface the German system was -giving more people a livelihood and more comforts for their resources -than anywhere else, unless in Belgium. - -Germany and her Kaiser believed that she had a mission and the right -to more room. Wherever there was an opportunity she appeared with his -aggressive paternalism to get ground for Germanic seed. The experience -of her opportunistic fishing in the troubled waters of Manila Bay in -’98 is still fresh in the minds of many Americans. She went into China -during the Boxer rebellion in the same spirit. She had her foot thrust -into every doorway ajar and was pushing with all her organised imperial -might, which kept growing. - -I never think of modern Germany without calling to mind two Germans -who seem to me to illustrate German strength--and weakness. In a -compartment on a train from Berlin to Holland some years ago, an -Englishman was saying that Germany was a balloon which would burst. -He called the Kaiser a vain madman and set his free English tongue on -his dislike of Prussian boorishness, aggressiveness, and _verbotens_. -I told him that I should never choose to live in Prussia; I preferred -England or France; but I thought that England was closing her eyes to -Germany’s development. The Kaiser seemed to me a very clever man, his -people on the whole loyal to him; while it was wonderful how so great -a population had been organised and cared for. We might learn the value -of co-ordination from Germany, without adopting militarism or other -characteristics which we disliked. - -The Englishman thought that I was pro-German. For in Europe one -must always be pro or anti something; Francophile or Francophobe, -Germanophile or Germanophobe. I noticed the train-guard listening at -intervals to our discussion. Perhaps he knew English. Many German -train-guards do. Few English or French train-guards know any but their -own language. This also is suggestive, if you care to take it that way. - -When I left the train, the guard, instead of a porter, took my bag to -the custom house. Probably he was of a mind to add to his income, I -thought. After I was through the customs he put my bag in a compartment -of the Dutch train. When I offered him a tip, the manner of his refusal -made me feel rather mean. He saluted and clicked his heels together and -said: “Thank you, sir, for what you said about my Emperor!” and with -a military step marched back to the German train. How he had boiled -inwardly as he listened to the Englishman and held his temper, thinking -that “the day” was coming! - -The second German was first mate of a little German steamer on the -Central American coast. The mark of German thoroughness was on him. He -spoke English and Spanish well; he was highly efficient, so far as I -could tell. After passing through the Straits of Magellan, the steamer -went as far as Vancouver in British Columbia. Its traffic was the small -kind which the English did not find worth while, but which tireless -German capability in details and cheap labour made profitable. The -steamer stopped at every small West, South, and Central American -and Mexican port to take on and leave cargo. At any hour of the -night anchor was dropped, perhaps in a heavy ground-swell and almost -invariably in intense tropical heat. Sometimes a German coffee planter -came on board and had a glass of beer with the captain and the mate. -For nearly all the rich Guatemala coffee estates had passed into German -hands. The Guatemaltecan dictator taxed the native owners bankrupt and -the Germans, in collusion with him, bought in the estates. - -Life for that mate was a battle with filthy _cargadores_ in stifling -heat; he snatched his sleep when he might between ports. The steamer -was in Hamburg to dock and refit once a year. Then he saw his wife -and children for at most a month; sometimes for only a week. In any -essay-contest on “Is Life Worth Living?” it seemed to me he ought to -win the prize for the negative side. - -“Since I have been on this run I have seen California ranches,” he -said. “If I had come out to California fifteen years ago, when I -thought of emigrating to America, by working half as hard as I have -worked--and that would be harder than most California ranchers -work--I could have had my own plot of ground and my own house and -lived at home with my family. But when I spoke of emigrating I was -warned against it. Maybe you don’t know that the local officials have -orders to dissuade intending emigrants from their purpose. They told -me that the United States and Canada were lands of graft, injustice, -and disorder, where native Americans formed a caste which kept all -immigrants at manual labour. I should be robbed and forced to work -for the trusts for a pittance. Instead of an imperial government to -protect me, I should be exploited by millionaire kings. Wasn’t I a -German? Wasn’t I loyal to my Kaiser? Would I forfeit my nationality? -This appeal decided me. And I am too old, now, to start at ranching.” - -Had I been one of those wicked millionaire kings of the United States -or Canada, I should have set this man up on a ranch, believing that he -was not yet too old to make good in a new land if he were given a fair -start, knowing that he would pay back the capital with interest; and I -have known wicked millionaire kings to be guilty of such lapses as this -from their tyranny. - -The imperial German system wanted his earning power and energy back -of the sea wedge. German steamship companies promoted emigration -from Hungary, Russia, and Italy for the fares it brought. The German -government, however, took care that the steamship companies carried -no German emigrants; and it ruled that no Russian peasant or Polish -Jew bound for Hamburg or Bremen on the way to America might stop over -_en route_ across Germany, lest he stay. Russians and Poles and Jews -were not desirable material for the German sea wedge. Let them go -into the _pot-au-feu_ of the capacious and indiscriminating American -melting-pot, which may yet make something of them that will surprise -the chauvinists. - -Breed more Germans; keep them fed, clothed, employed, organised -industrially, educated! Don’t relieve the economic pressure by -emigration or by lowering the birth rate! Keep up the military spirit! -Develop the money spirit! Instilled with loyalty to the Kaiser, with -a sense of superiority in industry and training as well as of racial -superiority, the German felt himself the victim of a world injustice. -He saw complacent England living on the fat of empire. He saw America -with its rich resources and lack of civil organisation and discipline -and its waste individual effort. - -If the United States only would not play the dog in the manger! If -Germany could apply the magic of her system to Mexico or Central -America, what tribute that would bring home to Berlin! Consider -organised German industrialism working India for all that it was worth! -Or Zanzibar! Or the Straits Settlements! Germany had the restless -ambition, with an undercurrent of resentment, of the young manager with -modern methods who wants to supplant the old manager and his old-fogy -methods--an old manager set in his way, but a very kindly, sound old -manager, to whose ways the world had grown accustomed. - -Taxes for armament, and particularly for that new navy, lay heavily on -Germany, too. Driving the wedge by peaceful means became increasingly -difficult. It needed the blow of war to split open the way to rich -fields. The war spirit lost nothing by Germany’s sense of isolation. -For this isolation England was to blame; she and the alliances which -King Edward had formed around her. England was to blame for everything. -Germany could not be to blame for anything. The national rival is -always the scapegoat of patriotism. So Germany prepared to strike, as -one prepares to build and open a store or to put on a play. - -Where forty years ago the Englishman, with his aggressive ways, was the -unpopular traveller in Europe, the German had become most disliked. In -Italy, with his expanding industry, he ran many hotels. His success and -his personal manners combined to make the sensitive Italian loathe -him. Thus, he sowed the seed of popular feeling which broke in a wave -that forced Italy into the war. - -Germany thought of England as too selfish and cunning in her -complacency really to come to the aid of France and Russia. She would -stay out; and had she stayed out, Germany would have crushed Russia and -then turned on France. But Germany did not know England any better than -England knew Germany. The jaundiced mists of chauvinism kept even high -leaders from seeing their adversaries clearly. - -Austria, too, was feeling economic pressure. Her people, especially -the Hungarians, looked toward the southeast for expansion. Her shrewd -statesmanship, its instincts inherited from the Hapsburg dynasty, -playing race hatred against race hatred and bound, so it looked, to -national disruption, welcomed any opportunity which would set the mind -of the whole people thinking of some exterior object rather than of -internal differences. She annexed Bosnia-Herzegovina with its Slav -population at a moment when Russia was not prepared to aid her kindred. -Bosnia and Herzegovina are better off for the annexation; they have -enjoyed rapid material progress as the result. - -Bounded by the Danube and the Turk were the Balkan countries, which -ought to be the garden spot of civilisation. Here, poverty aggravated -racial hate and racial hate aggravated poverty in a vicious circle. -Serbia, longest free of the Turk, adjoining Austria, had no outlet -except through other lands. She was a commercial slave of Austria, -dependent on Austrian tariffs and Austrian railroads, with Hungarian -business men holding the purse-strings of trade. In her swineherds -and tillers the desire for some of the good things of modern life -was developing. Strangling, with Austria’s hands at her throat, with -many clever, resourceful agitators urging her on, she fought in the -only way that she knew. To Austria she was the uncouth swineherd who -assassinated the Austrian Crown Prince and his consort. This deed was -the exterior object which united Austria in a passionate rage. For -Austria, more than any other country, could welcome war for the old -reason. It let out the emotion of the nation against an enemy instead -of against its own rulers. - -A deeper-seated cause was the racial hatred of Slav and Teuton. For -rulers do not make war these days; they try to keep their thrones -secure on the crest of public opinion. They appear to rule and to -give, and are ruled and yield. Whoever had travelled in Russia of -late years had been conscious of a rising ground-swell in the great -mass of Russian feeling. Your simple _moujik_ had an idea that his -Czar had yielded to the Austrians and the Germans. In short, the -German had tweaked the nose of the Slav race with the annexation of -Bosnia-Herzegovina and the Czar had borne the insult because his people -were willing. - -Slow to think, and not thinking overmuch, the Russian peasant began -to see red whenever he thought of a German. As a whole public thinks, -eventually its rulers must think. The upper class of Russia was -inclined to fan the flames of the people’s passions. If the people were -venting their emotions against the Teuton they would not be developing -further revolutions against the old order of things. The military class -was prompt to make use of the national tendency to strengthen military -resources. By action and reaction across the frontiers the strain was -increasing. Germany saw Russia with double her own population and was -sensitive to the dangers behind Russia’s ambitions. Russia stood for -everything abhorrent to German order and racial feeling. - -And what of France? There is little to say of her when we assign -responsibility. Here was a nation with its population practically -stationary; a nation with a closed-in culture; a democracy with its -racial and national integrity assured by its own peculiar genius. -Visions of conquest had passed from the French mind. Her “place in the -sun” was her own sun of France. Her trade was that due to skill in -handicraft rather than to any tactics of aggression. At every Hague -conference France was for all measures that would assure peace; Germany -against every one that might interfere with her military ambition; -England against any that might limit her action in defending the seas. - -The desire for “revenge” for ’70 had died out in the younger generation -of Frenchmen. Her stationary population, which chauvinists resented, -had solved the problem of expansion. From father to son, she could be -content with her thrift, her industry, and her arts, and with the joy -of living. For, more than any other European nation, she had that gift: -the joy of living. Her armies and her alliances were truly for defence. -She could not fight Germany and Austria alone. She must have help. If -Russia went to war she, too, must go to war. She acted up to her belief -when she held back her armies five miles from the frontier till the -German struck; when she gave Germany a start in mobilisation--a start -which, with England’s delay, came near being fatal for her. That price -she paid for peace; that advantage Germany gained by striking first. It -is a hard moral for the pacificists, but one which ought to give the -French conscience a cleaner taste in after years. - -The Kaiser, too, insisted that he was for peace. So he was, according -to German logic. He realised his military power as the outside world -could not realise it. Had Italy joined her forces to her allies, he -might have crushed France and then turned on Russia, as his staff had -planned. For striking he could reduce France to a second-rate power, -take her colonies, fatten German coffers with an enormous indemnity, -and gain Belgium and the Channel ports as the next step in national -ambition before crushing England and securing the mastery of the seas. -But he held off the blow for many years; that is the logic of his -partisanship for peace. The fact that France proved stronger than he -thought hardly interfered with his belief in his own moderation, in -view of his confidence in his arms before the test came. He was for -peace because he did not knock the other man down as soon as he might. - -No other race in all Europe liked the Germans; not even the Huns, or -the Czechs, or the Croats, and least of all the Italians. The Belgians, -too, shared the universal enmity. It was Germany that Belgium feared. -Her forts looked toward Germany; she looked toward England and France -for protection. In this she was unneutral; but not in the thing that -counted--thorough military preparation. - -Thus were the Germanic empires isolated in sentiment before the war -began. This strengthened their realisation that their one true ally was -their power in arms, unaffected by any sentiment except that of beating -their enemies. Europe, straining under the taxation of preparation, -long held back by fear of the cataclysm, yet drawn by curiosity as to -the nature of its capacity, sent her millions of soldiers to that test -in practice of the struggle of modern arms which had been the haunting -subject of her speculation. - - - - -II - -“LE BRAVE BELGE!” - - The stampede to Europe--Early days in Belgium--Characteristics of - the Allies’ armies--Rumours--First skirmishes--When would - the English come?--_Shipperke_ spirit--Pathos of the Belgian - defence--A Taube and a Belgian cyclist patrol--Brussels before - its fall--A momentous decision. - - -The rush from Monterey, in Mexico, when a telegram said that general -European war was inevitable; the run and jump aboard the _Lusitania_ at -New York the night that war was declared by England against Germany; -the Atlantic passage on the liner of ineffaceable memory, a suspense -broken by fragments of war news by wireless; the arrival in an England -before the war was a week old; the journey to Belgium in the hope -of reaching the scene of action!--as I write, all seem to have the -perspective of history, so final are the processes of war, so swift -their execution, and so eager is every one for each day’s developments. -As one grows older the years seem shorter; but the first year of the -Great War is the longest year I have known. - -_Le brave Belge!_ One must be honest about him. If one lets his -heart run away with his judgment he does his mind an injustice. A -fellow-countryman who was in London and fresh from home in the eighth -month of the war, asked me for my views of the relative efficiency of -the different armies engaged. - -“Do you mean that I am to speak without regard to personal sympathies?” -I asked. - -“Certainly,” he replied. - -When he had my opinion he exclaimed: - -“You have mentioned them all except the Belgian army. I thought it was -the bravest and best of all.” - -“Is that what they think at home?” I asked. - -“Yes, of course.” - -“The Atlantic is broad,” I suggested. - -This man of affairs, an exponent of the efficiency of business, was a -sentimentalist when it came to war, as Anglo-Saxons usually are. The -side which they favour--that is the efficient side. When I ventured to -suggest that the Belgian army, in a professional sense, was hardly to -be considered as an army, it was clear that he had ceased to associate -my experience with any real knowledge. - -In business he was one who saw his rivals, their abilities, the -organisation of their concerns, and their resources of competition -with a clear eye. He could say of his best personal friend: “I like -him, but he has a poor head for affairs.” Yet he was the type who, -if he had been a trained soldier, would have been a business man of -war, who would have wanted a sharp, ready sword in a well-trained hand -and to leave nothing to chance in a battle for the right. In Germany, -where some of the best brains of the country are given to making war -a business, he might have been a soldier who would rise to a position -on the staff. In America he was the employer of three thousand men--a -general of civil life. - -“But look how the Belgians have fought!” he exclaimed. “They stopped -the whole German army for two weeks.” - -The best army was best because it had his sympathy. His view was the -popular view in America: the view of the heart. America saw the pigmy -fighting the giant rather than let him pass over Belgian soil. On that -day when a gallant young king cried, “To arms!” all his people became -gallant to the imagination. - -When I think of Belgium’s part in the war I always think of the little -Belgian dog, the _shipperke_, who lives on the canal boats. He is a -home-staying dog, loyal, affectionate, domestic, who never goes out on -the tow-path to pick quarrels with other dogs; but let anything on two -or four feet try to go on board when his master is away and he will -fight with every ounce of strength in him. The King had the _shipperke_ -spirit. All the Belgians who had the _shipperke_ spirit tried to sink -their teeth in the calves of the invader. - -One’s heart was with the Belgians on that eighteenth day of August, -1914, when one set out toward the front in an automobile from a -Brussels rejoicing over bulletins of victory, its streets walled with -bunting; but there was something brewing in one’s mind which was as -treason to one’s desires. Let Brussels enjoy its flags and its capture -of German cavalry patrols while it might! - -On the hills back of Louvain we came upon some Belgian troops in their -long, cumbersome coats, dark silhouettes against the field, digging -shallow trenches in an uncertain sort of way. Whether it was them -or the Belgian staff officers hurrying by in their cars, I had the -impression of the will and not the way and a parallel of raw militia in -uniforms taken from grandfather’s trunk facing the trained antagonists -of an Austerlitz, or a Waterloo, or a Gettysburg. - -_Le brave Belge!_ The question on that day was not, Are you brave? but, -Do you know how to fight? Also, Would the French and the British arrive -in time to help you? Of a thousand rumours about the positions of the -French and the British armies, one was as good as another. All the -observer knew was that he was an atom in a motor and all he saw for the -defence of Belgium was a regiment of Belgians digging trenches. He need -not have been in Belgium before to realise that here were an unwarlike -people, living by intensive thrift and caution--a most domesticated -civilisation in the most thickly populated workshop in Europe, counting -every blade of grass and every kernel of wheat and making its pleasures -go a long way at small cost; a hothouse of a land, with the door about -to be opened to the withering blast of war. - -Out of the Hôtel de Ville at Louvain, as our car halted by the -cathedral door, came an elderly French officer, walking with a light, -quick step, his cloak thrown back over his shoulders, and hurriedly -entered a car; and after him came a tall British officer, walking more -slowly, imperturbably, as a man who meant to let nothing disturb him or -beat him--both characteristic types of race. This was the break-up of -the last military conference held at Louvain, which had now ceased to -be Belgian Headquarters. - -How little you knew and how much they knew! The sight of them was -helpful. One was the representative of a force of millions of -Frenchmen; of the army. I had always believed in the French army, and -have more reason now than ever before to believe in it. There was no -doubt that if a French corps and a German corps were set the task of -marching a hundred miles to a strategic position, the French would -arrive first and win the day in a pitched battle. But no one knew this -better than that German staff whose superiority, as von Moltke said, -would always ensure victory. Was the French army ready? Could it bring -fulness of its strength into the first and perhaps the deciding shock -of arms? Where was the French army? - -The other officer who came out of the Hôtel de Ville was the -representative of a little army--a handful of regulars--hard as -nails and ready to the last button. Where was the British army? The -restaurant keeper where we had luncheon at Louvain--he knew. He -whispered his military secret to me. The British army was toward -Antwerp, waiting to crush the Germans in the flank should they advance -on Brussels. We were “drawing them on!” Most cheerful, most confident, -mine host! When I went back to Louvain under German rule his restaurant -was in ruins. - -We were on our way to as near the front as we would go, with a pass -which was written for us by a Belgian reservist in Brussels between -sips of beer brought him by a boy scout. It was a unique, a most -accommodating, pass; the only one I have received from the Allies’ side -which would have taken me into the German lines. - -The front which we saw was in the square of the little town of -Haelen, where some dogs of a dog machine gun battery lay panting in -their traces. A Belgian officer in command there I recollect for his -passionate repetition of, “Assassins! The barbarians!” which seemed to -choke out any other words whenever he spoke of the Germans. His was -a fresh, livid hate, born of recent fighting. We could go where we -pleased, he said; and the Germans were “out there,” not far away. Very -tired he was, except for the flash of hate in his eyes; as tired as the -dogs of the mitrailleuse battery. - -We went outside to see the scene of “the battle,” as it was called -in the despatches; a field in the first flush of the war, where the -headless lances of Belgian and German cavalrymen were still scattered -about. The peasants had broken off the lance-heads for the steel, which -was something to pay for the grain smouldering in the barn which had -been shelled and burned. - -A battle! It was a battle because the reporters could get some account -of it and the fighting in Alsace was hidden under the cloud of secrecy. -A superficial survey was enough to show that it had been only a -reconnaissance by the Germans with some infantry and guns as well as -cavalry. Their defeat had been an incident to the thrust of a tiny -feeling finger of the German octopus for information. The scouting of -the German cavalry patrols here and there had the same object. Waiting -behind hedges or sweeping around in the rear of a patrol with their own -cavalry when the word came by telephone, the Belgians bagged many a -German, man and horse, dead and alive. - -Brussels and London and New York, too, thrilled over these exploits -supplied to eager readers. It was the Uhlan week of the war; for every -German cavalryman was an Uhlan, according to popular conception. These -Uhlans seemed to have more temerity than sense from the accounts that -one read. But if one out of a dozen of these mounted youth, with horses -fresh and a trooper’s zest in the first flush of war, returned to say -that he had ridden to such and such points without finding any signs of -British or French forces, he had paid for the loss of the others. The -Germans had plenty of cavalry. They used it as the eyes of the army, in -co-operation with the aerial eyes of the planes. - -A peasant woman came out of the house beside the battlefield with her -children around her; a flat-chested, thin woman, prematurely old with -toil. “_Les Anglais!_” she cried at sight of us. Seeing that we had -some lances in the car, she rushed into her house and brought out half -a dozen more. If the English wanted lances they should have them. She -knew only a few words of French, not enough to express the question -which she made understood by gestures. Her eyes were burning with -appeal to us and flashing with hate as she shook her fist toward the -Germans. - -When were the English coming? All her trust was in the English, the -invincible English, to save her country. Probably the average European -would have passed her by as an excited peasant woman. But pitiful she -was to me, more pitiful than the raging officer and his dog battery, -or the infantry awkwardly entrenching back of Louvain, or flag-decked -Brussels believing in victory: one of the Belgians with the true -_shipperke_ spirit. She was shaking her fist at a dam which was about -to burst in a flood. - -It was strange to an American, who comes from a land where every one -learns a single language, English, that she and her ancestors, through -centuries of living neighbour in a thickly-populated country to people -who speak French and to French civilisation, should never have learned -to express themselves in any but their own tongue--singular, almost -incredible, tenacity in the age of popular education! She would save -the lance heads and garner every grain of wheat; she economised in all -but racial animosity. This racial stubbornness of Europe--perhaps it -keeps Europe powerful in jealous competition of race with race. - -The thought that went home was that she did not want the Germans to -come; no Belgian wanted them; and this was the fact decisive in the -scales of justice. She said, as the officer had said, that the Germans -were “out there.” Across the fields one saw nothing on that still -August day; no sign of war unless a Taube overhead, the first enemy -aeroplane I had seen in war. For the last two days the German patrols -had ceased to come. Liége, we knew, had fallen. Looking at the map, we -prayed that Namur would hold. - -“Out there” beyond the quiet fields that mighty force which was to -swing through Belgium in flank was massed and ready to move when -the German staff opened the throttle. A mile or so away a patrol of -Belgian cyclists stopped us as we turned toward Brussels. They were -dust-covered and weary; the voice of their captain was faint with -fatigue. For over two weeks he had been on the hunt of Uhlan patrols. -Another _shipperke_ he, who could not only hate but fight as best he -knew how. - -“We had an alarm,” he said. “Have you heard anything?” - -When we told him no, he pedalled on more slowly, and oh, how wearily! -to the front. Rather pitiful that, too, when you thought of what was -“out there.” - -One had learned enough to know, without the confidential information -that he received, that the Germans could take Brussels if they chose. -But the people of Brussels still thronged the streets under the -blankets of bunting. If bunting could save Brussels, it was in no -danger. - -There was a mockery about my dinner that night. The waiter who laid the -white cloth on a marble table was unctuously suggestive as to menu. -Luscious grapes and crisp salad, which Belgian gardeners grow with -meticulous care, I remember of it. One might linger over his coffee, -knowing the truth, and look out at the people who did not know it. -When they were not buying more buttons with the allied colours, or -more flags, or dropping nickel pieces in Red Cross boxes, they were -thronging to the kiosks for the latest edition of the evening papers, -which told them nothing. - -And one had to make up his mind. Clearly, he had only to keep in his -room in his hotel in order to have a great experience. He might see the -German troops enter Belgium. His American passport would protect him -as a neutral; Minister Brand Whitlock and Secretary of Legation Hugh -Gibson would get him out of trouble. - -“Stick to the army you are with!” an eminent American had told me. - -“Yes, but I prefer to choose my army,” I had replied. - -The army I chose was not about to enter Brussels. It was on the side -of the _shipperke_ dog mitrailleuse battery which I had seen in the -streets of Haelen, and the peasant woman who shook her fist at the -invader, and all who had the _shipperke_ spirit. - -My empty appointment as the representative of the American press with -the British army was, at least, taken seriously by the policeman at -the War Office in London when I returned from trips to France. The day -came when it was good for British trenches and gun positions; when it -was worth all the waiting, if one wished to see the drama of modern war -intimately. - - - - -III - -MONS AND PARIS - - The English base--Stories of the wounded--The cataclysm a reality-- - London after Mons--The call to Englishmen--The “Fog of war”-- - From Dieppe to Paris--The red trousers of the French--Empty - Paris--Can the German machine be held?--“The French have not - had their battle yet!” - - -Back from Belgium to England; then across the Channel again to -Boulogne, where I saw the last of the French garrison march away, -their red trousers a throbbing target along the road. From Boulogne -the British had advanced into Belgium. Now their base was moved on to -Havre. Boulogne, which two weeks before had been cheering the advent of -“Tommee Atkeens” singing “Why should we be downhearted?” was ominously -lifeless. It was a town without soldiers, a town of brick and mortar -and pavements whose very defencelessness was its security should the -Germans come. - -The only British there were a few stray wounded officers and men -who had found their way back from Mons. They had no idea where the -British army was. All they realised were sleepless nights, the shock -of combat, overpowering artillery fire, and resisting the onslaught of -outnumbering masses. - -An officer of Lancers, who had ridden through the German cavalry with -his squadron, dwelt on the glory of that moment. What did his wound -matter? It had come with the burst of a shell in a village street which -killed his horse after the charge. He had hobbled away, reached a -railroad train, and got on board. That was all he knew. - -A Scotch private had been lying with his battalion in a trench when a -German aeroplane was sighted. It had hardly passed by when showers of -shrapnel descended and the Germans, in that grey-green so hard to see, -were coming on as thick as locusts. Then the orders came to fall back, -and he was hit as his battalion made another stand. He had crawled a -mile across the fields in the night with a bullet in his arm. A medical -corps officer told him to find any transportation he could; and he, -too, was able to get aboard a train. That was all he knew. - -These wounded had been tossed aside into eddies by the maelstrom of -action. They were interesting because they were the first British -wounded that I had seen; because the war was young. - -Back to London again to catch the mail with an article. One was to -“commute” to the war from London as home. It was a base whence one -sallied forth to get peeps through the curtain of military secrecy at -the mighty spectacle. One soaked in England at intervals and the war at -intervals. Whenever one stepped on the pier at Folkestone it was with -a breath of relief, born of a sense of freedom long associated with -fields and hedges on the other side of the chalk cliffs which seemed to -make the sequestering barrier of the sea complete. - -Those days of late August and early September, 1914, were gripping -days to the memory. Eager armies were pressing forward to a cataclysm -no longer of dread imagination but of reality. That ever deepening and -spreading stain from Switzerland to the North Sea was as yet only a -splash of fresh blood. One still wondered if one might not wake up in -the morning and find the war a nightmare. Pictures that grow clearer -with time, which the personal memory chooses for its own, dissociate -themselves from a background of detail. - -They were very quiet, this pair that sat at the next table in the -dining-room of a London hotel. I never spoke to them, but only stole -discreet glances as we all will in irresistible temptation at any -newly-wedded couple. Neither was of the worldly type. One knew that to -this young girl London was strange; one knew the type of country home -which had given her that simple charm which cities cannot breed; one -knew, too, that this young officer, her husband, waited for word to go -to the front. - -Unconsciously she would play with her wedding-ring. She stole covert -glances at it and at him, of the kind that bring a catch in the -throat, when he was not looking at her--which he was most of the -time, for reasons which were good and sufficient to others than -himself. Apprehended in “wool-gathering,” she mustered a smile which -was so exclusively for him that the neighbour felt that he ought to be -forgiven his peeps from the tail of his eye at it because it was so -precious. - -They would attempt little flights of talk about everything except the -war. He was most solicitous that she should have something which she -liked to eat, while she was equally solicitous about him. Wasn’t he -going “out there”? And out there he would have to live on army fare. -It was all appealing to the old traveller. And then the next morning-- -she was alone, after she had given him that precious smile in parting. -The incident was one of the thousands before the war had become an -institution, death a matter of routine, and it was a commonplace for -young wives to see young husbands away to the front with a smile. - -One such incident does for all, whether the war is young or old. There -is nothing else to tell, even when you know wife and husband. I was -rather glad that I did not know this pair. Then I should be looking at -the casualty list in the newspaper each morning and I might not enjoy -my faith that he will return alive. These two seemed to me the best of -England. I used to think of them when gossip sought the latest turn of -intrigue under the mantle of censorship, when Parliament poured out its -oral floods and the newspapers their volumes of words. The man went off -to fight; the woman returned to her country home. It was the hour of -war, not of talk. - -On that Sunday in London when the truth about Mons appeared stark to -all England, another young man happened to buy a special edition at a -street corner at the same time as myself. By all criteria, the world -and his tailor had treated him well and he deserved well of the world. -We spoke together about the news. Already the new democracy which the -war had developed was in evidence. Everybody had common thoughts and a -common thing at stake, with values reckoned in lives, and this makes -for equality. - -“It’s clear that we have had a bad knock. Why deny it?” he said. Then -he added quietly, after a pause: “This is a personal call for me. I’m -going to enlist.” - -England’s answer to that “bad knock” was out of her experience. She had -never won at first, but she had always won in the end; she had won the -last battle. The next day’s news was worse and the next day’s still -worse. The Germans seemed to be approaching Paris by forced marches. -Paris might fall--no matter! Though the French army were shattered, -one heard Englishmen say that the British would create an army to wrest -victory from defeat. The spirit of this was fine, but one realised the -enormity of the task; should the mighty German machine crush the French -machine, the Allies had lost. To say so then was heresy, when the world -was inclined to think poorly of the French army and saw Russian numbers -as irresistible. - -The personal call was to Paris before the fate of Paris was to be -decided. My first crossing of the Channel had been to Ostend; the -second, farther south to Boulogne; the third was still farther south, -to Dieppe. Where next? To Havre! Events were moving with the speed -which had been foreseen with myriads of soldiers ready to be thrown -into battle by the quick march of the railroad trains. - -Every event was hidden under the “fog of war,” then a current -expression--meagre official bulletins which read like hope in their -brief lines, while the imagination might read as it chose between the -lines. The marvel was that any but troop trains should run. All night -in that third-class coach from Dieppe to Paris! Tired and preoccupied -passengers; every one’s heart heavy; every one’s soul wrenched; every -one prepared for the worst! You cared for no other man’s views; the one -thing you wanted was no bad news. France had known that when the war -came it would be to the death. From the first no Frenchman could have -had any illusions. England had not realised yet that her fate was with -the soldiers of France, or France that her fate and all the world’s -was with the British fleet. - -An Italian in our compartment would talk, however, and he would keep -the topic down to red trousers, and to the red trousers of a French -Territorial opposite with an index finger when his gesticulatory -knowledge of the French language, which was excellent, came to the -rescue of his verbal knowledge, which was poor. The Frenchman agreed -that red trousers were a mistake, but pointed to the blue covering -which he had for his cap--which made it all right. The Italian -insisted on keeping to the trousers. He talked red trousers till the -Frenchman got out at his station and then turned to me to confirm his -views on this fatal strategic and tactical error of the French. After -all, he was more pertinent than most of the military experts trying to -write on the basis of the military bulletins. It was droll to listen -to this sartorial discourse, when at least two hundred thousand men -lay dead and wounded from that day’s fight on the soil of France. Red -trousers were responsible for the death of a lot of them. - -Dawn, early September dawn, on dew-moist fields, where the harvests lay -unfinished as the workers, hastening to the call of war, had left the -work. Across Paris, which seemed as silent as the fields, to a hotel -with empty rooms! Five hundred empty rooms, with a clock ticking busily -in every room! War or no war, that old man who wound the clocks was -making his rounds softly through the halls from door to door. He was a -good soldier, who had heeded Joffre’s request that every one should go -on with his day’s work. - -“They’re done!” said an American in the foyer. “The French could not -stand up against the Germans--anybody anybody could see that! It’s -too bad, but the French are licked. The Germans will be here to-morrow -or the next day.” - -I could not and would not believe it. Such a disaster was against all -one’s belief in the French army and in the real character of the French -people. It meant that autocracy was making sport of democracy; it meant -disaster to all one’s precepts; a personal disaster. - -“Look at that interior line which the French now hold. Think of the -power of the defensive with modern arms. No! The French have not had -their battle yet!” I said. - -And the British Expeditionary Force was still intact; still an army, -with lots of fight left in it. - - - - -IV - -PARIS WAITS - - The Paris of the boulevards a dead city--How Marianne goes to war-- - The Germans are coming!--Silence and darkness--Moonlight on - the Arc de Triomphe--Trust in Joffre and in the army--Turn - of the tide--Joffre’s _communiqués_ more definite--Positions - regained--The French in pursuit--Paris breathes again--A - Sunday of relief--Religious rejoicing at Nôtre Dame--Groups in - the cafés--The American Embassy “mobilised for war”--“In spite - of ’70, France still lived.” - - -It was then that people were speaking of Paris as a dead city--a -Paris without theatres, without young men, without omnibuses, with the -shutters of its shops down and its cafés and restaurants in gloomy -emptiness. - -The Paris the host of the idler and the traveller, the Paris of the -boulevards and the night life provided for the tourist, the Paris -that sparkled and smiled in entertainment, the Paris exploited to the -average American through Sunday supplements and the reminiscences of -smoking-rooms of transatlantic liners, was dead. Those who knew no -other Paris and conjectured no other Paris departed as from the tomb of -the pleasures which had been the passing extravaganza of relief from -dull lives elsewhere. The Parisienne of that Paris spent a thousand -francs to get her pet dog safely away to Marseilles. Politicians of a -craven type, who are the curse of all democracies, had gone to keep her -company, leaving Paris cleaner than ever she was after the streets had -had their morning bath on a spring day when the horse chestnuts were -in bloom and Madame was arranging her early editions on the table of -her kiosk--a spiritually clean Paris. - -Monsieur, would you have America judged by the White Way? What has the -White Way to do with the New York of Seventy-second Street or Harlem? -It serves the same purpose as the boulevards of furnishing scandalous -little paragraphs for foreign newspapers. Foreigners visit it and think -that they understand how Americans live in Stockbridge, Mass., or -Springfield, Ill. Empty its hotels and nobody but sightseers and people -interested in the White Way would know the difference. - -The other Paris, making ready to stand siege, with the Government gone -to Bordeaux with all the gold of the Bank of France, with the enemy’s -guns audible in the suburbs and old men cutting down trees and tearing -up paving-stones to barricade the streets--never had that Paris been -more alive. It was after the death of the old and the birth of the new -Paris that an elderly man, seeing a group of women at tea in one of the -few fashionable refreshment places which were open, stopped and said: - -“Can you find nothing better than that to do, ladies, in a time like -this?” - -And the Latin temperament gave the world a surprise. Those who judged -France by her playful Paris thought that if a Frenchman gesticulated -so emotionally in the course of every-day existence, he would get -overwhelmingly excited in a great emergency. One evening, after the -repulse of the Germans on the Marne, I saw two French reserves dining -in a famous restaurant where, at this time of the year, four out of -five diners ordinarily would be foreigners surveying one another in -a study of Parisian life. They were big, rosy-cheeked men, country -born and bred, belonging to the new France of sports, of action, of -temperate habits, and they were joking about dining there just as -two sturdy Westerners might about dining in a deserted Broadway. The -foreigners and _demi-mondaines_ were noticeably absent; a pair of -Frenchmen were in the place of the absentees; and after their dinner -they smoked their black briar-root pipes in that fashionable restaurant. - -Among the picture post-cards then on sale was one of Marianne, who is -France, bound for the front in an aeroplane with a crowing French cock -sitting on the brace above her. Marianne looked as happy as if she were -going to the races; the cock as triumphant as if he had a spur through -the German eagle’s throat. However, there was little sale for picture -post-cards or other trifles, while Paris waited for the siege. They did -not help to win victories. News and not _jeux d’esprit_, victory and -not wit, was wanted. - -For Marianne went to war with her liberty cap drawn tight over her -brow, a beat in her temples, and her heart in her throat; and the -cock had his head down and pointed at the enemy. She was relieved in -a way, as all Europe was, that the thing had come; at last an end of -the straining of competitive taxation and preparation; at last the -test. She had no channel, as England had, between her and the foe. -Defeat meant the heel of the enemy on her soil, German sentries in her -streets, submission. Long and hard she had trained; while the outside -world, thinking of the Paris of the boulevards, thought that she could -not resist the Kaiser’s legions. She was effeminate, effete. She was -all right to run cafés and make artificial flowers, but she lacked -beef. All the prestige was with her enemy. In ’70 all the prestige had -been with her. For there is no prestige like military prestige. It is -all with those who won the last war. - -“But if we must succumb, let it be now,” said the French. - -On, on--the German corps were coming like some machine-controlled -avalanche of armed men. Every report brought them a little nearer -Paris. Ah, monsieur, they had numbers, those Germans! Every German -mother has many sons; a French mother only one or two. - -How could one believe those official _communiqués_ which kept saying -that the position of the French armies was favourable and then admitted -that von Kluck had advanced another twenty miles? The heart of Paris -stopped beating. Paris held its breath. Perhaps the reason there was no -panic was that Parisians had been prepared for the worst. - -What silence! The old men and women in the streets moved as under a -spell, which was the sense of their own helplessness. But few people -were abroad, and those going on errands apparently. The absence of -traffic and pedestrians heightened the sepulchral appearance to -superficial observation. At the windows of flats, inside the little -shops, and on by-streets, you saw waiting faces, every one with the -weight of national grief become personal. Was Paris alive? Yes, if -Paris is human and not bricks and stone. Every Parisian was living a -century in a week. So, too, was one who loved France. In the prospect -of its loss he realised the value of all that France stands for, her -genius, her democracy, her spirit. - -One recalled how German officers had said that the next war would be -the end of France. An indemnity which would crush out her power of -recovery would be imposed on her. Her northern ports would be taken. -France, the most homogeneous of nations, would be divided into separate -nationalities--even this the Germans had planned. Those who read their -Shakespeare in the language they learned in childhood had no doubt of -England’s coming out of the war secure; but if we thought which foreign -civilisation brought us the most in our lives, it was that of France. - -What would the world be without French civilisation? To think of France -dead was to think of cells in your own brain that had gone lifeless; of -something irreparably extinguished to every man to whom civilisation -means more than material power of destruction. The sense of what -might be lost appealed to you at every turn in scenes once merely -characteristic of a whole, each with an appeal of its own now; in the -types of people who, by their conduct in this hour of trial, showed -that Spartan hearts might beat in Paris--the Spartan hearts of the -mass of every-day, work-a-day Parisians. - -Those waiting at home calmly with their thoughts, in a France of -apprehension, knew that their fate was out of their hands in the hands -of their youth. The tide of battle wavering from Meaux to Verdun might -engulf them; it might recede; but Paris would resist to the last. That -was something. She would resist in a manner worthy of Paris; and one -could live on very little food. Their fathers had. Every day that -Paris held out would be a day lost to the Germans and a day gained for -Joffre and Sir John French to bring up reserves. - -The street lamps should not reveal to Zeppelins or Taubes the location -of precious monuments. You might walk the length of the Champs Élysées -without meeting a vehicle or more than two or three pedestrians. The -avenue was all your own; you might appreciate it as an avenue for -itself; and every building and even the skyline of the streets you -might appreciate, free of any association except the thought of the -results of man’s planning and building. Silent, deserted Paris by -moonlight, without street lamps--few had ever seen that. Millionaire -tourists with retinues of servants following them in automobiles may -never know this effect; nor the Parisienne who paid a thousand francs -to send her pet dog to Marseilles. - -The moonlight threw the Arc de Triomphe in exaggerated spectral -relief, sprinkled the leaves of the long rows of trees, glistened on -the upsweep of the broad pavements, gleamed on the Seine. Paris was -majestic, as scornful of Prussian eagles as the Parthenon of Roman -eagles. A column of soldiery marching in triumph under the Arch might -possess as a policeman possesses; but not by arms could they gain the -quality that made Paris, any more than the Roman legionary became a -Greek scholar by doing sentry go in front of the Parthenon. Every -Parisian felt anew how dear Paris was to him; how worthy of some great -sacrifice! - -If New York were in danger of falling to an enemy, the splendid length -of Fifth Avenue and the majesty of the sky-scrapers of lower Broadway -and the bay and the rivers would become vivid to you in a way they -never had before; or Washington, or San Francisco, or Boston--or your -own town. The thing that is a commonplace, when you are about to lose -it takes on a cherished value. - -To-morrow the German guns might be thundering in front of the -fortifications. The _communiqués_ from Joffre became less frequent and -more laconic. Their wording was like some trembling, fateful needle -of a barometer, pausing, reacting a little, but going down, down, -down, indicator of the heart-pressure of Paris, shrivelling the flesh, -tightening the nerves. Already Paris was in siege, in one sense. Her -exits were guarded against all who were not in uniform and going to -fight; to all who had no purpose except to see what was passing where -two hundred miles resounded with strife. It was enough to see Paris -itself awaiting the siege; fighting one was yet to see to repletion. - -The situation must be very bad or the Government would not have gone -to Bordeaux. _Alors_, one must trust the army and the army must trust -Joffre. There is no trust like that of a democracy when it gives its -heart to a cause; the trust of the mass in the strength of the mass -which sweeps away the middleman of intrigue. - -And silence, only silence, in Paris; the silence of the old men and the -women, and of children who had ceased to play and could not understand. -No one might see what was going on unless he carried a rifle. No one -might see even the wounded. Paris was spared this, isolated in the -midst of war. The wounded were sent out of reach of the Germans in case -they should come. - -Then the indicator stopped falling. It throbbed upward. The -_communiqués_ became more definite; they told of positions regained, -and borne in the ether by the wireless of telepathy was something which -confirmed the _communiqués_. At first Paris was uneasy with the news, -so set had history been on repeating itself, so remorselessly certain -had seemed the German advance. But it was true, true--the Germans were -going, with the French in pursuit, now twenty, now thirty, now forty, -now fifty, sixty, seventy miles away from Paris. Yes, monsieur, seventy! - -With the needle rising, did Paris gather in crowds and surge through -the streets, singing and shouting itself hoarse, as it ought to have -done according to the popular international idea? No, monsieur, Paris -will not riot in joy in the presence of the dead on the battlefields -and while German troops are still within the boundaries of France. -Paris, which had been with heart standing still and breathing hard, -began to breathe regularly again and the glow of life to run through -its veins. In the markets, whither Madame brought succulent melons, -pears, and grapes with commonplace vegetables, the talk of bargaining -housewives with their baskets had something of its old vivacity and -Madame stiffened prices a little, for there will be heavy taxes to pay -for the war. Children, so susceptible to surroundings, broke out of the -quiet alleys and doorways in play again. - -A Sunday of relief, with a radiant September sun shining, followed a -Sunday of depression. The old taxicabs and the horse vehicles with -their venerable steeds and drivers too old for service at the front, -exhumed from the catacomb of the hours of doubt, ran up and down the -Champs Élysées with airing parties. At Nôtre Dame the religious -rejoicing was expressed. A great service of prayer was held by the -priests who were not away fighting for France, as three thousand are, -while joyful prayers of thanks shone on the faces of that democratic -people who have not hesitated to discipline the church as they have -disciplined their rulers. Groups gathered in the cafés or sauntered -slowly, talking less than usual, gesticulating little, rolling over the -good news in their minds as something beyond the power of expression. -How banal to say, “_C’est chic, ça!_” or, “_C’est épatant!_” Language -is for little things. - -That pile of posters at the American Embassy was already historical -souvenirs which won a smile. The name of every American resident in -Paris and his address had been filled in the blank space. He had only -to put up the warning over his door that the premises were under the -Embassy’s protection. Ambassador Herrick, suave, decisive, resourceful, -possessed the gift of acting in a great emergency with the same ease -and simplicity as in a small one, which is a gift sometimes found -wanting when a crisis breaks upon the routine of official life. - -He had the courage to act and the ability to secure a favour for an -American when it was reasonable; and the courage to say “No” if it were -unreasonable or impracticable. No one of the throngs who had business -with him was kept long at the door in uncertainty. In its organisation -for facilitating the home-going of the thousands of Americans in Paris -and the Americans coming to Paris from other parts of Europe, the -American Embassy in Paris seemed as well mobilised for its part in the -war as the German army. - -In spite of ’70, France still lived. You noted the faces of the -women in fresh black for their dead at the front, a little drawn but -proud and victorious. The son or brother or husband had died for the -country. When a fast automobile bearing officers had a German helmet -or two displayed, the people stopped to look. A captured German in the -flesh on a front seat beside a soldier chauffeur brought the knots -to a standstill. “_Voilà! C’est un Allemand!_” ran the universal -exclamation. But Paris soon became used to these stray German -prisoners, left-overs from the German retreat coming in from the fields -to surrender. The batches went through by train without stopping for -Paris, southward to the camps where they were to be interned; and the -trains of wounded to winter resorts, whose hotels became hospitals, the -verandas occupied by convalescents instead of gossiping tourists. It is -_très à la mode_ to be wounded, monsieur--_très à la mode_ all over -Europe. - -And, monsieur, all those barricades put up for nothing! They will not -need the cattle gathered on Longchamps race-track and in the parks at -Versailles for a siege. The people who laid in stocks of canned goods -till the groceries of Paris were empty of everything in tins--they -would either have to live on canned food or confess that they were -pigs, _hein_? Those volunteers, whether young men who had been excused -because they were only sons or for weak hearts which now let them past -the surgeons, whether big, hulking farmers, or labourers, or stooped -clerks, drilling in awkward squads in the suburbs till they are dizzy, -they will not have to defend Paris; but, perhaps, help to regain Alsace -and Lorraine. - -Then there were stories going the rounds; stories of French courage and -_élan_ which were cheering to the ears of those who had to remain at -home. Did you hear about the big French peasant soldier who captured a -Prussian eagle in Alsace? They had him come to Paris to give him the -Legion of Honour and the great men made a ceremony of it, gathering -around him at the Ministry of War. The simple fellow looked from one to -another of the group, surprised at all this attention. It did not occur -to him that he had done anything remarkable. He had seen a Prussian -with a standard and taken the standard away from that Prussian. - -“If you like this so well,” said that droll one, “I’ll try to get -another!” - -_C’est un vrai Français_, that _garçon_. What? - - - - -V - -ON THE HEELS OF VON KLUCK - - An excursion to the front--The magic of a military pass--The - high-water mark of German shells--Return of the refugees-- - Fate of the villages--War’s results--Burying the dead--The - victorious spirit of France--Approaching the line--Roll - and smoke of the guns--Passing the motor transports--Army - organisation--Line reserves--Newspapers and tobacco--Soissons - deserted--Stoicism of the townspeople--German prisoners--The - Sixth Army headquarters--A town in ruins--Character of French - women--French democracy and humanity. - - -Though the Germans were going, the siege by the cordon of French guards -around Paris had not been raised. To them every civilian was a possible -spy. So they let no civilians by. Must one remain forever in Paris, -screened from any view of the great drama? Was there no way of securing -a blue card which would open the road to war for an atom of humanity -who wanted to see Frenchmen in action and not to pry into generals’ -plans? - -Happily, an army winning is more hospitable than an army losing; and -bonds of friendship which stretch around the world could be linked with -authority which has only to say the word in order that one might have -a day’s glimpse of the fields where von Kluck’s Germans were showing -their heels to the French. - -Ours, I think, was the pioneer of the sightseeing parties which -afterward became the accepted form of war correspondence with the -French. None could have been under more delightful auspices in -companionship or in the event. Victory was in the hearts of our -hosts, who included M. Paul Doumer, formerly president of the Chamber -of Deputies and governor of French Indo-China and now a senator, and -General Fevrier, of the French Medical Service, who was to have had -charge of the sanitation of Paris in case of a siege. - -M. Doumer was acting as _Chef de Cabinet_ to General Gallieni, the -commandant of Paris, and he and General Fevrier and two other officers -of Gallieni’s staff, who would have been up to their eyes in work if -there had been a siege, wanted to see something of that army whose -valour had given them a holiday. Why should not Roberts and myself -come along? which is the pleasant way the French have of putting an -invitation. - -The other member of the party was the veteran European correspondent -and representative of the Associated Press in Paris, Elmer Roberts, who -would not be doing his duty to Melville E. Stone if he did not arrange -for opportunities of this kind. I was really hanging onto Roberts’s -coat-tails. Other men may have publicity as individuals in a single -newspaper or magazine, but the readers of a thousand newspapers take -their news from Paris through him without knowing his name. - -Oh, the magic of a military pass and the companionship of an officer in -uniform! It separates you from the crowd of millions on the other side -of the blank wall of military secrecy and takes you into the area of -the millions in uniform; it wins a nod of consent from that middle-aged -reservist on a road whose bayonet has the police power of millions of -bayonets in support of its authority. - -At last one was to see; the measure of his impressions was to be his -own eyes and not the written reports. Other passes I have had since, -which gave me the run of trenches and shell-fire areas; but this -pass opened the first door to the war. That day we ran by Meaux and -to Château Thierry to Soissons and back by Senlis to Paris. We saw a -finger’s breadth of battle area; a pin point of army front. Only a ride -along a broad, fine road out of Paris, at first; a road which our cars -had all to themselves. Then at Claye we came to the high-water mark -of the German invasion. This close to Paris in that direction and no -closer had the Germans come. - -There was the field where the skirmishers had turned back. Farther -on, the branches of the avenue of trees which shaded the road had -been slashed as if by a whirlwind of knives, where the French -_soixante-quinze_ field guns had found a target. Under that sudden -bath of projectiles, with the French infantry pressing forward on -their front, the German gunners could not wait to take away the cord -of five-inch shells which they had piled to blaze their way to Paris. -One guessed their haste and their irritation. They were within range of -the fortifications; within two hours’ march of the suburbs of the Mecca -of forty years of preparation. After all that march from Belgium, with -no break in the programme of success, the thunders broke and lightning -flashed out of the sky as Manoury’s army rushed upon von Kluck’s flank. - -“It was not the way that they wanted us to get the shells,” said a -French peasant, who was taking one of the shell baskets for a souvenir. -It would make an excellent umbrella stand. - -For the French it had been the turn of the tide; for that little -British army which had fought its way back from Mons it was the sweet -dream, which had kept men up on the retreat, come true. Weary Germans, -after a fearful two weeks of effort, became the driven. Weary British -and French turned drivers. A hypodermic of victory renewed their -energy. Paris was at their back and the German backs in front. They -were no longer leaving their dead and wounded behind to the foe; they -were sweeping past the dead and wounded of the foe. - -But their happiness, that of a winning action, exalted and passionate, -had not the depths of that of the refugees who had fled before the -German hosts and were returning to their homes in the wake of their -victorious army. We passed farmers with children perched on top of -carts laden with household goods and drawn by broad-backed farm-horses, -with usually another horse or a milch cow tied behind. The real power -of France these peasants, holding fast to the acres they own, with the -fire of the French nature under their thrifty conservatism. Others on -foot were villagers who had lacked horses or carts to transport their -belongings. In the packs on their backs were a few precious things -which they had borne away and were now bearing back. - -Soon they would know what the Germans had done to their homes. What -the Germans had done to one piano was evident. It stood in the yard of -a house where grass and flowers had been trodden by horses and men. -In the sport of victory the piano had been dragged out of the little -drawing-room, while Fritz and Hans played and sang in the intoxication -of a Paris gained, a France in submission. They did not know what -Joffre had in pickle for them. It had all gone according to programme -up to that moment. Nothing can stop us Germans! Champagne instead of -beer! Set the glass on top of the piano and sing! Haven’t we waited -forty years for this day? - -Captured diaries of German officers, which reflect the seventh heaven -of elation suddenly turned into grim depression, taken in connection -with what one saw on the battlefield, reconstruct the scene around -that piano. The cup to the lips; then dashed away. How those orders to -retreat must have hurt! - -The state of the refugees’ homes all depended upon the chances of war. -War’s lightning might have hit your roof tree and it might not. It -plays no favourites between the honest and the dishonest; the thrifty -and the shiftless. We passed villages which exhibited no signs of -destruction or of looting. The German troops had marched through in the -advance and in the retreat without being billeted. A hurrying army with -another on its heels has no time for looting. Other villages had been -points of topical importance; they had been in the midst of a fight. -General _Mauvaise Chance_ had it in for them. Shells had wrecked some -houses; others were burned. Where a German non-commissioned officer -came to the door of a French family and said that room must be made for -German soldiers in that house and if any one dared to interfere with -them he would be shot, there the exhausted human nature of a people -trained to think that “_Krieg ist Krieg_” and that the spoils of war -are to the victor had its way. - -It takes generations to lift a man up a single degree; but so swift is -the effect of war, when men live a day in a year, that he is demonised -in a month. Before the occupants had to go, often windows were broken, -crockery smashed, closets and drawers rifled. The soldiery which could -not have its Paris “took it out” of the property of their hosts. -Looting, destruction, one can forgive in the orgy of war which is -organised destruction; one can even understand rapine and atrocities -when armies, which include latent vile and criminal elements, are -aroused to the kind of insane passion which war arouses in human -beings. But some indecencies one could not understand in civilised men. -All with a military purpose, it is said; for in the nice calculations -of a staff system which grinds so very fine, nothing must be excluded -that will embarrass the enemy. A certain foully disgusting practice -was too common not to have the approval of at least some officers, -whose conduct in several châteaus includes them as accomplices. Not all -officers, not all soldiers. That there should be a few is enough to -sicken you of belonging to the human species. Nothing worse in Central -America; nothing worse where civilised degeneracy disgraces savagery. - -But do not think that destruction for destruction’s sake was done in -all houses where German soldiers were billeted. If the good principle -was not sufficiently impressed, Belgium must have impressed it; a -looting army is a disorderly army. The soldier has burden enough to -carry in heavy marching order without souvenirs. That collector of the -glass tops of carafes who had thirty on his person when taken prisoner -was bound to be a laggard in the retreat. - -To their surprise and relief, returning farmers found their big, -conical haystacks untouched, though nothing could be more tempting to -the wantonness of an army on enemy soil. Strike a match and up goes the -harvest! Perhaps the Germans as they advanced had in mind to save the -forage for their own horses, and either they were running too fast to -stop or the staff overlooked the detail on the retreat. - -It was amazing how few signs of battle there were in the open. -Occasionally one saw the hastily made shelter trenches of a skirmish -line; and again, the emplacements for batteries--hurried field -emplacements, so puny beside those of trench warfare. It had been open -fighting; the tide of an army sweeping forward and then, pursued, -sweeping back. One side was trying to get away; the other to overtake. -Here, a rearguard made a determined action which would have had the -character of a battle in other days; there, a rearguard was pinched as -the French or the British got around it. - -Swift marching and quick manœuvres of the type which gave war some -of its old sport and zest; the advance, all the while gathering -force, like the deep tide! Crowds of men hurrying across a harvested -wheat-field or a pasture after all leave few marks of passage. A day’s -rain will wash away the blood stains and liven trampled vegetation. -Nature hastens with a kind of contempt of man to repair the damage done -by his murderous wrath. - -The cyclone past, the people turned out to put things in order. -Peasants too old to fight, who had paid the taxes which paid for the -rifles and guns and hell-fire, were moving across the fields with -spades, burying the bodies of the young men and the horses that were -war’s victims. Long trenches full of dead told where the eddy of battle -had been fierce and the casualties numerous; scattered mounds of fresh -earth where they were light; and sometimes, when the burying was -unfinished--well, one draws the curtain over scenes like that in the -woods at Betz, where Frenchmen died knowing that Paris was saved and -Germans died knowing that they had failed to take Paris. - -Whenever we halted our statesman, M. Doumer, was active. Did we have -difficulties over a culvert which had been hastily mended, he was out -of the car and in command. Always he was meeting some man whom he -knew and shaking hands like a senator at home. At one place a private -soldier, a man of education by his speech, came running across the -street at sight of him. - -“Son of an old friend of mine, from my town,” said our statesman. Being -a French private meant being any kind of a Frenchman. All inequalities -are levelled in the ranks of a great conscript army. - -Be it through towns unharmed or towns that had been looted and shelled, -the people had the smile of victory, the look of victory in their eyes. -Children and old men and women, the stay-at-homes, waved to our car -in holiday spirit. The laugh of a sturdy young woman who threw some -flowers into the tonneau as we passed, in her tribute to the uniform of -the army that had saved France, had the spirit of victorious France-- -France after forty years’ waiting throwing back a foe that had two -soldiers to every one of hers. All the land, rich fields and neat -gardens and green stretches of woods in the fair, rolling landscape, -basked in victory. Dead the spirit of any one who could not, for the -time being, catch the infection of it and feel himself a Frenchman. Far -from the Paris of gay show for the tourist one seemed; in the midst -of the France of the farms and the villages which had saved Paris and -France. - -The car sped on over the hard road. Staff officers in other cars whom -we passed alone suggested that there was war somewhere ahead. Were we -never going to reach the battle-line, the magnet of our speed when a -French army chauffeur made all speed laws obsolete! - -Shooting out of a grove, a valley made a channel for sound that brought -to our ears the thunder of guns, the firing so rapid that it was like -the roll of some cyclopean snare-drum beaten with sticks the size of -ship-masts. From the crest of the next hill we had a glimpse of an open -sweep of parklike country toward wooded hills. As far as we could see -against the background of the foliage throwing it into relief was a -continuous cloud of smoke from bursting shrapnel shells, renewed with -fresh, soft, blue puffs as fast as it was dissipated. - -This, then, was a battle. No soldiers, no guns in sight; only a -diaphanous, man-made nimbus against masses of autumn green which was -raining steel hail. Ten miles of this, one would say; and under it -lines of men in blue coats and red trousers and green uniforms hugging -the earth, as unseen as a battalion of ants at work in the tall grass. -Even if a charge swept across a field one would have been able to -detect nothing except moving pin-points on a carpet. - -There was hard fighting; a lot of French and Germans were being killed -in the direction of Compiègne and Noyon to-day. Another dip into -another valley and the thir-r-r of a rapid-firer and the muffled firing -of a line of infantry were audible. Yes, we were getting up with the -army, with one tiny section of it operating along the road we were on. -Multiply this by a thousand and you have the whole. - -Ahead was the army’s stomach on wheels; a procession of big motor -transport trucks keeping their intervals of distance with the precision -of a battleship fleet at sea. We should have known that they belonged -to the army by the deafness of the drivers to appeals to let us pass. -All army transports are like that. What the deuced right has anybody to -pass? They are the transport, and only fighting men belong in front of -them. Our automobile in trying to go by to one side got stuck in a rut -that an American car, built for bad roads, would have made nothing of; -which proves again how clearly European armies are tied to their fine -roads. We got out, and here was our statesman putting his shoulder to -the wheel again. That is the way of the French in war. Everybody tries -to help. By this time the transport chauffeurs also remembered that -they were Frenchmen; and as Frenchmen are polite even in time of war, -they let us by. - -A motor-cyclist approached with his hand up. - -“Stop here!” he called. - -Those transport chauffeurs who were deaf to ex-premiers heard instantly -and obeyed. In front of them was a line of single horse-drawn carts, -with an extra horse in the rear. They could take paths that the -motor-trucks could not. Archaic they seemed, yet friendly, as a -relic of how armies were fed in other days. For the first time I -was realising what the automobile means to war. It brings the army -impedimenta close up to the army’s rear; it means a reduction of road -space occupied by transport by three-quarters; ease in keeping pace -with food with the advance, speed in falling back in case of retreat. - -All that day I did not see a single piece of French army transport -broken down. And this army had been fighting for weeks; it had been -an army on the road. The valuable part of our experience was exactly -in this: a glimpse of an army in action after it had been through all -the vicissitudes that an army may have in marching and counter-marching -and attack. Order one was to expect afterwards behind the siege line of -trenches when there had been time to establish a routine; organisation -and smooth organisation you had here at the climax of a month’s strain. -It told the story of the character of the French army and the reasons -for its success other than its courage. The brains were not all with -the German Staff. - -That winding road, with a new picture at every turn, now revealed the -town of Soissons in the valley of the River Aisne. Soissons was ours, -we knew, since yesterday. How much farther had we gone? Was our advance -still continuing? For then, the winter trench-fighting was unforeseen -and the sightseers thought of the French army as following up success -with success. Paris, rising from gloom to optimism, hoped to see the -Germans put out of France. The appetite for victory grew after a week’s -bulletins which moved the flags forward on the map every day. - -Another turn and Soissons was hidden from view by a woodland. Here we -came upon what looked like a leisurely family party of reserves. The -French army, a small section of French army along a road! And thus, if -one would see the whole it must be in bits along the roads when not -on the firing-line. They were sprawling in the fields in the genial -afternoon sun, looking as if they had no concern except to rest. -Uniforms dusty and faces tanned and bearded told their story of the -last month. - -The duty of a portion of a force is always to wait on what is being -done by the others at the front. These were waiting near a forks which -could take them to the right or the left, as the situation demanded. At -their rear, their supply of small arms ammunition; in front, caissons -of shells for a battery speaking from the woods near by; a troop of -cavalry drawn up, the men dismounted, ready; and ahead of them more -reserves ready; everything ready. - -This was where the general wanted the body of men and equipment to be, -and here they were. There were no dragging ends in the rear, so far as -I could see; nobody complaining that food or ammunition was not up; -no aide looking for somebody who could not be found; no excited staff -officer rushing about shouting for somebody to look sharp for somebody -had made a mistake. The thing was unwarlike; it was like a particularly -well-thought-out route march. Yet at the word that company of cavalry -might be in the thick of it, at the point where they were wanted; the -infantry rushing to the support of the firing-line; the motor transport -facing around for withdrawal, if need be. It was only a little way, -indeed, into the zone of death from the rear of that compact column. - -Thousands of such compact bodies on as many roads, each seemingly -a force by itself and each a part of the whole, which could be a -dependable whole only when every part was ready, alert, and up where it -belonged! Nothing can be left to chance in a battle-line three hundred -miles long. The general must know what to depend on, mile by mile, in -his plans. Millions of human units are grouped in increasingly larger -units, harmonised according to set forms. The most complex of all -machines is that of a vast army, which yet must be kept most simple. -No unit acts without regard to the others; every one must know how to -do his part. The parts of the machine are standardised. One is like the -other in training, uniform, and every detail, so that one can replace -another. Oldest of all trades this of war; old experts the French. -What one saw was like manœuvres. It must be like manœuvres or the army -would not hold together. Manœuvres are to teach armies coherence; war -tries out that coherence, which you may not have if some one does not -know just what to do; if he is uncertain in his rôle. Haste leads to -confusion; haste is only for supreme moments. In order to know how to -hasten when the hurry call comes, the mighty organism must move in its -routine with the smoothness of a well-rehearsed play. - -Joffre and the others who directed the machine must know more than -the mechanics of staff-control. They must know the character of the -man-material in the machine. It was their duty as real Frenchmen -to understand Frenchmen, their verve, their restlessness for the -offensive, their individualism, their democratic intelligence, the -value of their elation, the drawback of their tendency to depression -and to think for themselves. Indeed, the leader must counteract the -faults of his people and make the most of their virtues. - -Thus, we had a French army’s historical part reversed: a French army -falling back and concentrating on the Marne to receive the enemy blow. -Equally alive to German racial traits, the German Staff had organised -in their mass offensive the _élan_ which means fast marching and hard -blows. Thus, we found the supposedly excitable French digging in to -receive the onslaught of the supposedly phlegmatic German. When the -time came for the charge--ah, you can always depend on a Frenchman to -charge! - -Those reserves were pawns on a chessboard. They appeared like it; -one thought that they realised it. Their individual intelligence and -democracy had reasoned out the value of obedience and homogeneity, -rather than accepted the dictum of any war lord. Difficult to think -that each had left a vacancy at a family board; difficult to think that -they were not automatons in a process of endless routine of war; but -not difficult to learn that they were Frenchmen once we had thrown our -bombs in the midst of the group. - -Of old, one knew the wants of soldiers. One needed no hint of what was -welcome at the front. Never at any front were there enough newspapers -or tobacco. Men smoke twice as much as usual in the strain of waiting -for action, men who do not use tobacco at all get the habit. Ask the -G. A. R. men who fought in our great war if this is not true. Then, -too, when your country is at war, when back at home hands stretch for -every fresh edition and you at the front know only what happens in your -alley, think what a newspaper from Paris means out on the battle-line -seventy miles from Paris. So I brought a bundle of newspapers. - -Monsieur, the sensation is beyond even the French language to express-- -the sensation of sitting down by the roadside with this morning’s -edition and the first cigarette for twenty-four hours. - -“_C’est épatant! C’est chic, ça! C’est magnifique! Alors, nom de Dieu! -Tiens! Hélas! Voilà! Merci, mille remerciements!_”--it was an army of -Frenchmen with ready words, quick, telling gestures, pouring out their -volume of thanks as the car sped by, and we tossed out our newspapers -at intervals, so that all should have a look. - -An _Écho de Paris_ that fell into the road was the centre of a -flag-rush, which included an officer. Most unmilitary--an officer -scrambling at the same time as his men! In the name of the Kaiser, what -discipline! - -Then the car stopped long enough for me to see a private give the paper -to his officer, who was plainly sensible of a loss of dignity, with the -courtesy which said, “A thousand pardons, _mon capitaine_!” and the -_capitaine_ began reading the newspaper aloud to his men. Scores of -human touches which were French, republican, democratic! - -With half our cigarettes gone, we fell in with some brown-skinned, -native African troops, the Mohammedan Turcos. Their white teeth -gleaming, their black eyes devilishly eager, they began climbing onto -the car. We gave them all the cigarettes in sight; but fortunately our -reserve supply was not visible, and an officer’s sharp command saved us -from being invested by storm. - -As we came into Soissons we left the reserves behind. They were kept -back out of range of the German shells, making the town a dead space -between them and the firing-line which was beyond. When the Germans -retreated through the streets the French had taken care, as it was -their town, to keep their fire away from the cathedral and the main -square to the outskirts and along the river. Not so the German guns -when the French infantry passed through. Soissons was not a German town. - -We alighted from the car in a deserted street, with all the shutters -of shops that had not been torn down by shell-fire closed. Soissons -was as silent as the grave, within easy range of many enemy guns. War -seemed only for the time being in this valley bottom shut in from the -roar of artillery a few miles away, except for a French battery which -was firing methodically and slowly, its shells whizzing toward the -ridge back of the town. - -The next thing that one wanted most was to go into that battery and see -the _soixante-quinze_ and their skilful gunners. Our statesman said -that he would try to locate it. We thought that it was in the direction -of the river, that famous Aisne which has since given its name to the -longest siege-line in history; a small, winding stream in the bottom -of an irregular valley. Both bridges across it had been cut by the -Germans. If that battery were on the opposite side under cover of any -one of a score of blots of foliage we could not reach it. Another -shot--and we were not sure that the battery was not on the other side -of the town; a crack out of the landscape: this was modern artillery -fire to one who faced it. Apparently the guns of the battery were -scattered, according to the accepted practice, and from the central -firing-station word to fire was being passed first to one gun and then -to another. - -Beside the buttress of one bridge lay two still figures of Algerian -Zouaves. These were fresh dead, fallen in the taking of the town. Only -two men! There were dead by thousands which one might see in other -places. These two had leaped out from cover to dash forward and bullets -were waiting for them. They had rolled over on their backs, their rigid -hands still in the position of grasping their rifles after the manner -of crouching skirmishers. - -Our statesman said that we had better give up trying to locate the -battery; and one of the officers called a halt to trying to go up to -the firing-line on the part of a personally conducted party, after we -stopped a private hurrying back from the front on some errand. With -his alertness, the easy swing of his walk, his light step, and that -freedom in spirit and appearance, he typified the thing which the -French call _élan_. Whenever one asked a question of a French private -you could depend upon a direct answer. He knew or he did not know. This -definiteness, the result of military training, as well as the Gallic -lucidity of thought, is not the least of the human factors in making an -efficient army, where every man and every unit must definitely know his -part. This young man, you realised, had tasted the “salt of life,” as -Lord Kitchener calls it. He had heard the close sing of bullets; he had -known the intoxication of a charge. - -“Does everything go well?” M. Doumer asked. - -“It is not going at all, now. It is sticking,” was the answer. “Some -Germans were busy up there in the stone quarries while the others were -falling back. They have a covered trench and rapid-fire gun positions -to sweep a zone of fire which they have cleared.” - -Famous stone quarries of Soissons, providing ready-made dugouts as -shelter from shells! - -There is a story of how before Marengo Napoleon heard a private saying: -“Now this is what the general ought to do!” It was Napoleon’s own plan -revealed. “You keep still!” he said. “This army has too many generals.” - -“They mean to make a stand,” the private went on. “It’s an ideal place -for it. There is no use of an attack in front. We’d be mowed down by -machine guns.” The br-r-r of a dozen shots from a German machine gun -gave point to his conclusion. “Our infantry is hugging what we have and -entrenching. You better not go up. One has to know the way, or he’ll -walk right into a sharpshooter’s bullet”--instructions that would have -been applicable a year later when you were about to visit a British -trench in almost the same location. - -The siege warfare of the Aisne line had already begun. It was -singular to get the first news of it from a private in Soissons and -then to return to Paris and London, on the other side of the curtain -of secrecy, where the public thought that the Allied advance would -continue. - -“_Allons!_” said our statesman, and we went to the town square, where -German guns had carpeted the ground with branches of shade trees and -torn off the fronts of houses, revealing sections of looted interior -which had been further messed by shell-bursts. Some women and children -and a crippled man came out-of-doors at sight of us. M. Doumer -introduced himself and shook hands all around. They were glad to meet -him in much the same way as if he had been on an election campaign. - -“A German shell struck there across the square only half an hour ago,” -said one of the women. - -“What do you do when there is shelling?” asked M. Doumer. - -“If it is bad we go into the cellar,” was the answer; an answer which -implied that peculiar fearlessness of women, who get accustomed to -fire easier than men. These were the fatalists of the town, who would -not turn refugee; helpless to fight, but grimly staying with their -homes and accepting what came with an incomprehensible stoicism, which -possibly had its origin in a race-feeling so proud and bitter that they -would not admit that they could be afraid of anything German, even a -shell. - -“And how did the Germans act?” - -“They made themselves at home in our houses and slept in our beds, -while we slept in the kitchen,” she answered. “They said if we kept -indoors and gave them what they wanted we should not be harmed. But -if any one fired a shot at their troops or any arms were found in our -houses, they would burn the town. When they were going back in a great -hurry--how they scattered from _our_ shells! We went out in the square -to see _our_ shells, monsieur!” - -What mattered the ruins of her home? _Our_ shells had returned -vengeance. - -Arrows with directions in German, “This way to the river,” “This -way to Villers-Cotteret,” were chalked on the standing walls; and -on door-casings the names of the detachments of the Prussian Guard -billeted there, all in systematic Teutonic fashion. - -“Prince Albrecht Joachim, one of the Kaiser’s sons, was here and I -talked with him,” said the Mayor, who thought we should enjoy a morsel -from court circles in exchange for a copy of the _Écho de Paris_ which -contained the news that Prince Albrecht had been wounded later. The -mayor looked tired, this local man of the people, who had to play the -shepherd of a stricken flock. Afterwards, they said that he deserted -his charge and a lady, Mme. Macherez, took his place. All I know is -that he was present that day; or at least a man who was introduced to -me as mayor; and he was French enough to make a _bon mot_ by saying -that he feared there was some fault in his hospitality because he had -been unable to keep his guest. - -“May I have this _confiture_?” asked a battle-stained French orderly, -coming up to him. “I found it in that ruined house there--all the -Germans had left. I haven’t had a _confiture_ for a long time and, -monsieur, you cannot imagine what a hunger I have for _confitures_.” - -All the while the French battery kept on firing slowly, then again -rapidly, their cracks trilling off like the drum of knuckles on a -table-top. Another effort to locate one of the guns before we started -back to Paris failed. Speeding on, we had again a glimpse of the -landscape toward Noyon, sprinkled with shell-bursts. The reserves were -around their campfires making savoury stews for the evening meal. They -would sleep where night found them on the sward under the stars, as in -wars of old. That scene remains indelible as one of many while the army -was yet mobile, before the contest became one of the mole and of the -beaver. - -Though one had already seen many German prisoners in groups and -convoys, the sight of two on the road fixed the attention because of -the surroundings and the contrast suggested between French and German -natures. Both were young, in the very prime of life, and both Prussian. -One was dark-complexioned, with a scrubbly beard which was the product -of the war. He marched with such rigidity that I should not have been -surprised to see him break into a goose-step. The other was of that -mild, blue-eyed, tow-haired type from the Baltic provinces, with the -thin white skin which does not tan but burns. He was frailer than the -other and he was tired; oh, how tired! He would lag and then stiffen -back his shoulders and draw in his chin and force a trifle more energy -into his step. - -A typical, lively French soldier was escorting the pair. He looked -pretty tired, too, but he was getting over the ground in the natural, -easy way in which man is meant to walk. The aboriginal races, who -have a genius for long distances on foot, do not march in the German -fashion, which looks impressive, but lacks endurance. By the same -logic, the cayuse’s gait is better for thirty miles day in and day out -than the high-stepping carriage horse’s. - -You could realise the contempt which those two martial Germans had -for their captor. Four or five peasant women refugees by the roadside -unloosened their tongues in piercing feminine satire and upbraiding. - -“You are going to Paris, after all! This is what you get for invading -our country; and you’ll get more of it!” - -The little French soldier held up his hand to the women and shook his -head. He was a chivalrous fellow, with imagination enough to appreciate -the feelings of an enemy who has fought hard and lost. Such as he would -fight fair and hold this war of the civilisations up to something like -the standards of civilisation. - -The very tired German stiffened up again, as his drill sergeant had -taught him, and both stared straight ahead, proud and contemptuous, as -their Kaiser would wish them to do. I should recognise the faces of -these two Germans and of that little French guard if I saw them ten -years hence. In ten years, what will be the Germans’ attitude toward -this war and their military lords? - -It is not often that one has a senator for a guide; and I never knew -a more efficient one than our statesman. His own curiosity was the -best possible aid in satisfying our own. Having seen the compactness -and simplicity of an army column at the front, we were to find that -the same thing applied to high command. A sentry and a small flag -at the doorway of a village hotel: this was the headquarters of the -Sixth Army, which General Manoury had formed in haste and flung at von -Kluck with a spirit which crowned his white hairs with the audacity -of youth. He was absent, but we might see something of the central -direction of one hundred and fifty thousand men in the course of one -of the most brilliant manœuvres of the war, before staffs had settled -down to office existence in permanent quarters. That is, we might see -the little there was to see: a soldier telegrapher in one bedroom, -a soldier typewritist in another, officers at work in others. One -realised that they could pack up everything and move in the time it -takes to toss enough clothes into a bag to spend a night away from -home. Apparently, when the French fought they left red tape behind with -the bureaucracy. - -From his seat before a series of maps on a sitting-room table an -officer of about thirty-five rose to receive us. It struck me that -he exemplified self-possessed intelligence and definite knowledge; -that he had coolness and steadiness plus that acuteness of perception -and clarity of statement which are the gift of the French. You felt -sure that no orders which left his hand wasted any words or lacked -explicitness. The Staff is the brains of the army, and he had brains. - -“All goes well!” he said, as if there were no more to say. All goes -well! He would say it when things looked black or when they looked -bright, and in a way that would make others believe it. - -Outside the hotel were no cavalry escorts or commanders, no hurrying -orderlies, none of the legendary physical activity that is associated -with an army headquarters. An automobile drove up, an officer got out; -another officer descended the stairs to enter a waiting car. The wires -carry word faster than the cars. Each subordinate commander was in his -place along that line where we had seen the puffs of smoke against -the landscape, ready to answer a question or obey an order. That -simplicity, like art itself, which seems so easy is the most difficult -accomplishment of all in war. - -After dark, in a drizzling rain, we came to what seemed to be a -town, for our automobile lamps spread their radiant streams over wet -pavements. But these were the only lights. Tongues of loose brick -had been shot across the cobblestones and dimly the jagged skyline -of broken walls of buildings on either side could be discovered. It -was Senlis, the first town I had seen which could be classified as a -town in ruins. Afterwards, one became a sort of specialist in ruins, -comparing the latest with previous examples of destruction. - -Approaching footsteps broke the silence. A small, very small, French -soldier--he was not more than five feet two--appeared and we followed -him to an ambulance that had broken down for want of gasoline. It -belonged to the Société de Femmes de France. The little soldier had -put on a uniform as a volunteer for the only service his stature would -permit. In those days many volunteer organisations were busy seeking -to “help.” There was a kind of competition among them for wounded. -This ambulance had got one and was taking him to Paris, off the regular -route of the wounded who were being sent south. The boot-soles of a -prostrate figure showed out of the dark recess of the interior. This -French officer, a major, had been hit in the shoulder. He tried to -control the catch in his voice which belied his assertion that he was -suffering little pain. The drizzling rain was chilly. It was a long way -to Paris yet. - -“We will make inquiries,” said our kindly general. - -A man who came out of the gloom said that there was a hospital kept by -some Sisters of Charity in Senlis which had escaped destruction. The -question was put into the recesses of the ambulance: - -“Would you prefer to spend the night here and go on in the morning?” - -“Yes, monsieur, I--should--like--that--better!” The tone left no -doubt of the relief that the journey in a car with poor springs was not -to be continued after hours of waiting, marooned in the street of a -ruined town. - -While the ambulance passed inside the hospital gate, I spoke with an -elderly woman who came to a nearby door. Cool and definite she was as -a French soldier, bringing home the character of the women of France -which this war has made so well-known to the world. - -“Were you here during the fighting?” - -“Yes, monsieur, and during the shelling and the burning. The shelling -was not enough. The Germans said that some one fired on their -soldiers--a boy, I believe--so they set fire to the houses. One could -only look and hate and pray as their soldiers passed through, looking -so unconquerable, making all seem so terrible for France. Was it to be -’70 over again? One’s heart was of stone, monsieur. _Tiens!_ They came -back faster than they went. A mitrailleuse was down there at the end of -the street, our mitrailleuse! The bullets went cracking by. They crack, -the bullets; they do not whistle like the stories say. Then the street -was empty of Germans who could run. The dead they could not run, nor -the wounded. Then the French came up the street, running, too--running -after the Germans. It was good, monsieur, good, good! My heart was not -of stone then, monsieur. It could not beat fast enough for happiness. -It was the heart of a girl. I remember it all very clearly. I always -shall, monsieur.” - -“_Allons!_” said our statesman. “The officer is well cared for.” - -The world seemed normal again as we passed through other towns unharmed -and swept by the dark countryside, till a red light rose in our path -and a sharp “_Qui vive?_” came out of the night as we slowed down. This -was not the only sentry call from a French Territorial in front of a -barricade. - -At a second halt we found a chain as well as a barricade across the -road. For a moment it seemed that even the suave parliamentarism of -our statesman or the authority of our general and our passes could -not convince one grizzled reservist, doing his duty for France at the -rear while the young men were at the front, that we had any right to -be going into Paris at that hour of the night. The password, which was -“Paris,” helped, and we felt it a most appropriate password as we came -to the broad streets of the city that was safe. - -There is a popular idea that Napoleon was a super-genius who won all -his battles alone. It is wrong. He had a lot of Frenchmen along to -help. Much the same kind of Frenchmen live to-day. Not until they -fought again would the world believe this. It seems that the excitable -Gaul, whom some people thought would become demoralised in face of -German organisation, merely talks with his hands. In a great crisis -he is cool, as he always was. I like the French for their democracy -and humanity. I like them, too, for leaving their war to France and -Marianne; for not dragging in God as do the Germans. For it is just -possible that God is not in the fight. We don’t know that He even -approved of the war. - - - - -VI - -AND CALAIS WAITS - - Calais, the objective of a struggle for world power--Last reserves - of the British--A city of refugees--Heroic care of the - wounded--“Life going on as usual”--The cheerful Belgians--In a - French hospital--An astonished but happy Tommy. - - -To the traveller, Calais had been the symbol of the shortest route from -London to Paris, the shortest spell of torment in crossing the British -Channel. It was a point where one felt infinite relief or sad physical -anticipations. In the last days of November Calais became the symbol of -a struggle for world power. The British and the French were fighting to -hold Calais; the Germans to get it. In Calais Germany would have her -foot on the Atlantic coast. She could look across only twenty-two miles -of water to the chalk cliffs at Dover. She would be as near her rival -as twice the length of Manhattan Island; within the range of a modern -gun; within an hour by steamer and twenty minutes by aeroplane. - -The long battle-front from Switzerland to the North Sea had been -established. There was no getting around the Allied flank; there -had ceased to be a flank. To win Calais, Germany must crush through -without any manœuvre by main force. From the cafés where the British -newspaper men gathered England received its news, which they gleaned -from refugees and stragglers and passing officers. They wrote something -every day, for England must have something about that dizzy head-on -wrestle in the mud, that writhing line of changing positions, of new -trenches rising behind the old destroyed by German artillery. The -British were fighting with their last reserves on the Ypres-Armentieres -line. The French divisions to the south were suffering no less heavily, -and beyond them the Belgians were trying to hold the last strip of -their land under Belgian sovereignty. Cordons of guards which kept back -the observer from the struggle could not keep back the truth. Something -ominous was in the air. - -It was worth while being in that old town as it waited on the issue in -the late October rains. Its fishermen crept out in the mornings from -the shelter of its quays, where refugees gathered in crowds hoping to -get away by steamer. Like lost souls, carrying all the possessions -they could on their backs, these refugees. There was numbness in their -movements and their faces were blank--the paralysis of brain from -sudden disaster. The children did not cry, but munched the dry bread -which their parents gave them mechanically. - -The newspaper men said that “refugee stuff” was already stale; eviction -and misery were stale. Was Calais to be saved? That was the only -question. If the Germans came, one thought that Madame at the hotel -would still be at her desk, unruffled, businesslike, and she would -still serve an excellent salad for _déjeuner_; the fishermen would -still go out to sea for their daily catch. - -What was going to happen? What might not happen? It was human -helplessness to the last degree for all behind the wrestlers. Fate -was in the battle-line. There could be no resisting that fate. If -the Germans came, they came. Belgian staff officers with their -high-crowned, gilt-braided caps went flying by in their cars. There -always seemed a great many Belgian staff officers back of the Belgian -army in the restaurants and cafés. Habit is strong, even in war. They -did not often miss their _déjeuners_. On the Dixmude line all that -remained of the active Belgian Army was in a death struggle in the -rain and mud. To these _shipperkes_, honour without stint, as to their -gallant king. - -Slightly wounded Belgians and Belgian stragglers roamed the streets of -Calais. Some had a few belongings wrapped up in handkerchiefs. Others -had only the clothes on their backs. Yet they were cheerful; this was -the amazing thing. They moved about, laughing and chatting in groups. -Perhaps this was the best way. Possibly the relief at being out of -the hell at the front was the only emotion they could feel. But their -cheerfulness was none the less a dash of sunlight for Calais. - -The French were grim. They were still polite; they went on with their -work. No unwounded French soldiers were to be seen, except the old -Territorials guarding the railroad and the highways. The military -organisation of France, which knew what war meant and had expected war, -had drawn every man to his place and held him there with the inexorable -hand of military and racial discipline. Calais had never considered -caring for wounded, and the wounded poured in. I saw an automobile -with a wounded man stop at a crowded corner, in the midst of refugees -and soldiers; a doctor was leaning over him, and he died while the car -waited. - -But the newspaper men were saying that stories of wounded men were -likewise stale. So they were, for Europe was red with wounded. Train -after train brought in its load from the front, and Calais tried to -care for them. At least, it had buildings which would give shelter from -the rain. On the floor of a railroad freight shed the wounded lay in -long rows, with just enough space between them to make an alley. Those -in the row against one of the walls were German prisoners. Their green -uniforms melted into the stone of the wall and did not show the mud -stains. Two slightly wounded had their heads together whispering. They -were helplessly tired, though not as tired as most of the others, those -two stalwart young men; but they seemed to be relieved, almost happy. -It did not matter what happened to them, now, so long as they could -rest. - -Next to them a German was dying, and others badly hit were glassy-eyed -in their fatigue and exhaustion. This was the word, exhaustion, for all -the wounded. They had not the strength for passion or emotion. The fuel -for those fires was in ashes. All they wanted in this world was to lie -quiet; and some fell asleep not knowing or caring probably whether they -were in Germany or in France. In the other rows, in contrast with this -chameleon, baffling green, were the red trousers of the French and the -dark blue of the Belgian uniforms, sharing the democracy of exhaustion -with their foe. - -A misty rain was falling. In a bright spot of light through a window -one by one the wounded were being lifted up on to a seat, if they were -not too badly hit, and onto an operating-table if they were very badly -hit. A doctor and a sturdy Frenchwoman of about thirty, in spotless -white, were in charge. Another woman undid the first-aid bandage and -others applied a spray. No time was lost; there were too many wounded -to care for. The thing must be done as rapidly as possible before -another train-load came in. If these attendants were tired, they did -not know it any more than the wounded had realised their fatigue in the -passion of battle. The improvised arrangement to meet an emergency had -an appeal which more elaborate arrangements of organisation which I -had seen lacked. It made war a little more red; humanity a little more -human and kind and helpless under the scourge which it had brought on -itself. - -Though Calais was not prepared for wounded, when they came the women -of energy and courage turned to the work without jealousy, without -regard to red tape, without fastidiousness. I have in mind half a dozen -other women about the streets that day in uniforms of short skirts and -helmets, who belonged to some volunteer organisation which had taken -some care as to its regimentals. They were types not characteristic of -the whole, of whom one practical English doctor said: “We don’t mind -as long as they do not get in the way.” Their criticisms of Calais -and the arrangements were outspoken; nothing was adequate; conditions -were filthy; it was shameful. They were going to write to the English -newspapers about it and appeal for money. When they had organised -a proper hospital, one should see how the thing ought to be done. -Meantime, these volunteer Frenchwomen were doing the best they knew how -and doing it now. - -A fine-looking young Frenchman who had a shell-wound in the thigh was -being lifted onto the table. He shuddered with pain, as he clenched -his teeth; yet when the dressing was finished he was able to breathe -his thanks. On the seat was a Congo negro who had been with one of the -Belgian regiments, coal black and thick-lipped, with bloodshot eyes; -an unsensitised human organism, his face as expressionless as his -bare back with holes made by shell-fragments. A young Frenchwoman-- -she could not have been more than nineteen--with a face of singular -refinement, sprayed his wounds with the definiteness of one trained to -such work, though two days before it had probably never occurred to her -as being in the possibilities of her existence. Her coolness and the -coolness of the other women in their silent activity had a charm that -went with one’s devout respect. - -The French wounded, too, were silent, as if in the presence of a -crisis which overwhelmed their personal thoughts. Help was needed at -the front; they knew it. On sixty trains in one day sixty thousand -French passed through Calais. With a pass from the French commandant -at Calais, I got aboard one of these trains down at the railroad yards -at dawn. This lot were Turcos, in command of a white-haired veteran of -African campaigns. An utter change of atmosphere from the freight shed! -Perhaps it is only the wounded who have time to think. My companions -in the officers’ car were as cheery as the brown devils whom they led. -They had come from the trenches on the Marne, and their commissariat -was a boiled ham, some bread and red wine. Enough! It was war time, as -they said. - -“We were in the Paris railroad yards. That is all we saw of Paris, and -in the night. Hard luck!” - -They had left the Marne the previous day. By night they could be in the -fight. It did not take long to send reinforcements when the line was -closed to all except military traffic and one train followed close on -the heels of another. - -They did not know where they were going. One never knew where. Probably -they would get orders at Dunkirk. Father Joffre, when there was a call -for reinforcements never was in a panicky hurry about it. He seemed to -understand that the general who made the call could hold out a little -longer; but the reinforcements were always up on time. A long head had -Father Joffre. - -Now I am going to say that life was going on as usual at Dunkirk; -that is the obvious thing to say. The nearer the enemy, the more -characteristic that trite observation of those who have followed the -roads of war in Europe. At Dunkirk you might have a good meal within -sound of the thunder of the guns of the British monitors which were -helping the Belgians to hold their line. At Dunkirk most excellent -pastry was for sale in a confectionery shop. Why shouldn’t tartmakers -go on making tarts and selling them? The British naval reserve officers -used to take tea in this shop. Little crowds of citizens who had -nothing to do, which is the most miserable of vocations in such a -crisis, gathered to look at armoured motor cars which had come in from -the front with bullet dents, which gave them the atmosphere of battle. - -Beyond Dunkirk, one might see wounded Belgians fresh from the -front, staggering in, crawling in, hobbling in from under the havoc -of shell-fire, their first-aid bandages saturated with mud, their -ungainly and impracticable uniforms oozing mud, ghosts of men--these -_shipperkes_ of the nation that was unprepared for war, who had done -their part, when the only military thought was for more men, unwounded -men, British, French, Belgian, to stem the German tide. Yet many of -these Belgians, even these, were cheerful. They could still smile and -say, “_Bonne chance!_” - -Indeed, there seemed no limit to the cheerfulness of Belgians. At a -hospital in Calais I met a Belgian professor with his head a white ball -of bandages, showing a hole for one eye and a slit for the mouth. He -had been one of the cyclist force which took account of many German -cavalry scouts in the first two weeks of the war. A staff automobile -had run over him on the road. - -“I think the driver of the car was careless,” he said mildly, as if he -were giving a gentle reproof to a student. - -By contrast, he had reason to be thankful for his lot. Looked after by -a brave man attendant in another room were the wounded who were too -horrible to see; who must die. Then in another, you had a picture of a -smiling British regular, with a British nurse and an Englishwoman of -Calais to look after him. They read to him, they talked to him, they -vied with each other in rearranging his pillows or bedclothes. He was a -hero of a story; but it rather puzzled him why he should be. Why were a -lot of people paying so much attention to him for doing his duty? - -In the cavalry, he had been separated from his regiment on the retreat -from Mons. Wandering about the country, he came up with a regiment of -cuirassiers and asked if he might not fight with them. A number of the -cuirassiers spoke English. They took him into the ranks. The regiment -went far over on the Marne, through towns with French names which he -could not pronounce, this man in khaki with the French troopers. He -was marked. _C’est un Anglais!_ People cheered him and threw flowers -to him in regions which had never seen one of the soldiers of the Ally -before. - -Yes, officers and gentlemen invited him to dine, like he was a -gentleman, he said, and not a Tommy, and the French Government had -given him a decoration called the Legion of Honour or something like -that. This was all very fine; but the best thing was that his own -colonel, when he returned, had him up before his company and made a -speech to him for fighting with the French when he could not find his -own regiment. He was supremely happy, this Tommy. In waiting Calais one -might witness about all the emotions and contrasts of war--and many -which one does not find at the front. - - - - -VII - -IN GERMANY - - The other side of the shield--A German guard--A people organised-- - A machine of psychical force--“A people who think only in the - offensive”--A nation trained to win--At a Berlin hotel-- - Bluffing the nation into confidence--A “normal” city-- - Officially instilled hate--England the cause--A Red Cross - comparison--Everything to win!--“Are you for or against us?”-- - The German point of view--A hothouse mind trained by a diligent - paternalism--The “brand of the _Lusitania_.” - - -Never had the war seemed a more monstrous satire than on that first -day in Germany as the train took me to Berlin. It was the other side -of the wall of gun and rifle-fire, where another set of human beings -were giving life in order to take life. The Lord had fashioned them in -the same pattern on both sides. Their children were born in the same -way; they bled from wounds in the same way--but why go on in this -vicious circle of thought? My impressions of Germany were brief and the -clearer, perhaps, for being brief and drawn on the fresh background of -Paris and Calais waiting to know their fate; of England staring across -the Channel in a suspense which her phlegmatic nature would not confess -to learn the result of the battle for the Channel ports; of England and -France straining with all their strength to hold, while the Germans -exerted all theirs to gain, a goal; of Holland, solid mistress of her -neutrality, fearing for it and profiting by it while she took in the -Belgian foundlings dropped on her steps--Holland, that little land at -peace, with the storms lashing around her. - -The stiff and soldierly appearing reserve officer with bristling -Kaiserian moustache, so professedly alert and efficient, who looked at -the mottled back of my passport and frowned at the recent visa, “_A -la Place de Calais, bon pour aller à Dunkerque, P. O. Le Chef d’État -Major_,” but let me by without questions or fuss, aroused visions of a -frontier stone wall studded with bayonets. - -For something about him expressed a certain character of downright -militancy lacking in either an English or a French guard. I could -imagine his contempt for both and particularly for a “sloppy, -undisciplined” American guard, as he would have called one of ours. -Personal feelings did not enter into his thoughts. He had none; only -national feelings, this outpost of the national organism. The mood of -the moment was friendliness to Americans. Germany wished to create the -impression on the outside world through the agency of the neutral press -that she was in danger of starving, while she amassed munitions for her -summer campaign and the Allies were lulled into confidence of siege by -famine rather than by arms. A double, a treble purpose the starving -campaign served; for it also ensured economy of foodstuffs, while -nothing so puts the steel into a soldier’s heart as the thought that -the enemy is trying to beat him through taking the bread out of his -mouth and the mouths of the women and children dependent upon him. - -Tears and laughter and moods and passions organised! Seventy million in -the union of determined earnestness of a life-and-death issue! Germany -had studied more than how to make war with an army. She had studied -how the people at home should help an army to make war. - -“With our immense army, which consists of all the able-bodied youth of -the people,” as a German officer said, “when we go to war the people -must all be passionate for war. Their impulse must be the impulse of -the army. Their spirit will drive the army on. They must be drilled, -too, in their part. No item in national organisation is too small to -have its effect.” - -Compared to the French, who had turned grim and gave their prayers as -individuals to hearten their soldiers, the Germans were as responsive -as a stringed instrument to the master musician’s touch. A whisper in -Berlin was enough to set a new wave of passion in motion, which spread -to the trenches east and west. Something like the team work of the -“rah-rah” of college athletics was applied to the nation. The soft -pedal on this emotion, the loud on that, or a new cry inaugurated which -all took up, not with the noisy, paid insincerity of a claque, but with -the vibrant force of a trained orchestra with the brasses predominant. - -There seemed less of the spontaneity of an individualistic people than -of the exaltation of a religious revival. If the army were a machine -of material force, then the people were a machine of psychical force. -Though the thing might leave the observer cold, as a religious revival -leaves the sceptic, yet he must admire. I was told that I should -succumb to the contagion as others had; but it was not the optimism -which was dinned into my ears that affected me as much as side lights. - -When Corey and I took a walk away from a railway station where I had -to make a train connection, I saw a German reservist of forty-five, -who was helping with one hand to thresh the wheat from his farm, on a -grey, lowering winter day. The other hand was in a bandage. He had been -allowed to go home until he was well enough to fight again. The same -sort of scene I had witnessed in France; the wounded man trying to make -up to his family the loss of his labour during his absence at the front. - -Only, that man in France was on the defensive; he was fighting to -hold what he had and on his own soil. The German had been fighting -on the enemy’s soil to gain more land. He, too, thought of it as the -defensive. All Germany insisted that it was on the defensive. But it -was the defensive of a people who think only in the offensive. That -was it--that was the vital impression of Germany revealed in every -conversation and every act. - -The Englishman leans back on his oars; the German leans forward. The -Englishman’s phrase is “stick it,” which means to hold what you have; -the German’s phrase is “onward.” It was national youth against national -middle age. A vessel with pressure of increase from within was about -to expand or burst. A vessel which is large and comfortable for its -contents was resisting pressure from without. The French were saying, -What if we should lose? and the Germans were saying, What if we should -not win all that we are entitled to? Germany had been thinking of -a mightier to-morrow and England of a to-morrow as good as to-day. -Germany looked forward to a fortune to be won at thirty; England -considered the safeguarding of her fortune at fifty. - -It is not professions that count so much as the thing that works out -from the nature of a situation and the contemporaneous bent of a -people. The English thought of his defence as keeping what he already -had; the German was defending what he considered that he was entitled -to. If he could make more of Calais than the French, then Calais ought -to be his. A nation with the “closed in” culture of the French on one -side and the enormous, unwieldy mass of Russia on the other, convinced -of its superiority and its ability to beat either foe, thought that -it was the friend of peace because it had withheld the blow. When the -striking time came, it struck hard and forced the battle on enemy soil, -which proved, to its logic, that it was only receiving payment of a -debt owed it by destiny. - -Bred to win, confident that the German system was the right system -of life, it could imagine the German Michael as the missionary of -the system, converting the Philistine with machine guns. Confidence, -the confidence which must get new vessels for the energy that has -overflowed, the confidence of all classes in the realisation of the -long-promised day of the “place in the sun” for all the immense -population drilled in the system, was the keynote. They knew that they -could lick the other fellow and went at him from the start as if they -expected to lick him, with a diligence which made the most of their -training and preparation. - -When I asked for a room with a bath in a leading Berlin hotel, the -clerk at the desk said, “I will see, sir.” He ran his eye up and down -the list methodically before he added: “Yes, we have a good room on -the second floor.” Afterward, I learned that all except the first and -second floors of the hotel were closed. The small dining-room only was -open, and every effort was made to make the small dining-room appear -normal. - -He was an efficient clerk; the buttons boy who opened the room door, -a goose-stepping, alert sprout of German militarism, exhibited a -punctiliousness of attention which produced a further effect of -normality. Those Germans who were not doing their part at the front -were doing it at home by bluffing the other Germans and themselves into -confidence. The clerk believed that some day he would have more guests -than ever and a bigger hotel. All who suffered from the war could -afford to wait. Germany was winning; the programme was being carried -out. The Kaiser said so. In proof of it, multitudes of Russian soldiers -were tilling the soil in place of Germans, who were at the front taking -more Russian soldiers. - -Everybody that one met kept telling him that everything was perfectly -normal. No intending purchaser of real estate in a boom town was ever -treated to more optimistic propaganda. Perfectly normal--when one -found only three customers in a large department store! Perfectly -normal--when the big steamship offices presented in their windows -bare blue seas which had once been charted with the going and coming -of German ships! Perfectly normal--when the spool of the killed and -wounded rolled out by yards like that of a ticker on a busy day on the -Stock Exchange! Perfectly normal--when women tried to smile in the -streets with eyes which had plainly been weeping at home! Are you for -us or against us? The question was put straight to the stranger. Let -him say that he was a neutral and they took it for granted that he was -pro-Ally. He must be pro-something. - -As Corey and I returned to the railway station after our walk, -a soldier took us in charge and marched us to the office of the -military commandant. “Are you an Englishman?” was his first question. -The guttural military emphasis which he put on Englishman was most -significant. Which brings us to another factor in the psychology of -war: hate. - -“If men are to fight well,” said a German officer, “it is necessary -that they hate. They must be exalted by a great passion when they -charge into machine guns.” - -Hate was officially distilled and then instilled--hate against -England, almost exclusively. The public rose to that. If England had -not come in, the German military plan would have succeeded: first, the -crushing of France; then, the crushing of Russia. The despised Belgian, -that small boy who had tripped the giant and then hugged the giant’s -knees, delaying him on the road to Paris, was having a rest. For he -had been hated very hard for a while with the hate of contempt--that -miserable pigmy who interfered with the plans of the machine. - -The French were almost popular. The Kaiser had spoken of them as “brave -foes.” What quarrel could France and Germany have? France had been -the dupe of England. Cartoons of the hairy, barbarous Russian and the -futile little Frenchman in his long coat, borne on German bayonets -or pecking at the boots of a giant Michael, were not in fashion. For -Germany was then trying to arrange a separate peace with both France -and Russia. France was to have Alsace-Lorraine as the price of the -arrangement. When the negotiations fell through the cartoonists were -free to make sport of the anæmic Gaul and the untutored Slav again. And -it was not alone in Germany that a responsive press played the weather -vane to Government wishes. But in Germany the machinery ran smoothest. - -For the first time I knew what it was to have a human being whom I -had never seen before hate me. At sight of me a woman who had been a -good Samaritan, with human kindness and charity in her eyes, turned a -malignant devil. Stalwart as Minerva she was, a fair-haired German type -of about thirty-five, square-shouldered and robustly attractive in her -Red Cross uniform. Being hungry at the station at Hanover, I rushed -out of the train to get something to eat, and saw some Frankfurter -sandwiches on a table in front of me as I alighted. - -My hand went out for one, when I was conscious of a movement and an -exclamation which was hostile, and looked up to see Minerva, as her -hand shot out to arrest the movement of mine, with a blaze of hate, -hard, merciless hate, in her eyes, while her lips framed the word, -“Englisher!” If looks were daggers I should have been pierced through -the heart. Perhaps an English overcoat accounted for her error. -Certainly I promptly recognised mine when I saw that this was a Red -Cross buffet. An Englishman had dared to try to buy a sandwich meant -for German soldiers! She might at least glory in the fact that her -majestic glare had made me most uncomfortable as I murmured an apology, -which she received with a stony frown. - -A moment later a soldier approached the buffet. She leaned over -smiling, as gentle as she had been fierce and malignant a moment -before, making a picture, as she put some mustard on a sandwich for -him, which recalled that of the Frenchwoman among the wounded in the -freight shed at Calais--a simile which would anger them both. - -The Frenchwoman, too, had a Red Cross uniform; she, too, expressed -the mercy and gentle ministration which we like to associate with -woman. But there was the difference of the old culture and the new; of -the race which was fighting to have and the race which was fighting -to hold. The tactics which we call the offensive was in the German -woman’s, as in every German’s, nature. It had been in the Frenchwoman’s -in Napoleon’s time. Many racial hates the war has developed; but that -of the German is a seventeen-inch-howitzer-asphyxiating-gas hate. - -If hates help to win, why not hate as hard as you can? Don’t you go to -war to win? There is no use talking of sporting rules and saying that -this and that is “not done” in humane circles--win! The Germans meant -to win. Always I thought of them as having the spirit of the Middle -Ages in their hearts, organised for victory by every modern method. -Three strata of civilisation were really fighting, perhaps: The French, -with its inherent individual patriotism which makes a Frenchman always -a Frenchman, its philosophy which prevents increase of numbers, its -thrift and tenacity; the German, with its newborn patriotism, its -discovery of what it thinks is the golden system, its fecundity, its -aggressiveness, its industry, its ambition; and the Russian, unformed, -groping, vague, glamorous, immense. - -The American is an outsider to them all; some strange melting-pot -product of many races which is trying to forget the prejudices and -hates of the old and perhaps not succeeding very well, but not yet -convinced that the best means of producing patriotic unity is war. -After this and other experiences, after being given a compartment all -to myself by men who glanced at me with eyes of hate and passed on to -another compartment which was already crowded or stood up in the aisle -of the car, I made a point of buying an American flag for my buttonhole. - -This helped; but still there was my name, which belonged to an ancestor -who had gone from England to Connecticut nearly three hundred years -ago. Palmer did not belong to the Germanic tribe. He must be pro- the -other side. He could not be a neutral and belong to the human kind with -such a name. Only Swenson, or Gansevoort, or Ah Fong could really be a -neutral; and even they were expected to be on your side secretly. If -they weren’t they must be on the other. Are you for us? or, Are you -against us? I grew weary of the question in Germany. If I had been for -them I would have “dug in” and not told them. In France and England -they asked you objectively the state of sentiment in America. But, -possibly, the direct, forcible way is the better for war purposes when -you mean to win; for the Germans have made a study of war. They are -experts in war. - -However, this rosy-cheeked German boy, in his green uniform which could -not be washed clean of all the stains of campaigning, whom I met in the -palace grounds at Charlottenberg, did not put this tiresome question -to me. He was the only person I saw in the grounds, whose quiet I had -sought for an hour’s respite from war. One could be shown through the -palace by the lonely old caretaker, who missed the American tourist, -without hearing a guide’s monotone explaining who the gentleman in -the frame was and what he did and who painted his picture. This boy -could have more influence in making me see the German view-point than -the propagandist men in the Government offices and the belligerent -German-Americans in hotel lobbies--those German-Americans who were so -frequently in trouble in other days for disobeying the _verbotens_ and -then asking our State Department to get them out of it, now pluming -themselves over victories won by another type of German. - -About twenty-one this boy, round-faced and blue-eyed, who saw in Queen -Louisa the most beautiful heroine of all history. The hole in his -blouse which the bullet had made was nicely sewed up and his wound had -healed. He was fighting in France when he was hit; the name of the -place he did not know. Karl, his chum, had been killed. The doctor -had given him the bullet, which he exhibited proudly as if it were -different from other bullets, as it was to him. In a few days he must -return to the front. Perhaps the war would be over soon; he hoped so. - -The French were brave; but they hated the Germans and thought that -they must make war on the Germans, and they were a cruel people, -guilty of many atrocities. So the Fatherland had fought to conquer the -enemies who planned her destruction. A peculiar, childlike _naïveté_ -accompanied his intelligence, trained to run in certain grooves, which -is the product of the German type of popular education; that trust in -his superiors which comes from a diligent and efficient paternalism. -He knew nothing of the atrocities which Germans were said to have -committed in Belgium. The British and the French had set Belgium -against Germany and Germany had to strike Belgium for playing false to -her treaties. But he did think that the French were brave; only misled -by their Government. And the Kaiser? His eyes lighted in a way that -suggested that the Kaiser was almost a god to him. He had heard of -the things that the British said against the Kaiser and they made him -want to fight for his Kaiser. He was only one German--but the one was -millions. - -In actual learning which comes from schoolbooks, I think that he was -better informed than the average Frenchman of his class; but I should -say that he had thought less; that his mind was more of a hothouse -product of a skilful nurseryman’s hand, who knew the value of training -and feeding and pruning the plant if you were to make it yield well. -A kindly, willing, likable boy, peculiarly simple and unspoiled, it -seemed a pity that all his life he should have to bear the brand of the -_Lusitania_ on his brow; that event which history cannot yet put in its -true perspective. Other races will think _Lusitania_ when they meet a -German long after the Belgian atrocities are forgotten. It will endure -to plague a people like the exile of the Acadians, the guillotining -of innocents in the French Revolution, and the burning of the Salem -witches. But he had nothing to do with it. A German admiral gave an -order as a matter of policy to make an impression that his submarine -campaign was succeeding and to interfere with the transport of -munitions, and the Kaiser told this boy that it was right. One liked -this boy, his loyalty and his courage; liked him as a human being. But -one wished that he might think more. Perhaps he will one of these days, -if he survives the war. - - - - -VIII - -HOW THE KAISER LEADS - - A prisoners’ “show” camp--Filthy conditions--Scanty fare--Racial - characteristics--“Upholding Britain’s dignity”--Russian princes - in disguise--A blind artist--A physical insult--Deadly - monotony of prison life--Drilling--Hamburg a dead city--A hate - of the pocket--The “system” at a Berlin hospital--Effects of - the war in Berlin--At the Opera--A plethora of Iron Crosses-- - Immanence of the Kaiser--Imperial propaganda--The Crown Prince - marooned--Glory to the Kaiser and von Hindenburg--President of - the German Corporation--Always the offensive--“America too far - away!” - - -Only a week before I had seen the wounded Germans in the freight shed -at Calais and all the prisoners that I had seen elsewhere, whether -in ones or twos, brought in fresh from the front or in columns under -escort, had been Germans. The sharpest contrast of all in war which the -neutral may observe is seeing the men of one army which, from the other -side, he watched march into battle--armed, confident, disciplined -parts of an organisation, ready to sweep all before them in a charge-- -become so many sheep, disarmed, disorganised, rounded up like vagrants -in a bread-line and surrounded by a fold of barbed wire and sentries. -Such was the lot of the nine thousand British, French, and Russians -whom I saw at Döberitz, near Berlin. This was a show camp, I was -told, but it suffices. Conditions at others might be worse; doubtless -were. England treated its prisoners best, unless my information from -unprejudiced observers is wrong. But Germany had enormous numbers of -prisoners. A nation in her frame of mind thought only of the care of -the men who could fight for her, not of those who had fought against -her. - -Then, the German nature is one thing and the British another. Crossing -the Atlantic on the _Lusitania_ we had a German reserve officer who -was already on board when the evening editions arrived at the pier -with news that England had declared war on Germany. Naturally, he must -become a prisoner upon his arrival at Liverpool. He was a steadfast -German. When a wireless report of the German repulse at Liége came, he -would not believe it. Germany had the system and Germany would win. But -when he said, “I should rather be a German on board a British ship than -a Briton on board a German ship, under the circumstances,” his remark -was significant in more ways than one. - -His English fellow-passengers on that splendid liner which a German -submarine was to send to the bottom showed him no discourtesy. They -passed the time of day with him and seemed to want to make his awkward -situation easy. Yet it was apparent that he regarded their kindliness -as a racial weakness. _Krieg ist Krieg._ When Germany made war she made -war. - -So allowances are in order. One prison camp was like another in this -sense, that it deprived a man of his liberty. It put him in jail. The -British regular, who is a soldier by profession, was, in a way, in a -separate class. But the others were men of civil industries and settled -homes. Except during their term in the army, they went to the shop or -the office every day, or tilled their farms. They were free; they had -their work to occupy their minds during the day and freedom of movement -when they came home in the evening. They might read the news by their -firesides; they were normal human beings in civilised surroundings. - -Here, they were pacing animals in a cage, commanded by two field guns, -who might walk up and down and play games and go through the daily -drill under their own non-commissioned officers. It was the mental -stagnation of the thing that was appalling. Think of such a lot for a -man used to action in civil life--and they call war action! Think of a -writer, a business man, a lawyer, a doctor, a teacher, reduced to this -fenced-in existence, when he had been the kind who got impatient if he -had to wait for a train that was late! Shut yourself up in your own -backyard with a man with a rifle watching you for twenty-four hours and -see whether, if you have the brain of a mouse, prison-camp life can be -made comfortable, no matter how many greasy packs of cards you have. -And lousy, besides! At times one had to laugh over what Mark Twain -called “the damfool human race!” - -Inside a cookhouse at one end of the enclosure was a row of soup -boilers. Outside were a series of railings, forming stalls for the -prisoners when they lined up for meals. In the morning, some oatmeal -and coffee; at noon, some cabbage soup boiled with desiccated meal and -some bread; at night, more coffee and bread. How one thrived on this -fare depended much upon how he liked cabbage soup. The Russians liked -it. They were used to it. - -“We never keep the waiter late by tarrying over our liqueurs,” said a -Frenchman. - -Our reservist guide had run away to America in youth, where he had -worked at anything he could find to do; but he had returned to Berlin, -where he had a “good little business” before the war. He was stout -and cheery, and he referred to the prisoners as “boys.” The French and -Russians were good boys; but the English were bad boys, who had no -discipline. He said that all received the same food as German soldiers. -It seemed almost ridiculous chivalry that men who had fought against -you and were living inactive lives should be as well fed as the men who -were fighting for you. The rations that I saw given to German soldiers -were better. But that was what the guide said. - -“This is our little sitting-room for the English non-commissioned -officers,” he explained, as he opened the door of a small shanty which -had a pane of glass for a window. Some men sitting around a small stove -arose. One, a big sergeant-major, towered over the others; he had -the colours of the South African campaign on the breast of his worn -khaki blouse and stood very straight, as if on parade. By the window -was a Scot in kilts, who was equally tall. He looked around over his -shoulder and then turned his face away with the pride of a man who -does not care to be regarded as a show. His uniform was as neat as if -he were at inspection; and the way he held his head, the haughtiness -of his profile against the stream of light, recalled the unconquerable -spirit of the Prussian prisoner whom I had seen on the road during -the fighting along the Aisne. Only a regular, but he was upholding -the dignity of Britain in that prison camp better than many a member -of Parliament on the floor of the House of Commons. I asked our guide -about him. - -“A good boy, that! All his boys obey him, and he obeys all the -regulations. But he acts as if we Germans were his prisoners.” - -The British might not be good boys, but they would be clean. They were -diligent in the chase in their underclothes; their tents were free of -odour; and there was something resolute about a Tommy who was bare to -the waist in that freezing wind, making an effort at a bath. I heard -tales of Mr. Atkins’ characteristic thoughtlessness. While the French -took good care of their clothes and kept their tents neat, he was -likely to sell his coat or his blanket if he got a chance in order to -buy something that he liked to eat. One Tommy who sat on his stray tick -inside the tent was knitting. When I asked him where he had learned to -knit, he replied: “India!” and gave me a look as much as to say, “Now -pass on to the next cage.” - -The British looked the most pallid of all, I thought. They were not -used to cabbage soup. Their stomachs did not take hold of it, as one -said; and they loathed the black bread. No white bread and no jam! -Only when you have seen Mr. Atkins with a pot of jam and a loaf of -white bread and some bacon frizzling near by can you realise the -hardship which cabbage soup meant to that British regular who gets -lavish rations of the kind he likes along with his shilling a day for -professional soldiering. - -“You see, the boys go about as they please,” said our guide. “They -don’t have a bad time. Three meals a day and nothing to do.” - -Members of a laughing circle which included some British were taking -turns at a kind of Russian blind man’s buff, which seemed to me about -in keeping with the mental capacity of a prison camp. - -“No French!” I remarked. - -“The French keep to themselves, but they are good boys,” he replied. -“Maybe it is because we have only a few of them here.” - -Every time one sounded the subject he was struck by the attitude of the -Germans toward the French, not alone explained by the policy of the -hour which hoped for a separate peace with France. Perhaps it was best -traceable to the Frenchman’s sense of _amour propre_, his philosophy, -his politeness, or an indefinable quality in the grain of the man. - -The Germans affected to look down on the French; yet there was -something about the Frenchman which the Germans had to respect-- -something not won by war. I heard admiration for them at the same time -as contempt for their red trousers and their unpreparedness. While we -are in this avenue, German officers had respect for the dignity of -British officers, the leisurely, easy quality of superiority which they -preserved in any circumstances. The qualities of a race come out in -adversity no less than in prosperity. Thus, their captors regarded the -Russians as big, good-natured children. - -“Yes, they play games and we give the English an English newspaper to -read twice a week,” said our affable guide, unconscious, I think, of -any irony in the remark. For the paper was the _Continental News_, -published in “the American language” for American visitors. You may -take it for granted that it did not exaggerate any success of the -Allies. - -“We have a prince and the son of a rich man among the Russian -prisoners--yes, quite in the Four Hundred,” the guide went on. -“They were such good boys we put them to work in the cookhouse. Star -boarders, eh? They like it. They get more to eat.” - -These two men were called out for exhibition. Youngsters of the first -line they were and even in their privates’ uniforms they bore the -unmistakable signs of belonging to the Russian upper class. Each -saluted and made his bow, as if he had come on to do a turn before the -footlights. It was not the first time they had been paraded before -visitors. In the prince’s eye I noted a twinkle, which as much as said: -“Well, why not? We don’t mind.” - -When we were taken through the cookhouse I asked about a little -Frenchman, who was sitting with his nose in a soup bowl. He seemed too -near-sighted ever to get into any army. His face was distinctly that of -a man of culture; one would have guessed that he was an artist. - -“Shrapnel burst,” explained the guide. “He will never be able to see -much again. We let him come in here to eat.” - -I wanted to talk with him, but these exhibitions are supposed to be all -in pantomime; a question and you are urged along to the next exhibit. -He was young and all his life he was to be like that--like some poor, -blind kitten! - -The last among a number of Russians returning to the enclosure from -some fatigue duty was given a blow in the seat of his baggy trousers -with a stick which one of the guards carried. The Russian quickened his -steps and seemed to think nothing of the incident. But to me it was -the worst thing that I saw at Döberitz, this act of physical violence -against a man by one who has power over him. The personal equation -was inevitable to the observer. Struck in that way, could one fail to -strike back? Would not he strike in red anger, without stopping to -think of consequences? There is something bred into the Anglo-Saxon -nature which resents a physical blow. We courtmartial an officer for -laying hands on a private, though that private may get ten years in -prison on his trial. Yet the Russian thought nothing of it, or the -guard, either. An officer in the German or the Russian army may strike -a man. - -“Would the guard hit a Frenchman in that way?” I asked. Our guide said -not; the French were good boys. Or an Englishman? He had not seen it -done. The Englishman would swear and curse, he was sure, and might -fight, they were such undisciplined boys. But the Russians--“they are -like kids. It was only a slap. Didn’t hurt him any.” - -New barracks for the prisoners were being built which would be -comfortable if crowded, even in winter. The worst thing, I repeat, -was the deadly monotony of the confinement for a period which would -end only when the war ended. Any labour should be welcome to a -healthy-minded man. It was a mercy that the Germans set prisoners to -grading roads, to hoeing and harvesting, retrieving thus a little of -the wastage of war. Or was it only the bland insistence that conditions -were luxurious that one objected to?--not that they were really bad. -The Germans had a horde of prisoners to care for; vast armies to -maintain; and a new volunteer force of a million or more--two millions -was the official report--to train. - -While we were at the prison camp we heard at intervals the rap-rap -of a machine gun at the practice range near by, drilling to take -more prisoners, and on the way back to Berlin we passed on the road -companies of volunteers returning from drill with that sturdy march -characteristic of German infantry. - -In Berlin we were told again that everything was perfectly normal. -Trains were running as usual to Hamburg, if we cared to go there. -“As usual” in war time was the ratio of one to five in peace time. At -Hamburg, in sight of steamers with cold boilers and the forest of masts -of idle ships, one learned what sea power meant. That city of eager -shippers and traders, that doorstep of Germany, was as dead as Ypres, -without a building being wrecked by shells. Hamburgers tried to make -the best of it; they assumed an air of optimism; they still had faith -that richer cargoes than ever might come over the sea, while a ghost, -that of bankruptcy, walked the streets, looking at office windows and -the portholes of the ships. - -For one had only to scratch the cuticle of that optimism to find that -the corpuscles did not run red. They were blue. Hamburg’s citizens -had to exhibit the fortitude of those of Rheims under another kind of -bombardment: that of the silent guns of British dreadnoughts far out of -range. They were good Germans; they meant to play the game; but that -once prosperous business man of past middle age, too old to serve, -who had little to do but think, found it hard to keep step with the -propagandist attitude of Berlin. - -A free city, a commercial city, a city unto itself, Hamburg had been -in other days a cosmopolitan trader with the rest of the world. It -had even been called an English city, owing to the number of English -business men there as agents of the immense commerce between England -and Germany. Every one who was a clerk or an employer spoke English; -and through all the irritation between the two countries which led -up to the war, English and German business men kept on the good -terms which traffic requires and met at luncheons and dinners and in -their clubs. Englishmen were married to German women and Germans to -Englishwomen, while both prayed that their governments would keep the -peace. - -Now the English husband of the German woman, though he had spent most -of his life in Hamburg, though perhaps he had been born in Germany, -had been interned and, however large his bank account, was taking -his place with his pannikin in the stalls in front of some cookhouse -for his ration of cabbage soup. Germans were kind to English friends -personally; but when it came to the national feeling of Germany against -England, nowhere was it so bitter as in Hamburg. Here the hate was -born of more than national sentiment; it was of the pocket; of seeing -fortunes that had been laboriously built dwindling, once thriving -businesses in suspended animation. There was no moratorium in name; -there was worse than one in fact. A patriotic freemasonry in misfortune -took its place. No business man could press another for the payment of -debts lest he be pressed in turn. What would happen when the war was -over? How long would it last? - -It was not quite as cruel to give one’s opinion as two years to the -inquirers in Hamburg as to the director of the great Rudolph Virchow -Hospital in Berlin. Here, again, the system; the submergence of the -individual in the organisation. The wounded men seemed parts of a -machine; the human touch which may lead to disorganisation less in -evidence than at home, where the thought is: This is an individual -human being, with his own peculiarities of temperament, his own -theories of life, his own ego; not just a quantity of brain, tissue, -blood, and bone which is required for the organism called man. A human -mechanism wounded at the German front needed repairs and the repairs -were made to that mechanism. The niceties might be lacking, but the -repair factory ran steadily and efficiently at full blast. Germany had -to care for her wounded by the millions and by the millions she cared -for them. - -“Two years!” - -I was sorry that I had said this to the director, for its effect on -him was like a blow in the chest. The vision of more and more wounded -seemed to rise before the eyes of this kindly man weary with the strain -of doing the work which he knew so well how to do as a cog in the -system. But for only a moment. He stiffened; he became the drillmaster -again; and the tragic look in his eyes was succeeded by one of that -strange exaltation I had seen in the eyes of so many Germans, which -appeared to carry their mind away from you and their surroundings to -the battlefield where they were fighting for their “place in the sun.” - -“Two years, then. We shall see it through!” - -He had a son who had been living in a French family near Lille studying -French and he had heard nothing of him since the war began. They were -good people, this French family; his son liked them. They would be kind -to him; but what might not the French Government do to him, a German! -He had heard terrible stories--the kind of stories that hardened -the fighting spirit of German soldiers--about the treatment German -civilians had received in France. He could think of one French family -which he knew as being kind, but not of the whole French people as a -family. As soon as the national and racial element were considered the -enemy became a beast. - -To him, at least, Berlin was not normal; nor was it to that keeper of -a small shop off Unter den Linden which sold prints and etchings and -cartoons. What a boon my order of cartoons was to him! He forgot his -psychology code and turned human and confidential. The war had been -hard on him; there was no business at all, not even in cartoons. - -The Opera alone seemed something like normal to one who trusted -his eyes rather than his ears for information. There was almost a -full house for the “Rosenkavalier”; for music is a solace in time -of trouble, as other capitals than Berlin revealed. Officers with -close-cropped heads wearing Iron Crosses, some with arms in slings, -promenading in the refreshment room of the Berlin Opera House between -the acts--this in the hour of victory should mean a picture of gaiety. -But there was a telling hush about the scene. Possibly music had -brought out the truth in men’s hearts that war, this kind of war, was -not gay or romantic, only murderous and destructive. One had noticed -already that the Prussian officer, so conscious of his caste, who -had worked so indefatigably to make an efficient army, had become -chastened. He had found that common men, butchers and bakers and -candlestick makers, could be as brave for their Kaiser as he. And more -of these officers had the Iron Cross than not. - -The plenitude of Iron Crosses appealed to the risibilities of the -superficial observer. But in this, too, there was system. An officer -who had been in several battles without winning one must feel a trifle -declassed and that it was time for him to make amends to his pride. If -many were given to privates then the average soldier would not think -the Cross a prize for the few who had luck, but something that he, too, -might win by courage and prompt obedience to orders. - -The masterful calculation, the splendid pretence and magnificent -offence, could not hide the suspense and suffering. Nowhere were you -able to forget the war or to escape the all-pervading influence of -the Kaiser. The empty royal box at the opera, his opera, called him -to mind. What would happen before he reappeared there for a gala -performance? When again in the shuffle of European politics would the -audience see the Czar of Russia or the King of England by his side? - -It was his Berlin, the heart of his Berlin, that was before you when -you left the opera--the new Berlin, taking few pages of a guide -book compared to Paris, which he had fathered in its boom growth. -In front of his palace Russian field guns taken by von Hindenburg -at Tannenberg were exhibited as the spoils of his war; while the -Never-to-be-Forgotten Grandfather in bronze rode home in triumph from -Paris not far away. - -One wondered what all the people in the ocean of Berlin flats were -thinking as one walked past the statue of Frederick the Great, with his -sharp nose pointing the way for future conquerors, and on along Unter -den Linden, with its broad pavements gleaming in a characteristic, -misty winter night, through the Brandenburg Gate of his Brandenburg -dynasty, or to the statue of the blood-and-iron Bismarck, with his -strong jaw and pugnacious nose--the statesman militant in uniform with -a helmet over his bushy brow--who had made the German Empire, that -young empire which had not yet known defeat because of the system which -makes ready and chooses the hour for its blow. - -Not far away one had glimpses of the white statues of My Ancestors -of the Sièges Allée, or avenue of victory,--the present Kaiser’s own -idea,--with the great men of the time on their right and left hands. -People whose sense of taste, not to say of humour, may limit their -statecraft had smiled at this monotonous and grandiose row of all -the dead bones of distinguished and mediocre royalty immortalised in -marble to the exact number of thirty-two. But they were My Ancestors, -O Germans, who made you what you are! Right dress and keep that line -of royalty in mind! It is your royal line, older than the trees in the -garden, firm as the rocks, Germany itself. The last is not the least in -might nor the least advertised in the age of publicity. He is to make -the next step in advance for Germany and bring more tribute home, if -all Germans will be loyal to him. - -One paused to look at the photograph of the Kaiser in a shop window; a -big photograph of that man whose photograph is everywhere in Germany. -It is a stern face, this face, as the leader wishes his people to -see him, with its erectile moustache, the lips firm set, the eyes -challenging and the chin held so as to make it symbolic of strength: a -face that strives to say in that pose: “Onward! I lead!” Germans have -seen it every day for a quarter of a century. They have lived with it -and the character of it has grown into their natures. - -In the same window was a smaller photograph of the Crown Prince, with -his cap rakishly on the side of his head, as if to give himself a -distinctive characteristic in the German eye; but his is the face of -a man who is not mature for his years and a trifle dissipated. For a -while after the war began he, as leader of the war party, knew the -joy of being more popular than the Kaiser. But the tide turned soon -in favour of a father, who appeared to be drawn reluctantly into -the ordeal of death and wounds for his people in “defence of the -Fatherland,” and against a son who had clamoured for the horror which -his people had begun to realise, particularly as his promised entry -into Paris had failed. There can be no question which of the two has -the wiser head. - -The Crown Prince had passed into the background. He was marooned with -ennui in the face of the French trenches in the West, while all the -glory was being won in the East. Indeed, father had put son in his -place. One day, the gossips said, son might have to ask father, in the -name of the Hohenzollerns, to help him recover his popularity. His -photograph had been taken down from shop windows and in its place, -on the right hand of the Kaiser in the Sièges Allée of contemporary -fame, was the bull-dog face of von Hindenburg, victor of Tannenberg. -The Kaiser shared von Hindenburg’s glory; he has shared the glory of -all victorious generals; such is his histrionic gift in the age of the -spotlight. - -Make no mistake--his people, deluded or not, love him not only because -he is Kaiser but also for himself. He is a clever man, who began his -career with the enormous capital of being emperor and made the most of -his position to amaze the world with a more versatile and also a more -inscrutable personality than most people realise. Poseur, perhaps, but -an emperor these days may need to be a poseur in order to wear the -ermine of Divine Right convincingly to most of his subjects. - -His pose is always that of the anointed King of My People. He has never -given down on that point, however much he has applied State Socialism -to appease the Socialistic agitation. He has personified Germany -and German ambition with an adroit egoism and the sentiment of his -inheritance. Those critics who see the machinery of the throne may say -that he has the mind of a journalist, quick of perception, ready of -assimilation, knowing many things in their essentials but no one thing -thoroughly. But this is the kind of mind that a ruler requires, plus -the craft of the politician. - -Is he a good man? Is he a great man? Banal questions! He is the Kaiser -on the background of the Sièges Allée, who has first promoted himself, -then the Hohenzollerns, and then the interests of Germany with all the -zest of the foremost shareholder and president of the corporation. No -German in the German hothouse of industry has worked harder than he. -He has kept himself up to the mark and tried to keep his people up to -the mark. It may be the wrong kind of a mark; but we are not discussing -that, and we may beg leave to differ without threshing the old straw of -argument. - -That young private I met in the grounds at Charlottenberg, that -wounded man helping with the harvest, that tired hospital director, -the small trader in Hamburg, the sturdy Red Cross woman in the station -at Hanover, the peasants and the workers throughout Germany, kept -unimaginatively at their tasks, do not see the machinery of the throne, -only the man in the photograph who supplies them with a national -imagination. His indefatigable goings and comings and his poses fill -their minds with a personality which typifies the national spirit. -Will this change after the war? But that, too, is not a subject for -speculation here. - -Through the war his pose has met the needs of the hour. An emperor -bowed down with the weight of his people’s sacrifice, a grey, -determined emperor hastening to honour the victors, covering up -defeats, urging his legions on, himself at the front, never seen by -the general public in the rear, a mysterious figure, not saying much -and that foolish to the Allies but appealing to the Germans, rather -appearing to submerge his own personality in the united patriotism -of the struggle--such is the picture which the throne machinery has -impressed on the German mind. The histrionic gift may be at its best in -creating a saga. - -Always the offensive! Germany would keep on striking as long as she -had strength for a blow, while making the pretence that she had -the strength for still heavier blows. One wonders, should she gain -peace by her blows, if the Allies would awaken after the treaty was -signed to find how near exhaustion she had been, or that she was so -self-contained in her production of war material that she had only -borrowed from Hans to pay Fritz, who were both Germans. Russia did not -know how nearly she had Japan beaten until after Portsmouth. Japan’s -method was the German method; she learned it from Germany. - -At the end of my journey I was hearing the same din of systematic -optimism in my ears as in the beginning. - -“Warsaw, then Paris, then our Zeppelins will finish London,” said the -restaurant keeper on the German side of the Dutch frontier; “and our -submarines will settle the British navy before the summer is over. No, -the war will not last a year.” - -“And is America next on the programme?” I asked. - -“No. America is too strong; too far away.” - -I was guilty of a faint suspicion that he was a diplomatist. - - - - -IX - -IN BELGIUM UNDER THE GERMANS - - British hospitality to the Belgians--A Dutch refugee camp--The - American Commission for relief--Its generals--From Holland to - Belgium--A forlorn Landsturm guard--Life in a conquered Land-- - The overlords in Antwerp--Belgium’s hatred--The problem of - feeding Belgium--American volunteers--“Some experience”--The - conqueror’s net--Relics of the former régime. - - -No week at the front, where war is made, left the mind so full as this -week beyond the sound of the guns with war’s results. It taught the -meaning of the simple words life and death, hunger and food, love and -hate. One was in a house with sealed doors, where a family of seven -millions sat in silence and idleness, thinking of nothing but war and -feeling nothing but war. He had war cold as the fragments of a shrapnel -shell beside a dead man on a frozen road; war analysed and docketed for -exhibition, without its noise, its distraction, and its hot passion. - -In Ostend I had seen the Belgian refugees in flight and I had seen them -pouring into London stations, bedraggled outcasts of every class, with -the staring uncertainty of the helpless human flock flying from the -storm. England, who considered that they had suffered for her sake, -opened her purse and her heart to them; she opened her homes, both -modest suburban homes and big country houses which are particular about -their guests in time of peace. No British family without a Belgian -was doing its duty. Bishop’s wife and publican’s wife took whatever -Belgian was sent to her. The refugee packet arrived without the nature -of contents on the address label. All Belgians had become heroic and -noble by grace of the defenders of Liége. - -Perhaps the bishop’s wife received a young woman who smoked cigarettes -and asked her hostess for rouge and the publican’s wife received a -countess. Mrs. Smith of Clapham, who had brought up her children in the -strictest propriety, welcomed as playmates for her dears, whom she had -kept away from the contaminating associations of the alleys, Belgian -children from the toughest quarters of Antwerp, who had a precocity -that led to baffling confusion in Mrs. Smith’s mind between parental -responsibility and patriotic duty. Smart society gave the run of its -houses sometimes to gentry who were used to getting the run of that -kind of houses by lifting a window with a jimmy on a dark night. It -was a refugee lottery. When two hosts met one said: “My Belgian is -charming!” and the other said: “Mine isn’t. Just listen--” But the -English are game; they are loyal; they bore their burden of hospitality -bravely. - -The strange things that happened were not the more agreeable because of -the attitude of some refugees, who when they were getting better fare -than they ever had at home, thought that, as they had given their “all” -for England, they should be getting still better, not to mention wine -on the table in temperance families; while there was a disinclination -toward self-support by means of work on the part of certain heroes -which promised a Belgian occupation of England that would last as long -as the German occupation of Belgium. England was learning that there -are Belgians and Belgians. She had received not a few of the “and -Belgians.” - -It was only natural. When the German cruisers bombarded Scarborough -and the Hartlepools, the first to the station were not the finest and -sturdiest. Those with good bank accounts and a disinclination to take -any bodily or gastronomic risks, the young idler who stands on the -street corner ogling girls and the girls who are always in the street -to be ogled, the flighty-minded, the irresponsible, the tramp, the -selfish, and the cowardly are bound to be in the van of flight from any -sudden disaster and to make the most of the generous sympathy of those -who succour them. - -The courageous, the responsible, those with homes and property at -stake, those with an inborn sense of real patriotism which means -loyalty to locality and to their neighbours, are more inclined to -remain with their homes and their property. Besides, a refugee hardly -appears at his best. He is in a strange country, forlorn, homesick, a -hostage of fate and personal misfortune. The Belgian nation had taken -the Allies’ side and now all individual Belgians expected the Allies to -help them. - -England did not get the worst of the refugees. They could travel no -farther than Holland, where the Dutch Government appropriated money to -care for them at the same time that it was under the expense of keeping -its army mobilised. Looking at the refugees in the camp at Bergen op -Zoom, an observer might share some of the contempt of the Germans for -the Belgians. Crowded in temporary huts in the chill, misty weather -of a Dutch winter, they seemed listless, marooned human wreckage. -They would not dig ditches to drain their camp; they were given to -pilfering from one another the clothes which the world’s charity -supplied. The heart was out of them. They were numbed by disaster. - -“Are all these men and women who are living together married?” I asked -the Dutch officer in charge. - -“It is not for us to inquire,” he replied. “Most of them say that they -have lost their marriage certificates.” - -They were from the slums of that polyglot seaport town Antwerp, which -Belgians say is anything but real Belgium. To judge Belgium by them is -like judging an American town by the worst of its back streets, where -saloons and pawnshops are numerous and the red lights twinkle from dark -doorways. - -Around a table in a Rotterdam hotel one met some generals, who were -organising a different kind of campaign from that which brought glory -to the generals who conquered Belgium. It was odd that Dr. Rose-- -that Dr. Rose who had discovered and fought the hook worm among the -mountaineers of the Southern States--should be succouring Belgium, and -yet only natural. Where else should he and Henry James, Jr., of the -Rockefeller Foundation, and Mr. Bicknell, of the American Red Cross, -be, if not here directing the use of an endowment fund set aside for -just such purposes? - -They had been all over Belgium and up into the Northern departments of -France occupied by the Germans, investigating conditions. For they were -practical men, trained for solving the problem of charity with wisdom, -who wanted to know that their money was well spent. They had nothing -for the refugees in London, but they found that the people who had -stayed at home in Belgium were worthy of help. The fund was allowing -five hundred thousand dollars a month for the American Commission for -Relief in Belgium, which was the amount that the Germans had spent in a -single day in the destruction of the town of Ypres with shells. Later -they were to go to Poland; then to Serbia. - -With them was Herbert C. Hoover, a celebrated mining engineer, the -head of the Commission. When American tourists were stranded over -Europe at the outset of the war, with letters of credit which could -not be cashed, their route homeward must lie through London. They must -have steamer passage. Hoover took charge. When this work was done and -Belgium must be helped, he took charge of a task that could be done -only by a neutral. For the adjutants and field officers of his force -he turned to American business men in London, to Rhodes scholars at -Oxford, and to other volunteers hastening from America. - -When Harvard, 1914, who had lent a hand in the American refugees’ -trials, appeared in Hoover’s office to volunteer for the new campaign, -Hoover said: - -“You are going to Rotterdam to-night.” - -“So I am!” said Harvard, 1914, and started accordingly. Action and not -red tape must prevail in such an organisation. - -The Belgians whom I wished to see were those behind the line of guards -on the Belgo-Dutch frontier; those who had remained at home under the -Germans to face humiliation and hunger. This was possible if you had -the right sort of influence and your passport the right sort of visés -to accompany a _Besheinigung_, according to the form of “31 Oktober, -1914, Sect. 616, Nr. 1083,” signed by the German consul at Rotterdam, -which put me in the same automobile with Harvard, 1914, that stopped -one blustery, snowy day of late December before a gate, with Belgium on -one side and Holland on the other side of it on the Rosendaal-Antwerp -road. - -“Once more!” said Harvard, 1914, who had made this journey many times -as a despatch rider. - -One of the conquerors, the sentry representing the majesty of German -authority in Belgium, examined the pass. The conqueror was a good deal -larger around the middle than when he was young, but not so large -as when he went to war. He had a scarf tied over his ears under a -cracked old patent leather helmet, which the Saxon Landsturm must have -taken from their garrets when the Kaiser sent the old fellows to keep -the Belgians in order, so that the young men could be spared to get -rheumatism in the trenches if they escaped death. - -You could see that the conqueror missed his wife’s cooking and Sunday -afternoon in the beer garden with his family. However much he loved the -Kaiser, it did not make him love home any the less. His nod admitted us -into German-ruled Belgium. He looked so lonely that as our car started -I sent him a smile. Surprise broke on his face. Somebody not a German -in uniform had actually smiled at him in Belgium! My last glimpse of -him was of a grin spreading under the scarf toward his ears. - -Belgium was webbed with these old Landsturm guards. If your -_Passerschein_ was not right, you might survive the first set of -sentries and even the second, but the third, and if not the third some -succeeding one of the dozens on the way to Brussels, would hale you -before a _Kommandatur_. Then you were in trouble. In travelling about -Europe I became so used to passes that when I returned to New York I -could not have thought of going to Hoboken without the German consul’s -visa, or of dining at a French restaurant without the French consul’s. - -“And again!” said Harvard, 1914, as we came to another sentry. There -was good reason why Harvard had his pass in a leather-bound case -under a celluloid face. Otherwise, it would soon have been worn out -in showing. He had been warned by the Commission not to talk and he -did not talk. He was neutrality personified. All he did was to show -his pass. He could be silent in three languages. The only time I got -anything like partisanship out of him and two sentences in succession -was when I mentioned the Harvard-Yale football game. - -“My! Wasn’t that a smear! In their new stadium, too! Oh, my! Wish I had -been there!” - -When the car broke a spring halfway to Antwerp, he remarked, -“Naturally!” or, rather, a more expressive monosyllable which did not -sound neutral. - -While he and the Belgian chauffeur, with the help of a Belgian farmer -as spectator, were patching up the broken spring, I had a look at the -farm. The winter crops were in; the cabbages and Brussels sprouts in -the garden were untouched. It happened that the scorching finger of -war’s destruction had not been laid on this little property. In the -yard the wife was doing the week’s washing, her hands in hot water -and her arms exposed to weather so cold that I felt none too warm in -a heavy overcoat. At first sight she gave me a frown, which instantly -dissipated into a smile when she saw that I was not German. - -If not German, I must be a friend. Yet if I were I would not dare -talk--not with German sentries all about. She lifted her hand from -the suds and swung it out to the west toward England and France with an -eager, craving fire in her eyes, and then she swept it across in front -of her as if she were sweeping a spider off a table. When it stopped at -arm’s length there was the triumph of hate in her eyes. I thought of -the lid of a cauldron raised to let out a burst of steam as she asked: -“When?” When? When would the Allies come and turn the Germans out? - -She was a kind, hard-working woman, who would help any stranger in -trouble the best she knew how. Probably that Saxon whose smile had -spread under his scarf had much the same kind of wife. Yet I knew that -if the Allies’ guns were driving the Germans past her house and her -husband had a rifle, he would put a shot in that Saxon’s back, or she -would pour boiling water on the enemy’s head if she could. Then, if the -Germans had time, they would burn the farmhouse and kill the husband -who had shot one of their comrades. - -I recollect a youth who had been in a railroad accident saying: “That -was the first time I had ever seen death; the first time I realised -what death was.” Exactly. You don’t know death till you have seen it; -you don’t know invasion till you have felt it. However wise, however -able the conquerors, life under them is a living death. True, the -farmer’s property was untouched. But his liberty was gone. If you, a -well-behaved citizen, have ever been arrested and marched through the -streets of your home town by a policeman, how did you like it? Give -the policeman a rifle and a fixed bayonet and full cartridge boxes and -transform him into a foreigner and the experience would not be any more -pleasant. - -That farmer could not go to the next town without the permission of the -sentries. He could not even mail a letter to his son who was in the -trenches with the Allies. The Germans had taken his horse; theirs the -power to take anything he had--the power of the bayonet. If he wanted -to send his produce to a foreign market, if he wanted to buy food in a -foreign market, the British naval blockade closed the sea to him. He -was sitting on a chair of steel spikes, hands tied and mouth gagged, -while his mind seethed, solacing its hate with hope through the long -winter months. If you lived in Kansas and could not get your wheat to -Chicago, or any groceries or newspapers from the nearest town, or learn -whether your son in Wyoming were alive or dead, or whether the man who -owned your mortgage in New York had foreclosed or not--well, that is -enough without the German sentry. - -Only, instead of newspapers or word about the mortgage, the thing you -needed past that blockade was bread to keep you from starving. America -opened a window and slipped a loaf into the empty larder. Those Belgian -soldiers whom I had seen at Dixmude, wounded, exhausted, mud-caked, -shivering, were happy beside the people at home. They were in the -fight. It is not the destruction of towns and houses that impresses you -most, but the misery expressed by that peasant woman over her washtub. - -A writer can make a lot of the burst of a single shell; a photographer -showing the ruins of a block of buildings or a church makes it appear -that all blocks and all churches are in ruins. Running through Antwerp -in a car, one saw few signs of destruction from the bombardment. You -will see them if you are specially conducted. Shops were open, the -people were moving about in the streets, which were well lighted. No -need of darkness for fear of bombs dropping here! German barracks had -safe shelter from aerial raids in a city whose people were the allies -of England and France. But at intervals marched the German patrols. - -When our car stopped before a restaurant a knot gathered around it. -Their faces were like all the other faces I saw in Belgium--unless -German--with that restrained, drawn look of passive resistance, -persistent even when they smiled. When? When were the Allies coming? -Their eyes asked the question which their tongues dared not. Inside -the restaurant a score of German officers served by Belgian waiters -were dining. Who were our little party? What were we doing there and -speaking English--English, the hateful language of the hated enemy? -Oh, yes! We were Americans connected with the relief work. But between -the officers’ stares at the sound of English and the appealing inquiry -of the faces in the street lay an abyss of war’s fierce suspicion and -national policies and racial enmity, which America had to bridge. - -Before we could help Belgium, England, blockading Germany to keep her -from getting foodstuffs, had to consent. She would consent only if -none of the food reached German mouths. Germany had to agree not to -requisition any of the food. Some one not German and not British must -see to its distribution. Those rigid German military authorities, -holding fast to their military secrets, must consent to scores of -foreigners moving about Belgium and sending messages across that -Belgo-Dutch frontier, which had been closed to all except official -German messages. This called for men whom both the German and the -British duellists would trust to succour the human beings crouched and -helpless under the circling flashes of their steel. - -Fortunately, our Minister to Belgium was Brand Whitlock. He is no -Talleyrand or Metternich. If he were, the Belgians might not have -been fed, because he might have been suspected of being too much of a -diplomatist. When a German, or an Englishman, or a Hottentot, or any -other kind of a human being gets to know Whitlock, he recognises that -here is an honest man with a big heart. When leading Belgians came to -him and said that winter would find Belgium without bread, he turned -from the land that has the least food to his own land, which has the -most. - -For Belgium is a great shop in the midst of a garden. Her towns are so -close together that they seem only suburbs of Brussels and Antwerp. She -has the densest population in Europe. She raises only enough food to -last her for two months of the year. The food for the other ten months -she buys with the products of her factories. In 1914-15 Belgium could -not send out her products; so we were to help feed her without pay, and -England and France were to give money to buy what food we did not give. - -But with the British navy generously allowing food to pass the -blockade, the problem was far from solved. Ships laden with supplies -steaming to Rotterdam--this was a matter of easy organisation. How get -the bread to the hungry mouths when the Germans were using all Belgian -railroads for military purposes? Germany was not inclined to allow -a carload of wheat to keep a carload of soldiers from reaching the -front, or to let food for Belgians keep the men in the trenches from -getting theirs regularly. Horse and cart transport would be cumbersome, -and the Germans would not permit Belgian teamsters to move about with -such freedom. As likely as not they might be spies. - -Anybody who can walk or ride may be a spy. Therefore, the way to -stop spying is not to let any one walk or ride. Besides, Germany had -requisitioned most of the horses that could do more than draw an empty -phaeton on a level. But she had not drawn the water out of the canals; -though the Belgians, always whispering jokes at the expense of the -conquerors, said that the canals might have been emptied if their -contents had been beer. There were plenty of idle boats in Holland, -whose canals connect with the web of canals in Belgium. You had only -to seal the cargoes against requisition, the seal to be broken only -by a representative of the Relief Commission, and start them to their -destination. - -And how make sure that only those who had money should pay for their -bread, while all who had not should be reached? The solution was -simple compared to the distribution of relief after the San Francisco -earthquake and fire, for example, in our own land, where a scantier -population makes social organisation comparatively loose. - -The people to be relieved were in their homes. Belgium is so old a -country, her population so dense, and she is so much like one big -workshop, that the Government must keep a complete set of books. Every -Belgian is registered and docketed. You know just how he makes his -living and where he lives. Upon marriage a Belgian gets a little book, -giving his name and his wife’s, their ages, their occupations, and -address. As children are born their names are added. A Belgian holds -as fast to this book as a woman to a piece of jewellery that is an -heirloom. - -With few exceptions, Belgian local officials had not fled the country. -They realised that this was a time when they were particularly needed -on the job to protect the people from German exactions and from their -own rashness. There were also any number of volunteers. The thing was -to get the food to them and let them organise local distribution. - -The small force of Americans required to oversee the transit must both -watch that the Germans did not take any of the food and retain both -British and German confidence in the absolute good faith of their -intentions. The volunteers got their expenses and the rest of their -reward was experience; and it was “some experience” as a Belgian said, -who was learning a little American slang. They talked about canal-boat -cargoes as if they had been from Buffalo to Albany on the Erie Canal -for years; they spoke of “my province” and compared bread lines and the -efficiency of local officials. And the Germans took none of the food; -orders from Berlin were obeyed. Berlin knew that any requisitioning of -relief supplies meant that the Relief Commission would cease work and -announce to the world the reason. - -However many times the Americans were arrested they must be patient. -That exception who said, when he was put in a cell overnight because -he entered the military zone by mistake, that he would not have -been treated that way in England, needed a little more coaching in -preserving his mask of neutrality. For I must say that nine out of -ten of these young men, leaning over backward to be neutral, were -pro-Ally, including some with German names. But publicly you could -hardly get an admission out of them that there was any war. As for -Harvard, 1914, hand a passport carried around the Sphinx’s neck and you -have him done in stone. - -Fancy any Belgian trying to get him to carry a contraband letter or a -German commander trying to work him for a few sacks of flour! When I -asked him what career he had chosen he said, “Business!” without any -waste of words. I think that he will succeed in a way to surprise his -family. It is he and all those young Americans of which he is a type, -as distinctive of America in manner, looks, and thought as a Frenchman -is of France or a German of Germany, who carried the torch of Peace’s -kindly work into war-ridden Belgium. They made you want to tickle -the eagle on the throat so he would let out a gentle, well-modulated -scream, of course, strictly in keeping with neutrality. - -Red lanterns took the place of red flags swung by Landsturm sentries -on the run to Brussels as darkness fell. There was no relaxation -of watchfulness at night. All the twenty-four hours the systematic -conquerors held the net tight. Once when my companion repeated his -“Again!” and held out the pass in the lantern’s rays, I broke into a -laugh, which excited his curiosity, for you soon get out of the habit -of laughing in Belgium. - -“It has just occurred to me that my guidebook states that passports are -not required in Belgium!” I explained. - -The editor of that guidebook will have a busy time before he issues -the next edition. For example, he will have a lot of new information -about Malines, whose ruins were revealed by the motor lamps in shadowy, -broken walls on either side of the main street. Other places where -less damage had been done were equally silent. In the smaller towns -and villages the population must keep indoors at night; for egress and -ingress are more difficult to control there than in large cities, where -guards at every corner suffice--watching, watching, these disciplined -pawns of remorselessly efficient militarism; watching every human being -in Belgium. - -“The last time I saw that statue of Liége,” I remarked, peering into -the darkness as we rode into the city, “the Legion of Honour conferred -by France on Liége for its brave defence was hung on its breast. I -suppose it is gone now.” - -“I guess yes,” said Harvard, 1914. - -We went to the hotel at Brussels which I had left the day before the -city’s fall. English railway signs on the walls of the corridor had -not been disturbed. More ancient relic still seemed a bulletin board -with its announcement of seven passages a day to England, traversing -the Channel in “fifty-five minutes _via_ Calais” and “three hours -_via_ Ostend,” with the space blank where the state of the weather -for the despair or the delight of intending voyagers had been chalked -up in happier days. The same men were in attendance at the office as -before; but they seemed older and their politeness that of cheerless -automatons. For five months they had been serving German officers as -guests with hate in their hearts and, in turn, trying to protect their -property. - -A story is told of how that hotel had filled with officers after the -arrival of the Germanic flood and how one day, when it was learned -that the proprietor was a Frenchman, guards were suddenly placed at -the doors and the hall was filled with baggage as every officer, -acting with characteristic official solidarity, vacated his room and -bestowed his presence elsewhere. Then the proprietor was informed that -his guests would return if he would agree to employ German help and -buy his supplies from Germany. He refused, for practical as well as -for sentimental reasons. If he had consented, think what the Belgians -would have done to him after the Germans were gone! However, officers -were gradually returning, for this was the best hotel in town, and even -conquerors are human and German conquerors have particularly human -stomachs. - - - - -X - -CHRISTMAS IN BELGIUM - - “A man’s house is his castle” worth fighting for--Breakfast - in a Belgian hotel--Groups of the conquerors--“News” in - Belgium--Companionship at mass--Business at a standstill--A - Belgian bread line--Workers and no work--Methods of relief - distribution--German surveillance--Dinner at the American - legation--“When would the Allies come?” - - -Christmas in Belgium with the bayonet and the wolf at the door taught -one to value Christmas at home for more than its gifts and the cheer of -the fireside. It taught him what it meant to belong to a free people -and how precious is that old England saying that a man’s house is -his castle, which was the inception of so much in our lives that we -accept as a commonplace. If such a commonplace can be made secure only -by fighting, then it is best to fight. At any time a foreign soldier -might enter the house of a Belgian and take him away for trial before a -military court. - -Breakfast in the same restaurant as before the city’s fall! Again -the big grapes which are a luxury of the rich man’s table or an -extravagance for a sick friend with us! The hothouses still grew them. -What else was there for the hothouses to do, though the export of their -products was impossible? A shortage of the long, white-leafed chicory -that we call endive in New York restaurants! There were piles of it -in the Brussels market and on the hucksters’ carts; nothing so cheap. -One might have excellent steaks and roasts and delicious veal; for the -heifers were being butchered, as the Germans had taken all fodder. -But the bread was the Commission’s brown, which every one had to eat. -Belgium, growing quality on scanty acres with intensive farming, had -food luxuries but not the staff of life. - -One looked out of the windows on to the square which four months before -he had seen crowded with people bedecked with the Allies’ colours and -eagerly buying the latest editions containing the _communiqués_ of -hollow optimism. No flag in sight now except a German flag flying over -the station! But small revenges may be enjoyed. A German soldier tried -to jump on the tail of a cart driven by a Belgian; but the Belgian -whipped up his horse and the German fell off onto the pavement, while -the cart sped around a corner. - -Out of the station came a score of German soldiers returning from the -trenches, on their way to barracks to regain strength so that they -could bear the ordeal of standing in icy water again. They were not -the kind exhibited on press tours to illustrate the “vigour of our -indomitable army.” Eyelids drooped over hollow eye-sockets; sore, -numbed feet moved like feet which are asleep in their vain effort to -keep step. Sensitiveness to surroundings, almost to existence, seemed -to have been lost. - -One was a corporal, young, tall, and full-bearded. He might have been -handsome if he had not been so haggard. He gave the lead to the others; -he seemed to know where they were going, and they shuffled on after him -in dogged painfulness. Four months ago that corporal, with the spring -of the energy of youth when the war was young, was perhaps in the green -column that went through the streets of Brussels in the thunderous -beat of their regular tread on the way to Paris. The group was an -object lesson in how much the victor must suffer in war in order to -make his victim suffer. - -Some officers were at breakfast, too. Mostly they were reservists; -mostly bespectacled, with middle age swelling their girth and hollowing -their chests, but sturdy enough to apply the regulations made for -conduct of the conquered. While stronger men were under shell-fire at -the front, they were under the fire of Belgian hate as relentless as -their own hate of England. You saw them always in the good restaurants, -but never in the company of Belgians, these ostracised rulers. In -four months they had made no friends; at least, no friends who -would appear with them in public. A few thousand guards in Belgium -in the companionship of conquest and seven million Belgians in the -companionship of a common helplessness! Bayonets may make a man silent, -but they cannot stop his thinking. - -At the breakfast table on that Christmas morning in London, Paris, -or Berlin the patriot could find the kind of news that he liked. His -racial and national predilections and animosities were solaced. If -there were good news it was “played up”; if there were bad news, it was -not published, or it was explained. _L’Écho Belge_ and _L’Indépendence -Belge_, and all the Brussels papers were either out of business or -being issued as single sheets in Holland and England. - -The Belgian, keenest of all the peoples at war for news, having less -occupation to keep his mind off the war, must read the newspapers -established under German auspices, which fed him with the pabulum -that German _chefs_ provided, reflective of the stumbling degeneracy -of England, French weariness of the war, Russian clumsiness, and the -invincibility of Germany. If an Englishman had to read German, or a -German English, newspapers every morning he might have understood how -the Belgian felt. - -Those who had sons or fathers or husbands in the Belgian army could -not send or receive letters, let alone presents. Families scattered -in different parts of Belgium could not hold reunions. But at mass -I saw a Belgian standard in the centre of the church. That flag was -proscribed, but the priests knew it was safe in that sacred place and -the worshippers might feast their eyes on it as they said their _aves_. - -A Bavarian soldier came in softly and stood a little apart from others, -many in mourning, at the rear, a man who was of the same faith as -the Belgians and who crossed himself with the others in the house of -brotherly love. He would go outside to obey orders; and the others -to nurse their hate of him and his race. This private in his faded -green, bowing his head before that flag in the shadows of the nave, -was war-sick, as most soldiers were; and the Belgians were heartsick. -They had the one solace in common. But if you had suggested to him to -give up Belgium, his answer would have been that of the other Germans: -“Not after all we have suffered to take it!” Christians have a peculiar -way of applying Christianity. Yet if it were not for Christianity and -that infernal thing called the world’s opinion, which did not exist in -the days of Cæsar and the Belgii, the Belgians might have been worse -off than they were. More of them might have been dead. When they were -saying, “Give us this day our daily bread” they were thinking, “An eye -for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,” if ever their turn came. - -A satirist might have repeated the apocryphal _naïveté_ of Marie -Antoinette, who asked why the people wanted bread when they could -buy such nice cakes for a sou. For all the _patisseries_ were open. -Brussels is famous for its French pastry. With a store of preserves, -why shouldn’t the bakeshops go on making tarts with heavy crusts of -the brown flour, when war had not robbed the bakers of their art? It -gave work to them; it helped the shops to keep open and make a show of -normality. But I noticed that they were doing little business. Stocks -were small and bravely displayed. Only the rich could afford such -luxuries, which in ordinary times were what ice cream cones are to us. -Even the jewellery shops were open, with diamond rings flashing in the -windows. - -“You must pay rent; you don’t want to discharge your employees,” said a -jeweller. “There is no place to go except your shop. If you closed it -would look as if you were afraid of the Germans. It would make you blue -and the people in the street blue. One tries to go through the motions -of normal existence, anyway. But, of course, you don’t sell anything. -This week I have repaired a locket which carried the portrait of a -soldier at the front and I’ve put a mainspring in a watch. I’ll warrant -that is more than some of my competitors have done.” - -Swing around the circle in Brussels of a winter’s morning and look at -the only crowds that the Germans allow to gather, and any doubt that -Belgium would have gone hungry if she had not received provisions from -the outside was dispelled. Whenever I think of a bread line again I -shall see the faces of a Belgian bread line. They blot out the memory -of those at home, where men are free to go and come; where war has not -robbed the thrifty of food. - -It was fitting that the great central soup kitchen should be -established in the central express office of the city. For in Belgium -these days there is no express business except in German troops to the -front and wounded to the rear. The despatch of parcels is stopped, no -less than the other channels of trade, in a country where trade was so -rife, a country that lived by trade. On the stone floor, where once -packages were arranged for forwarding to the towns whose names are on -the walls, were many great cauldrons in clusters of three, to economise -space and fuel. - -“We don’t lack cooks,” said a _chef_, who had been in a leading hotel. -“So many of us are out of work. Our society of hotel and restaurant -keepers took charge. We know the practical side of the business. I -suppose you have the same kind of a society in New York and would turn -to it for help if the Germans occupied New York.” - -He gave me a printed report in which I read, for example, that “M. -Arndt, professor of the École Normale, had been good enough to take -charge of accounts,” and “M. Catteau had been specially appointed to -look after the distribution of bread.” - -Most appetising that soup prepared under direction of the best _chefs_ -in the city. The meat and green vegetables in it were Belgian and the -peas American. Steaming hot in big cans it was sent to the communal -centres, where lines of people with pots, pitchers, and pails waited -to receive their daily allowance. A democracy was in that bread line -such as I have never seen anywhere except at San Francisco after the -earthquake. Each person had a blue or a yellow ticket, with numbers to -be punched, like a commuter. The blue tickets were for those who had -proved to the communal authorities that they could not pay; the yellow -for those who paid five centimes for each person served. A flutter of -blue and yellow tickets all over Belgium, and in return life! With each -serving of soup went a loaf of the American brown bread. The faces -in the line were not those of people starving--they had been saved -from starvation. There was none of the emaciation which pictures of -famine in the Orient have made familiar; but they were pinched faces, -bloodless faces, the faces of people on short rations. - -To the Belgian bread is not only the staff of life; it is the legs. -At home we think of bread as something that goes with the rest of -the meal; to the poorer classes of Belgians the rest of the meal is -something that goes with bread. To you and me food has meant the -payment of money to the baker and the butcher and the grocer, or the -hotelkeeper. You get your money by work or from investments. What if -there were no bread to be had for work or money? Sitting on a mountain -of gold in the desert of Sahara would not quench thirst. - -Three hundred grams, a minimum calculation--about half what the -British soldier gets--was the ration. That small boy sent by his -mother got five loaves; his ticket called for an allowance for a family -of five. An old woman got one loaf, for she was alone in the world. -Each one as he hurried by had a personal story of what war had meant to -him. They answered your questions frankly, gladly, with the Belgian -cheerfulness which was amazing considering the circumstances. A tall, -distinguished-looking man was an artist. - -“No work for artists these days,” he said. - -No work in a community of workers where every link of the chain of -economic life had been broken. No work for the next man, a chauffeur, -or the next, a brass worker; the next, a teamster; the next, a bank -clerk; the next, a doorkeeper of a Government office; while the wives -of those who still had work were buying in the only market they had. -But the husbands of some were not at home. Each answer about the absent -one had an appeal that nothing can picture better than the simple words -or the looks that accompanied the words. - -“The last I heard of my husband he was fighting at Dixmude--two months -ago.” - -“Mine is wounded, somewhere in France.” - -“Mine was with the army, too. I don’t know whether he is alive or dead. -I have not heard since Brussels was taken. He cannot get my letters and -I cannot get his.” - -“Mine was killed at Liége, but we have a son.” - -So you out in Nebraska who gave a handful of wheat might know that said -handful of wheat reached its destination in an empty stomach. If you -sent a suit of clothes or a cap or a pair of socks, come along to the -skating-rink, where ice polo was played and matches and carnivals were -held in better days, and look on at the boxes, packed tight with gifts -of every manner of thing that men and women and children wear except -silk hats, which are being opened and sorted and distributed into -hastily constructed cribs and compartments. - -A Belgian woman whose father was one of Belgium’s leading lawyers-- -her husband was at the front--was the busy head of this organisation, -because, as she said, the busier she was the more it “keeps my mind -off--” and she did not finish the sentence. How many times I heard -that “keeps my mind off--” a sentence that was the more telling for -not being finished. She and some other women began sewing and patching -and collecting garments; “but our business grew so fast”--the business -of relief is the one kind in Belgium that does grow these days--“that -now we have hundreds of helpers. I begin to feel that I am what you -would call in America a captainess of industry.” - -Some of the good mothers in America were a little too thoughtful in -their kindness. An odour in a box that had evidently travelled across -the Atlantic close to the ship’s boilers was traced to the pocket of a -boy’s suit, which contained the hardly distinguishable remains of a ham -sandwich, meant to be ready to hand for the hungry Belgian boy who got -that suit. Broken pots of jam were quite frequent. But no matter. Soap -and water and Belgian industry saved the suit, if not the sandwich. -Sweaters and underclothes and overcoats almost new and shiny, old frock -coats and trousers with holes in seat and knees might represent equal -sacrifice on the part of some American three thousand miles away, and -all were welcome. Needle-women were given work cutting up the worn-outs -of grown-ups and making them over into astonishingly good suits or -dresses for youngsters. - -“We’ve really turned the rink into a kind of department store,” said -the lady. “Come into our boot department. We had some leather left in -Belgium that the Germans did not requisition, so we bought it and that -gave more Belgians work in the shoe factories. Work, you see, is what -we want to keep our minds off--” - -Blue and yellow tickets here, too! Boots for children and thick-set -working women and watery-eyed old men! And each was required to leave -behind the pair he was wearing. - -“Sometimes we can patch up the cast-offs, which means work for the -cobblers,” said the captainess of industry. “And who are our clerks? -Why, the people who put on the skates for the patrons of the rink, of -course!” - -One could write volumes on this systematic relief work, the -businesslike industry of succouring Belgium by the businesslike -Belgians, with American help. Certainly one cannot leave out those old -men stragglers from Louvain and Bruges and Ghent--venerable children -with no offspring to give them paternal care--who took their turn in -getting bread, which they soaked thoroughly in their soup for reasons -that would be no military secret, not even in the military zone. On -Christmas Day an American, himself a smoker, thinking what class of -children he could make happiest on a limited purse, remembered the ring -around the stove and bought a basket of cheap briar pipes and tobacco. -By Christmas night some toothless gums were sore, but a beatific smile -of satiation played in white beards. - -Nor can one leave out the very young babies at home, who get their -milk if grown people don’t, and the older babies beyond milk but not -yet old enough for bread and meat, whose mothers return from the bread -line to bring their children to another line, where they got portions -of a sirupy mixture which those who know say is the right provender. -On such occasions men are quite helpless. They can only look on with -a frog in the throat at pale, improperly nourished mothers with -bundles of potential manhood and womanhood in their arms. For this was -woman’s work for woman. Belgian women of every class joined in it: the -competent wife of a workman, or the wife of a millionaire who had to -walk like everybody else now that her automobile was requisitioned by -the army. - -Pop-eyed children, ruddy-cheeked, aggressive children, pinched-faced -children, kept warm by sweaters that some American or English children -spared, happy in that they did not know what their elders knew! Not -the danger of physical starvation so much as the actual presence of -mental starvation was the thing that got on our nerves in a land where -the sun is seldom seen in winter and rainy days are the rule. It was -bad enough in the “zone of occupation,” so called, a line running from -Antwerp past Brussels to Mons. One could guess what it was like in the -military zone to the westward, where only an occasional American relief -representative might go. - -This is not saying that the Germans were stricter than necessary, if -we excuse the exasperation of their militarism, in order to prevent -information from passing out when a multitude of Belgians would have -risked their lives gladly to help the Allies. One spy bringing accurate -information might cost the German army thousands of casualties; perhaps -decide the fate of a campaign. They saw the Belgians as enemies. -They were fighting to take the lives of their enemies and save their -own lives, which made it tough for them and for the French and the -British--tough all round, but very particularly tough for Belgians. - -It was good for a vagrant American to dine at the American Legation, -where Mr. and Mrs. Whitlock were far, very far, from the days in -Toledo, Ohio, where he was mayor. Some said that the place of the -Minister to Belgium was at Havre, where the Belgian Government had its -offices; but neither Whitlock nor the Belgian people thought so, nor -the German Government, of late, since they had realised his prestige -with the Belgians and how they would listen to him in any crisis when -their passions might break the bonds of wisdom. Hugh Gibson, being the -omnipresent Secretary of Legation in four languages, naturally was also -present. We recalled dining together in Honduras, when he was in the -thick of vexations. - -Trouble accommodatingly waits for him wherever he goes, because he has -a gift for taking care of trouble, in the ascendency of a cheerful -spirit and much knowledge of international law. His present for the -Minister who daily received stacks of letters from all sources asking -the impossible, as well as from Americans who wanted to be sure that -the food they gave was not being purloined by the Germans, was a rubber -stamp, “Blame-it-all--there’s-a-state-of-war-in-Belgium!” which he -suggested might save typewriting--a recommendation which the Minister -refused to accept, not to Gibson’s surprise. - -On that Christmas afternoon and evening, the people promenaded the -streets as usual. You might have thought it a characteristic Christmas -afternoon or evening except for the Landsturm patrols. But there was an -absence of the old gaiety, and they were moving as if from habit and -moving was all there was to do. - -They had heard the sound of the guns at Dixmude the night before. -Didn’t the sound seem a little nearer? No. The wind from that direction -was stronger. When? When would the Allies come? - - - - -XI - -THE FUTURE OF BELGIUM - - A buffer state divided in itself--Her ideals those of prosperity-- - False sentiment regarding the Belgians--Not a war-like people-- - Moral force of her plutocracy--Ruins exaggerated--German policy - of destruction--“Mass” logic--A military occupancy, merciless - and crafty--“Reprisals” of the Belgians--Louvain--The bread - line at Liége--Politics and German propaganda--Her Belgian - policy worthy of England at her best--England still true to her - ideals. - - -In former days the traveller hardly thought of Belgium as possessing -patriotic homogeneity. It was a land of two languages, French and -Flemish. He was puzzled to meet people who looked like well-to-do -mechanics, artisans, or peasants and find that they could not answer -a simple question in French. This explained why a people so close -to France, though they made Brussels a little Paris, would not join -the French family and enter into the spirit and body of that great -civilisation on their borders, whose language was that of their own -literature. Belgium seemed to have no character. Its nationality was -the artificial product of European politics; a buffer divided in -itself, which would be neither French nor German nor definitely Belgian. - -In later times Belgium had prospered enormously. It had developed -the resources of the Congo in a way that had aroused a storm of -criticism. Old King Leopold made the most of his neutral position to -gain advantages which no one of the great powers might enjoy because -of jealousies. The International Sleeping-Car Company was Belgian and -Belgian capitalists secured concessions here and there, wherever the -small tradesman might slip into openings suitable to his size. Leopold -was not above crumbs; he made them profitable. Leopold liked to make -money and Belgium liked to make money. - -Her defence guaranteed by neutrality, Belgium need have no thought -except of thrift. Her ideals were those of prosperity. No ambition of -national expansion stirred her imagination as Germany’s was stirred; -there was no fire in her soul as in that of France in apprehension of -the day when she should have to fight for her life against Germany; no -national cause to harden the sinews of patriotism. The immensity of -her urban population contributed its effect in depriving her of the -sterner stuff of which warriors are made. Success meant more comforts -and luxuries. In towns like Brussels and Antwerp this doubtless had its -effect on the moralities, which were hardly of the New England Puritan -standard. She had a small standing army; a militia system in the -process of reform against the conviction of the majority, unlike that -of the Swiss mountaineers, that Belgium would never have any need for -soldiers. - -If militarism means conscription as it exists in France and Germany, -then militarism has improved the physique of races in an age when -people are leaving the land for the factory. The prospect of battle’s -test unquestionably developed certain sturdy qualities in a people -which can and ought to be developed in some other way than with the -prospect of spending money for shells to kill other people. - -With the world making every Belgian man a hero and the unknowing -convinced that a citizen soldiery at Liége--defended by the Belgian -standing army--had rushed from their homes with rifles and beaten -German infantry, it is right to repeat that the _shipperke_ spirit -was not universal, that at no time had Belgium more than a hundred -and fifty thousand men under arms, and that on the Dixmude line she -maintained never more than eighty thousand men out of a population of -seven millions, which should yield from seven hundred thousand to a -million; while they lost a good deal of sympathy both in England and in -France through the number of able-bodied refugees who were disinclined -to serve. It was a mistaken idealism that swept over the world early in -the war, characterising a whole nation with the gallantry of its young -king and his little army. - -The spirit of the Boers or of the Minute Men at Lexington was not in -the Belgian people. It could not be from their very situation and -method of life. They did not believe in war; they did not expect to -practice war; but war came to them out of the still blue heavens, as it -came to the prosperous Incas of Peru. - -Where one was wrong was in his expectation that her bankers and -capitalists--an aristocracy of money not given to the simple life-- -and her manufacturers, artisans, and traders, if not her peasants, -would soon make truce with Cæsar for individual profit. Therein, -Belgium showed that she was not lacking in the moral spirit which, -with the _shipperke’s_, became a fighting spirit. It seemed as if the -metal of many Belgians, struck to a white heat in the furnace of war, -had cooled under German occupation to the tempered steel of a new -nationalism. - -When you travelled over Belgium after it was pacified, the logic of -German methods became clear. What was haphazard in their reign of -terror was due to the inevitable excesses of a soldiery taking the -calculated redress ordered by superiors as licence in the first red -passion of war to a war-mad nation, which was sullen because the -Belgians had not given up the keys of the gate to France. - -The extent of the ruins in Belgium east of the Yser has been -exaggerated. They were the first ruins, most photographed, most -advertised; bad enough, inexcusable enough, and warrantedly causing -a spell of horror throughout the civilised world. We have heard all -about them, mind, while hearing nothing about those in Lorraine, where -the Bavarians exceeded Prussian ruthlessness in reprisals. I mean, -that to have read the newspapers in early September, 1914, one would -have thought that half the towns of Belgium were _débris_, while the -truth is that only a small percentage are--those in the path of the -German army’s advance. Two-thirds of Louvain itself is unharmed; though -the fact alone of its venerable library being in ashes is sufficient -outrage, if not another building had been harmed. - -The German army planned destruction with all the regularity that it -billeted troops, or requisitioned supplies, or laid war indemnities. It -did not destroy by shells exclusively. It deliberately burned homes. No -matter whether the owners were innocent or not, the homes were burned -as an example. The principle applied was that of punishing half a dozen -or all the boys in the class in the hope of getting the real culprit. - -Cold ruins mark blocks where sniping was thought to have occurred. The -Germans insist that theirs was the merciful way. _Krieg ist Krieg._ -When a hundred citizens of Louvain were gathered and shot because they -were the first citizens of Louvain to hand, the purpose was security of -the mass at the expense of the individual, according to the war-is-war -machine reasoning. No doubt there was firing on German troops by -civilians. What did the Germans expect after the way that they had -invaded Belgium? If they had bothered with trials and investigations, -the conquerors say, sniping would have kept up. They may have taken -innocent lives and burned the homes of the innocent, they admit; but -their defence is that thereby they saved many thousands of their -soldiers and of Belgians, and prevented the feud between the rulers and -the ruled from becoming more embittered. - -Sniping over, the next step in policy was to keep the population quiet -with the minimum of soldiery, which would permit a maximum at the -front. In a thickly-settled country, so easily policed, in a land with -the population inured to peace, the wisdom of keeping quiet was soon -evident to the people. What if Boers had been in the Belgians’ place? -Would they have attempted guerrilla warfare? Would you or I want to -bring destruction on neighbours in a land without any rural fastnesses -as a _rendezvous_ for operations? One could tell only if a section of -our country were invaded. - -A burned block costs less than a dead German soldier. The system was -efficacious. It was mercilessness mixed with craft. When Prussian -brusqueness was found to be unnecessarily irritating to the population, -causing rash Belgians to turn desperate, the elders of the Saxon and -Bavarian co-religionists were called in. They were amiable fathers of -families, who would obey orders without taking the law into their own -hands. The occupation was strictly military. It concerned itself with -the business of national suffocation. All the functions of the national -Government were in German hands. But Belgian policemen guided the -street traffic, arrested culprits for ordinary misdemeanours, and took -them before Belgian judges. This concession, which also meant a saving -in soldiers, only aggravated to the Belgian the regulations directed -against his personal freedom. - -“Eat, drink, and live as usual. Go to your own police courts for -misdemeanours,” was the German edict in a word; “but remember that ours -is the military power, and no act that aids the enemy, that helps the -cause of Belgium in this war, is permitted. Observe that particular -_affiche_ about a spy, please. He was shot.” - -At every opportunity the Belgians were told that the British and the -French could never come to their rescue. The Allies were beaten. It -was the British who got Belgium into trouble; the British who were -responsible for the idleness, the penury, the hunger, and the suffering -in Belgium. The British had used Belgium as a cat’s-paw; then they -had deserted her. But Belgians remained mostly unconvinced. They were -making war with mind and spirit, if not with arms. - -“We know how to suffer in Belgium,” said a Belgian jurist. “Our ability -to suffer and to hold fast to our hearths has kept us going through -the centuries. Flemish and French, we have stubbornness in common. Now -a ruffian has come into our house and taken us by the throat. He can -choke us to death, or he can slowly starve us to death, but he cannot -make us yield. No, we shall never forgive!” - -“You, too, hate, then?” I asked. - -“Of course I hate. For the first time in my life I know what it is to -hate; and so do my countrymen. I begin to enjoy my hate. It is one of -the privileges of our present existence. We cannot stand on chairs and -tables as they do in Berlin cafés and sing our hate, but no one can -stop our hating in secret.” - -Beside the latest _verboten_ and regulation of Belgian conduct on the -city walls were posted German official news bulletins. The Belgians -stopped to read; they paused to reread. And these were the rare -occasions when they smiled, and they liked to have a German sentry see -that smile. - -“_Pour les enfants!_” they whispered, as if talking to one another -about a _crèche_. Little ones, be good! Here is a new fairy tale! - -When a German wanted to buy something he got frigid politeness and -attention--very frigid, telling politeness--from the clerk, which -said: - -“Beast! Invader! I do not ask you to buy, but as you ask, I sell; and -as I sell I hate! I hate!! I hate!!!” - -An officer entering a shop and seeing a picture of King Albert on the -wall, said: - -“The orders are to take that down!” - -“But don’t you love your Kaiser?” asked the woman, who kept the shop. - -“Certainly!” - -“And I love my King!” was the answer. “I like to look at his picture -just as much as you like to look at your Kaiser’s.” - -“I had not thought of it in that way!” said the officer. - -Indeed, it is very hard for any conqueror to think of it in that way. -So the picture remained on the wall. - -How many soldiers would it take to enforce the regulation that no -Belgian was to wear the Belgian colours? Imagine thousands and -thousands of Landsturm men moving about and plucking King Albert’s -face or the black, yellow and red from Belgian buttonholes! No sooner -would a buttonhole be cleared in front than the emblem would appear -in a buttonhole in the rear. The Landsturm would face counter, flank, -frontal, and rear attacks in a most amusing military manœuvre, which -would put those middle-aged conquerors fearfully out of breath and be -rare sport for the Belgians. You could not arrest the whole population -and lead them off to jail; and if you bayoneted a few--which really -those phlegmatic, comfortable old Landsturms would not have the heart -to do for such a little thing--why, it would get into the American -press and the Berlin Foreign Office would say: - -“There you are, you soldiers, breaking all the crockery again!” - -In the smaller towns, where the Germans were billeted in Belgian -houses, of course the hosts had to serve their unwelcome guests. - -“Yet we managed to let them know what was in our hearts,” said one -woman. “Some tried to be friendly. They said they had wives and -children at home; and we said: ‘How glad your wives and children would -be to see you! Why don’t you go home?’” - -When a report reached the commander in Ghent that an old man had -concealed arms, a sergeant with a guard was sent to search the house. - -“Yes, my son has a rifle.” - -“Where is it?” - -“In his hands on the Yser, if he is not dead, monsieur. You are welcome -to search, monsieur.” - -Belgium was developing a new humour: a humour at the expense of the -Germans. In their homes they mimicked their rulers as freely as they -pleased. To carry mimicry into the streets meant arrest for the elders, -but not always for the children. You have heard the story, which is -true, of how some gamins put carrots in old bowler hats to represent -the spikes of German helmets, and at their leader’s command of “On to -Paris!” did a goose-step backwards. There is another which you may not -have heard of a small boy who put on grandfather’s spectacles, a pillow -under his coat, and a card on his cap, “Officer of the Landsturm.” The -conquerors had enough sense not to interfere with the battalion which -was taking Paris; but the pseudo-Landsturm officer was chased into a -doorway and got a cuff after his placard was taken away from him. - -When a united public opinion faces bayonets it is not altogether -helpless to reply. By the atmospheric force of mass it enjoys a -conquest of its own. If a German officer or soldier entered a street -car, women drew aside in a way to indicate that they did not want their -garments contaminated. People walked by the sentries in the streets -giving them room as you would give a mangy dog room, yet as if they did -not see the sentries; as if no sentries existed. - -The Germans said that they wanted to be friendly. They even expressed -surprise that the Belgians would not return their advances. They sent -out invitations to social functions in Brussels, but no one came--not -even to a ball given by the soldiers to the daughters of the poor. -Belgium stared its inhospitality, its contempt, its cynical drolleries -at the invader. - -I kept thinking of a story I heard in Alaska of a man who had shown -himself yellow by cheating his partner out of a mine. He appeared one -day hungry at a cabin occupied by half a dozen men who knew him. They -gave him food and a bunk that night; they gave him breakfast; they -even carried his blanket roll out to his sled and harnessed his dogs -as a hint, and saw him go without one man having spoken to him. No -matter if that man believed he had done no wrong, he would have needed -a rhinoceros’ hide not to have felt this silence. Such treatment the -Belgians have given to the Germans, except that they furnished the -shelter and harnessed the team under duress, as they so specifically -indicate by every act. No wonder, then, that the old Landsturm guards, -used at home to saying “_Wie gehts?_” and getting a cheery answer from -the people they passed in the streets, were lonely. - -Not only stubborn, but shrewd, these Belgians. Both qualities were -brought out in the officials who had to deal with the Germans, -particularly in the small towns and where destruction had been worst. -Take, for example, M. Nerincx, of Louvain, who has energy enough to -carry him buoyantly through an American political campaign, speaking -from morning to midnight. He had been in America. I insisted that he -ought to give up his professorship, get naturalised, and run for office -at home. I know that he would soon be mayor of a town, or in Congress. - -When the war began he was professor of international law at the -ancient university whose walls alone stand, surrounding the ashes of -its priceless volumes, across from the ruined cathedral. With the -burgomaster a refugee from the horrors of that orgy, he turned man of -action on behalf of the demoralised people of the town with a thousand -homes in ruins. Very lucky the client in its lawyer. He is the kind of -man who makes the best of the situation; picks up the fragments of the -pitcher, cements them together with the first material at hand, and -goes for more milk. It was he who got a German commander to sign an -agreement not to “kill, burn, or plunder” any more, and the signs were -still up on some houses saying that “This house is not to be burned -except by official order.” - -There in the Hôtel de Ville, which is quite unharmed, he had his office -within reach of the German commander. He yielded to Cæsar and protected -his own people day in and day out, diplomatic, watchful, Belgian. And -he was cheerful. What other people could have preserved any vestige of -it! Sometimes one wondered if it were not partly due to an absence of -keen nerve-sensibilities, or to some other of the traits which are a -product of the Belgian hothouse and Belgian inheritance. - -I might tell you about M. Nerincx’s currency system; how he issued -paper promises to pay when he gave employment to the idle in repairing -those houses which permitted of being repaired and cleaned the streets -of _débris_, till ruined Louvain looked as shipshape as ruined Pompeii; -and how he got a little real money from Brussels to stop depreciation -when the storekeepers came to him and said that they had stacks of his -notes which no mercantile concern would cash. - -M. Nerincx was practising in the life about all that he ever learned -and taught at the university, “which we shall rebuild!” he declared, -with cheery confidence. “You will help us in America,” he said. “I’m -going to America to lecture one of these days about Louvain!” - -“You have the most famous ruins, unless it is Rheims,” I assured him. -“You will get flocks of tourists”--particularly if he fenced in the -ruins of the library and burned leaves of ancient books were on sale. - -“Then you will not only have fed, but have helped to rebuild Belgium,” -he added. - -A shadow of apprehension overhung his anticipation of the day of -Belgium’s delivery. Many a Belgian had arms hidden from the alert eye -of German espionage, and his bitterness was solaced by the thought: -“I’ll have a shot at the Germans when they go!” The lot of the last -German soldiers to leave a town, unless the garrison slips away -overnight, would hardly make him a good life insurance risk. - -My last look at a Belgian bread line was at Liége, that town which had -had a blaze of fame in August, 1914, and was now almost forgotten. An -industrial town, its mines and works were idle. The Germans had removed -the machinery for rifle-making, which has become the most valuable kind -of machinery in the world next to that for making guns and shells. -If skilled Belgians here or elsewhere were called upon to serve the -Germans at their craft, they suddenly became butter-fingered. So that -bread line at Liége was long, its queue stretching the breadth of the -cathedral square. - -As most of the regular German officers in Belgium were cavalrymen-- -there was nothing for cavalry to do on the Aisne line of trenches-- -it was quite in keeping that the aide to the commandant of Liége, who -looked after my pass to leave the country, should be a young officer of -Hussars. He spoke English well; he was amiable and intelligent. While I -waited for the commandant to sign the pass he chatted of his adventures -on the pursuit of the British to the Marne. The British fought like -devils, he said. It was a question if their new army would be so good. -He showed me a photograph of himself in a British Tommy’s overcoat. - -“When we took some prisoners I was interested in their overcoats,” he -explained. “I asked one of the Tommies to let me try on his. It fitted -me perfectly, so I kept it as a souvenir and had this photograph made -to show my friends.” - -Perhaps a shade of surprise passed over my face. - -“You don’t understand,” he said. “That Tommy had to give me his coat! -He was a prisoner.” - -On my way out from Liége I was to see Visé--the town of the gateway-- -the first town of the war to suffer from frightfulness. I had thought -of it as entirely destroyed. A part of it had survived. - -A delightful old Bavarian Landsturm man searched me for contraband -letters when our cart stopped on the Belgian side of a barricade at -Maastricht, with Dutch soldiers on the other side. His examination -was a little perfunctory, almost apologetic, and he did want to be -friendly. You guessed that he was thinking he would like to go around -the corner and have “_ein Glas Bier_” rather than search me. What a -hearty “_Auf wiedersehen!_” he gave me when he saw that I was inclined -to be friendly, too! - -I was glad to be across that frontier, with a last stamp on my -_Passierschein_; glad to be out of the land of those ghostly Belgian -millions in their living death; glad not to have to answer again their -ravenously whispered “When?” When would the Allies come? - -The next time that I was in Belgium it was in the British lines of the -Ypres salient, two months later. When should I be next in Brussels? -With a victorious British army, I hoped. A long wait it was to be for a -conquered people, listening each day and trying to think that the sound -of gun-fire was nearer. - -The stubborn, passive resistance and self-sacrifice that I have -pictured was that of a moral leadership of a majority shaming the -minority; or an ostracism of all who had relations with the enemy. Of -course, it was not the spirit of the whole. The American Commission, -as charity usually must, had to overcome obstacles set in its path -by those whom it would aid. Belgian politicians, in keeping with the -weakness of their craft, could no more forego playing politics in time -of distress than some that we had in San Francisco and some we have -heard of only across the British Channel from Belgium. - -Zealous leaders exaggerated the famine of their districts in order -to get larger supplies; communities in great need without spokesmen -must be reached; powerful towns found excuses for not forwarding -food to small villages which were without influence. Natural greed -got the better of men used to turning a penny anyway they could. -Rascally bakers who sifted the brown flour to get the white to sell to -_patisseries_ and the well-to-do, while the bread line got the bran, -required shrewd handling when the only means of punishment was through -German authority. - -“The local burgomaster yesterday offered to sell me some of your -Commission’s flour,” wrote a German commandant. “I bought it and have -the receipt, in order to prove to you that these Belgians are what -we say they are--a vile people. I am turning the flour over to your -Commission. We said that we would not take any of it and the German -Government keeps its word.” - -How that commandant enjoyed making that score! As for the -burgomaster, he was proscribed in a way that will brand him among his -fellow-citizens for life. When German soldiers took bread from families -where they were billeted, the German Government turned over an amount -of flour equivalent to the bread consumed. - -A certain percentage of Belgians saw the invasion only as a visitation -of disaster, like an earthquake. A flat country of gardens limits -one’s horizon. They fell in line with the sentiment of the mass. But -as time wore on into the summer and autumn of the second year, some of -them began to think, What was the use? German propaganda was active. -All that the Allies had cared for Belgium was to use her to check the -German tide to Paris and the Channel ports! Perfidious England had -betrayed Belgium! German business and banking influences, which had -been considerable in Belgium before the war, and the numerous German -residents who had returned, formed a busy circle of appeal to Belgian -business men, who were told that the British navy stood between them -and a return to prosperity. Germany was only too willing that they -should resume their trade with the rest of the world. - -Why should not Belgium come into the German customs union? Why should -not Belgium make the best of her unfortunate situation, as became a -practical and thrifty people? But be it a customs union or annexation -that Germany plans, the steel had entered the hearts of all Belgians -with red corpuscles; and King Albert and his _shipperkes_ were still -fighting the Germans at Dixmude. A British army appearing before -Brussels would end casuistry; and pessimism would pass, and the German -residents, too, with the huzzas of all Belgium as the gallant King once -more ascended the steps of his palace. - -Worthy of England at her best was her consent to allow the Commission’s -food to pass, which she accompanied by generous giving. She might be -slow in making ready her army, but give she could and give she did. It -was a grave question if her consent was in keeping with the military -policy which believes that any concession to sentiment in the grim -business of war is unwise. Certainly, the _Krieg ist Krieg_ of Germany -would not have permitted it. - -There is the very point of the war that makes a neutral take sides. -If the Belgians had not received bread from the outside world, then -Germany would either have had to spare enough to keep them from -starving or faced the desperation of a people who fight for food with -such weapons as they had. This must have meant a holocaust of reprisals -that would have made the orgy of Louvain comparatively unimportant. -However much the Germans hampered the Commission with red tape and -worse than red tape through the activities of German residents in -Belgium, Germany did not want the Commission to withdraw. It was -helping her to economise her food supplies. And England answered a -human appeal at the cost of hard and fast military policy. She was -still true to the ideals which have set their stamp on half the world. - - - - -XII - -WINTER IN LORRAINE - - Paris resuming normality--Regular train service--Nancy under fire-- - By automobile to the front--Panorama of the contested lines-- - View of the German wedge--French veterans--Ancient Lorraine-- - A vision of battle--Résumé of the struggle--The first German - advance--“The face of the earth sown with shells”--The Kaiser - silenced--The German Lorraine campaign lost--Visit to a French - heavy battery--Underground quarters--A policed army--Military - simplicity. - - -Only a winding black streak, that four hundred and fifty miles of -trenches on a flat map. It is difficult to visualise the whole as you -see it in your morning paper, or to realise the labour it represents in -its course through the mire and over mountain slopes, through villages -and thick forests and across open fields. - -Every mile of it was located by the struggle of guns and rifles and -men coming to a stalemate of effort, when both dug into the earth and -neither could budge the other. It is a line of countless battles and -broken hopes; of as brave charges as men ever made; a symbol of skill -and dogged patience and eternal vigilance of striving foe against -striving foe. - -From the first, the sector from Rheims to Flanders was most familiar -to the public. The world still thinks of the battle of the Marne as -an affair at the door of Paris, though the heaviest fighting was from -Vitry le François eastward and the fate of Paris was no less decided on -the fields of Lorraine than on the fields of Champagne. The storming -of Rheims cathedral became the theme of thousands of words of print -to one word for the defence of the Plateau d’Amance or the struggle -around Lunéville. Our knowledge of the war is from glimpses through the -curtain of military secrecy which was drawn tight over Lorraine and the -Vosges, shrouded in mountain mists. This is about Lorraine in winter, -when the war was six months old. - -But first, on our way, a word about Paris, which I had not seen since -September. At the outset of the war, Parisians who had not gone to the -front were in a trance of suspense; they were magnetised by the tragic -possibilities of the hour. The fear of disaster was in their hearts, -though they might deny it to themselves. They could think of nothing -but France. Now they realised that the best way to help France was by -going on with their work at home. Paris was trying to be normal, but -no Parisian was making the bluff that Paris was normal. The Gallic -lucidity of mind prevented such self-deception. - -Is it normal to have your sons, brothers, and husbands up to their -knees in icy water in the trenches, in danger of death every minute? -This attitude seems human; it seems logical. One liked the French -for it. He liked them for boasting so little. In their effort at -normality they had accomplished more than they realised. After all, -only one-thirtieth of the area of France was in German hands. A line -of steel made the rest safe for those not at the front to pursue the -routine of peace. - -When I had been in Paris in September there was no certainty about -railroad connections anywhere. You went to the station and took your -chances, governed by the movement of troops, not to mention other -conditions. This time I took the regular noon express to Nancy, as I -might have done to Marseilles, or Rome, or Madrid, had I chosen. The -sprinkling of quiet army officers on the train were in the new uniform -of peculiar steely grey, in place of the target blue and red. But for -them and the number of women in mourning and one other circumstance, -the train might have been bound for Berlin, with Nancy only a stop on -the way. - -The other circumstance was the presence of a soldier in the vestibule -who said: “_Votre laisser-passer, monsieur, s’il vous plaît!_” If you -had a _laisser-passer_, he was most polite; but if you lacked one, -he would also have been most polite and so would the guard that took -you in charge at the next station. In other words, monsieur, you must -have something besides a railroad ticket if you are on a train that -runs past the fortress of Toul and your destination is Nancy. You must -have a military pass, which was never given to foreigners if they were -travelling alone in the zone of military operations. The pulse of the -Frenchman beats high, his imagination bounds, when he looks eastward. -To the east are the lost provinces and the frontier drawn by the war of -’70 between French Lorraine and German Lorraine. This gave our journey -interest. - -Nancy, capital of French Lorraine, is so near Metz, the great German -fortress town of German Lorraine, that excursion trains used to run to -Nancy in the opera season. “They are not running this winter,” say the -wits of Nancy. “For one reason, we have no opera--and there are other -reasons.” - -An aeroplane from the German lines has only to toss a bomb in the -course of an average reconnaissance on Nancy if it chooses; Zeppelins -are within easy commuting distance. But here was Nancy as brilliantly -lighted at nine in the evening as any city of its size at home. Our -train, too, had run with the windows unshaded. After the darkness of -London, and after English trains with every window shade closely drawn, -this was a surprise. - -It was a threat, an anticipation, that has darkened London, while Nancy -knew fulfilment. Bombardment and bomb dropping were nothing new to -Nancy. The spice of danger gives a fillip to business in the town whose -population heard the din of the most thunderously spectacular action of -the war echoing among the surrounding hills. Nancy saw the enemy beaten -back. Now she was so close to the front that she felt the throb of the -army’s life. - -“Don’t you ever worry about aerial raids?” I asked madame behind the -counter at the hotel. - -“Do the men in the trenches worry about them?” she answered. “We have -a much easier time than they. Why shouldn’t we share some of their -dangers? And when a Zeppelin appears and our guns begin firing, we all -feel like soldiers under fire.” - -“Are all the population here as usual?” - -“Certainly, monsieur!” she said. “The Germans can never take Nancy. The -French are going to take Metz!” - -The meal which that hotel restaurant served was as good as in peace -times. Who deserves a good meal if not the officer who comes in from -the front? And madame sees that he gets it. She is as proud of her -_poulet en casserole_ as any commander of a _soixante-quinze_ battery -of its practice. There was steam heat, too, in the hotel, which gave -an American a homelike feeling. - -In a score of places in the Eastern States you see landscapes with high -hills like the spurs of the Vosges around Nancy sprinkled with snow -and under a blue mist. And the air was dry; it had the life of our -air. Old Civil War men who had been in the Tennessee Mountains or the -Shenandoah Valley would feel perfectly at home in such surroundings; -only the foreground of farm land which merges into the crests covered -with trees in the distance is more finished. The people were tilling it -hundreds of years before we began tilling ours. They till well; they -make Lorraine a rich province of France. - -With guns pounding in the distance, boys in their capes were skipping -and frolicking on their way to school; housewives were going to -market, and the streets were spotlessly clean. All the men of Nancy -not in the army pursued their regular routine while the army went -about its business of throwing shells at the Germans. On the dead -walls of the buildings were M. Deschanel’s speech in the Chamber of -Deputies, breathing endurance till victory, and the call for the class -of recruits of 1915, which you will find on the walls of the towns -of all France beside that of the order of mobilisation in August, -now weather-stained. Nancy seemed, if anything, more French than any -interior French town. Though near the border, there is no touch of -German influence. When you walked through the old Place Stanislaus, so -expressive of the architectural taste bred for centuries in the French, -you understand the glow in the hearts of this very French population -which made them unconscious of danger while their flag was flying over -this very French city. - -No two Christian peoples we know are quite so different as the French -and the Germans. To each every national thought and habit incarnates -a patriotism which is in defiance of that on the other side of the -frontier. Over in America you may see the good in both sides, but no -Frenchman and no German can on the Lorraine frontier. If he should, he -would no longer be a Frenchman or a German in time of war. - -At our service in front of the hotel were waiting two mortals in -goatskin coats, with scarfs around their ears and French military caps -on top of the scarfs. They were official army chauffeurs. If you have -ridden through the Alleghenies in winter in an open car why explain -that seeing the Vosges front in an automobile may be a joy ride to an -Eskimo, but not to your humble servant? But the roads were perfect; -as good wherever we went in this mountain country as from New York to -Poughkeepsie. I need not tell you this if you have been in France; but -you will be interested to know that Lorraine keeps her roads in perfect -repair even in war time. - -Crossing the swollen Moselle on a military bridge, twisting in and out -of valleys and speeding through villages, one saw who were guarding -the army’s secrets, but little of the army itself and few signs of -transportation on a bleak, snowy day. At the outskirts of every -village, at every bridge, and at intervals along the road, Territorial -sentries stopped the car. Having an officer along was not sufficient to -let you whizz by important posts. He must show his pass. Every sentry -was a reminder of the hopelessness of being a correspondent these days -without official sanction. - -The sentries were men in the thirties. In Belgium, their German -counterpart, the Landsturm, were the monitors of a journey that I made. -No troops are more military than the first line Germans; but in the -snap and spirit of his salute the French Territorial has an _élan_, a -martial fervour, which the phlegmatic German in the thirties lacks. - -Occasionally we passed scattered soldiers in the village streets, or a -door opened to show a soldier figure in the doorway. The reason that we -were not seeing anything of the army was the same that keeps the men -and boys who are on the steps of the country grocery in summer at home -around the stove in winter. All these villages were full of reservists -who were indoors. They could be formed in the street ready for the -march to any part of the line where a concentrated attack was made -almost as soon after the alarm as a fire engine starts to a fire. - -Now, imagine your view of a ball game limited to the batter and the -pitcher: and that is all you see in the low country of Flanders. You -have no grasp of what all the noise and struggle means, for you cannot -see over the shoulders of the crowd. But in Lorraine you have only to -ascend a hill and the moves in the chess game of war are clear. - -A panorama unfolds as our car takes a rising grade to the village of -Ste. Geneviève. We alight and walk along a bridge, where the sentry -or a lookout is on watch. He seems quite alone, but at our approach a -dozen of his comrades come out of their “home” dug in the hillside. -Wherever you go about the frozen country of Lorraine it is a case of -flushing soldiers from their shelters. A small, semicircular table -is set up before the lookout, like his compass before a mariner. -Here run blue pencil lines of direction pointing to Pont-à-Mousson, -to Château-Salins, and other towns. Before us to the east rose the -tree-clad crests of the famous Grand Couronné of Nancy, and faintly in -the distance we could see Metz, that strong fortress town in German -Lorraine. - -“Those guns that I hear, are they firing across the frontier?” I asked. -For some French batteries command one of the outer forts of Metz. - -“No, they are near Pont-à-Mousson.” - -To the north the little town of Pont-à-Mousson lay in the lap of the -river bottom, and across the valley, to the west, the famous Bois le -Prêtre. More guns were speaking from the forest depths, which showed -great scars where the trees had been cut to give fields of fire. This -was well to the rear of our position--marking the boundaries of the -wedge that the Germans drove into the French lines, with its point -at St. Mihiel--in trying to isolate the forts of Verdun and Toul. -Doubtless you have noticed that wedge on the snake maps and have -wondered about it, as I have. It looks so narrow that the French ought -to be able to shoot across it from both sides. If not, why don’t the -Germans widen it? - -Well, for one thing, a quarter of an inch on a map is a good many miles -of ground. The Germans cannot spread their wedge because they would -have to climb the walls of an alley. That was a fact as clear to the -eye as the valley of the Hudson from West Point. The Germans occupy an -alley within an alley, as it were. They have their own natural defences -for the edges of their wedge; or, where they do not, they lie cheek by -jowl with the French in such thick woods as the Bois le Prêtre. - -At our feet, looking toward Metz, an apron of cultivated land swept -down for a mile or more to a forest edge. This was cut by lines of -trenches; whose barbed wire protection pricked a blanket of snow. - -“Our front is in those woods,” explained the colonel who was in command -of the point. - -“A major when the war began and an officer of reserves,” _mon -capitaine_, who had brought us out from Paris, explained about the -colonel. We were soon used to hearing that a colonel had been a major -or a major a captain before the Kaiser had tried to get Nancy. There -was quick death and speedy promotion at the great battle of Lorraine, -as there was at Gettysburg and Antietam. - -“They charged out of the woods, and we had a battalion of reserves-- -here are some of them--_mes poilus_!” - -He turned affectionately to the bearded fellows in scarfs who had come -out of the shelter. They smiled back. Now, as we all chatted together, -officer-and-man distinction disappeared. We were in a family party. - -It was all very simple to _mes poilus_, that first fight. They had been -told to hold. If Ste. Geneviève were lost, the Amance plateau was in -danger, and the loss of the Amance plateau meant the fall of Nancy. -Some military martinets say that the soldiers of France think too much. -In this case thinking may have taught them responsibility. So they -held; they lay tight, these reserves, and kept on firing as the Germans -swarmed out of the woods. - -“And the Germans stopped there, monsieur. They hadn’t very far to -go, had they? But the last fifty yards, monsieur, are the hardest -travelling when you are trying to take a trench.” - -They knew, these _poilus_, these veterans. Every soldier who serves in -Lorraine knows. They themselves have tried to rush out of the edge of -a woods across an open space against intrenched Germans, and found the -shoe on the other foot. - -Now the fields in the foreground down to the wood’s edge were bare of -any living thing. You had to take _mon capitaine’s_ word for it that -there were any soldiers in front of us. - -“The _Boches_ are a good distance away at this point,” he said. “They -are in the next woods.” - -A broad stretch of snow lay between the two clumps of woods. It was not -worth while for either side to try to get possession of the intervening -space. At the first movement by either French or Germans the woods -opposite would hum with rifle fire and echo with cannonading. So, like -rival parties of Arctic explorers waiting out the Arctic winter, they -watched each other. But if one force or the other napped, and the other -caught him at it, then winter would not stay a brigade commander’s -ambition. Three days later in this region the French, by a quick -movement, got a good bag of prisoners to make a welcome item for the -daily French official bulletin. - -“We wait and the Germans wait on spring for any big movement,” said the -colonel. “Men can’t lie out all night in the advance in weather like -this. In that direction--” He indicated a part of the line where the -two armies were facing each other across the old frontier. Back and -forth they had fought, only to arrive where they had begun. - -There was something else which the colonel wished us to see before we -left the hill of Ste. Geneviève. It appealed to his Gallic sentiment, -this quadrilateral of stone on the highest point where legend tells -that “Jovin, a Christian and very faithful, vanquished the German -barbarians 366 A.D.” - -“We have to do as well in our day as Jovin in his,” remarked the -colonel. - -The church of Ste. Geneviève was badly smashed by shell. So was the -church in the village on the Plateau d’Amance. Most churches in this -district of Lorraine are. Framed through a great gap in the wall of the -church of Amance was an immense Christ on the cross without a single -abrasion, and a pile of _débris_ at its feet. After seeing as many -ruined churches as I have, one becomes almost superstitious at how -often the figures of Christ escape. But I have also seen effigies of -Christ blown to bits. - -Any one who, from an eminence, has seen one battle fought visualises -another readily when the positions lie at his feet. Looking out on the -field of Gettysburg from Round Top, I can always get the same thrill -that I had when, seated in a gallery above the Russian and the Japanese -armies, I saw the battle of Liao-yang. In sight of that Plateau -d’Amance, which rises like a great knuckle above the surrounding -country, a battle covering twenty times the extent of Gettysburg raged, -and one could have looked over a battle-line as far as the eye may see -from a steamer’s mast. - -An icy gale swept across the white crest of the plateau on this January -day, but it was nothing to the gale of shells that descended on it -in late August and early September. Forty thousand shells, it is -estimated, fell there. One kicked up fragments of steel on the field -like peanut shells after a circus has gone. Here were the emplacements -of a battery of French _soixante-quinze_ within a circle of holes -torn by its adversaries’ replies to its fire; a little farther along, -concealed by shrubbery, the position of another battery which the enemy -had not located. - -“So that was it!” The struggle on the immense landscape, where at least -a quarter of a million men were killed and wounded, became as simple -as some Brobdignagian football match. Before the war began the French -would not move a man within five miles of the frontier lest it be -provocative: but once the issue was joined they sprang for Alsace and -Lorraine, their imagination magnetised by the thought of the recovery -of the lost provinces. Their Alpine chasseurs, mountain men of the -Alpine and the Pyrenees districts, were concentrated for the purpose. - -I recalled a remark I had heard: “What a pitiful little offensive that -was!” It was made by one of those armchair “military experts,” who -look at a map and jump at a conclusion. They appear very wise in their -wordiness when real military experts are silent for want of knowledge. -Pitiful, was it? Ask the Germans who faced it what they think. -Pitiful, that sweep over those mountain walls and through the passes? -Pitiful, perhaps, because it failed, though not until it had taken -Château-Salins in the north and Mulhouse in the south. Ask the Germans -if they think that it was pitiful! The Confederates also failed at -Antietam and at Gettysburg, but the Union army never thought of their -efforts as pitiful. - -The French fell back because all the weight of the German army was -thrown against France, while the Austrians were left to look after the -slowly mobilising Russians. Two million five hundred thousand men on -their first line the Germans had, as we know now, against the French -twelve hundred thousand. To make sure of saving Paris as the Germans -swung their mighty flanking column through Belgium, Joffre had to -draw in his lines. The Germans came over the hills as splendidly as -the French had gone. They struck in all directions toward Paris. In -Lorraine was their left flank, the Bavarians, meant to play the same -part to the east that von Kluck played to the west. We heard only of -von Kluck and the British retreat from Mons; nothing of this terrific -struggle in Lorraine. - -From the Plateau d’Amance you may see how far the Germans came and what -was their object. Between the fortresses of Épinal and of Toul lies the -Troueé de Mirecourt--the Gap of Mirecourt. It is said that the French -had purposely left it open when they were thinking of fighting the -Germans on their own frontier and not on that of Belgium. They wanted -the Germans to make their trial here--and wisely, for with all the -desperate and courageous efforts of the Bavarian and Saxon armies they -never got near the gap. - -If they had forced it, however, with von Kluck swinging on the other -flank, they might have got around the French army. Such was the dream -of German strategy, whose realisation was so boldly and skilfully -undertaken. The Germans counted on their immense force of artillery, -built for this war in the last two years and outranging the French, to -demoralise the French infantry. But the French infantry called the big -shells “_marmites_” (saucepans), and made a joke of them and the death -they spread as they tore up the fields in clouds of earth. - -Ah, it took more than artillery to beat back the best troops of France -in a country like this--a country of rolling hills and fenceless -fields cut by many streams and set among thick woods, where infantry -on a bank or at a forest’s edge with rifles and rapid-firers and guns -kept their barrels cool until the charge developed in the open. Some of -these forests are only a few acres in extent; others are hundreds of -acres. In the dark depths of one a frozen lake was seen glistening from -our position on the Plateau d’Amance. - -“Indescribable that scene which we witnessed from here,” said an -officer, who had been on the plateau throughout the fighting. “All -the splendid majesty of war was set on a stage before you. It was -intoxication. We could see the lines of troops in their retreat and -advance, batteries and charges shrouded in shrapnel smoke. What hosts -of guns the Germans had! They seemed to be sowing the whole face of the -earth with shells. The roar of the thing was like that of chaos itself. -It was the exhilaration of the spectacle that kept us from dropping -from fatigue. Two weeks of this business! Two weeks with every unit of -artillery and infantry always ready, if not actually engaged!” - -The general in command was directing not one but many battles, each -with a general of its own; manœuvring troops across the streams and -open places, seeking the cover of forests, with the aeroplanes unable -to learn how many of the enemy were hidden in the forests on his front, -while he tried to keep his men out of angles and make his movements -correspond with those of the divisions on his right and left. Skill -this requires; skill equivalent to German skill; the skill which you -cannot organise in a month after calling for a million volunteers, but -which grows through years of organisation. - -Shall I call the general in chief command General X? This is according -to the custom of anonymity. A great modern army like the French is a -machine; any man, high or low, only a unit of the machine. In this case -the real name of X is Castelnau. If it lacks the fame which may seem -its due, that may be because he was not operating near a transatlantic -cable end. Fame is not the business of French generals nowadays. It is -war. What counted for France was that he never let the Germans get near -the gap at Mirecourt. - -Having failed to reach the gap, the Germans, with that stubbornness of -the offensive which characterises them, tried to take Nancy. They got -a battery of heavy guns within range of the city. From a high hill it -is said that the Kaiser watched the bombardment. But here is a story. -As the German infantry advanced toward their new objective they passed -a French artillery officer in a tree. He was able to locate that heavy -battery and able to signal its position back to his own side. The -French concentrated sufficient fire to silence it after it had thrown -forty shells into Nancy. The same report tells how the Kaiser folded -his cloak around him and walked down in silence from his eminence, -where the sun blazed on his helmet. It was not the Germans’ fault that -they failed to take Nancy. It was due to the French. - -Some time a tablet will be put up to denote the high-water mark of the -German invasion of Lorraine. It will be between the edge of the forest -of Champenoux and the heights. When the Germans charged from the cover -of the forest to get possession of the road to Nancy, the French guns -and mitrailleuses which had held their fire turned loose. The rest of -the story is how the French infantry, impatient at being held back, -swept down in a counter-attack, and the Germans had to give up their -campaign in Lorraine as they gave up their campaign against Paris in -the early part of September. Saddest of all lost opportunities to the -correspondent in this war is this fighting in Lorraine. One had only to -climb a hill in order to see it all! - -In half an hour, as the officer outlined the positions, we had lived -through the two weeks’ fighting; and, thanks to the fairness of his -story--that of a professional soldier without illusions--we felt that -we had been hearing history while it was very fresh. - -“They are very brave and skilful, the Germans,” he said. “We still have -a battery of heavy guns on the plateau. Let us go and see it.” - -We went, picking our way among the snow-covered shell pits. At one -point we crossed a communicating trench, where soldiers could go and -come to the guns and the infantry positions without being exposed to -shell fire. I noticed that it carried a telephone wire. - -“Yes,” said the officer; “we had no ditch during the fight with the -Germans, and we were short of telephone wire for a while; so we had to -carry messages back and forth as in the old days. It was a pretty warm -kind of messenger service when the German _marmites_ were falling their -thickest.” - -At length he stopped before a small mound of earth not in any way -distinctive at a short distance on the uneven surface of the plateau. -I did not even notice that there were three other such mounds. He -pointed to a hole in the ground. I had been used to going through a -manhole in a battleship turret, but not through one into a field-gun -position before aeroplanes played a part in war. - -“_Entrez, monsieur!_” - -And I stepped down to face the breech of a gun whose muzzle pointed out -of another hole in the timbered roof covered with earth. - -“It’s very cosy!” I remarked. - -“Oh, this is the shop! The living-room is below--here!” - -I descended a ladder into a cellar ten feet below the gun level, where -some of the gunners were lying on a thick carpet of perfectly dry straw. - -“You are not doing much firing these days?” I suggested. - -“Oh, we gave the _Boches_ a couple this morning so they wouldn’t get -cocky thinking they were safe. It’s necessary to keep your hand in even -in the winter.” - -“Don’t you get lonesome?” - -“No, we shift on and off. We’re not here all the while. It is quite -warm in our salon, monsieur, and we have good comrades. It is war. It -is for France. What would you?” - -Four other gun positions and four other cellars like this! Thousands -of gun positions and thousands of cellars! Man invents new powers of -destruction and man finds a way of escaping them. - -As we left the battery we started forward, and suddenly out of the dusk -came a sharp call. A young corporal confronted us. Who were we and -what business had we prowling about on that hill? If there had been no -officer along and I had not had a _laisser-passer_ on my person, the -American Ambassador to France would probably have had to get another -countryman out of trouble. - -The incident shows how thoroughly the army is policed and how surely. -Editors who wonder why their correspondents are not in the front line -catching bullets, please take notice. - -It was dark when we returned to the little village on the plateau where -we had left our car. The place seemed uninhabited with all the blinds -closed. But through one uncovered window I saw a room full of chatting -soldiers. We went to pay our respects to the colonel in command, and -found him and his staff around a table covered with oilcloth in the -main living-room of a villager’s house. He spoke of his men, of their -loyalty and cheerfulness, as the other commanders had, as if this were -his only boast. These French officers have little “side”; none of that -toe-the-mark, strutting militarism which some soldiers think necessary -to efficiency. They live very simply on campaign, though if they do get -to town for a few hours they enjoy a good meal. If they did not, madame -at the restaurant would feel that she was not doing her duty to France. - - - - -XIII - -SMILES AMONG RUINS - - Elation in the cause--From Nancy southward--A giant Frenchman-- - Personnel of the French machine--_Déjeuner_--Father Joffre’s - boarding establishment--A thrifty army--Responsibility in - a democracy--Determination for final peace--“Rural free - delivery” at the front--A card-indexed army--Their families-- - Battlefields that saved Paris--Souvenirs aplenty--Ruthless - “military advantage”--A shattered farmhouse--Helping the - farmers--Construction of trenches--In the front line - trench--Watchful waiting--The Lorraine country--Widespread - destruction--Another “Louvain”--A brave and great Sister-- - Thrilling attacks--“It was for France!”--His Honour, the - Mayor--The tricolour in Lorraine. - - -Scorched piles of brick and mortar where a home has been ought to make -about the same impression anywhere. When you have gone from Belgium to -French Lorraine, however, you will know quite the contrary. In Belgium -I suffered all the depression which a nightmare of war’s misery can -bring; in French Lorraine I found myself sharing something of the -elation of a man who looks at a bruised knuckle with the consciousness -that it broke a burglar’s jaw. - -A Belgian repairing the wreck of his house was a grim, heartbreaking -picture; a Frenchman of Lorraine repairing the wreck of his house had -the light of hard-won victory, of confidence, of sacrifice made to a -great purpose, of freedom secure for future generations, in his eyes. -The difference was this: The Germans were still in Belgium; they were -out of French Lorraine for good. - -“What matters a shell-hole through my walls and my torn roof!” said a -Lorraine farmer. “Work will make my house whole. But nothing could ever -have made my heart and soul whole while the Germans remained. I saw -them go, monsieur; they left us ruins, but France is ours!” - -I had thought it a pretty good thing to see something of the Eastern -French front; but a better thing was the happiness I found there. _Mon -capitaine_ had come out from the Ministry of War in Paris; but when we -set out from Nancy southward, we had a different local guide, a major -belonging to the command in charge of the region which we were to -visit. He was another example which upsets certain popular notions of -Frenchmen as gesticulating, excitable little men. Some six feet two in -height, he had an eye that looked straight into yours, a very square -chin, and a fine forehead. You had only to look at him and size him up -on points to conclude that he was all there; that he knew his work. - -“Well, we’ve got good weather for it to-day, monsieur,” said a voice -out of a goatskin coat, and I found we had the same chauffeur as -before. These French privates talk to you and you talk to them. They -are not simply moulds of flesh in military form who salute and salute -and salute. They take an interest in your affairs and you take an -interest in theirs; they make you feel like home folks. - -The sun was shining--a warm winter sun like that of a February thaw -in our Northern States--glistening on the snowy fields and slopes -among the forests and tree-clad hills of the mountainous country. Faces -ambushed in whiskers thought it was a good day for trimming beards and -washing clothes. The sentries along the roads had their scarfs around -their necks instead of over their ears. A French soldier makes ear -muffs, chest protector, nightcap, and a blanket out of the scarf which -wife or sister knits for him. If any woman who reads this knits one to -send to France she may be sure that the fellow who received it will get -every stitch’s worth out of it. - -To-day, then, it was war without mittens. You did not have to sound the -bugle to get soldiers out of their burrows or their houses. Our first -stop was at our own request, in a village where groups of soldiers were -taking a sun bath. More came out of the doors as we alighted. They were -all in the late twenties or early thirties, men of a reserve regiment. -Some had been clerks, some labourers, some farmers, some employers, -when the war began. Then they were _piou-pious_, in French slang; then -all France prayed god-speed to its beloved _piou-pious_. Then you knew -the clerk by his pallor; the labourer by his hard hands; the employer -by his manner of command. Now they were _poilus_--bearded, hard-eyed -veterans; you could not tell the clerk from the labourer or the -employer from the peasant. - -Any one who saw the tenderfoot pilgrimage to the Alaskan gold field in -’97-’98 and the same crowd six months later will understand what had -happened to these men. The puny had put on muscle; the city dweller had -blown his lungs; the fat man had lost some adipose; social differences -of habit had disappeared. That gentleman used to his bath and linen -sheets and the hard living farmer or labourer--all had had to eat the -same kind of food, do the same work, run the same risks in battle, and -sleep side by side in the houses where they were lodged and in the -dugouts of the trenches when it was their turn to occupy them through -the winter. Any “snob” had his edges trimmed by the banter of his -comrades. Their beards accentuated the likeness of type. A cheery lot -of faces and intelligent, these, which greeted us with curious interest. - -“Perhaps President Wilson will make peace,” one said. - -“When?” I asked. - -A shrug of the shoulder, a gesture to the East, and the answer was: - -“When we have Alsace-Lorraine back.” - -Under a shed their _déjeuner_ was cooking. This meal at noon is the -meal of the day to the average Frenchman, who has only bread and coffee -in the morning. They say he objects to fighting at luncheon time. That -is the hour when he wants to sit down and forget his work and laugh and -talk and enjoy his eating. The Germans found this out and tried to take -his trenches at the noon hour. This interference with his gastronomic -habits made him so angry that he dropped the knife and fork for the -bayonet and took back any lost ground in a ferocious counter-attack. -He would teach those “_Boches_” to leave him to eat his _déjeuner_ in -peace. - -That appetising stew in the kettles in the shed once more proved -that Frenchmen know how to cook. I didn’t blame them for objecting -to being shot at by the Germans when they were about to eat it. The -average French soldier is better fed than at home; he gets more meat, -for a hungry soldier is usually a poor soldier. It is a very simple -problem with France’s fine roads to feed that long line when it is -stationary. It is like feeding a city stretched out over a distance -of four hundred and fifty miles; a stated number of ounces each day -for each man and a known number of men to feed. From the railroad head -trucks and autobusses take the supplies up to the distributing points. -At one place I saw ten Paris autobusses, their signs painted out in a -steel-grey to hide them from aeroplanes, and not one of them had broken -down through the war. The French take good care of their equipment and -their clothes; they waste no food. As a people is, so is their army, -and the French are thrifty by nature. - -Father Joffre, as the soldiers call him, is running the next largest -boarding establishment in Europe after the Kaiser and the Czar. And -he has a happy family. It seemed to me that life ought to have been -utterly dull for this characteristic group of _poilus_, living crowded -together all winter in a remote village. Civilians sequestered in this -fashion away from home are inclined to get grouchy on one another. - -One of the officers in speaking of this said that early in the autumn -the reserves were pretty homesick. They wanted to get back to their -wives and children. Nostalgia, next to hunger, is the worst thing for a -soldier. Commanders were worried. But as the winter wore on the spirit -changed. The soldiers began to feel the spell of their democratic -comradeship. The fact that they had fought together and survived -together played its part; and individualism was sunk in the one thought -that they were there for France. The fellowship of a cause taught them -patience, brought them cheer. And another thing was the increasing -sense of team play, of confidence in victory, which holds a ball team, -a business enterprise, or an army together. Every day the organisation -of the army was improving; every day that indescribable and subtle -element of satisfaction that the Germans were securely held was growing. - -Every Frenchman saves something of his income; madame sees to it that -he does. He knows that if he dies he will not leave wife and children -penniless. His son, not yet old enough to fight, will come on to take -his place. Men at home who are twenty-two or three and unmarried, men -who are twenty-eight or thirty and not long married, and men of forty -with some money put by, will, in turn, understand how their own class -feels. - -In ten minutes you had entered into the hearts of this single company -in a way that made you feel that you had got into the heart of the -whole French army. When you asked them if they would like to go home -they didn’t say “No!” all in a chorus, as if that were what the colonel -had told them to say. They obey the colonel, but their thoughts are -their own. Otherwise, these ruddy, healthy men, representing the people -of France and not the cafés of Paris, would not keep France a republic. - -Yes, they did want to go home. They did want to go home. They wanted -their wives and babies; they wanted to sit down to morning coffee at -their own tables. Lumps rose in their throats at the suggestion. But -they were not going until the German peril was over forever. Why stop -now, only to have another terrible war in thirty or forty years? A -peace that would endure must be won. They had thought that out for -themselves. They would not stick to their determination if they had -not. This is the way of democracies. Thus every one was conscious that -he was fighting not merely to win, but for future generations. - -“It happened that this great struggle which we had long feared came -in our day, and to us is the duty,” said one. You caught the spirit -of comradeship passing the time with jests at one another’s expense. -One of the men who was not a full thirty-third degree _poilu_ had -compromised with the razor on a moustache as blazing red as his shock -of hair. - -“I think that the colonel gave him the tip that he would light the way -for the Zeppelins,” said a comrade. - -“Envy! Sheer envy!” was the retort. “Look at him!” and he pointed at -some scraggly bunches on chin and cheeks which resembled a young grass -plat that had come up badly. - -“I don’t believe in air-tight beards,” was the response. - -When I produced a camera, the effect was the same as it always is -with soldiers at the front. They all wanted to be in the photograph, -on the chance that the folks at home might see how the absent son or -father looked. Would I send them one? And the address was like this: -“Monsieur Benevent, Corporal of Infantry, 18th Company, 5th Battalion, -299th Regiment of Infantry, Postal Sector No. 121,” by which you will -know the rural free delivery methods along the French front. This -address is the one rift in the blank wall of anonymity which hides -the individuality of the millions under Joffre. Only the army knows -the sector and the number of the regiment in that sector. By the same -kind of a card-index system Joffre might lay his hand on any one of -his millions, each a human being with all a human being’s individual -emotions, who, to be a good soldier, must be only one of the vast -multitude of obedient chessmen. - -“We are ready to go after them when Father Joffre says the word,” all -agreed. Joffre has proved himself to the democracy, which means the -enthusiastic loyalty of a democracy’s intelligence. - -“If there are any homesick ones we should find them among the lot -here,” said _mon capitaine_. - -These were the men who had not been long married. They were not yet -past the honeymoon period; they had young children at home; perhaps -they had become fathers since they went to war. The younger men of the -first line had the irresponsibility and the ardour of youth which makes -comradeship easy. - -But the older men, the Territorials as they are called, in the late -thirties and early forties, have settled down in life. Their families -are established; their careers settled; some of them, perhaps, may -enjoy a vacation from the wife, for you know madame, in France, with -all her thrift, can be a little bossy, which is not saying that this -is not a proper tonic for her lord. So the old boys seem the most -content in the fellowship of winter quarters. What they cannot stand -are repeated, long, hard marches; their legs give out under the load of -rifle and pack. But their hearts are in the war, and right there is one -very practical reason why they will fight well--and they have fought -better as they hardened with time and the old French spirit revived in -their blood. - -“_Allons, messieurs!_” said the tall major, who wanted us to see -battle-fields. It required no escort to tell us where the battle-field -was. We knew it when we came to it as you know the point reached by -high tide on the sands--this field where many Gettysburgs were -fought in one through that terrible fortnight in late August and early -September, when the future of France and the whole world hung in the -balance--as the Germans sought to reach Paris and win a decisive -victory over the French army. Where destruction ended there the German -invasion reached its limit. - -Forests and streams and ditches and railroad culverts played their -part in tactical surprises, as they did at Gettysburg; and cemetery -walls, too. In all my battle-field visits in Europe I have not seen -a single cemetery wall that was not loopholed. But the fences, which -throughout the Civil War offered impediment to charges and screen to -the troops which could reach them first, were missing. The fields lay -in bold stretches, because it is the business of young boys and girls -in Lorraine to watch the cows and keep them out of the corn. - -We stopped at a crossroads where charges met and wrestled back and -forth in and out of the ditches. Fragments of shells appeared as steps -scuffed away the thin coating of snow. I picked up an old French cap, -with a slash in the top that told how its owner came to his end, and -near by a German helmet. For there are souvenirs in plenty lying in -the young wheat which was sown after the battle was over. Millions -of little nickel bullets are ploughed in with the blood of those who -died to take the Kaiser to Paris and those who died to keep him out in -this fighting across these fields and through the forests, in a tug -of war of give-and-take, of men exhausted after nights and days under -fire, men with bloodshot eyes sunk deep in the sockets, dust-laden, -blood-spattered, with forty years of latent human powder breaking -forth into hell when the war was only a month old and passion was at a -white heat. - -Hasty shelter trenches gridiron the land; such trenches as breathless -men, dropping after a charge, threw up hurriedly with the spades that -they carry on their backs, to give them a little cover. And there is -the trench that stopped the Germans--the trench which they charged -but could not take. It lies among shell-holes so thick that you can -step from one to another. In places its crest is torn away, which means -that half a dozen men were killed in a group. But reserves filled their -places. They kept pouring out their stream of lead which German courage -could not endure. Thus far and no farther the invasion came in that -wheat-field which will be ever memorable. - -We went up a hill once crowned by one of those clusters of farm -buildings of stone and mortar, where house and stables and granaries -are close together. All around were bare fields. Those farm buildings -stood up like a mountain peak. The French had the hill and lost it and -recovered it. Whichever side had it, the other was bound to bathe it in -shells because it commanded the country around. The value of property -meant nothing. All that counted was military advantage. Because -churches are often on hilltops, because they are bound to be used for -lookouts, is why they get torn to pieces. When two men are fighting for -life they don’t bother about upsetting a table with a vase, or notice -any “Keep off the grass” signs; no, not even if the family Bible be -underfoot. - -None of the roof, none of the superstructure of these farm buildings -was left; only the lower walls, which were eighteen inches thick and -in places penetrated by the shells. For when a Frenchman builds a -farmhouse he builds it to last a few hundred years. The farm windmill -was as twisted as a birdcage that has been rolled under a trolley car, -but a large hayrake was unharmed. Such is the luck of war. I made up my -mind that if I ever got under shell-fire I’d make for the hayrake and -avoid the windmill. - -Our tall major pointed out all the fluctuating positions during the -battle. It was like hearing a chess match explained from memory by an -expert. Words to him were something precious. He made each one count as -he would the shots from his cannon. His narrative had the lucidity of a -terse judge reviewing evidence. The battle-field was etched on his mind -in every important phase of its action. - -Not once did he speak in abuse of the enemy. The staff officer who -directs steel ringing on steel is too busy thrusting and keeping guard -to indulge in diatribes. To him the enemy is a powerful impersonal -devil who must be beaten. When I asked about the conduct of the Germans -in the towns they occupied, his lip tightened and his eyes grew hard. - -“I’m afraid it was pretty bad!” he said; as if he felt, besides the -wrong to his own people, the shame that men who had fought so bravely -should act so ill. I think his attitude toward war was this: “We will -die for France, but calling the Germans names will not help us to win. -It only takes breath.” - -“_Allons, messieurs!_” - -As our car ran up a gentle hill we noticed two soldiers driving a load -of manure. This seemed a pretty prosaic, even humiliating, business, -in a poetic sense, for the brave _poilus_, veterans of Lorraine’s -great battle. But Father Joffre is a true Frenchman of his time. Why -shouldn’t the soldiers help the farmers whose sons are away at the -front and perhaps helping farmers back of some other point of the line? - -Over the crest of the hill we came on long lines of soldiers bearing -timbers and fascines for trench building, which explained why some of -the villages were empty. A fascine is something usually made of woven -branches which will hold dirt in position. The woven wicker cases for -shells which the German artillery uses and leaves behind when it has to -quit the field in a hurry, make excellent fascines, and a number that -I saw were of this ready-made kind. After carrying shells for killing -Frenchmen they were to protect the lives of Frenchmen. Near by other -soldiers were turning up a strip of fresh earth against the snow, which -looked like a rip in the frosting of a chocolate cake. - -“How do you like this kind of war?” we asked. It is the kind that -irrigationists and subway excavators do. - -“We’ve grown to be very fond of it,” was the answer. “It is a -cultivated taste, which becomes a passion with experience. After you -have been shot at in the open you want all the earth you can get -between you and the bullets.” - -Now we alighted from the automobile and went forward on foot. We -passed some eight lines of trenches before we came to the one where -we were to stop. A practised military eye had gone over all that -ground; a practised military hand had laid out each trench. After -the work was done the civilian’s eye could grasp the principle. If -one trench were taken, the men knew exactly how to fall back on the -next, which commanded the ground they had left. The trenches were not -continuous. There were open spaces left purposely. All that front was -literally locked, and double and triple locked, with trenches. Break -through one barred door and there is another and another confronting -you. Considering the millions of burrowing and digging and watching -soldiers, it occurred to one that if a _marmite_ (saucepan) came along -and buried our little party, our loss would not be as much noticed as -if a piece of coping from a high building had fallen and extinguished -us on Broadway, which would be a relatively novel way of dying. Being -killed in war had long ceased to be a novelty on the continent of -Europe. - -We seemed in a dead world, except for the leisurely, hoarse, muffled -reports of a French gun in the woods on either side of the open space -where we stood. Through our glasses we could see quite clearly the line -of the German front trench, which was in the outskirts of a village -on higher ground than the French. Not a human being was visible. Both -sides were watching for any move of the other and meanwhile lying tight -under cover. By day they were marooned. All supplies and all reliefs of -men who are to take their turn in front go out by night. - -There were no men in the trench where we stood; those who would man it -in case of danger were in the adjoining woods, where they had only to -cut down saplings and make shelters to be as comfortable as in a winter -resort camp in the Adirondacks. Any minute they might receive a call-- -which meant death for many. But they were used to that, and their card -games went on none the less merrily. - -“No farther?” we asked our major. - -“No farther!” he said. “This is risk enough for you. It looks very -peaceful, but the enemy could toss in some _marmites_ if it pleased -him.” Perhaps he was exaggerating the risk for the sake of a realistic -effect on the sightseers. No matter! In time one was to have risks -enough in trenches. It was on such an occasion as this, on another -part of the French line, that two correspondents slipped away from the -officers conducting them, though their word of honour was given not to -do so--which adds another reason for military suspicion of the press. -The officers rang up the nearest telephone which connected with the -front trenches, the batteries, and regimental and brigade headquarters, -to apprehend two men of such-and-such description. They were taken as -easily as a one-eyed, one-eared man, with a wooden leg and red hair, -would be in trying to get out of police headquarters when the doorman -had his Bertillon photograph and measurements to go by. - -That battery hidden from aerial observation in the thick forest kept -up its slow firing at intervals. It was “bothering” one of the German -trenches. Fiendish the consistent regularity with which it kept on, -and so easy for the gunners. They had only to slip in a shell, swing a -breechlock home, and pull a lanyard. The German guns did not respond -because they could not locate the French battery. They may have known -that it was somewhere in the forest, but firing at two or three hundred -acres of wood on the chance of reaching some guns heavily protected by -earth and timbering was about like tossing a pea from the top of the -Washington Monument on the chance of hitting a four-leafed clover on -the lawn below. - -Our little group remained, not standing in the trench, but back of -it in full relief for some time; for the German gunners refused to -play for realism by sending us a _marmite_. Probably they had seen us -through the telescope at the start and concluded we weren’t worth a -shot. In the first months of the war such a target would have received -a burst of shells, for the fun of seeing us scatter, if nothing else. -Then ammunition was plentiful and the sport of shooting had not lost -its zest; but in these winter days orders were not to waste ammunition. -The factories must manufacture a supply ahead for the summer campaign. -There must be fifteen dollars’ worth of target in sight, say, for the -smallest shell costs that; and the shorter you are of shells the more -valuable the target must be. Besides, firing a cannon had become as -commonplace a function to both French and German gunners as getting up -to put another stick of wood in the stove or going to open the door to -take a letter from the postman. - -We had glimpses of other trenches; but this is not the place in this -book to write of trenches. We shall see trenches till we are weary of -them later. We are going direct to Gerbeviller, which was--emphasis -on the past tense--a typical little Lorraine town of fifteen hundred -inhabitants. Look where you would now, as we drove along the road, -and you saw churches without steeples, houses with roofs standing on -sections of walls, houses smashed into bits. - -“I saw no such widespread destruction as this in Belgium!” I exclaimed. - -“There was no such fighting in Belgium,” was the answer. - -Of course not, except in the southwestern corner, where the armies -still face each other. - -“Not all the damage was done by the Germans,” the major explained. -“Naturally, when they were pouring in death from the cover of a house, -our guns let drive at that house,” he went on. “The owners of the -houses that were hit by our shells are rather proud--proud of our -marksmanship, proud that we gave the unwelcome guest a hot pill to -swallow.” - -For ten days the Bavarians had Gerbeviller. They tore it to pieces -before they got it, then burned the remains because they said the -population sniped at them. All the orgy of Louvain was repeated here, -unchronicled to our people at home. The church looks like a Swiss -cheese from shell-holes. Its steeple was bound to be an observation -post, reasoned the Germans; so they poured shells into it. But the -brewery had a tall chimney which was an even better lookout, and the -brewery is the one building unharmed in the town. The Bavarians knew -that they would need that for their commissariat. For a Bavarian will -not fight without his beer. The land was littered with barrels after -they had gone. I saw some in trenches occupied by Bavarian reserves not -far back of where their firing-line had been. - -“However, the fact that the brewery is intact and the church in ruins -does not prove that a brewery is better than a church. It only proves -which is the Lord’s side in this war,” said Sister Julie. But I get -ahead of my story. - -In the middle of the main street were half a dozen smoke-blackened -houses which remained standing, an oasis in the sea of destruction, -with doors and windows intact, facing gaps where doors and windows had -been. We entered with a sense of awe of the chance which had spared -these buildings. - -“Sister Julie!” the major called. - -A short, sturdy nun of about sixty years answered cheerily and appeared -in the dark hall. She led us into the sitting-room, where she spryly -placed chairs for our little party. She was smiling; her eyes were -sparkling with a hospitable and kindly interest in us, while I felt, -on my part, that thrill of curiosity that one always has when he meets -some celebrated person for the first time--a curiosity no less keen -than if I were to meet Barbara Frietchie. - -Through all that battle of ten days, with the cannon never silent day -or night, with shells screaming overhead and crashing into houses; -through ten days of thunder and lightning and earthquake, she and her -four sister associates remained in Gerbeviller. When the town was fired -they moved from one building to another. They nursed both wounded -French and Germans, also wounded townspeople who could not flee with -the others. - -“You were not frightened? You did not think of going away?” she was -asked. - -“Frightened?” she answered. “I had not time to think of that. Go away? -How could I when the Lord’s work had come to me?” - -President Poincaré went in person to give her the Legion of Honour, -the first given to a woman in this war; so rarely given to a woman, -and here bestowed with the love of a nation. Sister Marie was in the -kitchen at the time, very busy cooking the meal for the sick whom the -sisters are still caring for. So Sister Julie took the President of -France into the kitchen to meet Sister Marie, quite as she would take -you or me. A human being is simply a human being to Sister Julie, to be -treated courteously; and great men may not cause a meal for the sick to -burn. After the complexity of French politics, President Poincaré was -anything but unfavourably impressed by the incident. - -“He was such a little man, I could not believe at first that he could -be President,” she said. “I thought that the president of France would -be a big man. But he was very agreeable and, I am sure, very wise. Then -there were other men with him, a Monsieur de-de-Deschanel, who was -president of something or other in Paris, and Monsieur du-du--yes, -that was it, Du Bag. He also is president of something in Paris. They -were very agreeable, too.” - -“And your Legion of Honour?” - -“Oh, my medal that M. le Président gave me! I keep that in a drawer. I -do not wear it every day when I am in my working clothes.” - -“Have you ever been to Paris?” - -“No, monsieur.” - -“They will make a great ado over you when you go.” - -“I must stay in Gerbeviller. If I stayed during the fighting and when -the Germans were here, why should I leave now? Gerbeviller is my home. -There is much to do here, and there will be more to do when the people -who were driven away return.” - -These nuns saw their townspeople stood up against a wall and shot; -they saw their townspeople killed by shells. The cornucopia of war’s -horrors was emptied at their door. And women of a provincial town, who -had led peaceful, cloistered lives, they did not blench or falter in -the presence of ghastliness which only men are supposed to have the -stoicism to witness. - -What feature of the nightmare had held most vividly in Sister Julie’s -mind? It is hard to say; but the one which she dwelt on was about the -boy and the cow. The invaders, when they came in, ordered that no -inhabitant leave his house, on pain of death. A boy of ten took his cow -to pasture in the morning as usual. He did not see anything wrong in -that. The cow ought to go to pasture. And he was shot, for he broke a -military regulation. He might have been a spy using the cow as a blind. -War does not bother to discriminate. It kills. - -Sister Julie can enjoy a joke, particularly on the Germans, and her -cheerful smile and genuine laugh are a lesson to all people who draw -long faces in time of trouble and weep over spilt milk. A buoyant -temperament and unshaken faith carried her through her ordeal. Though -her hair is white, youth’s optimism and confidence in the future and -the joy of victory for France overshadowed the present. The town and -church would be rebuilt; children would play in the streets again; -there was a lot of the Lord’s work to do yet. - -In every word and thought she is French--French in her liveliness -of spirit and quickness of comprehension; wholly French there on the -borderland of Germany. If we only went to the outskirts of the town, -she reminded us, we could see how the soldiers of her beloved France -fought and why she was happy to have remained in Gerbeviller to welcome -them back. - -In sight of that intact brewery and that wreck of a church is a gentle -slope of open field, cut by a road. Along the crest were many mounds as -thick as the graves of a cemetery, and by the side of the road was a -temporary monument above a big mound, surrounded by a sanded walk and a -fence. The dead had been thickest at this point, and here they had been -laid in a vast grave. The surviving comrades had made that monument; -and, in memory of what the dead had fought for, the living said that -they were not yet ready to quit fighting. - -Standing on this crest, you were a thousand yards away from the edge -of a woods. German aeroplanes had seen the French massing for a charge -under the cover of that crest; but French aeroplanes could not see what -was in the woods. Rifles and machine guns poured a spray of lead across -the crest when the French appeared. But the French, who were fighting -for Sister Julie’s town, would not stop their rush at first. They kept -on, as Pickett’s men did when the Federal guns riddled their ranks with -grapeshot. This accounts for many of the mounds being well beyond the -crest. The Germans made a mistake in firing too soon. They would have -made a heavier killing if they had allowed the charge to go farther. -After the French fell back, for two days and nights their wounded lay -out on that field without water or food, between the two forces, and if -their comrades approached to give succour the machine guns blazed more -death, because the Germans did not want to let the French dig a trench -on the crest. After two days the French forced the Germans out of the -woods by hitting them from another point. - -We went over the field of another charge half a mile away. There a -French regiment put a stream with a single bridge at their back-- -which requires some nerve--and charged a German trench on rising -ground. They took it. Then they tried to take the woods beyond. Before -they were checked twenty-two officers out of a total of thirty fell. -But they did not give up the ground they had won. They burrowed into -the earth in a trench of their own, and when help came they put the -Germans out of the woods. - -The men of this regiment were not first line, but the older fellows-- -men of the type we stopped to chat with in the village--hastening to -the front when the war began. Their officers were mostly reserves, -too, who left their civil occupations at the call of arms. One of the -eight survivors of the thirty was with us, a stocky little man, hardly -looking the hero or the soldier. I expressed my admiration, and he -answered quietly: “It was for France!” How often I have heard that as -a reason for courage or sacrifice! The brave enemies of France have -learned to respect it, though they had a poor opinion of the French -army before the war began. “That railroad bridge yonder the Germans -left intact when they occupied it because they were certain that -they would need it to supply their troops when they took the Gap of -Mirecourt and surrounded the French army,” I was told. “However, they -had to go in such a hurry that they failed to mine it. They must have -fired five hundred shells afterward to destroy it, in vain.” - -It was dusk when we entered the city of Lunéville for the second time. -Whole blocks lay in ruins; others only showed where shells had crashed -into walls. It is hard to estimate just how much damage shell-fire has -done to a town, for you see the effects only where they have struck on -the street sides and not when they strike in the centre of the block. -But Lunéville has certainly suffered as much as Louvain, only we did -not hear about it. Grim, sad Louvain, with its sentries among the -ruins! Happy, triumphant Lunéville, with its _poilus_ instead of German -sentries! - -“We are going to meet the mayor,” said the major. - -First we went to his office. But that was a mistake. We were invited -to his house, which was a fine, old eighteenth-century building. -If you could transport it to New York some arms-and-ammunition -millionaire would give half a million dollars for it. The hallway was -smoke-blackened and a burnt spot showed where the enemy had tried to -set it on fire before evacuating the town. An ascent of a handsome -old staircase and we were in rooms with gilded mirrors and carved old -mantels, where we were introduced to His Honour, a lively man of forty. - -“I have been in Amerique two months. So much English do I speak. -No more!” said the mayor merrily, and introduced us in turn to his -wife, who spoke not even “so much” English, but French as fast and as -piquantly as only a Frenchwoman can. Her only son, who was seventeen, -was going up with the 1916 class of recruits very soon. He was a sturdy -youngster; a type of Young France who will make the France of the -future. - -“You hate to see him go?” I asked. - -“It is for France!” she answered. - -We had cakes and tea and a merrier--at least, a more heartfelt--party -than at any mayor’s reception in time of peace. Everybody talked. For -the French do know how to talk, when they have not turned grim, silent -soldiers. Foreigners say we do. Maybe it is a democratic weakness. I -heard story on story of the German occupation, and how the mayor was -put in jail and held as hostage, and what a German general said to him -when he was brought in as a prisoner to be interrogated in his own -house, which the general occupied as headquarters. - -Among the guests was the wife of a French general in her Red Cross -cap. She might see her husband once a week by meeting him on the road -between the city and the front. He could not afford to be any farther -from his post, lest the Germans spring a surprise. The extent of the -information which he gave her was that all went well for France. Father -Joffre plays no favourites in his discipline. - -Happy, happy Lorraine in the midst of its ruins! Happy because her -adored tricolour floats over those ruins. - - - - -XIV - -A ROAD OF WAR I KNOW - - Victoria Station--The “tenth man”--Leavetaking--Roar of London-- - British habits--Everywhere khaki--System at the French port-- - The correspondents’ home--Strict censorship--The one link - with the reading public--Necessity for censorship--Freedom - of the press--“Jig-saw” intelligence experts--The run of - the trenches--Exchange of slang--Organisation of General - Headquarters--A business institution--A colossal dynamo. - - -Other armies go to war across the land, but the British go across the -sea. They take the Channel ferry in order to reach the front. Theirs -is the home road of war to me; the road of my affections, where men -speak my mother tongue. It begins on the platform at Victoria Station, -with the khaki of officers and men returning from leave, relieved by -the warmer colours of women who have come to say good-bye to those -they love. In five hours from the time of starting one may be across -that ribbon of salt water, which means much in isolation and little in -distance, and in the trenches. - -That veteran regular--let us separate him from the crowd,--is a -type I have often seen, a type that has become as familiar as one’s -neighbours in one’s own town. We will call him the tenth man. That is, -of every ten men who went to the front a year ago in his battalion, -nine are gone. All of the hardships and all of the terrors of war he -has witnessed: men dropped neatly by a bullet; men mangled by shells. - -His khaki is spotless, thanks to his wife, who has dressed in her best -for the occasion. Terrible as war itself, but new, that hat of hers, -which probably represented a good deal of looking into windows and -pricing; and her gown of the cheapest material, drooping from her round -shoulders, is the product of the poor dressmaking skill of hands which -show only too well who does all the housework at home. The children, -a boy of four and a girl of seven, are in their best, too, with faces -scrubbed till they shine. - -You will see like scenes in stations at home when the father has found -work in a distant city and is going on ahead to get established before -the family follow him. Such incidents are common in civil life; they -became common at Victoria Station. What is common has no significance, -editors say. - -When the time came to go through the gate, the veteran picked the boy -up in his arms and pressed him very close and the little girl looked on -wonderingly, while the mother was not going to make it any harder for -the father by tears. “Good-bye, Tom!” she said. So his name was Tom, -this tenth man. - -I spoke with him. His battalion was full with recruits. It had been -kept full. But, considering the law of chance, what about the surviving -one out of an original ten? - -“Yes, I’ve had my luck with me,” he said. “Probably my turn will come. -Maybe I’ll never see the wife and kids again.” - -The morning roar of London had begun. That station was a small spot -in the city. There were not enough officers and men taking the train -to make up a day’s casualty list; for ours was only a small party -returning from leave. The transports, unseen, carried the multitudes. -Wherever one had gone in England he had seen soldiers and wherever he -went in France he was to see still more soldiers. England had become -an armed camp; and England plodded on, “muddled” on, preparing, ever -preparing, to forge in time of war the thunderbolt for war which was -undreamed of in time of peace when other nations were forging their -thunderbolts. - -Still the recruiting posters called for more soldiers and the -casualty lists appeared day after day with the regularity of want -advertisements. Imagine eight million men under arms in the United -States and you have the equivalent to what England did by the volunteer -system. The more there were the more pessimistic became the British -press. Pessimism brought in recruits. Bad news made England take -another deep breath of energising determination. It was the last battle -which was decisive. She had always won that. She would win it again. - -They talk of war aboard the Pullman, after officers have waved their -hands out of the windows to their wives, quite as if they were going -to Scotland for a week-end instead of back to the firing-line. British -phlegm that is called. No, British habit, I should say, the race-bred, -individualistic quality of never parading emotions in public, the -instinct of keeping things which are one’s own to one’s self. -Personally, I like this way. In one form or another, as the hedges fly -by the train windows, the subject is always war. War creeps into golf, -or shooting, or investments, or politics. Only one suggestion quite -frees the mind from the omnipresent theme: Will the Channel be smooth? -The Germans have nothing to do with that. It is purely a matter of -weather. Bad sailors are more worried about the crossing than about -the shell-fire they are going to face. - -With bad sailors or good sailors, the significant thing which had -become a commonplace was that the Channel was a safely-guarded British -sea lane. In all my crossings I was never delayed. For England had -one thunderbolt ready forged when the war began. The only submarines, -or destroyers, or dirigibles that one saw were hers. Antennæ these -of the great fleet waiting with the threat of stored lightning ready -to be flashed from gun-mouths; a threat as efficacious as action, in -nowise mysterious or subtle, but definite as steel and powder, speaking -the will of a people in their chosen field of power, felt over all -the seas of the world, coast of Maine and the Carolinas no less than -Labrador. Thousands of transports had come and gone, carrying hundreds -of thousands of soldiers and food for men and guns to India; and on the -highroad to India, to Australia, to San Francisco, shipping went its -way undisturbed by anything that dives or flies. - -The same white hospital ships lying in that French harbour; the same -line of grey, dusty-looking ambulances parked on the quay! Everybody in -that one-time sleepy, week-end tourist resort seems to be in uniform; -to have something to do with war. All surroundings become those of war -long before you reach the front. That knot of civilians, waiting their -turn for another examination of the same kind as that on the other -side of the Channel, have shown good reasons for going to Paris to the -French consul in London, or they might not proceed even this far on -the road of war. They seem outcasts--a humble lot in the variegated -costumes of the civil world--outcasts from the disciplined world -in its pattern garb of khaki. Their excuse for not being in the game -is that they are too old or that they are women. For now the war has -sucked into its vortex all who are strong enough to fight. - -A traveller might be a spy; hence all this red tape for the many to -catch the one in its mesh. Even this red tape seems now to have become -normal. War is normal. It would seem strange to cross the Channel in a -time of peace; the harbour would not look like itself with civilians -not having to show their passports, and without the white hospital -ships, and the white-bearded landing-officer at the foot of the -gangway, and the board held up with lists of names of officers who have -telegrams waiting for them. - -For the civilians a yellow card of disembarkation and for the military -a white card. The officers and soldiers walk off at once and the -queue of civilians waits. One civilian with a white card, who belongs -to no regiment, who is not even a chaplain or a nurse, puzzles the -landing-officer for a moment. But there is something to go with it-- -a correspondent’s licence and a letter from a general who looks after -such things. They show that you “belong”; and if you don’t belong on -the road of war you will not get far. As well try to walk past the -doorman and take a seat in the United States Senate chamber during a -session. - -Most precious that magical piece of paper. I happen to be the only -American with one, unless he is in the fighting line--which is one -sure way to get to the front. The price of all the opera boxes at the -Metropolitan will not buy it; and it is the passport to the welcoming -smile from an army chauffeur whom I almost regard as my own. But its -real value appears at the outskirts of the city. There the dead line is -drawn; there the sheep are finally separated from the goats by a French -sentry guarding the winding passageway between some carts, which have -been in the same place in the road for months. - -The car spins over the broad, hard French road, in a land where for -many miles you see no signs of war, until it turns into the grounds -of a small château opposite a village church. The proprietor of a -dry-goods store in a neighbouring city spends his summers here; but -this summer he is in town, because the press wanted a place to live -and he was good enough to rent us his country place. So this is home, -where the five British and one American correspondents live and mess. -The expense of our cars costs us treble all the rest of our expenses. -They take us where we want to go. We go where we please, but we may not -write what we please. We see something like a thousand times more than -we can tell. The conditions are such as to make a news reporter throw -up his hands and faint. But if he had his unbridled way, one day he -might feel the responsibility for the loss of some hundreds of British -soldiers’ lives. - -“It may be all right for war correspondents, but it is a devil of a -poor place for a newspaper man,” as one editor said. Yet it is the only -place where you can really know anything about the war. - -We become a part of the machinery of the great organisation that -encloses us in its regular processes. No one in his heart envies the -press officer, who holds the blue pencil over us. He has to “take it -both going and coming.” He labours on our behalf and sometimes we -labour with him. The staff are willing enough to let us watch the army -at work, but they do not care whether or not we write about their war; -he wants us both to see it and to write about it. He tells us some big -piece of news, and then says: “That is for yourselves; you may not -write it.” - -People do not want to read about the correspondents, of course. They -want to read what the correspondents have to tell about the war; but -the conditions of our work are interesting because we are the link -between the army and the reading public. All that it learns from actual -observation of what the army is doing comes through us. - -We may not give the names of regiments and brigades until weeks after -a fight, because that will tell the enemy what troops were engaged; we -may not give the names of officers, for that is glorifying one when -possibly another did his duty equally well. It is the anonymity of the -struggle that makes it all seem distant and unreal--till the telegram -comes from the War Office to say that the one among the millions -who is dear to you is dead or wounded. Otherwise, it is a torment -of unidentified elements behind a curtain, which is parted for an -announcement of a gain or a loss, or to give out a list of the fallen. - -The world wants to read that Peter Smith led the King’s Own Particular -Fusiliers in a charge. It may not know Peter Smith, but his name and -that of his regiment make the information seem definite. The statement -that a well-known millionaire yesterday gave a million dollars to -charity, or that a man in a checked suit swam from the Battery to Coney -Island, is not convincing; nor is the fact that one private unnamed -held back the Germans with bombs in the traverse of a trench for hours -until help came. We at the front, however, do know the names; we meet -the officers and men. Ours is the intimacy which we may not interpret -except in general terms. - -Every article, every despatch, every letter, passes through the -censor’s hand. But we are never told what to write. The liberty of the -press is too old an institution in England for that. Always we may -learn why an excision is made. The purpose is to keep information from -the enemy. It is not like fighting Boers or Filipinos, this war of -walls of men who can turn the smallest bit of information to advantage. - -Intelligence officers speak of their work as piecing together the parts -of a jig-saw puzzle. What seems a most innocent fact by itself may -furnish the bit which gives the figure in the picture its face. It does -not follow because you are an officer that you know what may and what -may not be of service to the enemy. - -A former British officer who had become a well-known military critic, -in an account of a visit to the front mentioned having seen a battle -from a certain church tower. Publication of the account was followed by -a tornado of shell-fire that killed and wounded many British soldiers. -Only a staff specialist, trained in intelligence work and in constant -touch with the intelligence department, can be a safe censor. At the -same time, he is the best friend of the correspondent. He knows what -is harmless and what may not be allowed. He wants the press to have as -much as possible. For the more the public knows about its soldiers, -the better the _morale_ of the people, which reflects itself in the -_morale_ of the army. - -The published casualty lists giving the names of officers and men and -their battalions is a means of causing casualties. From a prisoner -taken the enemy learns what battalions were present at a given fight; -he adds up the numbers reported killed and wounded and ascertains what -the fight cost the enemy and, in turn, the effect of the fire from his -side. But the British public demanded to see the casualty lists and the -British press were allowed to gratify the desire. They appeared in the -newspapers, of course, days after the nearest relative of the dead or -wounded man had received official notification from the War Office. - -Officers’ letters from the front, so freely published earlier in -the war, amazed experienced correspondents by their unconscious -indiscretions. The line officer who had been in a fight told all that -he saw. Twenty officers doing the same along a stretch of front and the -jig-saw experts, plus what information they had from spies, were in -clover. Editors said: “But these men are officers. They ought to know -when they are imparting military secrets.” - -Alas, they do not know! It is not to be expected that they should. -Their business is to fight; the business of other experts is to -safeguard information. For a long time the British army kept -correspondents from the front on the principle that the business of -a correspondent must be to tell what ought not to be told. Yet they -were to learn that the accredited correspondent, an expert at his -profession, working in harmony with the experts of the staff, let no -military secrets pass. - -At our mess we get the Berlin dailies promptly. Soon after the Germans -are reading the war correspondence from their own front we are reading -it, and laughing at jokes in their comic papers and at cartoons which -exhibit John Bull as a stricken old ogre and Britannia who Rules the -Waves with the corners of her mouth drawn down to the bottom of her -chin, as she sees the havoc that von Tirpitz is making with submarines -which do not stop us from receiving our German jokes regularly across -the Channel. - -Doubtless the German messes get their _Punch_ and the London -illustrated weeklies regularly. In the time that it took the English -daily with the account of the action seen from the church tower to -reach Berlin and the news to be wired to the front, the German guns -made use of the information. Neutral little Holland is the telltale of -both sides; the ally and the enemy of all intelligence corps. Scores -of experts in jig-saw puzzles on both sides seize every scrap of -information and piece them together. Each time that one gets a bit from -a newspaper he is for a sharper press censorship on his side and a more -liberal one on the other. - -We six correspondents have our insignia, as must every one who is free -to move along the lines. By a glance you may tell everybody’s branch -and rank in that complicated and disciplined world, where no man acts -for himself, but always on some one else’s orders. - -“Don’t you know who they are? They are the correspondents,” I heard a -soldier say. “D. Chron., that’s the _Daily Chronicle_; M. Post, that’s -the _Morning Post_; D. Mail, that’s the _Daily Mail_. There’s one with -U. S. A. What paper is that?” - -“It ain’t a paper,” said another. “It’s the States--he’s a Yank!” The -War Office put it on the American cousin’s arm, and wherever it goes it -seems welcome. It may puzzle the gunners when the American says, “That -was a peach of a shot, right across the pan!” or the infantry when he -says, “It cuts no ice!” and there is no ice visible in Flanders; he -speaks about typhoid to the medical corps which calls it enteric; -and “fly-swatting” is a new word to the sanitarians, who are none the -less busily engaged in that noble art. Lessons for the British in -the “American language” while you wait! In return, the American is -learning what a “stout-hearted thruster” and other phrases mean in the -Simon-pure English. - -The correspondents are the spoiled spectators of the army’s work; the -itinerants of the road of war. Nobody sees so much as we, because we -have nothing to do but to see. An officer looking at the towers of -Ypres cathedral, a mile away from the trench where he was, said: “No, -I’ve never been in Ypres. Our regiment has not been stationed in that -part of the line.” - -We have sampled all the trenches; we have studied the ruins of Ypres -with an archæologist’s eye; we know the names of the estaminets of -the villages, from “The Good Farmer” to “The Harvester’s Rest” and -“The Good Cousin,” not to mention “The Omnibus Stop” on the Cassell -Hill. Madame who keeps the hotel in the G. H. Q. town knows me so well -that we wave hands to each other as I pass the door; and the clerks -in a certain shop have learned that the American likes his fruit raw, -instead of stewed in the English fashion, and plenty of it, especially -if it comes from the South out of season, as it does from Florida or -California to pampered human beings at home, who, if they could see as -much of this war as I have seen, would appreciate what a fortunate lot -they are to have not a ribbon of salt water but a broad sea full of it, -and the British navy, too, between them and the thing on the other side -of the zone of death. - -G. H. Q. means General Headquarters, and B. E. F., which shows -the way for your letters from England, means British Expeditionary -Force. The high leading, the brains, of the army are theoretically at -G. H. Q. That word theoretically is used advisedly in view of opinion -at other points. An officer sent from G. H. Q. to command a brigade -had not been long out before he began to talk about those confounded -one-thing-and-another fellows at G. H. Q. When he was at G. H. Q., he -used to talk about those confounded one-thing-and-another fellows who -commanded corps, divisions, and brigades at the front. The philosophers -of G. H. Q. smiled and the philosophers of the army smiled--it was -the old story of the staff and the line; of the main office and the -branches. But the line did the most smiling to see the new brigadier -getting a taste of his own medicine. - -G. H. Q. directs the whole; here every department of all that vast -concern which supplies the hundreds of thousands of men and prepares -for the other hundreds of thousands is focussed. The symbol of its -authority is a red band around the cap, which means that you are a -staff officer. No war at G. H. Q., only the driving force of war. It -seems as far removed from the front as the New York office of a string -of manufacturing plants. - -If one follows a red-banded cap into a door he sees other officers and -clerks and typewriters, and a sign which says that a department chief -has his desk in the drawing-room of a private house--where he has had -it for months. Go to one mess and you will hear talk about garbage -pails and how to kill flies; to another, about hospitals and clearing -stations for the wounded; to another, about barbed wire, sandbags, -spades, timber, and galvanised iron--the engineers; to another, -about guns, shells, rifles, bullets, mortars, bombs, bayonets, and -high explosives--the ordnance; to another, about jam, bread, bacon, -uniforms, iron rations, socks, underclothes, canned goods, fresh beef, -and motor trucks--the Army Service Corps; to another, about attacks, -counter-attacks, and salients, and about what the others are doing and -will have to do--the operations. - -The chief of staff drives the eight-horse team. He works sixteen hours -a day. So do most of the others. This is how you prove to the line -that you have a right to be at G. H. Q. When you get to know G. H. Q. -it seems like any other business institution. Many are there who don’t -want to be there; but they have been found out. They are specialists, -who know how to do one thing particularly well and are kept doing it. -No use of growling that you would like a “fighting job.” - -G. H. Q. is the main station on the road of war, which hears the sound -of the guns faintly. Beyond is the region of all the activities that -it commands, up to the trenches, where all roads end and all efforts -consummate. One has seen dreary, flat lands of mud and leafless trees -become fair with the spring, the growing harvests reaped, and the -leaves begin to fall. Always the factory of war was in the same place; -the soldiers billeted in the same villages; the puffs of shrapnel -smoke over the same belt of landscape; the ruins of the same villages -being pounded by high explosives. Always the sound of guns; always -the wastage of life, as passing ambulances, the curtains drawn, speed -by, their part swiftly and covertly done. The enormity of the thing -holds the imagination; its sure and orderly processes of an organised -civilisation working at destruction win the admiration. There is -a thrill in the courage and sacrifice and the drilled readiness of -response to orders. - -One is under varying spells. To-day he seems in the midst of a -fantastic world, whose horror makes it impossible of realisation. -To-morrow, as his car takes him along a pleasant by-road among -wheat-fields where peasants are working and no soldier is in sight, it -is a world of peace, and one thinks that he has mistaken the roar of a -train for the distant roar of gun-fire. Again, it seems the most real -of worlds, an exclusive man’s world, where nothing counts but organised -material force, and all those cleanly, well-behaved men in khaki are a -part of the permanent population. - -One sees the war as a colossal dynamo, where force is perpetual like -the energy of the sun. The war is going on forever. The reaper cuts the -harvest, but another harvest comes. War feeds on itself, renews itself. -Live men replace the dead. There seems no end to supplies of men. -The pounding of the guns, like the roar of Niagara, becomes eternal. -Nothing can stop it. - - - - -XV - -TRENCHES IN WINTER - - A trench must be “experienced”--Appearance of the trench--A - trench periscope--“One hundred and fifty yards away”-- - Imagination at work--The dead wall opposite--Trench realism-- - A genuine officer--A night excursion--General Mud--The German - flares--A house in a trench wall--Oozing walls--“A ditch in - the mud”--Discovered by a searchlight--Suspense--Arrival of - supplies--The relief and cleanliness. - - -The difference between trench warfare in winter and in summer is that -between sleeping on the lawn in March and in July. It was in the mud -and winds of March that I first saw the British front. The winds were -much like the seasonal winds at home; but the Flanders mud is like no -other mud, in the judgment of the British soldier. It is mixed with -glue. When I returned to the front in June for a longer stay, the mud -had become clouds of dust that trailed behind the automobile. - -In March my eagerness to see a trench was that of one from the Western -prairies to get his first glimpse of the ocean. Once I might go into a -trench as often as I pleased I became “fed up” with trenches, as the -British say. They did not mean much more than an alley or a railroad -cut. One came to think of the average peaceful trench as a ditch where -some men were eating marmalade and bully beef and looking across a -field at some more men who were eating sausage and “K. K.” bread, each -party taking care that the other did not see him. - -Writers have served us trenches in every possible literary style that -censorship will permit. Whoever “tours” one is convinced that none of -the descriptions published heretofore has been adequate and writes one -of his own which will be final. All agree that it is not like what they -thought it was. But, despite all the descriptions, the public still -fails to visualise a trench. You do not see a trench with your eyes so -much as with your mind and imagination. That long line where all the -powers of destruction within man’s command are in deadlock has become -a symbol for something which cannot be expressed by words. No one has -yet really described a shell-burst, or a flash of lightning, or Niagara -Falls; and no one will ever describe a trench. He cannot put any one -else there. He can only be there himself. - -The first time that I looked over a British parapet was in the edge of -a wood. Board walks ran across the spongy earth here and there; the -doors of little shanties with earth roofs opened on to those streets, -which were called Piccadilly and the Strand. I was reminded of a -pleasant prospector’s camp in Alaska. Only everybody was in uniform and -occasionally something whished through the branches of the trees. One -looked up to see what it was and where it was going, this stray bullet, -without being any wiser. - -We passed along one of the walks until we came to a wall of sandbags-- -simply white bags about three-quarters of the size of an ordinary -pillowslip, filled with earth and laid one on top of another like -bags of grain. You stood beside a man who had a rifle laid across the -top of the pile. Of course, you did not wear a white hat or wave a -handkerchief. One does not do that when he plays hide-and-seek. - -Or, if you preferred, you might look into a chip of glass, with your -head wholly screened by the wall of sandbags, which got a reflection -from another chip of glass above the parapet. This is the trench -periscope; the principle of all of them is the same. They have no more -variety than the fashions in knives, forks and spoons on the dinner -table. - -One hundred and fifty yards away across a dead field was another wall -of sandbags. The distance is important. It is always stated in all -descriptions. One hundred and fifty yards is not much. Only when you -get within forty or fifty yards have you something to brag about. Yet -three hundred yards may be more dangerous than fifteen, if an artillery -“hate” is on. - -Look for an hour and all you see is the wall of sandbags. Not even a -rabbit runs across that dead space. The situation gets its power of -suggestion from the fact that there are Germans behind the other wall-- -real, live Germans. They are trying to kill the British on our side -and we are trying to kill them; and they are as coyly unaccommodating -about putting up their heads as we are. The emotion of the situation -is in the fact that a sharpshooter might send a shot at your cap; he -might smash a periscope; a shell might come. A rifle cracks--that is -all. Nearly every one has heard the sound, which is no different at the -front than elsewhere. And the sound is the only information you get. It -is not so interesting as shooting at a deer, for you can tell whether -you hit him or not. The man who fires from a trench is not even certain -whether he saw a German or not. He shot at some shadow or object along -the crest which might have been a German head. - -Thus, one must take the word of those present that there is any -more life behind than in front of the sandbags. However, if you are -sceptical you may have conviction by starting to crawl over the top of -the British parapet. After dark the soldiers will slip over and bring -your body back. It is this something you do not see, this something -the imagination visualises, that convinces you that you ought to be -considerate enough of posterity to write the real description of a -trench. Look for an hour at that wall of sandbags and your imagination -sees more and more, while your eye sees only sandbags. What does this -war mean to you? There it is; only you can describe what this war means -to you. - -Many a soldier who has spent months in trenches has not seen a -German. I boast that I have seen real Germans through my glasses. -They were walking along a road back of their trenches. It was most -fascinating. All the Germans I had ever seen in Germany were not half -so interesting. I strained my eyes watching those wonderful beings as I -might at the first visiting party from Mars to earth. There must have -been at least ten out of the Kaiser’s millions. - -In summer that wood had become a sylvan bower, or a pastoral paradise, -or a leafy nook, as you please. The sun played through the branches in -a patchwork; flowers bloomed on the dirt roofs of the shanties, and a -swallow had a nest--famous swallow!--on one of the parapets. True, -it was not on the front parapet; it was on the reserve. The swallow -knew what he was about. He was taking a reasonable amount of risk and -playing reasonably secure to get a front seat, according to the ethics -of the war correspondent. The two walls of sandbags were in the same -place that they had been six months previously. A little patching had -been done after some shells had hit the mark, though not many had come. - -For this was a quiet corner. Neither side was interested in stirring up -the hornets’ nest. If a member of Parliament wished to see what trench -life was like he was brought here, because it was one of the safest -places for a few minutes’ look at the sandbags which Mr. Atkins stared -at week in and week out. Some Conservatives, however, in the case of -Radical members, would have chosen a different kind of trench to show; -for example, that one which was suggested to me by the staff officer -with the twinkle in his eye in my best day at the front. - -In want of an army pass to the front in order to write your own -description, then, put up a wall of sandbags in a vacant lot and -another one hundred and fifty yards away and fire a rifle occasionally -from your wall at the head of a man on the opposite side, who will -shoot at yours--and there you are. If you prefer the realistic to the -romantic school and wish to appreciate the nature of trench life in -winter, find a piece of wet, flat country, dig a ditch seven or eight -feet deep and stand in icy water looking across at another ditch, and -sleep in a cellar that you have dug in the wall, and you are near -understanding what Mr. Atkins has been doing for his country. The ditch -should be cut zigzag in and out, like the lines binding the squares of -a checker-board; that makes more work and localises the burst of shells. - -Of course, the moist walls will be continually falling in and require -mending in a drenching, freezing rain of the kind that the Lord visits -on all who wage war underground in Flanders. Incidentally, you must -look after the pumps, lest the water rise to your neck. For all the -while you are fighting Flanders as well as the Germans. - -To carry realism to the limit of the Grand Guignol school, then, -arrange some bags of bullets with dynamite charges on a wire, which -will do for shrapnel; plant some dynamite in the parapet, which will -do for high explosive shells that burst on contact; and sink heavier -charges of dynamite under your feet, which will do for mines--and set -them off, while you engage some one to toss grenades and bombs at you. - -Though scores of officers’ letters had given their account of trench -life with the vividness of personal experience, I must mention my -first trench in Flanders in winter when, with other correspondents, -I saw the real thing under the guidance of the commanding officer of -that particular section, a slight, wiry man who wore the ribbon of the -Victoria Cross, won in another war for helping to “save the guns.” He -made seeing trenches in the mud seem a pleasure trip. He was the kind -who would walk up to his ball as if he knew how to play golf, send out -a clean, fair, long drive, and then use his iron as if he knew how to -use an iron, without talking about his game on the way around or when -he returned to the club-house. - -Men could go into danger behind him without realising that they were -in danger; they could share hardship without realising that there were -any hardships. Such as he put faith and backbone into soldiers by their -very manner; and if their professional training equal their talents, -when war comes they win victories. - -Of course, we had rubber boots, electric torches, and wore British -warms, those short, thick coats which accrue a modicum of mud for you -to carry besides what you are carrying on your boots. We walked along -a hard road in the dark toward an aurora borealis of German flares, -which popped into the sky like Roman candles and burst in circles of -light. They seemed to be saying: “Come on! Try to crawl up on us and -play us a trick and our eyes will find you and our marksmen will stop -you. Come on! We make the night into day, and watching never ceases -from our parapet.” - -Occasional rifle-shots and a machine gun’s ter-rut were audible from -the direction of the jumping red glare, which stretched right and left -as far as the eye could see. We broke off the road into a morass of -mud, as one might cross lots when he had lost his way, and plunged on -till the commanding officer said, “We go in here!” and we descended -into a black chasm in the earth. The wonder was that any ditch could -be cut in soil which the rains had turned into syrup. Mud oozed from -the sandbags, through the wire netting, and between the wood supports -which held the walls in place. It was just as bad over in the German -trenches. General Mud laid siege to both armies. The field of battle -where he gathered his gay knights was a slough. His tug of war was -strife against landslides, rheumatism, pneumonia, and frozen feet. - -The soldier tries to kill his adversary; he tries to prevent his -adversary from killing him. He is as busy in safeguarding as in taking -life. While he breathes, thinks, fights mud, he blesses as well as -curses mud. Mother Earth is still unconquerable. In her bosom man still -finds security; such security that “dug in” he can defy at a hundred -yards’ distance rifles that carry death three thousand yards. She -it is that has made the deadlock of the trenches and plastered their -occupants with her miry hands. - -The C. O. lifted a curtain of bagging as you might lift a hanging over -an alcove bookcase, and a young officer, rising from his blankets in -his house in the trench-wall to a stooping posture, said that all was -quiet. His uniform seemed fleckless. Was it possible that he wore -some kind of cloth which shed mud spatters? He was another of the -type of Captain P----, my host at Neuve Chapelle; a type formed on -the type of seniors such as his C. O. Unanalysable this quality, but -there is something distinguished about it and delightfully appealing. -A man who can be the same in a trench in Flanders in midwinter as -in a drawing-room has my admiration. They never lose their manner, -these English officers. They carry it into the charge and back in the -ambulance with them to England, where they wish nothing so much as that -their friends will “cut out the hero stuff,” as our own officers say. - -In other dank cellars soldiers who were off guard were lying or -sitting. The radiance of the flares lighted the profiles of those on -guard, whose faces were half hidden by coat collars or ear-flaps-- -imperturbable, silent, marooned and marooning, watchful and fearless. -The thing had to be done and they were doing it; and they were going to -keep on doing it. - -There was nothing dry in that trench, unless it was the bowl of a man’s -pipe. There were not even any braziers. In your nostrils was the odour -of the soil of Flanders, cultivated by many generations through many -wars. As night wore on the sky was brightened by cold, winter stars and -their soft light became noticeable between the disagreeable flashes of -the flares. - -We walked on and on. It was like walking in a winding ditch; that was -all. The same kind of walls at every turn; the same kind of dim figures -in saturated, heavy army overcoats. Slipping off the board walk into -the ooze, one was thrown against the mud wall as his foot sank. Then -he held fast to his boot straps lest the boot remain in the mud while -his foot came out. Only the C. O. never slipped. He knew how to tour -trenches. The others were as clumsy beside him as if they were trying -to walk a tight rope. - -“Good night!” he said to each group of men as he passed, with the cheer -of one who brings a confident spirit to vigils in the mud and with that -note of affection of the commander who has learned to love his men by -the token of ordeals when he saw them hold fast against odds. - -“Good night, sir!” they answered; and in their tone was something which -you liked to hear--a finer tribute to the C. O. than medals which -kings can bestow. It was affection and trust. They were ready to follow -him, for they knew that he knew how to lead. I was not surprised when I -heard of his promotion, later. I shall not be surprised when I hear of -it again. For he had brain and heart and the gift of command. - -“Shall we go on or shall we go back?” he asked when we had gone about a -mile. “Have you had enough?” - -We had, without a dissenting voice. A ditch in the mud--that was all, -no matter how much farther we went. So we passed out of the trench into -a soapy, slippery mud which had been ploughed ground in the autumn, -now become lathery with the beat of men’s steps. Our party became -separated, when some foundered and tried to hoist themselves with both -boot straps at once. The C. O. called out in order to locate us in the -darkness, and the voice of an officer in the trenches cut in: “Keep -still! The Germans are only a hundred yards away!” - -“Sorry!” whispered the C. O. “I ought to have known better.” - -Then one of the German searchlights that had been swinging its stream -of light across the paths of the flares lay its fierce, comet eye on -us, glistening on the froth-streaked mud and showing each mud-splashed -figure in heavy coat in weird silhouette. - -“Stand still!” - -That is the order whenever searchlights come spying in your direction. -So we stood still in the mud, looking at one another and wondering. It -was the one tense second of the night, which lifted our thoughts out of -the mud with the elation of risk. That searchlight was the eye of death -looking for a target. With the first crack of a bullet we should have -known that we were discovered and that it was no longer good tactics to -stand still. We should have dropped on all fours into the porridge. The -searchlight swept on. Perhaps Hans at the machine gun was nodding or -perhaps he did not think us worth while. Either supposition was equally -agreeable to us. - -We kept moving our mud-poulticed feet forward, with the flares at our -backs, till we came to a road where we saw dimly a silent company of -soldiers drawn up and behind them the supplies for the trench. Through -the mud and under cover of darkness every bit of barbed wire, every -board, every ounce of food, must go up to the moles in the ditch. The -searchlights and the flares and the machine guns waited for the relief. -They must be fooled. But in this operation most of the casualties in -the average trenches, both British and German, occurred. Without a -chance to strike back, the soldier was shot at by an assassin in the -night. - -When the men who had been serving their turn of duty in the trenches -came out, a magnet drew their weary steps--cleanliness. They thought -of nothing except soap and water. For a week they need not fight mud -or Germans or parasites, which, like General Mud, waged war against -both British and Germans. Standing on the slats of the concrete floor -of a factory, they peeled off the filthy, saturated outer skin of -clothing with its hideous, crawling inhabitants and, naked, leapt into -great, steaming vats, where they scrubbed and gurgled and gurgled and -scrubbed. When they sprang out to apply the towels, they were men with -the feel of new bodies in another world. - -Waiting for them were clean clothes, which had been boiled and -disinfected; and waiting, too, was the shelter of their billets in the -houses of French towns and villages, and rest and food and food and -rest, and newspapers and tobacco and gossip--but chiefly rest and the -joy of lethargy as tissue was rebuilt after the first long sleep, often -twelve hours at a stretch. They knew all the sensations of physical -man, man battling with nature, in contrasts of exhaustion and danger -and recuperation and security, as the pendulum swung slowly back from -fatigue to the glow of strength. - -Those who came out of the trenches quite “done up,” Colonel Bate, -Irish and genial, fatherly and not lean, claimed for his own. After -the washing they lay on cots under a glass roof, and they might play -dominoes and read the papers when they were well enough to sit up. They -had the food which Colonel Bate knew was good for them, just as well as -he knew what was deadly for the inhabitants whom they brought into that -isolated room which every man must pass through before he was admitted -to the full radiance of the colonel’s curative smile. When they were -able to return to the trenches, each was written down as one unit more -in the colonel’s weekly statistical reports. In summer he entertained -_al fresco_ in an open air camp. - - - - -XVI - -IN NEUVE CHAPELLE - - British advance--The human stone wall moves--Neuve Chapelle “on - the map”--The travelled British army--A demolished trench-- - Stray bullets--The intelligence system--A captured spy-- - Old friends--Power of the British artillery--Front line - breastworks--Business-like readiness--A cosy house--A ticklish - walk--Glowing braziers--“How do they feel in the States?”-- - The Rhine or Berlin?--The passing of the “Soldiers Three”--The - modern Tommy--Capturing a helmet. - - -Typical of many others, this quiet village in a flat country of rich -farming land, with a church, a school, a post-office, and stores where -the farmers could buy a pound of sugar or a spool of thread, employ a -notary, or get a pair of shoes cobbled or a horse shod, without having -to go to the neighbouring town of Béthune, Neuve Chapelle became famous -only after it had ceased to exist--unless a village remains a village -after it has been reduced to its original elements by shell-fire. - -It was the scene of one of those actions in the long siege line which -have the dignity of a battle; the losses on either side, about sixteen -thousand, were two-thirds of those at Waterloo or Gettysburg. Here -the British after the long winter’s stalemate in the mud, where they -stuck when the exhausted Germans could press them no farther, took the -offensive, with the sap of spring rising in their veins. - -The guns blazed the way and the infantry charged in the path of the -guns’ destruction; and they kept on while the shield of shell-fire -held. When it left an opening for the German machine guns through its -curtain and the German guns visited on the British what their guns -had been visiting on the Germans, the British stopped. A lesson was -learned; a principle established. A gain was made, if no goal were -reached. - -The human stone wall had moved. It had broken some barriers and come -to rest before others, again to become a stone wall. But it knew that -the thing could be done with guns and shells enough--and only with -enough. This means a good deal when you have been under dog for a long -time. Months were to pass waiting for enough shells and guns, with -many little actions and their steady drain of life, while every one -looked back to Neuve Chapelle as a landmark. It was something definite -for a man to say that he had been wounded at Neuve Chapelle and quite -indefinite to say that he had been wounded in the course of the day’s -work in the trenches. - -No one might see the battle in that sea of mud. He might as well have -looked at the smoke of Vesuvius with an idea of learning what was going -on inside of the crater. I make no further attempt at describing it. My -view came after the battle was over and the cauldron was still steaming. - -Though in March, 1914, one would hardly have given Neuve Chapelle, -intact and peaceful, a passing glance from an automobile, in March, -1915, Neuve Chapelle in ruins was the one town in Europe which I most -wanted to see. Correspondents had not then established themselves. The -staff officer whom I asked if I might spend a night in the new British -line was a cautious man. He bade me sign a paper freeing the British -army from any responsibility. Judging by the general attitude of the -Staff, one could hardly take the request seriously. One correspondent -less ought to please any Staff; but he said that he had an affection -for the regulars and knew that there were always plenty of recruits -to take their places without resorting to conscription. The real -responsibility was with the Germans. He suggested that I might go out -to the German trenches and see if I could obtain a paper from them. -He thought if I were quick about it I might get at least a yard in -front of the British parapet in daylight. His sense of humour I had -recognised when we had met in Bulgaria. - -Any traveller is bound to meet men whom he has met before in the -travelled British army. At the brigade headquarters town, which, as -one of the officers said, proved that bricks and mortar can float in -mud, the face of the brigadier seemed familiar to me. I found that I -had met him in Shanghai in the Boxer campaign, when he had come across -a riotous China from India on one of those journeys in remote Asia -which British officers are fond of making. He was “all there,” whether -dealing with a mob of Orientals or with Germans in the trenches. I -made myself at home in the parlour of the private house occupied by -himself and staff, while he went on with his work. No flag outside the -house; no sign that it was Headquarters. An automobile stopped in front -only long enough for an officer to enter it or alight from it. Brigade -headquarters is precisely the target that German aeroplanes or spies -like to locate for their guns. - -“Are you ready? Have you your rubber boots?” the brigadier asked a few -minutes later, as he put his head in at the parlour door. It would not -do to approach the trenches until after dark. Of course, I had rubber -boots. One might as well try to go to sea without a boat as to trenches -without rubber boots in winter. “I’ll take my constitutional,” he -added; “the trouble with this kind of war is that you get no exercise.” - -He was a small man, but how he could walk! I began to understand why -the Boxers could not catch him. He turned back after we had gone a mile -or more and one of his staff went on with me to a point where, just -at dusk, I was turned over to another pilot, an aide from battalion -headquarters, and we set out across sodden fields that had yielded beet -root in the last harvest, taking care not to step in shell-holes. Dusk -settled into darkness. No human being was in sight except ourselves. - -“There’s the first line of German trenches before the attack,” said my -companion. “Our guns got fairly on them.” Dimly I saw what seemed like -a huge, long, irregular furrow of earth which had been torn almost out -of the shape of a trench by British shells. “There was no living in it -when the guns began all together. The only thing to do was to get out.” - -Around us was utter silence, where the hell of thunders and destruction -by the artillery had raged during the battle. Then a spent or ricochet -bullet swept overhead, with the whistle of complaint of spent bullets -at having travelled far without hitting any object. It had gone high -over the British trenches; it had carried the full range; and the -chance of its hitting any one was ridiculously small. But the nearer -you get to the trenches, the more likely these strays are to find a -victim. “Hit by a stray bullet!” is a very common saying at the front. - -At last we felt the solidity of a paved road under our feet, and -following this we came to a peasant’s cottage. Inside, two soldiers -were sitting beside telephone and telegraph instruments, behind a -window stuffed with sandbags. On our way across the fields we had -stepped on wires laid on the ground; we had stooped to avoid wires -stretched on poles--the wires that form the web of the army’s -intelligence. - -Of course, no two units of communication are dependent on one wire. -There is always a duplicate. If one is broken it is immediately -repaired. The factories spin out wire to talk over and barbed wire for -entanglements in front of trenches and weave millions of bags to be -filled with sand for breastworks to protect men from bullets. If Sir -John French wished, he could talk with Lord Kitchener in London and -this battalion headquarters at Neuve Chapelle within the same space of -time that a railroad president may speak over the long distance from -Chicago to New York and order dinner out in the suburbs. - -These two men at the table, their faces tanned by exposure, men in the -thirties, had the British regular of long service stamped all over -them. War was an old story to them; and an old story, too, laying -signal wires under fire. - -“We’re very comfortable,” said one. “No danger from stray bullets or -from shrapnel; but if one of the Jack Johnsons come in, why, there’s no -more cottage and no more argument between you and me. We’re dead and -maybe buried, or maybe scattered over the landscape, along with the -broken pieces of the roof.” - -A soldier was on guard with bayonet fixed inside that little room, -which had passageway to the cellar past the table, among straw beds. -This seemed rather peculiar. The reason lay on one of the beds in a -private’s khaki. He had come into this battalion’s trenches from our -front and said that he belonged to the D---- regiment and had been out -on patrol and lost his way. - -It was two miles to that regiment and two miles is a long distance to -stray between two lines of trenches so close together, when at any -point in your own line you will find friends. It was possible that this -fellow’s real name was Hans Schmidt, who had learned cockney English in -childhood in London, and in a dead British private’s uniform had come -into the British trenches to get information to which he was anything -but welcome. He was to be sent under guard to the D---- regiment for -identification; and if he were found to be a Hans and not a Tommy-- -well, though he had tried a very stupid dodge he must have known what -to expect when he was found out, if his officers had properly trained -him in German rules of war. - -I had a glimpse of him in the candlelight before stooping to feel my -way down three or four narrow steps to the cellar, where the farmer -ordinarily kept potatoes and vegetables. There were straw beds around -the walls here, too. The major commanding the battalion rose from his -seat at a table on which were some cutlery, a jam pot, tobacco, pipes, -a newspaper or two, and army telegraph forms and maps. - -If the hosts of mansions could only make their hospitality as simple -as the major’s, there would be less affectation in the world. He -introduced me to an officer sitting on the other side of the table and -to one lying in his blankets against the wall, who lifted his head and -blinked and said that he was very glad to see me. - -It is a small world, for China cropped up here, as it had at brigade -headquarters. The major had been in garrison at Peking when the war -began. If my shipmate on a long battleship cruise, Lt.-Col. Dion -Williams, U.S.M.C., reads this out in Peking, let it tell him that the -major is just as urbane in the cellar of a second-rate farmhouse on the -outskirts of Neuve Chapelle as he would be in a corner of the Peking -Club. - -“How is it? Paining you any?” asked the major of Captain P----, on the -other side of the table. - -“No account. It’s quite all right,” said the captain. - -“Using the sling?” - -“Part of the time. Hardly need it, though.” - -Captain P---- was one of those men whose eyes are always smiling; who -seems, wherever he is, to be glad that he is not in a worse place; who -goes right on smiling at the mud in the trenches and bullets and shells -and death. They are not emotional, the British, perhaps, but they are -given to cheeriness, if not to laughter, and they have a way of smiling -at times when smiles are much needed. The smile is more often found at -the front than back at Headquarters; or perhaps it is more noticeable -there. - -“You see, he got a bullet through the arm yesterday,” the major -explained. “He was reported wounded, but remained on duty in the -trench.” I saw that the captain would rather not have publicity given -to such an ordinary incident. He did not see why people should talk -about his arm. “You are to go with him into the trench for the night,” -the major added; and I thought myself very lucky in my companion. - -“Aren’t you going to have dinner with us?” the major asked him. - -“Why, I had something to eat not very long ago,” said Captain P----. -One was not sure whether he had or not. - -“There’s plenty,” said the major. - -“In that event, I don’t see why I shouldn’t eat when I have a chance,” -the captain returned; which I found was a characteristic trench habit, -particularly in winter when exposure to the raw, cold air calls for -plenty of body-furnace heat. - -We had a ration soup and ration ham and ration prunes and cheese; -what Tommy Atkins gets. When we were outside the house and starting -for the trench, this captain, with his wounded arm, wanted to carry -my knapsack. He seemed to think that refusal was breaking The Hague -conventions. - -Where we turned off the road, broken finger-points of brick walls -in the faint moonlight indicated the site of Neuve Chapelle; other -fragments of walls in front of us were the remains of a house; and that -broken tree-trunk showed what a big shell can do. The trunk, a good -eighteen inches in diameter, had not only been cut in two by one of the -monsters of the new British artillery, but had been carried on for ten -feet and left lying solidly in the bed of splinters of the top of the -stump. All this had been in the field of that battle of a day, which -was as fierce as the fiercest day at Gettysburg and fought within about -the same space. Every tree, every square rod of ground, had been paid -for by shells, bullets, and human life. - -But now we were near the trenches; or, rather, the breastworks. We -are always speaking of the trenches, while not all parts of the line -are held by trenches. A trench is dug in the ground; a breastwork is -raised from the level of the ground. At some points a trench becomes -practically a breastwork, as its wall is raised to get free of the mud -and water. - -We came into the open and heard the sound of voices and saw a spotty -white wall; for some of the sandbags of the new British breastworks -still retained their original colour. On the reverse side of this -wall rifles were leaning in readiness, their fixed bayonets faintly -gleaming in the moonlight. I felt of the edge of one and it was sharp, -quite prepared for business. In the surroundings of damp earth and -mud-bespattered men, this rifle seemed the cleanest thing of all, -meticulously clean, that ready weapon whose well-aimed and telling -fire, in obedient and cool hands, was the object of all the drill of -the new infantry in England; of all the drill of all infantry. Where -pickets watched in the open in the old days before armies met in -pitched battle, an occasional soldier now stands with rifle laid on the -parapet, watching. - -Across a reach of field faintly were made out the white spots of -another wall of breastworks, the German, at the edge of a stretch of -woods, the Bois du Bies. The British reached these woods in their -advance; but, their aeroplanes being unable to spot the fall of shells -in the mist, they had to fall back for want of artillery support. Along -this line where we stood outside the village they stopped; and to stop -is to set the spades going to begin the defences which, later, had -risen to a man’s height, and with rifles and machine guns had riddled -the German counter-attack. - -And the Germans had to go back to the edge of the woods, where they, -too, began digging and building their new line. So the enemies were -fixed again behind their walls of earth, facing each other across the -open, where it was death for any man to expose himself by day. - -“Will you have a shot, sir?” one of the sentries asked me. - -“At what?” - -“Why, at the top of the trench over there, or at anything you see -moving,” he said. - -But I did not think that it was an invitation for a non-combatant to -accept. If the bullet went over the top of the trench it had still two -thousand yards and more to go, and it might find a target before it -died. So, in view of the law of probabilities, no bullet is quite waste. - -“Now, which is my house?” asked Captain P----. “I really can’t find my -own home in the dark.” - -Behind the breastwork were many little houses three or four feet in -height, all of the same pattern, and made of boards and mud. The mud is -put on top to keep out shrapnel bullets. - -“Here you are, sir!” said a soldier. - -Asking me to wait until he made a light, the captain bent over as if -he were about to crawl under the top rail of a fence and his head -disappeared. After he had put a match to a candle and stuck it on a -stick thrust into the wall, I could see the interior of his habitation. -A rubber sheet spread on the moist earth served as floor, carpet, -mattress, and bed. At a squeeze there was room for two others besides -himself. They did not need any doormat, for when they lay down their -feet would be at the door. - -“Quite cosy, don’t you think?” remarked the captain. He seemed to feel -that he had a royal chamber. But, then, he was the kind of man who -might sleep in a muddy field under a wagon and regard the shelter of -the wagon body as a luxury. “Leave your knapsack here,” he continued, -“and we’ll go and see what is doing along the line.” - -In other words, after you had left your bag in the host’s hall, he -suggested a stroll in the village or across the fields. But only to see -war would he have asked you to walk in such mud. - -“Not quite so loud!” he warned a soldier who was bringing up boards -from the rear under cover of darkness. “If the Germans hear they may -start firing.” - -Two other men were piling mud on top of a section of breastwork at an -angle to the main line. - -“What is that for?” the captain asked. - -“They get an enfilade on us here, sir, and Mr. ---- (the lieutenant) -told me to make this higher.” - -“That’s no good. A bullet will go right through,” said the captain. -“We’ll have to wait until we get more sandbags.” - -A little farther on we came to an open space, with no protection -between us and the Germans. Half a dozen men were piling earth against -a staked chicken wire to extend the breastworks. Rather, they were -piling mud, and they were besmirched from head to foot. They looked -like reeking Neptunes rising from a slough. In the same position in -daylight, standing full height before German rifles at three hundred -yards, they would have been shot dead before they could leap to cover. - -“How does it go?” asked the captain. - -“Very well, sir; though what we need is sandbags.” - -“We’ll have some up to-morrow.” - -At the moment there was no firing in the vicinity. Faintly I heard the -Germans pounding stakes, at work improving their own breastworks. - -A British soldier appeared out of the darkness in front. - -“We’ve found two of our men out there with their heads blown off by -shells,” he said. “Have we permission to go out and bury them, sir?” - -“Yes.” - -They would be as safe as the fellows piling mud against the chicken -wire, unless the Germans opened fire. If they did, we could fire -on their working party, or in the direction of the sound. For that -matter, we knew through our glasses by day the location of any weak -places in their breastworks and they knew where ours were. A sort of -“after-you-gentlemen-if-you-fire-we-shall” understanding sometimes -exists between the foes up to a certain point. Each side understands -instinctively the limitation of that point. Too much noise in working; -a number of men going out to bury dead or making enough noise to be -heard, and the ball begins. A deep, broad ditch filled with water made -a break in our line. No doubt a German machine gun was trained on it. - -“A little bridging is required here,” said the captain. “We’ll have it -done to-morrow night. The break is no disadvantage if they attack; in -fact, we’d rather like to have them try for it. But it makes movement -along the line difficult by day.” - -When we were across and once more behind the breastworks, he called my -attention to some high ground in the rear. - -“One of our officers took a short cut across there in daylight,” he -said. “He was quite exposed and they drew a bead on him from the German -trench and got him through the arm. Not a serious hit. It wasn’t -cricket for any one to go out to bring him in. He realised this and -called out to leave him to himself, and crawled to cover on his hands -and knees.” - -I was getting the commonplaces of trench life. Thus far it had been a -quiet night and was to remain so. Reddish, flickering swaths of light -were thrown across the fields between the trenches by the enemy’s Roman -candle flares. One tried to estimate how many flares the Germans must -use every night from Switzerland to the North Sea. - -On our side, the only light was from our braziers. Thomas Atkins has -become a patron of braziers made by punching holes in buckets; and so -have the Germans. Punch holes in a bucket, start a fire inside, and you -have cheer and warmth and light through the long night vigils. Two or -three days before we had located a sniper between the lines by seeing -him swing his fire pot to make a draft against the embers. - -If you have ever sat around a campfire in the forest or on the plains -you need be told nothing further. One of the old, glamourous features -of war survives in these glowing braziers, spreading their genial rays -among the little houses and lighting the faces of the men who stand or -squat in encircling groups around the coals, which dry wet clothes, -slake the moisture of a section of earth, make the bayonets against the -walls glisten, and reveal the position of a machine gun with its tape -ready for firing. - -Values are relative, and a brazier in the trenches makes the -satisfaction of a steam-heated room in winter very superficial and -artificial. You are at home there with Tommy Atkins, regular of an old -line English regiment, in his heavy khaki overcoat and solid boots -and wool puttees, a sturdy, hardened man of a terrific war. He, the -regular, the shilling-a-day policeman of the empire, was still doing -the fighting at the front. The new army, which embraces all classes, -was not yet in action. - -This man and that one were at Mons. This one and that one had been -through the whole campaign without once seeing Mother England for whom -they were fighting. The affection in which Captain P---- was held -extended through his regiment, for we had left his own company behind. -At every turn he was asked about his arm. - -“You’ve made a mistake, sir. This isn’t a hospital,” as one man -expressed it. Oh, but the captain was bored with hearing about that -arm! If he is wounded again I am sure that he will try to keep the fact -a secret. - -These veterans could “grouse,” as the British call it. Grousing is one -of Tommy’s privileges. When they got to grousing worst on the retreat -from Mons, their officers knew that what they really wanted was to make -another stand. They were tired of falling back; they meant to take a -rest and fight a while. Their language was yours, the language in which -our own laws and schoolbooks are written. They made the old blood -call. For months they had been taking bitter medicine; very bitter for -a British soldier. The way they took it will, perhaps, remain a greater -tribute than any part they play in future victories. - -“How do they feel in the States?” I was asked. “Against us?” - -“No. By no means.” - -“I don’t see how they could be!” Tommy exclaimed. - -Tommy may not be much on argument as it is developed by the -controversial spirit of college professors, but he had said about -all there was to say. How can we be? Hardly, after you come to know -T. Atkins and his officers and talk English with them around their -campfires. - -“The Germans are always sending up flares,” I remarked. “You send up -none. How about it?” - -“It cheers them. They’re downhearted!” said one of the group. “You -wouldn’t deny them their fireworks, would you, sir?” - -“That shows who is top dog,” said another. “They’re the ones that are -worried.” - -I had heard of trench exhaustion, trench despair, but there was no sign -of it in a regiment that had been through all the hell and mire that -the British army had known since the war began. To no one had Neuve -Chapelle meant so much as to these common soldiers. It was their first -real victory. They were standing on soil won from the Germans. - -“We’re going to Berlin!” said a big fellow who was standing, palms -downward to the fire. “It’s settled. We’re going to Berlin.” - -A smaller man with his back against the sandbags disagreed. There was a -trench argument. - -“No, we’re going to the Rhine,” he said. “The Russians are going to -Berlin.” (This was in March, 1915, remember.) - -“How can they when they ain’t over the Balkans yet?” - -“The Carpathians, you mean.” - -“Well, they’re both mountains and the Russians have got to cross them. -And there’s a place called Cracow in that region. What’s the matter of -a pair of mountain ranges between you and me, Bill? You’re strong on -geography, but you fail to follow the campaign.” - -“The Rhine, I say!” - -“It’s the Rhine first, but Berlin is what you want to keep your mind -on.” - -Then I asked if they had ever had any doubt that they would reach the -Rhine. - -“How could we, sir?” - -“And how about the Germans. Do you hate them?” - -“Hate!” exclaimed the big man. “What good would it do to hate them? -No, we don’t hate. We get our blood up when we’re fighting and when -they don’t play the game. But hate! Don’t you think that’s kind of -ridiculous, sir?” - -“How do they fight?” - -“They take a bit of beating, do the _Boches_!” - -“So you call them _Boches_!” - -“Yes. They don’t like that. But sometimes we call them Allemands, which -is Germans in French. Oh, we’re getting quite French scholars!” - -“They’re good soldiers. Not many tricks they’re not up to. But in my -opinion they’re overdoing the hate. You can’t keep up to your work on -hate, sir. I should think it would be weakening to the mind, too.” - -“Still, you would like the war over? You’d like to go home?” - -They certainly would. Back to the barracks, out of the trenches. They -certainly would. - -“And call it a draw?” - -“Call it a draw, now! Call it a draw, after all we’ve been through--” - -“Spring is coming. The ground will dry up and it will be warm.” - -“And the going will be good to Berlin, as it was back from Paris in -August, we tell the _Boches_.” - -“Good for the Russians going over the Carpathians, or the Pyrenees, or -whatever those mountains are, too. I read they’re all covered with snow -in winter.” - -It was good, regular soldier talk, very “homey” to me. As you will -observe, I have not elided the h’s. Indeed, Tommy has a way of -prefixing his h’s to the right vowels more frequently than a generation -ago. The “Soldiers Three” type has passed. Popular education will have -its way and induce better habits. Believing in the old remedy for -exhaustion and exposure to cold, the army served out a tot of rum every -day to the men. But many of them are teetotalers, these hardy regulars, -and not even Mulvaney will think them effeminate when they have seen -fighting which makes anything Mulvaney ever saw child’s play. So they -asked for candy and chocolate, instead of rum. - -Some people have said that Tommy has no patriotism. He fights -because he is paid and it is his business. That is an insinuation. -Tommy doesn’t care for the “hero stuff,” or for waving flags and -speech-making. Possibly he knows how few Germans that sort of thing -kills. His weapons are bullets. To put it cogently, he is fighting -because he doesn’t want any Kaiser in his. - -Is not that what all the speeches in Parliament are about and all -the editorials and the recruiting campaign? Is not that what England -and France are fighting for? It seems to me that Tommy’s is a very -practical patriotism, free from cant; and the way that he refuses to -hate or to get excited, but sticks to it, must be very irritating to -the Germans. - -“Would you like a _Boche_ helmet for a souvenir, sir?” asked a soldier, -who appeared on the outer edge of the group. He was the small, active -type, a British soldier with the _élan_ of the Frenchman. “There are -lots of them out there among the German dead”--the unburied German -dead, who fell like grass before the mower in a desperate and futile -counter-attack to recover Neuve Chapelle. “I’ll have one for you on -your way back.” - -There was no stopping him; he had gone. - -“Matty’s a devil!” said the big man. “He’ll get it, all right. He’s -equal to reaching over the _Boches_’ parapet and picking one off a -_Boche’s_ head!” - -As we proceeded on our way, officers came out of the little houses to -meet Captain P---- and the stranger civilian. They had to come out, -as there was no room to take us inside; and sometimes they talked shop -together after I had answered the usual question, “Is America against -us?” There seemed to be an idea that we were, possibly because of the -prodigious advertising tactics of a minority. But any feeling that we -might be did not interfere with their simple courtesy, or lead them to -express any bitterness or break into argument. - -“How are things going on over your side?” - -“Nicely.” - -“Any shelling?” - -“A little this morning. No harm done.” - -“We cleaned out one bad sniper to-day.” - -“Ought to have some sandbags up to-night.” - -“It’s a bad place there. They’ve got a machine gun trained which has -quite a sweep. I asked if the artillery shouldn’t put in a word, but -the general didn’t think it worth while.” - -“You must run across that break. Three or four shots at you every time. -We’re gradually getting shipshape, though.” - -Just then a couple of bullets went singing overhead. The group paid no -attention to them. If you paid attention to bullets over the parapet -you would have no time for anything else. But these bullets have a way -of picking off tall officers, who are standing up among their houses. -In the course of their talk they happened to mention such an instance, -though not with reference to the two bullets I have mentioned. - -“Poor S---- did not last long. He had been out only three weeks.” - -“How is J----? Hit badly?” - -“Through the shoulder; not seriously.” - -“H---- is back. Recovered very quickly.” - -Normal trench talk, this! A crack which signifies that the bullet has -hit--another man down. One grows accustomed to it, and one of this -group of officers might be gone to-morrow. - -“I have one, sir,” said Matty, exhibiting a helmet when we returned -past his station. “Bullet went right through the head and came out the -peak!” - -It was time that Captain P---- was back to his own command. As we came -to his company’s line word was just being passed from sentry to sentry: - -“Not firing. Patrols going out.” - -It was midnight now. - -“We’ll go in the other direction,” said Captain P----, when he had -learned that there was no news. - -This brought us to an Irish regiment. The Irish naturally had something -to say. - - - - -XVII - -WITH THE IRISH - - The Irish have something to say!--The Irish in America--The - misguided Germans--The American’s visit an event--Veterans of - Mons--Eggs in the trenches!--Irish hospitality--A dum-dum - souvenir--A memorable drink--Sixty yards from the Germans--The - Germans at work--British discipline, a comparison--A vision - of the German dead--German diaries--Pawns of war--A heaven - of soap and hot water--In the captain’s “house”--Soldier shop - talk--Trench appetite--A village literally flailed--Pity the - refugees. - - -Here, not the Irish Sea lay between the broad _a_ and the brogue, but -the space between two sentries or between two rifles with bayonets -fixed, lying against the wall of the breastworks ready for their -owners’ hands when called to arms in case of an alarm. One stepped -from England into Ireland; and my prediction that the Irish would -have something to say was correct. They had; for that matter, there -are always individual Irishmen in the English regiments, lest English -phlegm should let conversation run short. - -The first man who made his presence felt was a good six feet in height, -with a heavy moustache, and the ear-pieces of his cap tied under his -chin though the night was not cold. He placed himself fairly in front -of me in the narrow path back of the breastworks and he looked a cowled -and sinister figure in the faint glow from a brazier. I certainly did -not want any physical argument with a man of his build. - -“Who are you?” he demanded, as stiffly as if I had broken in at the -veranda window with a jimmy. - -For the nearer you get to the front, the more you feel that you are in -the way. You are a stray extra piece of baggage; a dead human weight. -Every one is doing something definite as a part of the machine except -yourself; and in your civilian clothes you feel the self-conscious -conspicuousness of appearing on a dancing-floor in a dressing-gown. - -Captain P---- was a little way back in another passage. I was alone -and in a rough tweed suit--a strange figure in that world of khaki and -rifles. - -“A German spy! That’s why I am dressed this way, so as not to excite -suspicion,” I was going to say, when a call from Captain P---- -identified me, and the sentry’s attitude changed as suddenly as if the -inspector of police had come along and told a patrolman that I might -pass through the fire-lines. - -“So it’s you, is it, right from America?” he said. “I’ve a sister -living at Nashua, New Hampshire, U. S. A., with three brothers in the -United States army.” - -Whether he had or not you can judge as well as I by the twinkle in his -eye. He might have had five, and again he might not have one. I was a -tenderfoot seeing the trenches. - -“It’s mesilf that’s going to America when me sarvice in the army is up -in one year and six months,” he continued. “That’s some time yet. I’m -going if I’m not killed by the Germans. It’s a way that they have, or -we wouldn’t be killing them.” - -“What are you going to do in America? Enlist in the army?” - -“No. I’m looking for a better job. I’m thinking I’ll be one of your -millionaires. Shure, but that would be to me taste.” - -“What do you think of the Germans?” - -“It’s little thinking we’re doing and more shooting. Now do ye know our -opinion of them?” - -“Some of the Irish in America are pro-German.” - -“Now will ye listen to that! Their words come out of their mouths -without acquainting their heads and hearts with what they are saying. -Did you ever find nine Irishmen on the right side without one doing -the talking for the divil for the joy of argument? It’s the Irish that -would be at home in the German army doing the goose-step and taking -orders from the Kaiser, is it not, now?” - -“And what about the Germans--are they winning?” - -“They started out strong, singing and goose-stepping high, for the -Kaiser had told them that if they died for him they could burgle the -world, and they thought it a grand idea. Shure, we accommodated them. -There’s plenty of them dead, and some of them are wondering if, when -they’re all dead, the Kaiser will have any more of the world than when -he started, which makes them sorry for him and they give him another -‘Hoch’! ’Tis the nature of them, because they’ve never been told -different.” - -Not one Irishman was speaking really, but a dozen. They came out of -their little houses and dugouts to gather around the brazier; and for -every remark I made I received a fusillade in reply. It was an event, -an American appearing in that trench in the small hours of the morning. - -“I’ve a brother in Oklahoma!” said one. - -“Is he a millionaire yet?” I asked. - -“If he is he’s keeping it a secret!” - -Some of them had been at Mons; a few of them had gone through the whole -campaign without a scratch; more had been wounded and returned to the -front. I like to ask that question, “Were you at Mons?” and get the -answer, “Yes, sir, I was; I was through it all!” without boasting--a -Mons veteran need not boast--but in the spirit of pride. To have been -at Mons, where that hard-bought retreat of one against five began, will -ever be enough glory for English, Scotch, Irish, or Welsh. It is like -saying, “I was in Pickett’s charge!” - -A trench-toughened, battle-toughened old sergeant was sitting in the -doorway of his dugout, frying a strip of bacon over one rim of the -brazier and making tea over the other. The bacon sizzled with an -appetising aroma and a bullet sizzled harmlessly overhead. Behind that -wall of sandbags all were perfectly safe, unless a shell came. But -who worries about shells? It is like worrying about being struck by -lightning when clouds gather in a summer sky. - -“It looks like good bacon,” I remarked. - -“It is that!” said the sergeant. “And the hungrier ye are the better. -It’s your nose that’s telling ye so this minute. I can see that ye’re -hungry yoursilf!” - -“Then you’re pretty well fed?” - -“Well fed, is it? It’s stuffed we are, like the geese that grow the -paté what-do-you-call-it? Eating is our pastime. We eat when we’ve -nothing else to do and when we’ve got to do something. We get eggs up -here--a fine man is Lord Kitchener--yes, sir, eggs up here in the -trenches!” - -When they seemed to think that I was sceptical, he produced some eggs -in evidence. - -“And if ye’ll not have the bacon, ye’ll have a drop of tea. Mind, now, -while your tongue is trying to be polite, your stomach is calling your -tongue a liar!” - -Irish hospitality responded to the impulse of a warm Irish heart. -Wouldn’t I have a souvenir? Out came German bullets and buckles and -officers’ whistles and helmets and fragments of shells and German -diaries. - -“It’s easy to get them out there where the Germans fell that thick!” -I was told. “And will ye look at this and take it home to give your -pro-German Irish in America, to show what their friends are shooting at -the Irish? I found them mesilf on a dead German.” - -He passed me a clip of German bullets with the blunt ends instead of -the pointed ends out. The change is readily made, for the German bullet -is easily pulled out of the cartridge case and the pointed end thrust -against the powder. Thus fired, it goes accurately four or five hundred -yards, which is more than the average distance between German and -British trenches. When it strikes flesh the effect is that of a dum-dum -and worse; for the jacket splits into slivers, which spread through -the pulpy mass caused by the explosion. A leg or an arm thus hit must -almost invariably be amputated. I am not suggesting that this is a -regular practice with German soldiers, but it shows what wickedness is -in the power of the sinister one. - -“But ye’ll take the tea,” said the sergeant, “with a little rum hot in -it. ’Twill take the chill out of your bones.” - -“What if I haven’t a chill in my bones?” - -“Maybe it’s there without speaking to ye and it will be speaking before -an hour longer--or afther ye’re home between the sheets with the -rheumatiz, and ye’ll be saying, ‘Why didn’t I take that glass?’ which -I’m holding out to ye this minute, steaming its invitation to be drunk.” - -Held out by a man who had been at Mons and “through it all”! It was -a memorable drink. Champagne poured out by a butler at your elbow is -insipid beside it. Snatches of brogue followed me from the brazier’s -glow when I insisted that I must be going. - -Now our breastworks took a turn and we were approaching closer to the -German breastworks. Both lines remained where they had “dug in” after -the counter-attacks which had followed the battle had been checked. -Ground is too precious in this siege warfare to yield a foot. Soldiers -become misers of soil. Where the flood is checked there you build your -dam against another flood. - -“We are within about sixty yards of the Germans,” said Captain P----, -at length, after we had gone in and out of the traverses and left the -braziers well behind. - -Between the spotty, whitish wall of German sandbags, quite distinct -in the moonlight, and our parapet were two mounds of sandbags about -twenty feet apart. Snug behind one was a German and behind the other an -Irishman, both listening. They were within easy bombing range, but the -homicidal advantage of position of either resulted in a truce. Sixty -yards! Pace it off. It is not far. In other places the enemies have -been as close as five yards--only a wall of earth between them. Where -a bombing operation ends in an attack, a German is naturally on one -side of a traverse and a Briton on the other. - -The Germans were as busy as beavers dam building. They had a lot of -work to do before they had their new defences right. We heard them -driving stakes and spading; we heard their voices with snatches of -sentences intelligible and occasionally the energetic, shouted, -guttural commands of their officers. All through that night I never -heard a British officer speak above a conversational tone. The -orders were definite enough, but given with a certain companionable -kindliness. I have spoken of the genuine affection which his men showed -for Captain P----, and I was beginning to appreciate that it was not a -particular instance. - -“What if you should shout at Tommy in the German fashion?” I asked. - -“He wouldn’t have it; he’d get rebellious,” was the reply. “No, you -mustn’t yell at Tommy. He’s a little temperamental about some things -and he will not be treated as if he were just a human machine.” - -Yet no one will question the discipline of the British soldier. -Discipline means that the officer knows his men, and British -discipline, which bears a retreat like that from Mons, requires that -the man likes to follow his officers, believes in his officers, loves -his officers. Each army and each people to its own ways. - -Sixty yards! And the dead between the trenches and death lurking ready -at a trigger’s pull should life show itself! When daylight comes the -British sing out their “Good morning, Germans!” and the Germans answer, -“Good morning, British!” without adding, “We hope to kill some of -you to-day!” Ragging banter and jest and worse than jest and grim -defiance are exchanged between the trenches when they are within such -easy hearing distance of each other; but always from a safe position -behind the parapet which the adversaries squint across through their -periscopes. The thing was ridiculous. - -At the gibe business the German is, perhaps, better than the Briton. -Early in the evening a regiment on our right broke into a busy -fusillade at some fancied movement of the enemy. In trench talk, that -is getting “jumpy.” The Germans in front roared out their contempt -in a chorus of guying laughter. Toward morning, these same Germans -also became “jumpy” and began tearing the air with bullets, firing -against nothing but the blackness of night. Tommy Atkins only made some -characteristic comments; for he is a quiet fellow, except when he is -played on the music hall stage. Possibly he feels the inconsistency of -laughter when you are killing human beings; for, as his officers say, -he is temperamental and never goes to the trouble of analysing his -emotions. A very real person and a good deal of a philosopher is Mr. -Atkins, Britain’s professional fighting man, who was the only kind of -fighting man she had ready for the war. - -Any small boy who had never had enough fireworks in his life might be -given a job in the German trenches, with the privilege of firing flares -till he fell asleep from exhaustion. All night they were going, with -the regularity of clockwork. The only ones sent up from our side that -night were shot in order that I might get a better view of the German -dead. - -You know how water lies in the low places on the ground after a heavy -rain. Well, the patches of dead were like that, and dark in the spots -where they were very thick--dark as with the darkness of deeper -water. There were also irregular tongues of dead and scattered dead, -with arms outstretched or under them as they fell, and faces white -even in the reddish glare of the rockets and turned toward you in the -charge that failed under the withering blasts of machine guns, ripping -out two or three hundred shots a minute, and well-aimed rifle bullets, -each bullet getting its man. Threatening that charge would have seemed -to a recruit, but measured and calculated in certainty of failure in -the minds of veteran defenders, who knew that the wheat could not stand -before their mowers. Man’s flesh is soft and a bullet is hard and -travels fast. - -One bit of satire which Tommy sent across the field covered with its -burden of slaughter to the Germans who are given to song, ought to have -gone home. It was: “Why don’t you stop singing and bury your dead?” But -the Germans, having given no armistice in other times when British dead -lay before the trenches, asked for none here. The dead were nearer to -the British than to the Germans. The discomfort would be in British and -not German nostrils. And the dead cannot fight; they can help no more -to win victory for the Fatherland. And the time is A. D., 1915. Two or -three thousand German dead altogether, perhaps--not many out of the -Kaiser’s millions. Yet they seemed a great many to one who saw them -lying there. - -We stopped to read by the light of a brazier some German soldiers’ -diaries that the Irishmen had. They were cheap little books, bought for -a few cents, each one telling the dead man’s story and revealing the -monotony of a soldier’s existence in Europe to-day. These pawns of war -had been marched here and there, they never knew why. The last notes -were when orders came entraining them. They did not know that they were -to be sent out of those woods yonder to recover Neuve Chapelle--out of -those woods in the test of all their drill and waiting. - -A Bavarian officer--for these were Bavarians--actually rode in that -charge. He must have worked himself up to a strangely exalted optimism -and contempt of British fire. Or was it that he, too, did not know what -he was going against? that only the German general knew? Neither he nor -his horse lasted long; not more than a dozen seconds. The thing was so -splendidly foolhardy that in some little war it might have become the -saga of a regiment, the subject of ballads and paintings. In this war -it was an incident heralded for a day in one command and forgotten the -next. - -“Good night!” called the Irish. - -“Good night and good luck!” - -“Tell them in America that the Irish are still fighting!” - -“Good luck, and may your travelling be aisy; but if ye trip, may ye -fall into a gold mine!” - -We were back with the British regulars; and here, also, many of the -men remained up around the braziers. The hours of duty of the few on -watch do not take many of the twenty-four hours. One may sleep when he -chooses in the little houses behind the breastworks. Night melts into -day and day into night in the monotony of mud and sniping rifle-fire. -By-and-by it is your turn to go into reserve; your turn to get out -of your clothes--for there are no pajamas for officers or men in -these “crawls,” as they are sometimes called. Boots off is the only -undressing; boots off and puttees unloosed, which saves the feet. Yes, -by-and-by the march back to the rear, where there are tubs filled with -hot water and an outfit of clean clothes awaiting you, and nothing to -do but rest and sleep. - -“How soon after we leave the trenches may we cheer?” officers have been -asked in the dead of winter, when water stood deep over the porous mud -and morning found a scale of ice around the legs. - -You, nicely testing the temperature of your morning tub; you, satisfied -only with faucets of hot and cold water and a mat to stand on--you -know nothing about the joy of bathing. Your bath is a mere part of the -daily routine of existence. Try the trenches and get itchy with vermin; -then you will know that heaven consists of soap and hot water. - -No bad odour assails your nostrils wherever you may go in the British -lines. Its cleanliness, if nothing else, would make British army -comradeship enjoyable. My wonder never ceases how Tommy keeps himself -so neat; how he manages to shave every day and get a part, at least, of -the mud off his uniform. It makes him feel more as if he were “at home” -in barracks. - -From the breastworks, Captain P---- and I went for a stroll in the -village, or the site of the village, silent except for the occasional -singing of a bullet. When we returned he lighted the candle on a stick -stuck into the wall of his little earth-roofed house and suggested -a nap. It was three o’clock in the morning. Now I could see that my -rubber boots had grown so heavy because I was carrying so much of the -soil of Northern France. It looked as if I had gout in both feet--the -over-bandaged, stage type of gout--which were encased in large mud -poultices. I tried to stamp off the incubus, but it would not go. I -tried scraping one foot on the other, and what I scraped off seemed to -reattach itself as fast as I could remove it. - -“Don’t try!” said the captain. “Lie down and pull your boots off in the -doorway. Perhaps you will get some sleep before daybreak.” - -Sleep! Does a débutante go to sleep at her first ball? Sleep in such -good company, the company of this captain, who was smiling all the -while with his eyes; smiling at his mud house, at the hardships in the -trenches, and, I hope, at having a guest, who had been with armies -before! - -It was the first time that I had been in the trenches all night; the -first time, indeed, when I had not been taken into them by an escort in -a kind of promenade. On this visit I was in the family. If it is the -right kind of a family that is the way to get a good impression. There -would be plenty of time to sleep when I returned to London. - -So Captain P---- and I lay there talking. One felt the dampness of the -earth under his body and the walls exuded moisture. The average cellar -was dry by comparison. “You will get your death of cold!” any mother -would cry in alarm if her boy were found even sitting on such cold, -wet ground. For it was a clammy night of early spring. Yet, peculiarly -enough, few men get colds from this exposure. One gets colds from -draughts in overheated rooms much oftener. Luckily, it was not raining; -it had been raining most of the winter in the flat country of Northern -France and Flanders. - -“It is very horrible, this kind of warfare,” said the captain. He was -thinking of the method of it, rather than of the discomforts. “All war -is very horrible, of course.” Regular soldiers rarely take any other -view. They know war. - -“With your wounded arm you might be back in England on leave,” I -suggested. - -“Oh, that arm is all right!” he replied. “This is what I am paid for”-- -which I had heard regulars say before. “And it is for England!” he -added, in his quiet way. “Sometimes I think we should fight better if -we officers could hate the Germans,” he went on. “The German idea is -that you must hate if you are going to fight well. But we can’t hate.” - -Sound views he had about the war; sounder than I have heard from the -lips of cabinet ministers. For these regular officers are specialists -in war. - -“Do you think that we shall starve the Germans out?” - -“No. We must win by fighting,” he replied. This was in March, 1915. -“You know,” he went on, taking another tack, “when one gets back to -England out of this muck he wants good linen and everything very nice.” - -“Yes. I’ve found the same after roughing it,” I agreed. “One is most -particular that he has every comfort to which civilisation entitles -him.” - -We chatted on. Much of our talk was soldier shop talk, which you will -not care to hear. Twice we were interrupted by an outburst of firing, -and the captain hurried out to ascertain the reason. Some false alarm -had started the rifles speaking from both sides. A fusillade for two or -three minutes and the firing died down to silence. - -Dawn broke and it was time for me to go; and with daylight, when danger -of a night surprise was over, the captain would have his sleep. I was -leaving him to his mud house and his bed on the wet ground without a -blanket. It was more important to have sandbags up for the breastworks -than to have blankets; and as the men had not yet received theirs, he -had none himself. - -“It’s not fair to the men,” he said. “I don’t want anything they don’t -have.” - -No better food and no better house and no warmer garments! He spoke not -in any sense of stated duty, but in the affection of the comradeship -of war; the affection born of that imperturbable courage of his -soldiers, who had stood a stone wall of cool resolution against German -charges when it seemed as if they must go. The glamour of war may have -departed, but not the brotherhood of hardship and dangers shared. - -What had been a routine night to him had been a great night to me; one -of the most memorable of my life. - -“I was glad you could come,” he said, as I made my adieu, quite as if -he were saying adieu to a guest at home in England. - -Some of the soldiers called their cheery good-byes; and with a -lieutenant to guide me, I set out while the light was still dusky, -leaving the comforting parapet to the rear to go into the open, four -hundred yards from the Germans. A German, though he could not have seen -us distinctly, must have noted something moving. Two of his bullets -came rather close before we passed out of his vision among some trees. - -In a few minutes I was again entering the peasant’s cottage that was -battalion headquarters; this time by daylight. Its walls were chipped -by bullets that had come over the breastworks. The major was just -getting up from his blankets in the cellar. By this time I had a real -trench appetite. Not until after breakfast did it occur to me, with -some surprise, that I had not washed my face. - -“The food was just as good, wasn’t it?” remarked the major. “We get -quite used to such breaches of convention. Besides, you had been up all -night, so your breakfast might be called your after-the-theatre supper.” - -With him I went to see what the ruins of Neuve Chapelle looked like by -daylight. The destruction was not all the result of one bombardment, -for the British had been shelling Neuve Chapelle off and on all winter. -Of course, there is the old earthquake comparison. All writers have -used it. But it is quite too feeble for Neuve Chapelle. An earthquake -merely shakes down houses. The shells had done a good deal more than -that. They had crushed the remains of the houses as under the pestle -head in a mortar; blown walls into dust; taken bricks from the east -side of the house over to the west and thrown them back with another -explosion. - -Neuve Chapelle had been literally flailed with the high explosive -projectiles of the new British artillery, which the British had to -make after the war began to compete with what the Germans already -had; for poor, lone, wronged, bullied Germany quite unprepared-- -Austria with her fifty millions does not count--was fighting on the -defensive against wicked, aggressive enemies who were fully prepared. -This explains why she invaded France and took possession of towns like -Neuve Chapelle to defend her poor, unready people from the French, who -had been plotting and planning “the day” when they would conquer the -Germans. - -Bits of German equipment were mixed with ruins of clocks and family -pictures and household utensils. I noticed a bicycle which had been cut -in two, its parts separated by twenty feet; one wheel was twisted into -a spool of wire, the other simply mashed. - -Where was the man who had kept the shop with a few letters of his name -still visible on a splintered bit of board? Where the children who had -played in the littered square in front of the church, with its steeples -and walls piles of stone that had crushed the worshippers’ benches? -Refugees somewhere back of the British lines, working on the roads if -strong enough, helping France any way they could, not murmuring, even -smiling, and praying for victory, which would let them return to their -homes and daily duties. To their homes! - - - - -XVIII - -WITH THE GUNS - - A war of explosions--And machines--Battle-panorama style--Value - of surprise--Ever hungry guns--Accurate or blind and groping - guns--Demon guns--Balloon observations--Finding the guns-- - Ingenious concealments--“Funk pits”--Mechanism--Bookkeeping - and trigonometry--“Cover!”--The German aeroplane--New - howitzers and their crews--The general--A gun specialist-- - The “hell-for-leather” guns--The “curtain of fire”--In - operation--Spotting the targets--How the system works--A - chagrined gunner--A bull’s eye!--The Germans retort--Horrible - fascination of war--A queer “refugee”--“Besides, they are women - and children.” - - -It is a war of explosions, from bombs thrown by hand within ten yards -of the enemy to shells thrown as far as twenty miles and mines laid -under the enemy’s trenches; a war of guns, from seventeen-inch down to -three-inch and machine guns; a war of machinery, with man still the -pre-eminent machine. - -Guns mark the limit of the danger zone. Their screaming shells laugh at -the sentries at the entrances to towns and at cross-roads who demand -passes of all other travellers. Any one who tried to keep out of range -of the guns would never get anywhere near the front. It is all a matter -of chance, with long odds or short odds, according to the neighbourhood -you are in. If shells come, they come without warning and without -ceremony. Nobody is afraid of shells and everybody is--at least, I am. - -“Gawd! W’at a ’ole!” remarks Mr. Thomas Atkins casually, at sight of -an excavation in the earth made by a thousand-pound projectile. - -It is only eighteen years ago that, at the battle of Domoko in the -Greco-Turkish war, I saw half a dozen Turkish batteries swing out on -the plain of Thessaly, limber up in the open and discharge salvos with -black powder, in the good, old, battle-panorama style. One battery -of modern field guns unseen would wipe out the lot in five minutes. -Only ten years ago, at the battle of Liao-yang, as I watched a cloud -of shrapnel smoke sending down steel showers over the little hill of -Manjanyama, which sent up showers of earth from shells burst by impact -on the ground, a Japanese military attaché remarked: - -“There you have a prophecy of what a European war will be like!” - -He was right. He knew his business as a military attaché. The voices of -the guns along the front seem never silent. In some direction they are -always firing. When one night the reports from a certain quarter seemed -rather heavy, I asked the reason the next day. - -“No, not very heavy. No attack,” a division staff officer explained. -“The _Boches_ had been building a redoubt and we turned on some -h. e. s.”--meaning high explosive shells. - -Night after night, under cover of darkness, the Germans had been -labouring on that redoubt, thinking that they were unobserved. They had -kept extremely quiet, too, slipping their spades into the earth softly -and hammering a nail ever so lightly; and, of course, the redoubt was -placed behind a screen of foliage which hid it from the view of the -British trenches. Such is the hide-and-seek character of modern war. -What the German builders did not know was that a British aeroplane had -been watching them day by day and that the spot was nicely registered -on a British gunner’s map. On this map it was a certain numbered point. -Press a button, as it were, and you ring the bell with a shell at -that point. The gunners waited till the house of cards was up before -knocking it to pieces. - -Surprise is the thing with the guns. A town may go for weeks without -getting a single shell. Then it may get a score in ten minutes; or it -may be shelled regularly every day for weeks. “They are shelling X -again,” or, “They have been leaving Z alone for a long time,” is a part -of the gossip up and down the line. Towns are proud of having escaped -altogether and proud of the number and size of the shells received. - -“Did you get any?” I asked the division staff officer, who had told me -about the session the six-inch howitzers had enjoyed. A common question -that, at the front, “Did you get any?” (meaning Germans). A practical -question, too. It has nothing to do with the form of play or any bit -of sensational fielding; only with the score, with results, with -casualties. - -“Yes, quite a number,” said the officer. “Our observer saw them lying -about.” - -The guns are watching for targets at all hours--the ever hungry, -ever ready, murderous, cunning, quick, scientifically calculating, -marvellously accurate, and also the guessing, wondering, blind, -groping, helpless, guns, which toss their steel messengers over -streams, woodlands, and towns, searching for their unseen prey in a -wide landscape. - -Accurate and murderous they seem when you drop low behind a trench wall -or huddle in a dugout as you hear an approaching scream, and the earth -trembles, the air is wracked by a concussion, and the cry of a man a -few yards away tells of a hit. Very accurate when still others, sent -from muzzles six or seven thousand yards away, fall in that same line -of trench! Very accurate when, before an infantry attack, with bursts -of shrapnel bullets they cut to bits the barbed-wire entanglements in -front of a trench! The power of chaos that they seem to possess when -the fighting-trench and the dugouts and all the human warrens which -protect the defenders are beaten as flour is kneaded! - -Blind and groping they seem when a dozen shells fall harmlessly in -a field; when they send their missiles toward objects which may not -be worth shooting at; when no one sees where the shells hit and the -amount of damage they have done is guesswork; and helpless without the -infantry to protect them, the aeroplanes and the observers to see for -them. - -One thinks of them as demons with subtle intelligence and long reach, -their gigantic fists striking here and there at will, without a visible -arm behind the blow. An army guards against the blows of an enemy’s -demons with every kind of cover, every kind of deception, with all -resources of scientific ingenuity and invention; and an army guards -its own demons in their lairs as preciously as if they were made of -some delicate substance which would go up in smoke at a glance from the -enemy’s eye, instead of having barrels of the strongest steel that can -be forged. - -Your personal feeling for the demons on your side is in ratio to the -amount of hell sent by the enemy’s which you have tasted. After you -have been scared stiff, while pretending that you were not, by sharing -with Mr. Atkins an accurate bombardment of a trench and are convinced -that the next shell is bound to get you, you fall into the attitude -of the army. You want to pat the demon on the back and say, “Nice old -demon!” and watch him toss a shell three or four miles into the German -lines from the end of his fiery tongue. Indeed, nothing so quickly -develops interest in the British guns as having the German gunners take -too much personal interest in you. - -You must have some one to show you the way or you would not find any -guns. A man with a dog trained to hunt guns might spend a week on the -gun-position area covering ten miles of the front and not locate half -the guns. He might miss “Grandmother” and “Sister” and “Betsy” and -“Mike” and even “Mister Archibald,” who is the only one who does not -altogether try to avoid publicity. - -When an attack or an artillery bombardment is on and you go to as high -ground as possible for a bird’s-eye view of battle, all you see is the -explosion of the shells; never anything of the guns which are firing. -In the distance over the German lines and in the foreground over the -British lines is a balloon, shaped like a caterpillar with folded -wings--a chrysalis of a caterpillar. Tugging at its moorings, it -turns this way and that with the breeze. The speck directly beneath it -through the glasses becomes an ordinary balloon basket and other specks -attached to a guy rope play the part of the tail of a kite, helping -to steady the type of balloon which has taken the place of the old -spherical type for observation. - -Any one who has been up in a captive spherical balloon knows how -difficult it is to keep his glasses focussed on any object, because -of the jerking and pitching and trembling due to the envelope’s -response to air-movements. The new type partly overcomes this -drawback. To shrapnel their thin envelope is as vulnerable as a paper -drum-head to a knife; but I have seen them remain up defiantly when -shells were bursting within three or four hundred yards, which their -commanders seemed to understand was the limit of the German battery’s -reach. Again, I have seen a shrapnel burst alongside within range; -and five minutes later the balloon was down and out of sight. No -balloon observer hopes to see the enemy’s guns. He is watching for -shell-bursts, in order to inform the guns of his side whether or not -they are on the target. - -Riding along the roads at the front, one may know that there is a -battery a stone’s throw away only when a blast from a hidden gun-muzzle -warns him of its presence. It was wonderful to me that the artillery -general who took me gun-seeing knew where his own guns were, let alone -the enemy’s. I imagine that he could return to a field and locate a -four-leafed clover that he had seen on a previous stroll. His dogs -of war had become foxes of war, burrowing in places which wise, old -father foxes knew were safest from detection. Hereafter, I shall not be -surprised to see a muzzle poking its head out of an oven, or from under -grandfather’s chair or a farm wagon, or up a tree, or in a garret. -Think of the last place in the world for emplacing a gun and one may be -there; think of the most likely place and one may be there. - -You might be walking across the fields and minded to go through a hedge -and bump into a black ring of steel with a gun’s crew grinning behind -it. They would grin because you had given proof of how well their gun -was concealed. But they wouldn’t grin as much as they would if they -saw the enemy plunking shells into another hedge two hundred yards -distant, where the German aeroplane observer thought he had seen a -battery and had not. - -“I’ll show you a big one, first!” said the general. - -We left the car at a cottage and walked along a lane. I looked all -about the premises and could see only some artillerymen. An officer led -me up to a gun-breech; at least, I know a gun-breech when it is one -foot from my nose and a soldier has removed its covering. But I shall -not tell how that gun was concealed; the method was so audacious that -it was entirely successful. The Germans would like to know and we don’t -want them to know. A pencil-point on their map for identification, and -they would send a whirlwind of shells at that gun. - -And then? - -Would the gun try to fire back? No. Its gunners probably would not know -the location of any of the German batteries which had concentrated on -their treasure. They would desert the gun. If they did not, they ought -to be court-martialed for needlessly risking the precious lives of -trained men. They would make for the “funk pits,” just as the gunners -of any other power would. - -The chances are that the gun itself would not be hit bodily by a shell. -Fragments might strike it without causing more than an abrasion; for -big guns have pretty thick cuticle. When the storm was over, the -gunners would move the gun to another hiding-place; which would mean a -good deal of work on account of its size. - -It is the inability of gun to see gun, and even when seen to knock -out gun, which has put an end to the so-called artillery duel of -pitched-battle days, when cannon walloped cannon to keep cannon from -walloping the infantry. Now when there is an action, though guns still -go after guns if they know where they are, most of the firing is done -against trenches and to support trenches and infantry works, or with a -view to demoralising the infantry. Concentration of artillery fire will -demolish an enemy’s trench and let your infantry take possession of the -wreckage remaining; but then the enemy’s artillery concentrates on your -infantry and frequently makes their new habitation untenable. - -Noiselessly except for a little click, with chickens clucking in a -field near by, the big breech-block which held the shell fast, sending -all the power of the explosion out of the muzzle, was swung back and -one looked through the shining tube of steel, with its rifling which -caught the driving band and gave the shell its rotation and accuracy in -its long journey, which would close when, descending at the end of its -parabola, its nose struck brick or earth or pavement and it exploded. - -Wheels that lift and depress and swing the muzzle, and gadgets with -figures on them, and other scales which play between the map and the -gadgets, and atmospheric pressure and wind variation, all worked out -with the same precision under a French hedge as on board a battleship -where the gun-mounting is fast to massive ribs of steel--it seemed a -matter of bookkeeping and trigonometry rather than war. - -If a shell from this gun were to hit at the corner of Wall Street and -Broadway at the noon hour, it would probably kill and wound a hundred -men. If it went into the dugout of a support trench it would get -everybody there; but if it went ten yards beyond the trench into the -open field it would probably get nobody. - -“Cover!” some one exclaimed, while we were looking at the gun; and -everybody promptly got under the branches of a tree or a shed. A German -aeroplane was cruising in our direction. If the aviator saw a group of -men standing about, he might draw conclusions and pass the wireless -word to send in some shells at whatever number on the German gunners’ -map was ours. - -These gunners loved their gun; loved it for the power which it could -put into a blow under their trained hands; loved it for the care and -the labour it had meant for them. It is the way of gunners to love -their gun, or they would not be good gunners. Of all the guns I saw -that day, I think that two big howitzers meant the most to their -masters. These had just arrived. They had been set up only two days. -They had not yet fired against the enemy. For many months the gunners -had drilled in England, and had tried their “eight-inch hows” out on -the target range, and brought them across the Channel, and nursed them -along the French roads, and finally set them up in their hidden lair. -Now they waited for observers to assist them in registration. - -When the general approached there was a call to turn out the guard; but -he stopped that. At the front there is an end of the ceremoniousness -of the barracks. Military formality disappears. Discipline, as well -as other things, is simpler and more real. The men went on with their -recess, playing football in a nearby field. - -The officers possibly were a trifle diffident and uncertain; they -had not yet the veterans’ manner. It was clear that they had done -everything required by the text-book of theory--the latest, up-to-date -text-book of experience at the front as taught in England. When they -showed us how they had stored their stock of shells to be safe from a -shot by the enemy, one remarked that the method was according to the -latest directions, though there was some difference among military -experts on the subject. When there is a difference, what is the -beginner to do? An old hand, of course, does it his way until an order -makes him do otherwise. - -The general had a suggestion about the application of the method. -He had little to say, the general, and it all was in the spirit of -comradeship and much to the point. Few things escaped his observation. -It seems fairly true that one who knows any branch of human endeavour -well makes his work appear easy. Once a gunner always a gunner is -characteristic of all armies. The general had spent his life with guns. -He was a specialist visiting his plant; one of the staff specialists -responsible to a corps commander for the work of the guns on a certain -section of map, for accuracy and promptness of fire when it was needed -in the commander’s plans. - -If the newcomers put their shells into the target on their first trial -they had qualified; and sometimes new-comers shoot quite as well as -veterans, which is a surprise to both and the best kind of news for -the general who is in charge of an expanding plant. New guns are just -beginning to come; England is only beginning to make war. It takes time -to make a gun and time to train men to fire it. The war will be won by -gunners and infantry that knew nothing of guns or drill when the war -began. - -“Here are some who have been in France from the first,” said -the general, when we came to a battery of field-guns; of the -eighteen-pounders, the fellows you see behind the galloping horses, the -hell-for-leather guns, the guns which bring the gleam of affection into -the eyes of men who think of pursuits and covering retreats and the -pitched-battle conditions, before armies settled down in trenches and -growled and hissed at each other day after day and brought up guns of -calibres which we associate with battleships and coast fortifications. - -These are called “light stuff” and “whiz-bangs” now, in army parlance. -They throw an eighteen-pound shell which carries three hundred bullets, -and so fast that one chases another through the air. There has been -so much talk about the need of heavy guns that you might think -eighteen-pounders were too small for consideration. Were the German -line broken, these are the ones which could follow as rapidly as the -engineers could lay bridges for them to cross. - -They are the boys who weave the “curtain of fire” which you read about -in the French official bulletins as checking an infantry charge; which -demolish the barbed-wire entanglements to let an infantry charge get -into a trench. If a general wants a shower of bullets over any part of -the German line he has only to call up the eighteen-pounders and it is -sent as promptly as the pressure of a button brings a pitcher of iced -water to a room in a first-class hotel. A veteran eighteen-pounder crew -in action is a poem in precision and speed of movement. The gun itself -seems to possess intelligence. - -There was the finesse of gunners’ craft, worthy of veterans, in the -way that these eighteen-pounders were concealed. The Germans had put -some shells in the neighbourhood, but without fooling the old hands. -They did not change the location of their battery, and their judgment -that the shots which came near were chance shots fired at another -object was justified. Particularly I should like to mention their “funk -pits,” which kept them safe from the heaviest shells. For the veterans -knew how to take care of themselves; they had an eye to the protection -which comes of experience with German high explosives. Their expert -knowledge of all the ins and outs of their business had been fought -into them for eleven months. - -Another field battery, also, I have in mind, placed in an orchard. -Which orchard of all the thousands of orchards along the British front -the German Staff may guess, if they choose. If German guns fired at all -the orchards, one by one, they might locate it--and then again they -might not. Besides, this is a peculiar sort of orchard. - -It is a characteristic of gunners to be neat and to have an eye for the -comeliness of things. These men had a lawn and a garden and tables and -chairs. If you are familiar with the tidiness of a retired New England -sailor, who regards his porch as a quarter-deck and sallies forth to -remove each descending autumn leaf from the grass, then you know how -scrupulous they were about litter. - -For weeks they had been in the same position, unseen by German -aeroplanes. They had daily baths; they did their week’s washing, taking -care not to hang it where it would be visible from the sky. Every day -they received London papers and letters from home. When they were -needed to help in making war, all they had to do was to slip a shell in -the breech and send it with their compliments to the Germans. They were -camping out at His Majesty’s expense in the pleasant land of France in -the joyous summer time; and on the roof of sods over their guns were -pots of flowers, undisturbed by blasts from the gun-muzzles. - -It was when leaving another battery that, out of the tail of my -eye, I caught a lurid flash through a hedge, followed by the sharp, -ear-piercing crack that comes from being in line with a gun-muzzle when -a shot is fired. We followed a path which took us to the rear of the -report, where, through undergrowth, we stepped among the busy groups -around the breeches of some guns of one of the larger calibres. - -An order for some “heavy stuff” at a certain point on the map was -being filled. Sturdy men were moving in a pantomime under the shade -of a willow tree, each doing exactly his part in a process that -seemed as simple as opening a cupboard door, slipping in a package of -concentrated destruction, and closing the door again. All that detail -of range-finding and mathematical adjustment of aim at the unseen -target which takes so long to explain was applied as automatically -as an adding-machine adds up a column of figures. Everybody was as -practice-perfect in his part as performers who have made hundreds of -appearances in the same act on the stage. - -All ready, the word given, a crack, and through the air in front you -saw a wingless, black object rising in a curve against the soft blue -sky, which it seemed to sweep with a sound something like the escape of -water through a break in the garden hose, multiplied by ten, rising -to its zenith and then descending till it passed out of sight behind a -green bank of foliage on the horizon. - -After the scream had been lost to the ear you heard the faint, thudding -boom of an explosion from the burst of that conical piece of steel -which you had seen slipped into the breech. This was the gunners’ part -in chess-board war, where the moves are made over signal wires, while -the infantry endure the explosions in their trenches and fight in their -charges in the traverses of the trenches at as close quarters as in the -days of the cave-dwellers. - -There was no stopping work when the general came, of course. It would -have been the same had Lord Kitchener been present. The battery -commander expressed his regret that he could not show me his guns -without any sense of irony; meaning that he was sorry he was too busy -to tell me more about his battery. In about the time that it took a -telegraph key to click after each one of those distant bursts, he knew -whether or not the shot was on the target and what variation of degree -to make in the next if it were not; or if the word came to shift the -point of aim a little, when you are trying to shake the enemy up here -and there along a certain length of trench. - -At another wire-end some one was spotting the bursts. Perhaps he was in -the kind of place where I once found an observer, who was sitting upon -a cushion looking out through a chink broken in a wall, with a signal -corps operator near by. It was a small chink, just large enough to -allow the lens of a pair of glasses or a telescope a range of vision; -and even then I was given certain warnings before the cover over the -chink was removed, though there could not have been any German in -uniform nearer than four thousand yards. But there may be spies within -your own lines, looking for such holes. - -From this post I could make out the German and the British trenches in -muddy white lines of sandbags running snake-like across the fields, and -the officer identified points on the map to me. Every tree and hedge -and ditch in the panorama were graven on his mind; all had language for -him. His work was engrossing. It had risk, too; there was no telling -when a shell might lift him off the cushion and provide a hole for -his remains. If he were shelled, the observer would go to a funk pit, -as the gunners do, until the storm had passed; and then he would move -on with his cushion and his telegraph instrument and make a hole in -another wall, if he did not find a tree or some other eminence which -suited his taste better. Meanwhile, he was not the only observer in -that section. There were others nearer the trenches, perhaps actually -in the trenches. The two armies, seeming chained to their trenches, are -set with veiled eyes at the end of wires; veiled eyes trying to locate -the other’s eyes, the other’s guns and troops, and the least movement -which indicates any attempt to gain an advantage. - -“Gunnery is navigation, dead reckoning, with the spotting observer the -sun by which you correct your reckoning,” said one of the artillery -officers. - -Firing enough one had seen--landscape bathed in smoke and dust -and reverberating with explosions; but all as a spectacle from the -orchestra seat, not too close at hand for comfort. This time I was -to see the guns fire and then I was to see the results of the firing -in detail. Both can rarely be seen at the same time. It was not show -firing, this that we watched from an observing station, but part of -the day’s work for the guns and the general. First; the map; “here and -there,” as an officer’s finger pointed; and then one looked across the -fields, green and brown and golden with summer crops. - -Item I. The Germans were fortifying a certain point on a certain farm. -We were going to put some “heavy stuff” in there and some “light -stuff,” too. The burst of our shells could be located in relation to a -certain tree. - -Item II. Our planes thought that the Germans had a wireless station in -a certain building. “Heavy stuff” exclusively for this. - -No enemy’s wireless station ought to be enjoying serene summer weather -without interruption; and no German working party ought to be allowed -to build redoubts within range of our guns without a break in the -monotony of their drudgery. - -Six lyddites were the order for the wireless station; six high -explosives which burst on contact and make a hole in the earth -large enough for a grave for the Kaiser and all his field marshals. -Frequently, not only the number of shells to be fired, but also the -intervals between them is given by the artillery commander, as a part -of his plan in his understanding of the object to be accomplished; and -it is quite clear that the system is the same with the Germans. - -One side no sooner develops an idea than the other adopts it. By the -effect of the enemy’s shells you judge what the effect of yours must -be. Months of experience have done away with all theory and practice -has become much the same with either adversary. For example, let a -German or a British airman be winged by anti-aircraft gun-fire and the -enemy’s guns instantly loosen up on the point over his own lines, if -he regains them, where he is seen to fall. All the soldiers in the -neighbourhood are expected to run to his assistance; and, at any rate, -you may kill a trained aviator, whose life is a valuable asset on one -side of the ledger and whose death an asset on the other. There is no -sentiment left in war, you see. It is all killing and avoiding being -killed. - -By the scream of a shell the practised ear of the artilleryman can tell -whether it comes from a gun with a low trajectory or from a howitzer, -whose projectile rises higher and falls at a sharper angle which -enables it to enter the trenches; and he can even tell approximately -the calibre. - -A scream sweeping past from our rear, and we knew that this was for -the redoubt, as that was to have the first turn. A volume of dust and -smoke breaking from the earth short of the redoubt; a second’s delay of -hearing the engine whistle after the burst of steam in the distance on -a winter day, and then the sound of the burst. The next was over. With -the third the “heavy stuff” ought to be right on. - -But don’t forget that there was also an order for some “light -stuff,” identified as shrapnel by its soft, nimbus-like puff which -was scattering bullets as if giving chase to that working party as -it hastened to cover. There you had the ugly method of this modern -artillery fire: death shot downward from the air and leaping up out -of the earth. Unhappily, the third was not on, nor the fourth--not -exactly on. Exactly on is the way the British gunners like to fill an -order f.o.b., express charges prepaid, for the Germans. - -Ten years ago it would have seemed good shooting. It was not very good -in the twelfth month of the war; for war beats the target range in -developing accuracy. At five or six or seven or eight thousand yards’ -range the shells were bursting thirty or forty yards away from where -they should. - -No, not very good; the general murmured as much. He did not need to say -so aloud to the artillery officer responsible for the shooting, who was -in touch with his batteries by wire. The officer knew it. He was the -high-strung, ambitious sort. You had better not become a gunner unless -you are. Any good-enough temperament is ruled off wasting munitions. -Red was creeping through the tan from his throat to the roots of his -hair. To have this happen in the presence of that quiet-mannered -general, after all his efforts to remedy the error in those guns! - -But the general was quite human. He was not the “strafing” kind. - -“I know those guns have an error!” he said, as he put his hand on the -officer’s arm. That was all; but that was a good deal to the officer. -Evidently, the general not only knew guns; he knew men. The officer had -suffered admonition enough from his own injured pride. - -Besides, what we did to the supposed wireless station ought to keep -any general from being down-hearted. Neither guns, nor the powder -which sent the big shells on their errand, nor the calculations of the -gunner, nor the adjustment of the gadgets, had any error. With the -first shot, a great burst of the black smoke of deadly lyddite rose -from the target. - -“Right on!” - -And again and again--right on! - -The ugly, spreading, low-hanging, dense cloud was renewed from its -heart by successive bursts in the same place. If the aeroplane’s -conclusions were right, that wireless station must be very much -wireless, now. The only safe discount for the life insurance of the -operators was one hundred per cent. - -“Here, they are firing more than six!” said the general. “It’s always -hard to hold gunners down when they are on the target like that.” - -He spoke as if it would have been difficult for him to resist the -temptation himself. The Germans got two extra for full measure. -Perhaps those two were waste; perhaps the first two had been -enough. Conservation of shells has become a first principle of the -artillerists’ duty. The number fired by either side in the course of -the routine of an average so-called peaceful day is surprising. Economy -would be easier if it were harder to slip a shell into a gun-breech. -The men in the trenches are always calling for shells. They want a tree -or a house which is the hiding-place of a sniper knocked down. The men -at the guns would be glad to accommodate them, but the say as to that -is with commanders who know the situation. - -“The _Boches_ will be coming back at us soon, you will see!” said one -of the officers at our observation post. “They always do. The other day -they chose this particular spot for their target”--which was a good -reason why they would not this time, an optimist thought. - -Let either side start a bombardment and the other responds. There is -a you-hit-me-and-I’ll-hit-you character to siege warfare. Gun-fire -provokes gun-fire. Neither adversary stays quiet under a blow. It -was not long before we heard the whish of German shells passing some -distance away. - -They say the sport is out of war. Perhaps, but not its enthralling -and horrible fascination. Knowing what the target is, knowing the -object of the fire, hearing the scream of the projectile on the way and -watching to see if it is to be a hit, when the British are fighting the -Germans on the soil of France, has an intensive thrill which is missing -to the spectator who looks on at the Home Sports’ Club shooting at -clay pigeons--which is not in justification of war. It does explain, -however, the attraction of gunnery to gunners. One forgets for the -instant that men are being killed and mangled. He thinks only of points -being scored in a contest which requires all the wit and strength and -fortitude of man and all his cunning in the manufacture and control of -material. - -You want your side to win; in this case, because it is the side of -humanity and of that quiet, kindly general and the things that he and -the army he represents stand for. The blows which the demons from the -British lairs strike are to you the blows of justice; and you are glad -when they go home. They are your blows. You have a better reason for -keeping an army’s artillery secrets than for keeping secret the signals -of your Varsity football team, which any one instinctly keeps--the -reason of a world cause. - -Yet another thing to see--an aeroplane assisting a battery by spotting -the fall of its shells, which is engrossing, too, and amazingly simple. -Of course, this battery was proud of its method of concealment. Each -battery commander will tell you that one of the British planes has -flown very low, as a test, without being able to locate his battery. -If the plane does locate it, there is more work due in “make-up” to -complete the disguise. Competition among batteries is as keen as among -battleships of the North Atlantic. - -Situation favoured this battery, which was Canadian. It was as nicely -at home as a first-class Adirondack camp. At any rate, no other battery -had a dugout for a litter of eight pups, with clean straw for their -bed, right between two gun-emplacements. - -“We found the mother wild out there in the woods,” one of the men -explained. “She, too, was a victim of war; a refugee from some home -destroyed by shell-fire. At first she wouldn’t let us approach her, and -we tossed her pieces of meat from a safe distance. I think those pups -will bring us luck. We’ll take them along to the Rhine. Some mascots, -eh?” - -On our way back to the general’s headquarters we must have passed -other batteries hidden from sight only a stone’s throw away; and yet -in an illustrated paper recently I saw a drawing of some guns emplaced -on the crest of a bare hill, naked to all the batteries of the enemy -but engaged in destroying all the enemy’s batteries, according to the -account. Eleven months of war have not shaken conventional ideas about -gunnery; which is one reason for writing this chapter. - -Also, on our way back we learned the object of the German fire in -answer to our bombardment of the redoubt and the wireless station. They -had shelled a cross-roads and a certain village again. As we passed -through the village we noticed a new hole in the church tower and three -holes in the churchyard, which had scattered clods of earth about the -pavement. A shopkeeper across the street was engaged in repairing a -window-frame that had been broken by a shell-fragment. - -There is no flustering the French population. That very day I heard -of an old peasant, who asked a British soldier if he could not get -permission for the old man to wear some kind of an armband which both -sides would respect, so that he could cut his field of wheat between -the trenches. Why not? Wasn’t it his wheat? Didn’t he need the crop? - -The Germans fire into villages and towns; for the women and children -there are the women and children of the enemy. But those in the German -lines belong to the ally of England. Besides, they are women and -children. So British gunners avoid the towns--which is, in one sense, -a professional handicap. - - - - -XIX - -ARCHIBALD THE ARCHER - - The anti-aeroplane gun--Tricks of the trade--The vagabond of the - army lines--Before the days of Archibald--Pie for the Taube-- - “Swaggerest” of the gun tribe--Sport of war--Puffs in the - blue--Difficulty of accuracy--“Sending the prying aerial eye - home”--The business of planes. - - -There is another kind of gun, vagrant and free lance, which deserves a -chapter by itself. It has the same bark as the eighteen-pounder field -piece; the flight of the shell makes the same kind of sound. But its -scream, instead of passing in a long parabola toward the German lines, -goes up in the heavens toward something as large as your hand against -the light blue of the summer sky--a German aeroplane. - -At a height of seven or eight thousand feet the target seems almost -stationary, when really it is going somewhere between fifty and ninety -miles an hour. It has all the heavens to itself, and to the British it -is a sinister, prying eye that wants to see if we are building any new -trenches, if we are moving bodies of troops or of transport in some -new direction, and where our batteries are in hiding. That aviator -three miles above the earth has many waiting guns at his command. A few -signals from his wireless and they would let loose on the target he -indicated. - -If the planes might fly as low as they pleased, they would know all -that was going on in an enemy’s lines. They must keep up so high that -through the aviator’s glasses a man on the road is the size of a -pin-head. To descend low is as certain death as to put your head over -the parapet of a trench when the enemy’s trench is only a hundred yards -away. There are dead lines in the air, no less than on the earth. - -Archibald, the anti-aircraft gun, sets the dead line. He watches over -it as a cat watches a mouse. The trick of sneaking up under cover of a -noon-day cloud and all the other man-bird tricks he knows. A couple of -seconds after that crack a tiny puff of smoke breaks about a hundred -yards behind the Taube. A soft thistleblow against the blue it seems -at that altitude; but it wouldn’t if it were about your ears. Then it -would sound like a bit of dynamite on an anvil struck by a hammer and -you would hear the whiz of scores of bullets and fragments. - -The smoking brass shell-case is out of Archibald’s steel throat and -another shell-case with its charge slipped into place and started on -its way before the first puff breaks. The aviator knows what is coming. -He knows that one means many, once he is in range. - -Archibald rushes the fighting; it is the business of the Taube to -sidestep. The aviator cannot hit back except through his allies, the -German batteries, on the earth. They would take care of Archibald if -they knew where he was. But all that the aviator can see is mottled -landscape. From his side Archibald flies no goal flags. He is one of -ten thousand tiny objects under the aviator’s eye. - -Archibald’s propensities are entirely peripatetic. He is the vagabond -of the army lines. Locate him and he is gone. His home is where night -finds him and the day’s duties take him. He is the only gun that keeps -regular hours like a Christian gentleman. All the others, great and -small, raucous-voiced and shrill-voiced, fire at any hour, night or -day. Aeroplanes rarely go up at night; and when no aeroplanes are up, -Archibald has no interest in the war. But he is alert at the first -flush of dawn, on the lookout for game with the avidity of a pointer -dog; for aviators are also up early. - -Why he was named Archibald nobody knows. As his full name is Archibald -the Archer, possibly it comes from some association with the idea -of archery. If there were ten thousand anti-aircraft guns in the -British army, every one would be known as Archibald. When the British -Expeditionary Force went to France it had none. All the British -could do was to bang away at Taubes with thousands of rounds of -rifle-bullets, which might fall in their own lines, and with the field -guns. - -It was pie in those days for the Taubes! Easy to keep out of the range -of both rifles and guns and observe well! If the Germans did not -know the progress of the British retreat from on high it was their -own fault. Now, the business of firing at Taubes is left entirely to -Archibald. When you see how hard it is for Archibald, after all his -practice, to get a Taube, you understand how foolish it was for the -field guns to try to get one. - -Archibald, who is quite the “swaggerest” of the gun tribe, has his own -private car built especially for him. Such of the cavalry’s former part -as the planes do not play he plays. He keeps off the enemy’s scouts. Do -you seek team-work, spirit of corps, and smartness in this theatre of -France, where all the old glamour of war is supposed to be lacking? You -will find it in the attendants of Archibald. They have pride, _élan_, -alertness, pepper, and all the other appetisers and condiments. They -are as neat as a private yacht’s crew and as lively as an infield of -a major league team. The Archibaldians are naturally bound to think -rather well of themselves. - -Watch them there, every man knowing his part, as they send their shells -after the Taube! There is not enough waste motion among the lot to tip -over the range-finder, or the telescopes, or the score board, or any of -the other paraphernalia assisting the man who is looking through the -sight in knowing where to aim next, as a screw answers softly to his -touch. - -Is the sport of war dead? Not for Archibald! Here you see your target-- -which is so rare these days when British infantrymen have stormed and -taken trenches without ever seeing a German--and the target is a bird, -a man-bird. Puffs of smoke with bursting hearts of death are clustered -around the Taube. One follows another in quick succession, for more -than one Archibald is firing, before your entranced eyes. - -You are staring like the crowd of a county fair at a parachute act. For -the next puff may get him. Who knows this better than the aviator? He -is, likely, an old hand at the game; or, if he is not, he has all the -experience of other veterans to go by. His ruse is the same as that of -the escaped prisoner, who runs from the fire of a guard in a zigzag -course, and more than that. If a puff comes near on the right, he turns -to the left; if one comes near on the left, he turns to the right; if -one comes under, he rises; over, he dips. This means that the next -shell fired at the same point will be wide of the target. - -Looking through the sight, it seems easy to hit a plane. But here is -the difficulty. It takes two seconds, say, for the shell to travel to -the range of the plane. The gunner must wait for its burst before he -can spot his shot. Ninety miles an hour is a mile and a half a minute. -Divide that by thirty and you have about a hundred yards which the -plane has travelled from the time the shell left the gun-muzzle till -it burst. It becomes a matter of discounting the aviator’s speed and -guessing from experience which way he will turn next. - -That ought to have got him--the burst was right under. No! He rises. -Surely that one got him! The puff is right in front, partly hiding the -Taube from view. You see the plane tremble as if struck by a violent -gust of wind. Close! Within thirty or forty yards, the telescope says. -But at that range the naked eye is easily deceived about distance. -Probably some of the bullets have cut his plane. - -But you must hit the man or the machine in a vital spot in order to -bring down your bird. The explosions must be very close to count. It -is amazing how much shell-fire an aeroplane can stand. Aviators are -accustomed to the whiz of shell-fragments and bullets and to have -their planes punctured and ripped. Though their engines are put out of -commission, and frequently though the men be wounded, they are able to -volplane back to the cover of their own lines. - -To make a proper story we ought to have brought down this particular -bird. But it had the luck, which most planes, British or German, have, -to escape anti-aircraft gun-fire. It had begun edging away after the -first shot and soon was out of range. Archibald had served the purpose -of his existence. He had sent the prying aerial eye home. - -A fight between planes in the air very rarely happens, except in -the imagination. Planes do not go up to fight other planes, but for -observation. Their business is to see and learn and bring home their -news. - - - - -XX - -TRENCHES IN SUMMER - - General Mud “down and out”--“What hopes!”--Heroes in khaki-- - “Tickets to England”--Coddling at home--Comradeship among the - men--The uses of barbed wire--“Your hat, sir!”--Sniping-- - Sentimental Mr. Atkins--Exchange of pleasantries--A “Boche” - joke--A mine explodes--Wasting the Kaiser’s powder--A maze of - trench “streets”--A soldier cook--And cook stoves--Officers’ - mess--Fresh from Sandhurst--“When do you think the war will - be over?”--_Strafing_ the chicken--From favourite actors to - military methods--A night crawl between trenches--An alarm--In - the midst of barbed-wire--Crawling patrols in the wheat field-- - A narrow escape--A trench cot--The “morning hate”--A memory of - cheerful hospitality. - - -It was the same trench in June, still a relatively “quiet corner,” -which I had seen in March; but I would never have known it if its -location had not been the same on the map. One was puzzled how a place -that had been so wet could become so dry. - -This time the approach was made in daylight through a long -communication ditch, which brought us to a shell-wrecked farmhouse. -We passed through this and stepped down at the back door into deep -traverses cut among the roots of an orchard; then behind walls of -earth high above our heads to battalion headquarters in a neat little -shanty, where I deposited the first of the cakes I had brought, on the -table beside some battalion reports. A cake is the right gift for the -trenches, though less so in summer than in winter when appetites are -less keen. The adjutant tried a slice while the colonel conferred with -the general, who had accompanied me this far; and he glanced up at a -sheet of writing with a line opposite hours of the day, pinned to a -post of his dugout. - -“I wanted to see if it were time to make another report,” he said. “We -are always making reports. Everybody is, so that whoever is superior to -some one else knows what is happening in his subordinate’s department.” - -Then in and out in a maze, between walls with straight faces on the -hard, dry earth, testifying to the beneficence of summer weather in -constructing fastnesses from artillery fire, until we were in the -firing-trench, where I was at home among the officers and men of a -company. General Mud was “down and out.” He waited on the winter -rains to take command again. But winter would find an army prepared -against his kind of campaign. Life in the trenches in summer was not so -unpleasant but that some preferred it, with the excitement of sniping, -to the boredom of billets. - - * * * * * - -“What hopes!” was the current phrase I heard among the men in these -trenches. It shared honours with _strafe_. You have only one life to -live and you may lose that any second--what hopes! Dig, dig, dig, and -set off a mine that sends Germans skyward in a cloud of dust--what -hopes! Bully beef from Chicago and Argentina is no food for babes, -but better than “K.K.” bread--what hopes! Mr. Thomas Atkins, British -regular, takes things as they come--and a lot of them come--shells, -bullets, asphyxiating gas, grenades, and bombs. - -There is much to be thankful for. The King’s Own Particular Fusiliers, -as we shall call this regiment, had only three men hit yesterday. On -every man’s cap is a metal badge crowded with battle honours, from the -storming of Quebec to the relief of Ladysmith. Heroic its history; -but no battle honours equal that of the regiment’s part in the second -battle of Ypres; and no heroes of the regiment’s story, whom you -picture in imagination with halos of glory in the wish that you might -have met them in the flesh in their scarlet coats, are the equal of -these survivors in plain khaki manning a ditch in A. D. 1915, whom any -one may meet. - -But do not tell them that they are heroes. They will deny it on the -evidence of themselves as eye-witnesses of the action. To remark that -the K. O. P. F. are brave is like remarking that water flows down hill. -It is the business of the K. O. P. F. to be brave. Why talk about it? - -One of the three men hit was killed. Well, everybody in the war rather -expects to be killed. The other two “got tickets to England,” as they -say. My lady will take the convalescents joy riding in her car and -afterwards seat them in easy chairs, arranging the cushions with her -own hands, and feed them slices of cold chicken in place of bully beef -and strawberries and cream in place of ration marmalade. Oh, my! What -hopes! - -Mr. Atkins does not mind being a hero for the purposes of such -treatment. Then, with never a twinkle in his eye, he will tell my lady -that he does not want to return to the front; he has had enough of it, -he has. My lady’s patriotism will be a trifle shocked, as Mr. Atkins -knows it will be; and she will wonder if the “stick it” quality of the -British soldier is weakening, as Mr. Atkins knows she will. For he has -more kinks in his mental equipment than mere nobility ever guesses and -he is having the time of his life in more respects than strawberries -and cream. What hopes! Of course, he will return and hold on in the -face of all that the Germans can give, without any pretence to bravery. - -If one goes as a stranger into the trenches on a sightseeing tour and -says, “How are you?” and, “Are you going to Berlin?” and, “Are you -comfortable?” etc., Tommy Atkins will say, “Yes, sir,” and “Very well, -sir,” etc., as becomes all polite regular soldier men; and you get to -know him about as well as you know the members of a club if you are -shown the library and dine at a corner table with a friend. - -Spend the night in the trenches and you are taken into the family; -into that very human family of soldierdom in a quiet corner; and the -old, care-free spirit of war, which some people thought had passed, is -found to be no less alive in siege warfare than on a march of regulars -on the Indian frontier or in the Philippines. Gaiety and laughter and -comradeship and “joshing” are here among men to whom wounds and death -are a part of the game. One may challenge high explosives with a smile, -no less than ancient round shot. Settle down behind the parapet and the -little incongruities of a trench, paltry without the intimacy of men -and locality, make for humour no less than in a shop or a factory. - -Under the parapet runs the tangle of barbed wire--barbed wire from -Switzerland to Belgium--to welcome visitors from that direction, -which, to say the least, would be an impolitic direction of approach -for any stranger. - -“All sightseers should come into the trenches from the rear,” says Mr. -Atkins. “Put it down in the guidebooks.” - -Beyond the barbed wire in the open field the wheat which some farmer -sowed before the positions were established in this area is now in -head, rippling with the breeze, making a golden sea up to the wall of -sandbags which is the enemy’s line. It was late June at its loveliest; -no signs of war except the sound of our guns some distance away and an -occasional sniper’s bullet. One cracked past as I was looking through -my glasses to see if there were any evidence of life in the German -trenches. - -“Your hat, sir!” - -Another moved a sandbag slightly, but not until after the hat had come -down and the head under it most expeditiously. Up to eight hundred -yards a bullet cracks; beyond that range it whistles, sighs, even -wheezes. An elevation gives snipers, who are always trained shots, an -angle of advantage. In winter they had to rely for cover on buildings, -which often came tumbling down with them when hit by a shell. The -foliage of summer is a boon to their craft. - -“Does it look to you like an opening in the branches of that tree--the -big one at the right?” - -In the mass of leaves a dark spot was visible. It might be natural, or -it might be a space cut away for the swing of a rifle barrel. Perhaps -sitting up there snugly behind a bullet-proof shield fastened to the -limbs was a German sharpshooter, watching for a shot with the patience -of a hound for a rabbit to come out of its hole. - -“It’s about time we gave that tree a spray good for that kind of -fungus, from a machine gun!” - -A bullet coming from our side swept overhead. One of our own -sharpshooters had seen something to shoot at. - -“Not giving you much excitement!” said Tommy. - -“I suppose I’d get a little if I stood up on the parapet?” I asked. - -“You wouldn’t get a ticket for England; you’d get a box!” - -“There’s a cemetery just back of the lines if you’d prefer to stay in -France!” - -I had passed that cemetery with its fresh wooden crosses on my way to -the trench. These tender-hearted soldiers who joked with death had -placed flowers on the graves of fallen comrades and bought elaborate -French funeral wreaths with their meagre pay--which is another side -of Mr. Thomas Atkins. There is sentiment in him. Yes, he’s loaded with -sentiment, but not for the movies. - -“Keep your head down there, Eames!” called a corporal. “I don’t want to -be taking an inventory of your kit.” - -Eames did not even realise that his head was above the parapet. The -hardest thing to teach a soldier is not to expose himself. Officers -keep iterating warnings and then forget to practise what they preach. -That morning a soldier had been shot through the heart and arm sideways -back of the trench. He had lain down unnoticed for a nap in the sun, -it was supposed. When he awoke, presumably he sat up and yawned and -Herr Schmidt, from some platform in a tree, had a bloody reward for his -patience. - -The next morning I saw the British take their revenge. Some German who -thought that he could not be seen in the mist of dawn was walking along -the German parapet. What hopes! Four or five men took careful aim and -fired. That dim figure collapsed in a way that was convincing. - -As I swept the line of German trenches with the glasses, I saw a wisp -of a flag clinging to its pole in the still air far down to the left. -Flags are as unusual above trenches as men standing up in full view of -the enemy. Then a breeze caught the folds of the flag and I saw that it -was the tricolour of France. - -“A _Boche_ joke!” Tommy explained. - -“Probably they are hating the French to-day?” - -“No, it’s been there for some days. They want us to shoot at the flag -of our ally. They’d get a laugh out of that--a regular Boche notion of -humour.” - -“If it were a German flag?” I suggested. - -“What hopes! We’d make it into a lace curtain!” - -Even the guns had ceased firing. The birds in their evensong had all -the war to themselves. It was difficult to believe that if you stood -on top of the parapet anybody would shoot at you; no, not even if you -walked down the road that ran through the wheat-field, everything was -so peaceful. One grew sceptical of there being any Germans in the -trenches opposite. - -“There are three or four sharpshooters and a fat old _Boche_ professor -in spectacles, who moves a machine gun up and down for a bluff,” said a -soldier, and another corrected him: - -“No, the old professor’s the one that walks along at night sending up -flares!” - -“Munching K.K. bread with his false teeth!” - -“And singing the hymn of hate!” - -Thus the talk ran on in the quiet of evening, till we heard a -concussion and a quarter of a mile away, behind a screen of trees, a -pillar of smoke rose to the height of two or three hundred feet. - -“A mine!” - -“In front of the --th brigade!” - -“Ours or the _Boches’_?” - -“Ours, from the way the smoke went--our fuse!” - -“No, theirs!” - -Our colonel telephoned down to know if we knew whose mine it was, which -was the question we wanted to ask him. The guns from both sides became -busy under the column of smoke. Oh, yes, there were Germans in the -trenches which had appeared vacant. Their shots and ours merged in the -hissing medley of a tempest. - -“Not enough guns--not enough noise for an attack!” said experienced -Tommy, who knew what an attack was like. - -The commander of the adjoining brigade telephoned to the division -commander, who passed the word through to our colonel, who passed it to -us, that the mine was German and had burst thirty yards short of the -British trench. - -“After all that digging, wasting _Boche_ powder in that fashion! The -Kaiser won’t like it!” said Mr. Atkins. “We exploded one under them -yesterday and it made them hate so hard they couldn’t wait. They’ve -awful tempers, the _Boches_!” And he finished the job on which he -was engaged when interrupted, eating a large piece of ration bread -surmounted by all the ration jam it would hold; while one of the -company officers reminded me that it was about dinner time. - - * * * * * - -“What do you think I am? A blooming traffic policeman?” growled the -cook to two soldiers who had found themselves in a blind alley in the -maze of streets back of the firing-trench. “My word! Is His Majesty’s -army becoming illiterate? _Strafe_ that sign at the corner! What do -you think we put it up for? To show what a beautiful hand we had at -printing?” - -The sign on a board fastened against the earth wall read, “No -thoroughfare!” The soldier cook, with a fork in his hand, his sleeves -rolled up, his shirt open at his tanned throat, looked formidable. He -was preoccupied; he was at close quarters roasting a chicken over a -small stove. Yes, they have cook stoves in the trenches. Why not? The -line had been in the same position for six months. - -“Little by little we improve our happy home,” said the cook. - -The latest acquisition was a lace curtain for the officers’ mess hall, -bought at a store in the nearest town. - -When the cook was inside his kitchen there was no room to spill -anything on the floor. The kitchen was about three feet square, with -boarded walls and roof, which was covered with tar paper and a layer of -earth set level with the trench parapet. The chicken roasted and the -frying potatoes sizzled as an occasional bullet passed overhead, even -as flies buzz about the screen door when Mary is baking biscuits for -supper. - -The officers’ mess hall, next to the kitchen and built in the same -fashion, had some boards nailed on posts sunk in the ground for a -table, which was proof against tipping when you climbed over it or -squeezed around it to your place. The chairs were rifle-ammunition -boxes, whose contents had been emptied with individual care, bullet -by bullet, at the Germans in the trench on the other side of the -wheat-field. Dinner was at nine in the evening, when it was still -twilight in the longest day of the year in this region. The hour fits -in with trench routine, when night is the time to be on guard and you -sleep by day. Breakfast comes at nine in the morning. I was invited to -help eat the chicken and to spend the night. - -Now, the general commanding the brigade who accompanied me to the -trenches had been hit twice. So had the colonel, a man about forty. -From forty, ages among the regimental officers dropped into the -twenties. Many of the older men who started in the war had been killed, -or were back in England wounded, or had been promoted to other commands -where their experience was more useful. To youth, life is sweet and -danger is life. The oldest of the officers of the proud old K. O. P. F. -who gathered for dinner was about twenty-five, though when he assumed -an air of authority he seemed about forty. It was not right to ask the -youngest his age. Parenthetically, let it be said that he is trying to -start a moustache. They had come fresh from Sandhurst to swift tuition -in gruelling, incessant warfare. - -“Has any one asked him it yet?” one inquired, referring to some -question to the guest. - -“Not yet? Then all together: When do you think that the war will be -over?” - -It was the eternal question of the trenches, the army and the world. We -had it over with before the soldier cook brought on the roast chicken, -which was received with a befitting chorus of approbation: - -Who would carve? Who knew how to carve? Modesty passed the honour to -its neighbour, till a brave man said: - -“I will! I will _strafe_ the chicken!” - -_Gott strafe England!_ _Strafe_ has become a noun, a verb, an -adjective, a cussword, and a term of greeting. Soldier asks soldier how -he is strafing to-day. When the Germans are not called _Boches_ they -are called Strafers. “Won’t you strafe a little for us?” Tommy sings -out to the German trenches when they are close. What hopes! - -That gallant youngster of the K. O. P. F. in the midst of bantering -advice succeeded in separating the meat from the bones without landing -a leg in anybody’s lap or a wing in anybody’s eye. Timid spectators -who had hung back where he had dared might criticise his form, but -they could not deny the efficiency of his execution. He was appointed -permanent “strafer” of all the fowls that came to table. - -Everybody talked and joked about everything, from plays in London to -the Germans. There were arguments about favourite actors and military -methods. The sense of danger was as absent as if we had been dining -in a summer garden. It was the parents and relatives in pleasant -English homes in fear of a dread telegram who were worrying, not the -sons and brothers in danger. Isn’t it better that way? Would not the -parents prefer it that way? Wasn’t it the way of the ancestors in the -scarlet coats and the Merrie England of their day? With the elasticity -of youth my hosts adapted themselves to circumstances. In their -light-heartedness they made war seem a keen sport. They lived war -for all it was worth. If it gets on their nerves their efficiency is -spoiled. There is no room for a jumpy, excitable man in the trenches. -Youth’s resources defy monotony and death at the same time. - -An expedition had been planned for that night. A patrol the previous -night had brought in word that the Germans had been sneaking up and -piling sandbags in the wheat-field. The plan was to slip out as soon -as it was really dark with a machine gun and a dozen men, get behind -the Germans’ own sandbags, and give them a perfectly informal reception -when they returned to go on with their work. - -Before dinner, however, J----, who was to be the general of the -expedition, and his subordinates made a reconnaissance. Two or more -officers or men always go out together on any trip of this kind in that -ticklish space between the trenches, where it is almost certain death -to be seen by the enemy. If one is hit the other can help him back. If -one survives he will bring back the result of his investigations. - -J---- had his own ideas about comfort in trousers in the trench in -summer. He wore trunks with his knees bare. When he had to do a “crawl” -he unwound his puttee leggings and wound them over his knees. He and -the others slipped over the parapet without attracting the attention of -the enemy’s sharpshooters. On hands and knees, like boy scouts playing -Indian, they passed through a narrow avenue in the ugly barbed wire, -and still not a shot at them. A matter of the commonplace to the men -in the trench held the spectator in suspense. There was a fascination -about the thing, too; that of the sporting chance, without a full -realisation that failure in this hide-and-seek game might mean a spray -of bullets and death for these young men. - -They entered the wheat, moving slowly like two land turtles. The grain -parted in swaths over them. Surely the Germans might see the turtles’ -heads as they were raised to look around. No officer can be too young -and supple for this kind of work. Here the company officer just out of -school is in his element, with an advantage over older officers. That -pair were used to crawling. They did not keep their heads up long. They -knew just how far they might expose themselves. They passed out of -sight, and reappeared and slipped back over the parapet again without -the Germans being any the wiser. - -Hard luck! It is an unaccommodating world! They found that the patrol -which had examined the bags at night had failed to discern that they -were old and must have been there for some time. - -“I’ll take the machine gun out, anyhow, if the colonel will permit it,” -said J----. - -For the colonel puts on the brakes. Otherwise, there is no telling what -risks youth might take with machine guns. - -We were half through dinner when a corporal came to report that a -soldier on watch thought that he had seen some Germans moving in the -wheat very near our barbed wire. Probably a false alarm; but no one -in a trench ever acts on the theory that any alarm is false. Eternal -vigilance is the price of holding a trench. Either side is cudgelling -its brains day and night to spring some new trick on the other. If -one side succeeds with a trick, the other immediately adopts it. No -international copyright on strategy is recognised. We rushed out of the -mess hall into the firing-trench, where we found the men on the alert, -their rifles laid on the spot where the Germans were supposed to have -been seen. - -“Who are you? Answer, or we fire!” called the ranking young lieutenant. - -If any persons present out at front in face of thirty rifles knew the -English language and had not lost the instinct of self-preservation, -they would certainly have become articulate in response to such an -unveiled hint. Not a sound came. Probably a rabbit running through the -wheat had been the cause of the alarm. But you take no risks. The order -was given, and the men combed the wheat with a fusillade. - -“Enough! Cease fire!” said the officer. “Nobody there. If there had -been we should have heard the groan of a wounded man or seen the wheat -stir as the Germans hugged closer to the earth for cover.” - -This he knew by experience. It was not the first time he had used a -fusillade in this kind of a test. - -After dinner J---- rolled his puttees up around his bare knees -again, for the colonel had not withdrawn permission for the machine -gun expedition. J----’s knees were black and blue in spots; they -were also--well, there is not much water for washing purposes in the -trenches. Great sport that, crawling through the dew-moist wheat in the -faint moonlight, looking for a bunch of Germans in the hope of turning -a machine gun on them before they turn one on you. - -“One man hit by a stray bullet,” said J----, on his return. - -“I heard the bullet go th-ip into the earth after it went through his -leg,” said the other officer. - -“Blythe was a recruit and he had asked me to take him out the first -time there was anything doing. I promised that I would, and he got -about the only shot fired at us.” - -“Need a stretcher?” - -“No.” - -Blythe came hobbling through the traverse to the communication trench, -seeming well pleased with himself. The soft part of the leg is not a -bad place to receive a bullet if one is due to hit you. - - * * * * * - -Night is always the time in the trenches when life grows more -interesting and death more likely. - -“It’s dark enough, now,” said one of the youngsters who was out on -another scout. “We’ll go out with the patrol.” - -By day, the slightest movement of the enemy is easily and instantly -detected. The light keeps the combatants to the warrens which protect -them from shell and bullet-fire. At night there is no telling what -mischief the enemy may be up to; you must depend upon the ear rather -than the eye for watching. Then the human soldier-fox comes out of his -burrow and sneaks forth on the lookout for prey; both sides are on the -prowl. - -“Trained owls would be the most valuable scouts we could have,” said -the young officer. “They would be more useful than aeroplanes in -locating the enemy’s gun positions. A properly reliable owl would come -back and say that a German patrol was out in the wheat-field at such a -point and a machine gun would wipe out the German patrol.” - -We turned into a side trench, an alley off the main street, leading out -of the front trench toward the Germans. - -“Anybody out?” he asked a soldier, who was on guard at the end of it. - -“Yes, two.” - -Climbing out of the ditch, we were in the midst of a tangle of barbed -wire protecting the trench front, which was faintly visible in the -starlight. There was a break in the tangle, a narrow cut in the hedge, -as it were, kept open for just such purposes as this. When the patrol -returned it closed the gate again. - -“Look out for that wire--just there! Do you see it? We’ve everything -to keep the _Boches_ off our front lawn except ‘keep off the grass!’ -signs.” - -It was perfectly still, a warm summer night without a cat’s-paw of -breeze. Through the dark curtain of the sky in a parabola rising from -the German trenches swept a brilliant sputter of red light of a German -flare. It was coming as straight toward us as if it had been aimed at -us. It cast a searching, uncanny glare over the tall wheat in head -between the trenches. - -“Down flat!” whispered the officer. - -It seemed foolish to grovel before a piece of fireworks. There was no -firing in our neighbourhood; nothing to indicate a state of war between -the British Empire and Germany; no visual evidence of any German army -anywhere in France except that flare. However, if a guide, who knows -as much about war as this one, says to prostrate yourself when you are -out between two lines of machine guns and rifles--between the fighting -powers of Britain and Germany--you take the hint. The flare sank -into the earth a few yards away, after a last insulting, ugly fling of -sparks in our faces. - -“What if we had been seen?” - -“They’d have combed the wheat in this neighbourhood thoroughly, and -they might have got us.” - -“It’s hard to believe,” I said. - -So it was, he agreed. That was the exasperating thing about it. Always -hard to believe, perhaps, until after all the cries of wolf the wolf -came; until after nineteen harmless flares the twentieth revealed -to the watching enemy the figure of a man above the wheat, when a -crackling chorus of bullets would suddenly break the silence of night -by concentrating on a target. Keeping cover from German flares is a -part of the minute, painstaking economy of war. - -We crawled on slowly, taking care to make no noise, till we brought up -behind two soldiers hugging the earth, rifles in hand ready to fire -instantly. It was their business not only to see the enemy first, but -to shoot first, and to capture or kill any German patrol. The officer -spoke to them and they answered. It was unnecessary for them to say -that they had seen nothing. If they had we should have known it. He was -out there less to scout himself than to make sure that they were on the -job; that they knew how to watch. The visit was part of his routine. We -did not even whisper. Preferably, all whispering would be done by any -German patrol out to have a look at our barbed wire and overheard by us. - -Silence and the starlight and the damp wheat; but, yes, there was war. -You heard gun-fire half a mile, perhaps a mile, away; and raising your -head you saw auroras from bursting shells. We heard at our backs -faintly snatches of talk from our trenches and faintly in front the -talk from theirs. It sounded rather inviting and friendly from both -sides, like that around some campfire on the plains. - -It seemed quite within the bounds of probability that you might have -crawled on up to the Germans and said, “Howdy!” But by the time you -reached the edge of their barbed wire and before you could present -your visiting-card, if not sooner, you would have been full of holes. -That was just the kind of diversion from trench monotony for which the -Germans were looking. - -“Well, shall we go back?” asked the officer. - -There seemed no particular purpose in spending the night prone in the -wheat with your ears cocked like a pointer dog’s. Besides, he had other -duties, exacting duties laid down by the colonel as the result of -trench experience in his responsibility for the command of a company of -men. - -It happened, as we crawled back into the trench, that a fury of shots -broke out from a point along the line two or three hundred yards away; -sharp, vicious shots on the still night air, stabbing, merciless death -in their sound. Oh, yes, there was war in France; unrelenting, shrewd, -tireless war. A touch of suspicion anywhere and the hornets swarmed. - - * * * * * - -It was two A. M. From the dugouts came unmistakable sounds of slumber. -Men off duty were not kept awake by cold and moisture in summer. They -had fashioned for themselves comfortable dormitories in the hard earth -walls. A cot in an officer’s bed chamber was indicated as mine. The -walls had been hung with cuts from illustrated papers and bagging -spread on the floor to make it “home-like.” He lay down on the floor -because he was nearer the door in case he had to respond to an alarm; -besides, he said I would soon appreciate that I was not the object of -any favouritism. So I did. It was a trench-made cot, fashioned by some -private of engineers, I fancy, who had Germans rather than the American -cousin in mind. - -“The wall side of the rib that runs down the middle is the comfortable -side, I have found,” said my host. “It may not appear so at first, but -you will find that it works out that way.” - -Nevertheless, one slept, his last recollection that of sniping -shots, to be awakened with the first streaks of day by the sound of -a fusillade--the “morning hate” or the “morning strafe,” as it was -called. After the vigil of darkness it breaks the monotony to salute -the dawn with a burst of rifle-shots. Eyes strained through the mist -over the wheat-field watching for some one of the enemy who may be -exposing himself, unconscious that it is light enough for him to be -visible. Objects which are not men but look as if they might be in the -hazy distance, called for attention on the chance. For ten minutes, -perhaps, the serenade lasted, and then things settled down to the -normal. The men were yawning and stirring from their dugouts. After the -muster they would take the places of those who had been “on the bridge” -through the night. - -“It’s a case of how little water you can wash with, isn’t it?” I said -to the cook, who appreciated my thoughtfulness when I made shift with a -dipperful, as I had done on desert journeys. We were in a trench that -was inundated with water in winter, and not more than two miles from -a town which had a water system. But bringing a water supply in pails -along narrow trenches is a poor pastime, though better than bringing -it up under the rifle-sights of snipers across the fields back of the -trenches. - -“Don’t expect much for breakfast,” said the _strafer_ of the chicken. -But it was eggs and bacon, the British stand-by in all weathers, at -home and abroad. - -J---- was going to turn in and sleep. These youngsters could sleep at -any time; for one hour, or two hours, or five, or ten, if they had a -chance. A sudden burst of rifle-fire was the alarm clock which always -promptly awakened them. The recollection of cheery hospitality and -their fine, buoyant spirit is even clearer now than when I left the -trench. - - - - -XXI - -A SCHOOL IN BOMBING - - War specialism--A school on a French farm--A lesson--“Bombing - them out”--Fighting in zigzag traverses--Cold steel--The bomb - storehouse--All shapes and sizes--Revivals of Roman legionary - days--A home-made product--A fool-proof, up to the minute and - popular (except with the “Boches”) variety. - - -It was at a bombing school on a French farm, where chosen soldiers -brought back from the trenches were being trained in the use of the -anarchists’ weapon, which has now become as respectable as the rifle. -The war has steadily developed specialism. M.B. degrees for Master -Bombers are not beyond the range of possibilities. - -Present was the chief instructor, a young Scotch subaltern with blue -eyes, a pleasant smile, and a Cock o’ the North spirit. He might have -been twenty years old, though he did not look it. On his breast was the -purple and white ribbon of the new order of the Military Cross, which -you get for doing something in this war which would have won you a -Victoria Cross in one of the other wars. - -Also present was the assistant instructor, a sergeant of regulars-- -and very much of a regular--who had three ribbons which he had won in -previous campaigns. He, too, had blue eyes, bland blue eyes. These two -understood each other. - -“If you don’t drop it, why, it’s all right!” said the sergeant. “Of -course, if you do--” - -I did not drop it. - -“And when you throw it, sir, you must look out and not hit the man -behind and knock the bomb out of your hand. That has happened before to -an absent-minded fellow who was about to toss one at the _Boches_, and -it doesn’t do to be absent-minded when you throw bombs.” - -“They say that you sometimes pick up the German bombs and chuck them -back before they explode,” it was suggested. - -“Yes, sir, I’ve read things like that in some of the accounts of the -reporters who write from Somewhere in France. You don’t happen to know -where that is, sir? All I can say is that if you are going to do it you -must be quick about it. I shouldn’t advise delaying your decision, sir, -or perhaps when you reached down to pick it up, neither your hand nor -the bomb would be there. They’d have gone off together, sir.” - -“Have you ever been hurt in your handling of bombs?” I asked. - -Surprise in the bland blue eyes. - -“Oh, no, sir! Bombs are well behaved if you treat them right. It’s all -in being thoughtful and considerate of them!” Meanwhile, he was jerking -at some kind of a patent fuse set in a shell of high explosive. “This -is a poor kind, sir. It’s been discarded, but I thought that you might -like to see it. Never did like it. Always making trouble!” - -More distance between the audience and the performer. - -“Now I’ve got it, sir--get down, sir!” - -The audience carried out instructions to the letter, as army -regulations require. It got behind the protection of one of the -practice-trench traverses. He threw the discard beyond another wall of -earth. There was a sharp report, a burst of smoke, and some fragments -of earth were tossed into the air. - -In a small affair of two hundred yards of trench a week before, it was -estimated that the British and the Germans together threw about five -thousand bombs in this fashion. It was enough to sadden any Minister of -Munitions. However, the British kept the trench. - -“Do the men like to become bombers?” I asked the subaltern. - -“I should say so! It puts them up in front. It gives them a chance to -throw something, and they don’t get much cricket in France, you see. We -had a pupil here last week, who broke the throwing record for distance. -He was as pleased as Punch with himself. A first-class bombing -detachment has a lot of pride of corps.” - -To bomb soon became as common a verb with the army as to bayonet. “We -bombed them out” meant a section of trench taken. As you know, a trench -is dug and built with sandbags in zigzag traverses. In following the -course of a trench it is as if you followed the sides of the squares -of a checkerboard up and down and across on the same tier of squares. -The square itself is a bank of earth, with the cut on either side and -in front of it. When a bombing party bombs their way into possession -of a section of German trench, there are Germans under cover of the -traverses on either side. They are waiting around the corner to shoot -the first British head that shows itself. - -“It is important that you and not the _Boches_ chuck the bombs over -first,” explained the subaltern. “Also, that you get them into the -right traverse, or they may be as troublesome to you as to the enemy.” - -With bombs bursting in their faces, the Germans who are not put out of -action are blinded and stunned. In the moment when they are thus off -guard, the aggressors leap around the corner. - -“And then?” - -“Stick ’em, sir!” said the matter-of-fact sergeant. “Yes, the cold -steel is best. And do it first! As Mr. MacPherson said, it’s very -important to do it first.” - -It has been found that something short is handy for this kind of work. -In such cramped quarters--a ditch six feet deep and from two to three -feet broad--the rifle is an awkward length to permit of prompt and -skilful use of the bayonet. - -“Yes, sir, you can mix it up better with something handy--to think -that British soldiers would come to fighting like assassins!” said -the sergeant. “You must be spry on such occasions. It’s no time for -wool-gathering.” - -Not a smile from him or the subaltern all the time. They were the kind -you would like to have along in a tight corner, whether you had to -fight with knives, fists, or seventeen-inch howitzers. - -The sergeant took us into the storehouse where he kept his supply of -bombs. - -“What if a German shell should strike your storehouse?” I asked. - -“Then, sir, I expect that most of the bombs would be exploded. Bombs -are very peculiar in their habits. What do you think, sir?” - -It was no trouble to show stock, as clerks at the stores say. He -brought forth all the different kinds of bombs that British ingenuity -has invented--but no, not all invented. These would mount into the -thousands. Every British inventor who knows anything about explosives -has tried his hand at a new kind of bomb. One means all the kinds -which the British War Office has considered worth a practice test. The -spectator was allowed to handle each one as much as he pleased. There -had been occasions, that boyish Scotch subaltern told me, when the -men who were examining the products of British ingenuity--well, the -subaltern had sandy hair, too, which heightened the effect of his blue -eye. - -There were yellow and green and blue and black and striped bombs; -egg-shaped, barrel-shaped, conical, and concave bombs; bombs that were -exploded by pulling a string and by pressing a button--all these to be -thrown by hand, without mentioning grenades and other larger varieties -to be thrown by mechanical means, which would have made a Chinese -warrior of Confucius’ time or a Roman legionary feel at home. - -“This was the first-born,” the subaltern explained, “the first thing we -could lay our hands on when the close quarters’ trench warfare began.” - -It was as out of date as grandfather’s smooth-bore, the tin-pot bomb -that both sides used early in the winter. A wick was attached to the -high explosive, wrapped in cloth and stuck in an ordinary army jam can. - -“Quite home-made, as you see, sir,” remarked the sergeant. “Used to -fix them up ourselves in the trenches in odd hours--saved burying -the refuse jam tins according to medical corps directions--and you -threw them at the _Boches_. Had to use a match to light it. Very -old-fashioned, sir. I wonder if that old fuse has got damp. No, it’s -going all right”--and he threw the jam pot, which made a good -explosion. Later, when he began hammering the end of another, he looked -up in mild surprise at the dignified back-stepping of the spectators. - -“Is that fuse out?” some one asked. - -“Yes, sir. Of course, sir,” he replied. “It’s safer. But here is the -best; we’re discarding the others,” he went on, as he picked up a bomb. - -It was a pleasure to throw this crowning achievement of experiments. It -fitted your hand nicely; it threw easily; it did the business; it was -fool-proof against a man in love or a war-poet. - -“We saw as soon as this style came out,” said the sergeant, “that it -was bound to be popular. Everybody asks for it--except the _Boches_, -sir.” - - - - -XXII - -MY BEST DAY AT THE FRONT - - Planning at headquarters--Trench maps--A “hot corner” north of - Ypres--The English in possession--Preparation for a gas - attack--Farming behind the lines--Reaching the tornado belt-- - “Policing the district”--Man the most precious machine--A - general’s dugout headquarters--First aid to the wounded--Cave - men at home--The scream of a great shell--A close call-- - Galleries to the front--The philosophy of shell-fire--The - flitting planes--An arc of shell fire--Lace work of puffs - from shrapnel bursts--“Artillery preparation for an infantry - attack”--Under a tornado of steel hail. - - -It was the best day because one ran the gamut of the mechanics and -emotions of modern war within a single experience--and oh, the twinkle -in that staff officer’s eye! - -It was on a Monday that I first met him in the ballroom of a large -château. Here another officer was talking over a telephone in an -explicit, businesslike fashion about “sending up more bombs,” while we -looked at maps spread out on narrow, improvised tables, such as are -used for a buffet at a reception. Those maps showed all the British -trenches and all the German trenches--spider-web like lines that -cunning human spiders had spun with spades--in that region; and where -our batteries were and where some of the German batteries were, if our -aeroplane observations were correct. - -To the layman they were simply blue prints, such as he sees in the -office of an engineer or an architect, or elaborate printed maps with -many blue and red pencillings. To the general in command they were -alive with rifle-power and gun-power and other powers mysterious to us; -the sword with which he thrust and feinted and guarded in the ceaseless -fencing of trench warfare, while higher authorities than he kept their -secrets as he kept his and bided their day. - -That morning one of the battalions which had its pencilled place on the -map had taken a section of trench from the Germans about the length -of two city blocks. It got into the official bulletins of both sides -several times, this two hundred yards at Pilken in the everlastingly -“hot corner” north of Ypres. So it was of some importance, though not -on account of its length. - -To take two hundred yards of trench because it is two hundred yards of -trench is not good war, tacticians agree. Good war is to have millions -of shells and vast reserves ready and to go in over a broad area and -keep on going night and day, with a Niagara of artillery, as fresh -battalions are fed into the conflict. - -But the Germans had command of some rising ground in front of the -British line at this point. They could fire down into our trench and -crosswise of it. It was as if we were in the alley and they were in -a first-floor window. This meant many casualties. It was man-economy -and fire-economy to take that two hundred yards. A section of trench -may always be taken if worth while. Reduce it to dust with shells and -then dash into the breach and drive the enemy back from zigzag traverse -to traverse with bombs. But such a small action requires as careful -planning as a big operation of other days. We had taken the two hundred -yards. The thing was to hold them. That is always the difficulty; for -the enemy will concentrate his guns to give you the same dose that -you gave him. In an hour after they were in, the British soldiers, -who knew exactly what they had to do and how to do it after months of -experience, had turned the wreck of the German trenches into a British -trench which faced toward Berlin, rather than Calais. - -In their official bulletin the Germans said that they had recovered the -trench. They did recover part of it for a few hours. It was then that -the commander on the German side must have sent in his report to catch -the late evening editions. Commanders do not like to confess the loss -of trenches. It is the sort of thing that makes Headquarters ask: “What -is the matter with you over there, anyway?” There was a time when the -German bulletins about the Western front seemed rather truthful; but of -late they have been getting into bad habits. - -The British general knew what was coming; he knew that he would start -the German hornets out of their nest when he took the trench; he knew, -too, that he could rely upon his men to hold till they were told to -retire or there were none left to retire. The British are a home-loving -people, who do not like to be changing their habitations. In succeeding -days the question up and down the lines was, “Have we still got that -trench?” Only two hundred yards of ditch on the continent of Europe! -But was it still ours? Had the Germans succeeded in “strafing” us out -of it yet? They had shelled all the trenches in the region of the lost -trench and had made three determined and unsuccessful counter-attacks -when, on the fifth day, we returned to the château to ask if it were -practicable to visit the new trench. - -“At your own risk!” said the staff officer. If we preferred we could -sit on the veranda where there were easy chairs, on a pleasant summer -day. Very peaceful the sweep of the well-kept grounds and the shade of -the stately trees of that sequestered world of landscape. Who was at -war? Why was any one at war? Two staff automobiles awaiting orders on -the drive and a dust-laden despatch rider with messages, who went past -toward the rear of the house, were the only visual evidence of war. - -The staff officer served the three of us with helmets for protection in -case we got into a gas attack. He said that we might enter our front -trenches at a certain point and then work our way as near the new part -as we could; division headquarters, four or five miles distant, would -show us the way. It was then that the twinkle in the staff officer’s -eye as it looked straight into yours became manifest. You can never -tell, I have learned, just what a twinkle in a British staff officer’s -eye may portend. These fellows who are promoted up from the trenches -to join the “brain-trust” in the château, know a great deal more about -what is going on than you can learn by standing in the road far from -the front and listening to the sound of the guns. We encountered a -twinkle in another eye at division headquarters, which may have been -telephoned ahead along with the instructions, “At their own risk.” - -There are British staff officers who would not mind pulling a -correspondent’s leg on a summer day; though, perhaps, it was really -the Germans who pulled ours, in this instance. Somebody did remark at -some headquarters, I recall, that, “You never know!” which shows that -staff officers do not know everything. The Germans possess half the -knowledge--and they are at great pains not to part with their half. - -We proceeded in our car along country roads, quiet, normal country -roads, off the main highway. It has been written again and again, and -it cannot be written too many times, that life is going on as usual in -the rear of the army. Nothing could be more wonderful and yet nothing -more natural. All the men of fighting age were absent. White-capped -grandmothers, too old to join the rest of the family in the fields, sat -in doorways sewing. Everybody was at work and the crops were growing. -One never tires of remarking the fact. It brings you back from the -destructive orgy of war to the simple, constructive things of life. An -industrious people go on cultivating the land and the land keeps on -producing. It is pleasant to think that the crops of Northern France -were good in 1915. That is cheering news from home for the soldiers of -France at the front. - -At an indicated point we left the car to go forward on foot, and the -chauffeur was told to wait for us at another point. If the car went any -farther it might draw shell-fire. Army authorities know how far they -may take cars with reasonable safety as well as a pilot knows the rocks -and shoals at a harbour entrance. - -There was an end of white-capped grandmothers in doorways; an end of -people working in the fields. Rents in the roofless walls of unoccupied -houses stared at the passerby. We were in a dead land. One of two -soldiers whom we met coming from the opposite direction pointed at what -looked like a small miner’s cabin half covered with earth, screened by -a tree, as the next headquarters which we were seeking in our progress. - -It was not for sightseers to take the time of the general, who received -us at the door of his dugout. The German guns had concentrated on a -section of his trenches in a way that indicated that another attack -was coming. One company already had suffered heavy losses. It was -an hour of responsibility for the general, isolated in the midst of -silent fields and houses, waiting for news from a region hidden from -his view by trees and hedges in that flat country. He might not move -from headquarters, for then he would be out of communication with his -command. His men were being pounded by shells and the inexorable law of -organisation kept him at the rear. Up in the trench he might have been -one helpless human being in a havoc of shells which had cut the wires. -His place was where he could be in touch with his subordinates and his -superiors. - -True, we wanted to go to the trench that the Germans had lost and his -section was the short cut. Modesty was not the only reason for not -taking it. As we started along a road parallel to the front, the head -of a soldier popped out of the earth and told us that orders were to -walk in the ditch. One judged that he was less concerned with our fate -than with the likelihood of our drawing fire, which he and the others -in a concealed trench would suffer after we had passed on. - -There were three of us, two correspondents, L---- and myself, and R----, -an officer, which is quite enough for an expedition of this kind. -Now we were finding our own way, with the help of the large scale -army map which had every house, every farm, and every group of trees -marked. The farms had been given such names as Joffre, Kitchener, -French, Botha, and others which the Germans would not like. One cut -across fields with the same confidence that, following a diagram of -city streets in a guidebook, he turns to the left for the public -library and to the right for the museum. - -Our own guns were speaking here and there from their hiding-places; -and overhead an occasional German shrapnel burst. This seemed a waste -of the Kaiser’s munitions, as there was no one in sight. Yet there was -purpose in the desultory scattering of bullets from on high. They were -policing the district; they were warning the hated British in reserve -not to play cricket in those fields or march along those deserted roads. - -The more bother in taking cover that the Germans can make the British, -the better they like it; and the British return the compliment in kind. -Everything that harasses your enemy is counted to the good. If every -shell fired had killed a man in this war, there would be no soldiers -left to fight on either side; yet never have shells been so important -in war before. They can reach the burrowing human beings in shelters -which are bullet-proof; they are the omnipresent threat of death. The -firing of shells from batteries securely hidden and emplaced represents -no cost of life to your side, only cost of material; which ridicules -the foolish conclusion that machinery and not men count. It is -because man is still the most precious machine--a machine that money -cannot reproduce--that gun machinery is so much in favour, and every -commander wants to use shells as freely as you use city water when you -don’t pay for it by metre. - -Now another headquarters and another general, also isolated in a -dugout, holding the reins of his wires over a section of line adjoining -that of the one we had just left. Before we proceeded we must look -over his shelter from shell-storms. The only time that these British -generals become boastful is over their dugouts. They take all the pride -in them of the man who has bought a plot of land and built himself -a home; and like him, they keep on making improvements and calling -attention to them. - -I must say that this was one of the best shelters I have seen anywhere -in the tornado belt; and whatever I am not, I am certainly an expert in -dugouts. Of course, this general, too, said, “At your own risk!” He was -good enough to send a young officer with us up to the trenches; then -we should not make any mistakes about direction if we wanted to reach -the neighbourhood of the two hundred yards which we had taken from the -Germans. When we thanked him and said “Good-bye!” he remarked: - -“We never say good-bye up here. It does not sound pleasant. Make it _au -revoir_” And he, too, had a twinkle in his eye. - -By this time one leg ought to have been so much longer than the other -that one would have walked in a circle if he had not had a guide. - -That battery which had been near the dugout kept on with its regular -firing, its shells sweeping overhead. We had not gone far before we -came to a board nailed to a tree with the caution, “Keep to the right!” -If you went to the left you might be seen by the enemy, though we were -seeing nothing of him, nor of our own trenches yet. Every square yard -of this ground had been tried out by actual experience, at the cost of -dead and wounded men, till safe lanes of approach had been found. - -Next was a clearing station, where the wounded are brought in from -the trenches for transfer to ambulances. A glance at the burden on a -stretcher just arriving automatically framed the word, “shell-fire!” -The stains overrunning on tanned skin beyond the edges of the white -bandage were a bright red in the sunlight. A khaki blouse torn open, or -a trousers leg, or a sleeve cut down the seam, revealing the white of -the first aid and a splash of red, means one man wounded; and by the -ones the thousands come. - -Fifty wounded men on the floor of a clearing station and the individual -is lost in the crowd. When you see the one borne past, if there is -nothing else to distract attention you always ask two questions: Will -he die? Has he been maimed for life? If the answers to both are No, -you feel a sense of triumph, as if you had seen a human play, built -skilfully around a life to arouse your emotions, turn out happily. - -The man has fought in an honourable cause; he has felt the very touch -of death’s fingers. How happy he is when he knows that he will get -well! In prospect, as his wound heals into the scar which will be the -lasting decoration of his courage, is home and all that it means and -those in it mean to him. What kind of a home has he, this private -soldier? In the slums, with a slattern wife? Or in a cottage with a -flower garden in front, only a few minutes’ walk from the green fields -of the English countryside?--but we set out to tell you about the kind -of inferno in which this man got his splash of red. - -We come to the banks of a canal which has carried the traffic of the -Low Countries for many centuries; the canal where the British and -French had fought many a Thermopylæ in the last eight months. Along its -banks run rows of fine trees narrowing in perspective before the eye. -Some have been cut in two by the direct hit of a heavy shell and others -splintered down, bit by bit. Others still standing have been hit many -times. There are cuts as fresh as if the chip had just flown from the -axeman’s blow, and there are scars from cuts made last autumn which -nature’s sap, rising as it does in the veins of wounded men, has healed -while it sent forth leaves in answer to the call of spring from the -remaining branches. - -In this neighbourhood the earth is many-mouthed with caves and cut with -passages running from cave to cave, so that the inhabitants may go and -come hidden from sight. Jawbone and Hairyman and Lowbrow, of the stone -age, would be at home here, squatting on their hunkers and tearing at -their raw kill with their long incisors. It does not seem a place for -men who walk erect, wear woven fabrics, enjoy a written language, and -use soap and safety razors. One would not be surprised to see some -figure swing down by a long, hairy arm from a branch of a tree and leap -on all fours into one of the caves, where he would receive a gibbering -welcome to the bosom of his family. - -Not so! Huddled in these holes in the earth are free-born men of an old -civilisation, who read the daily papers and eat jam on their bread. -They do not want to be there, but they would not consider themselves -worthy of the inheritance of free-born men if they were not. Only -civilised man is capable of such stoicism as theirs. They have reverted -to the cave-dweller’s protection because their civilisation is so -highly developed that they can throw a piece of steel weighing anywhere -from eighteen to two thousand pounds anywhere from five to twenty -miles with merciless accuracy, and because the flesh of man is even -more tender than in the cave-dweller’s time, not to mention that his -brain-case is a larger target. - -An officer calls our attention to a shell-proof shelter with the civic -pride of a member of a Chamber of Commerce pointing out the new Union -Station. - -“Not even a high explosive”--the kind that bursts on impact after -penetration--“could get into that!” he says. “We make them for -generals and colonels and those who have precious heads on their -shoulders.” - -With material and labour, the same might have been constructed for the -soldiers; which brings us back to the question of munitions in the -economic balance against a human life. It was the first shelter of this -kind which I had seen. One never goes up to the trenches without seeing -something new. The defensive is tireless in its ingenuity in saving -lives and the offensive in taking them. Safeguards and salvage compete -with destruction. And what labour all that excavation and construction -represented--the cumulative labour of months and day-by-day repairs -of the damage done by shells. After a bombardment, dig out the filled -trenches and renew the smashed dugouts to be ready for another go! - -The walls of that communication trench were two feet above our heads. -We noticed that all the men were in their dugouts; none were walking -about in the open. One knew the meaning of this barometer--stormy. The -German gunners were “strafing quite lively” this afternoon. - -Already we had noticed many shells bursting five or six hundred yards -away, in the direction of the new British trench; but at that distance -they do not count. Then a railroad train seemed to have jumped the -track and started to fly. Fortunately and unfortunately, sound travels -faster than big shells of low velocity; fortunately, because it gives -you time to be undignified in taking cover; unfortunately, because it -gives you a fraction of a second to reflect whether or not that shell -has your name and your number on Dugout Street. I was certain that it -was a big shell, of the kind that will blow a dugout to pieces. Any one -who had never heard a shell before would have “scrooched,” as the small -boys say, as instinctively as you draw back when the through express -tears past the station. It is the kind of scream that makes you want to -roll yourself into a package about the size of a pea, while you feel -as tall and large as a cathedral, judged by the sensation that travels -down your backbone. - -Once I was being hoisted up a cliff in a basket, when the rope on the -creaking windlass above slipped a few inches. Well, it is like that, or -like taking a false step on the edge of a precipice. Is the clock about -to strike twelve or not? Not this time! The burst was thirty yards -away, along the path we had just traversed, and the sound of it was -like the burst of a shell and like nothing else in the world, just as -the swirling, boring, growing scream of a shell is like no other scream -in the world. A gigantic hammerhead sweeps through the air and breaks a -steel drumhead. - -If we had come along half a minute later we should have had a better -view, and perhaps now we should have been on a bed in a hospital -worrying how we were going to pay the rent, or in the place where, -hopefully, we have no worries at all. Between walls of earth the report -was deadened to our ears in the same way as a revolver report in an -adjoining room; and not much earth had gone down the backs of our necks -from the concussion. - -Looking over the parapet, we saw a cloud of thick, black smoke; and we -heard the outcry of a man who had been hit. That was all. The shell -might have struck nearer without our having seen or heard any more. -Shut in by the gallery walls, one knows as little of what happens in an -adjoining cave as a clam buried in the sand knows of what is happening -to a neighbour clam. A young soldier came half stumbling into the -nearest dugout. He was shaking his head and batting his ears as if he -had sand in them. Evidently he was returning to his home cave from a -call on a neighbour which had brought him close to the burst. - -“That must have been about six- or seven-inch,” I said to the officer, -trying to be moderate and casual in my estimate, which is the correct -form on such occasions. My actual impression was forty-inch. - -“Nine inch, h. e.,” replied the expert. This was gratifying. It was the -first time that I had been that near to a nine-inch shell explosion. -Its “eat-’em-alive” frightfulness was depressing. But the experience -was worth having. One wants all the experiences there are--but only -“close.” A delightful word that word close, at the front! - -But the Germans were generous that afternoon. Another big scream seemed -aimed at my own head. L---- disagreed with me; he said that it was -aimed at his. We did not argue the matter to the point of a personal -quarrel, for it might have got both our heads. It burst back of the -trench about as far away as the other shell. After all, a trench is a -pretty narrow ribbon, even on a gunner’s large scale map, to hit. It is -wonderful how, firing at such long ranges, he is able to hit the trench -at all. - -This was all of the nine-inch style, for the time being. We got some -fours and fives in our neighbourhood, as we walked along. Three -bursting as near together as the ticks of a clock, made almost no -smoke as they brought some tree-limbs down and tore away a section of -a trunk. Then the thunder storm moved on to another part of the line. -Only, unlike the thunder storms of nature, this, which is man-made and -controlled as a fireman controls the nozzle of his hose, may sweep back -again and yet again over its path. All depends upon the decision of a -German artillery officer, just as whether or not a flower bed shall get -another sprinkle depends upon the will of the gardener. - -We were glad to turn out of the support trench into a communication -trench leading toward the front trench; into another gallery cut deep -in the fields, with scattered shell-pits on either side. Still more -soldiers, leaning against the walls or seated with their legs stretched -out across the bottom of the ditch; more waiting soldiers, only strung -out in a line and as used to the passing of shells as people living -along the elevated railroad line to the passing of trains. They did -not look up at the screams boring the air any more than one who lives -under the trains looks up every time that one passes. Theirs was the -passivity of a queue waiting in line before the entrance to a theatre -or a ball-ground. - -A senator or a lawyer, used to coolness in debate, or to presiding -over great meetings, or to facing crowds, who happened to visit the -trenches could have got reassurance from the faces of any one of these -private soldiers, who had been trained not to worry about death till -death came. Harrowing every one of these screams, taken by itself. -Instinctively, unnecessarily, you dodged at those which were low-- -unnecessarily because they were from British guns. No danger from them -unless there was a short fuse. To the soldiers, the low screams brought -the delight of having blows struck from their side at the enemy, whom -they themselves could not strike from their reserve position. - -For we were under the curving sweep of both the British and the -German shells, as they passed in the air on the way to their targets. -It was like standing between two railroad tracks with trains going -by in opposite directions. You came to differentiate between the -multitudinous screams. “Ours!” you exclaimed, with the same delight as -when you see that your side has the ball. The spirit of battle contest -rose in you. There was an end of philosophy. These soldiers in the -trenches were your partisans. Every British shell was working for them -and for you, giving blow for blow. - -The score of the contest of battle is in men down; in killed and -wounded. For every man down on your side you want two men down on -the enemy’s. Sport ceases. It is the fight between a burglar with a -revolver in his hand and a knife between his teeth; and a wounded man -brought along the trench, a visible, intimate proof of a hit by the -enemy, calls for more and harder blows. - -Looking over the parapet of the communication trench you saw fields, -lifeless except for the singing birds in the wheat, who had also the -spirit of battle. The more shells, the more they warble. It was always -so on summer days. Between the screams you heard their full-pitched -chorus, striving to make itself heard in competition with the song of -German invasion and British resistance. Mostly, the birds seemed to -take cover like mankind; but I saw one sweep up from the golden sea of -ripening grain toward the men-brothers with their wings of cloth. - -Was this real, or was it extravaganza? Painted airships and a painted -summer sky? The audacity of those British airmen! Two of them were -spotting the work of British guns by their shell-bursts and watching -for gun-flashes which would reveal concealed German battery positions, -and whispering results by wireless to their own batteries. - -It is a great game. Seven or eight thousand feet high, directly over -the British planes, is a single Taube cruising for the same purpose. It -looks like a beetle with gossamer wings suspended from a light cloud. -The British aviators are so low that the bull’s-eye identification -marks are distinctly visible to the naked eye. They are playing in -and out, like the short stop and second baseman around second, there -in the very arc of the passing shells from both sides fired at other -targets. But scores of other shells are most decidedly meant for them. -In the midst of a lace-work of puffs of shrapnel bursts, which slowly -spread in the still air, from the German anti-aircraft guns, they dip -and rise and turn in skilful dodging. At length, one retires for good; -probably his planecloth has become too much like a sieve from shrapnel -fragments to remain aloft longer. - -Come down, Herr Taube, come down where we can have a shot at you! Get -in the game! You can see better at the altitude of the British airmen! -But Herr Taube always stays high--the Br’er Fox of the air. Of course, -it was not so exciting as the pictures that artists draw, but it was -real. - -Every kind of shell was being fired, low and high velocity, small and -large calibre. One-two-three-four in quick succession as the roll of a -drum, four German shells burst in line up in the region where we have -made ourselves masters of the German trench. British shells responded. - -“Ours again!” - -But I had already ducked before I spoke, as you might if a pellet of -steel weighing a couple of hundred pounds, going at the rate of a -thousand yards a second or more, passed within a few yards of your -head--ducked to find myself looking into the face of a soldier, who -was smiling. The smile was not scornful, but it was at least amused at -the expense of the sightseer, who had dodged one of our own shells. In -addition to the respirators in case of a possible gas attack, supplied -by that staff officer with a twinkle in his eye, we needed a steel rod -fastened to the back of our necks and running down our spinal columns -in order to preserve our dignity. - -We were witnessing what is called the “artillery preparation for an -infantry attack,” which was to try to recover that two hundred yards -of trench from the British. Only the Germans did not limit their -attention to the lost trench alone. It was hottest there around the -bend of our line, from our view-point; for there they must maul the -trench into formless _débris_ and cut the barbed wire in front of it -before the charge was made. - -“They touch up all the trenches in the neighbourhood to keep -us guessing,” said the officer, “before they make their final -concentration. So it’s pretty thick around this part.” - -“Which might include the communication trench?” - -“Certainly. This makes a good line shot. No doubt they will spare us a -few when they think it is our turn. We do the same thing. So it goes.” - -From the variety of screams of big shells and little shells and -screams harrowingly close and reassuringly high, which were indicated -as ours, one was warranted in suggesting that the British were doing -considerable artillery preparation themselves. - -“We must give them as good as they send--and more.” - -More seemed correct. - -“Those close ones you hear are doubtless meant for the front German -trench, which accounts for their low trajectory; the others for their -support trenches or any battery positions that our planes have located.” - -We could not see where the British shells were striking. We could judge -only of the accuracy of some of the German fire. Considering the storm -being visited on the support trench which we had just left, we were -more than ever glad to be out of it. Artillery is the war burglar’s -jimmy; but it has to batter the house into ruins and smash all the -plate and blow up the safe and kill most of the family before the -burglar can enter. Clouds of dust rose from the explosions; limbs of -trees were lopped off by tornadoes of steel hail. - -“There! Look at that tree!” - -In front of a portion of the British support trench a few of a line -of stately shade trees were still standing. A German shell, about an -eight-inch, one judged, struck fairly in the trunk of one about the -same height from the ground as the lumberman sinks his axe in the bark. -The shimmer of hot gas spread out from the point of explosion. Through -it as through an aureole one saw that twelve inches of green wood had -been cut in two as neatly as a thistle stem is severed by a sharp blow -from a walking-stick. The body of the tree was carried across the -splintered stump with crushing impact from the power of its flight, -plus the power of the burst of the explosive charge which broke the -shell-jacket into slashing fragments; and the towering column of limbs, -branches, and foliage laid its length on the ground with a majestic -dignity. Which shows what one shell can do, one of three which burst in -the neighbourhood at the same time. In time, the shells would get all -the trees; make them into chips and splinters and toothpicks. - -“I’d rather that it would hit a tree-trunk than my trunk,” said L----. - -“But you would not have got it as badly as the tree,” said the officer -reassuringly. “The substance would have been too soft for sufficient -impact for a burst. It would have gone right through!” - - - - -XXIII - -MORE BEST DAY - - “Without any anæsthetic”--Tea at a dugout--Over the wires “German - West Africa fallen”--Playing with death--A tragedy--Travelling - the “narrow cut of earth”--Good manners of the trenches--And - democracy--“The men who will rule England”--A periscope glance - at the German trench--A “direct hit” for the British--“Bombing - up ahead!”--A gas shell--Under heavy fire--“Like beating up - grouse to the guns and we are the birds”--Crash!--And safe - again!--A “dead heat” to cover--A touch of “nerves”--Back to - the dead land behind the trenches. - - -At battalion headquarters in the front trenches the battalion surgeon -had just amputated an arm which had been mauled by a shell. - -“Without any anæsthetic,” he explained. “No chance if we sent him back -to the hospital. He would die on the way. Stood it very well. Already -chirking up.” - -A family practitioner at home, the doctor, when the war began, had -left his practice to go with his Territorial battalion. He retains the -family practitioner’s cheery, assuring manner. He is the kind of man -who makes you feel better immediately he comes into the sick-room; who -has already made you forget yourself when he puts his finger on your -pulse. There are thousands of that kind at home. Probably you have sent -a hurry telephone call for his like more than once. - -“The same thing that we might have done in the Crimea,” he continued, -“only we have antiseptics now. It’s wonderful how little you can work -with and how excellent the results. Strong, healthy men, these, with -great recuperative power and discipline and resolution--very different -patients from those we usually operate on.” - -Tea was served inside the battalion commander’s dugout. Tea is as -essential every afternoon to the British as ice to the average -American in summer. They don’t think of getting on without it if they -can possibly have it, and it is part of the rations. As well take -cigarettes away from those who smoke as tea from the British soldier. - -It was very much like tea outside the trenches, so far as any signs of -perturbation about shells and casualties were concerned. In that the -battalion commander had to answer telegrams, it had the aspect of a -busy man’s sandwich at his desk for luncheon. Good news to cheer the -function had just come over the network of wires which connects up the -whole army, from trenches to headquarters--good news in the midst of -the shells. - -German West Africa had fallen. Botha, who was fighting against the -British fifteen years ago, had taken it fighting for the British. A -suggestive thought that. It is British character that brings enemies -like Botha into the fold; the old, good-natured, sportsmanlike, -live-and-let-live idea, which has something to do with keeping the -United States intact. A board with the news on it in German was put up -over the British trenches. Naturally, the board was shot full of holes; -for it is clear that the Germans are not yet ready to come into the -British Empire. - -“Hans and Jacob we have named them,” said the colonel, referring to two -Germans who were buried back of his dugout. “It’s dull up here when -the _Boches_ are not shelling, so we let our imaginations play. We hold -conversations with Hans and Jacob in our long watches. Hans is fat and -cheerful and trusting. He believes everything that the Kaiser tells him -and has a cheerful disposition. But Jacob is a professor and a fearful -‘strafer.’ It seems a little gruesome, doesn’t it, but not after you -have been in the trenches for a while.” - -A little gruesome--true! Not in the trenches--true, too! Where all is -satire, no incongruity seems out of place. Life plays in and out with -death; they intermingle; they look each other in the face and say, “I -know you. We dwell together. Let us smile when we may, at what we may, -to hide the character of our comradeship; for to-morrow--” - -Only half an hour before one of the officers had been shot through the -head by a sniper. He was a popular officer. The others had messed with -him and marched with him and known him in the fulness of affection of -comradeship in arms and dangers shared. A heartbreak for some home -in England. No one dwelt on the incident. What was there to say? The -trembling lip, trembling in spite of itself, was the only outward sign -of the depth of feeling that words could not reflect, at tea in the -dugout. The subject was changed to something about the living. One must -carry on cheerfully; one must be on the alert; one must play his part -serenely, unflinchingly, for the sake of the nerves around him and for -his own sake. Such fortitude becomes automatic, it would seem. Please, -I must not hesitate about having a slice of cake. They managed cake -without any difficulty up there in the trenches. And who if not men in -the trenches was entitled to cake, I should like to know? - -“It was here that he was hit,” another officer said, as we moved on in -the trench. “He was saying that the sandbags were a little weak there -and a bullet might go through and catch a man, who thought himself -safely under cover as he walked along. He had started to fix the -sandbags himself when he got it. The bullet came right through the top -of one of the bags in front of him.” - -A bullet makes the merciful wound; and a bullet through the head is -a simple way of going. The bad wounds come mostly from shells; but -there is something about seeing any one hit by a sniper which is more -horrible. It is a cold-blooded kind of killing, more suggestive of -murder, this single shot from a sharpshooter waiting as patiently as a -cat for a mouse, aimed definitely to take the life of one man. - -Again we move on in that narrow cut of earth with its waiting soldiers, -which the world knows so well from reading tours of the trenches. No -one not on watch might show his head on an afternoon like this. The men -were prisoners between those walls of earth; not even spectators of -what the guns were doing; simply moles. They took it all as a part of -the day’s work, with that singular, redoubtable combination of British -phlegm and cheerfulness. - -Of course, some of them were eating bread and marmalade and making tea. -Where all the marmalade goes which Mr. Atkins uses for his personal -munition in fighting the Germans puzzles the Army Service Corps, whose -business it is to see that he is never without it. How could he sit -so calmly under shell-fire without marmalade? Never! He would get -fidgetty and forget his lesson, I am sure, like the boy who had the -button which he was used to fingering removed before he went to recite. - -Any minute a shell may come. Mr. Atkins does not think of that. Time -enough to think after it has arrived. Then perhaps the burial party -will be doing your thinking for you; or if not, the doctors and the -nurses who look after you will. - -I noted certain acts of fellowship of comrades who are all in the same -boat and have learned unselfishness. When they got up to let you pass -and you smiled your thanks, you received a much pleasanter smile in -return than you will from many a well-fed gentleman, who has to stand -aside to let you enter a restaurant. The manners of the trenches are -good, better than in many places where good manners are a cult. - -There is no better place to send a spoiled, undisciplined, bumptious -youth than to a British trench. He would learn that there are other men -in the world besides himself and that a shell can kill a rich brute or -a selfish brute as readily as a poor man. Democracy there is in the -trenches; the democracy where all men are in the presence of death and -“hazing” parties need not be organised among the students. - -But there is another and a greater element in the practical psychology -of the trenches. These good-natured men, fighting the bitterest kind -of warfare, without the signs of brutality which we associate with the -prize fighter and the bully in their faces, know why they are fighting. -They consider that their duty is in that trench, and that they could -not have a title to manhood if they were not there. After the war the -men who have been in the trenches will rule England. Their spirit and -their thinking will fashion the new trend of civilisation, and the men -who have not fought will bear the worst scars from the war. - -Ridiculous it is that men should be moles, perhaps; but at the same -time there is something sublime in the fellowship of their courage -and purpose, as they “sit and take it,” or guard against attacks, -without the passion of battle of the old days of excited charges and -quick results, and watch the toll pass by from hour to hour. Borne by -comrades pickaback we saw the wounded carried along that passage too -narrow for a litter. A splash of blood, a white bandage, a limp form! - -For the second permissible--periscopes are tempting targets--I looked -through one over the top of the parapet. Another film! A big British -lyddite shell went crashing into the German parapet. The dust from -sandbags and dugouts merged into an immense cloud of ugly, black smoke. -As the cloud rose, one saw the figure of a German dart out of sight; -then nothing was visible but the gap which the explosion has made. No -wise German would show himself there. British snipers were watching for -him. At least half a dozen, perhaps a score, of men had been put out by -this single “direct hit” of an h. e. (high explosive). Yes, the British -gunners were shooting well, too. Other periscopic glimpses proved it. - -Through the periscope we learned also that the two lines of sandbags -of German and British trenches were drawing nearer together. Another -wounded man was brought by. - -“They’re bombing up ahead. He has just been hit by a bomb.” - -As we drew aside to make room for him to pass, once more the civilian -realised his helplessness and unimportance. One soldier was worth ten -Prime Ministers in that place. We were as conspicuously _mal à propos_ -as an outsider at a bank directors’ meeting or in a football scrimmage. -The officer politely reminded us of the necessity of elbow room in -the narrow quarters for the bombers, who were hidden from view by the -zigzag traverses, and I was not sorry, though perhaps my companions -were. If so, they did not say so, not being talkative men. We were not -going to see that two hundred yards of captured trench that was beyond -the bombing action, after all. Oh, the twinkle in that staff officer’s -eye! - -“A _Boche_ gas shell!” we were told, as we passed an informal -excavation in the communication trench on our way back. “Asphyxiating -effect. No time to put on respirators when one explodes. Laid out half -a dozen men like fish, gasping for air, but they will recover.” - -“The _Boches_ want us to hurry!” exclaimed L----. - -They were giving the communication trench a turn at “strafing,” now, -and shells were urgently dropping behind us. There was no use of trying -to respond to one’s natural inclination to run away from the pursuing -shower when you had to squeeze past soldiers as you went. - -“But look at what we are going into! This is like beating up grouse to -the guns, and we are the birds! I am wondering if I like it.” - -We could tell what had happened in our absence in the support trench -by the litter of branches and leaves and by the excavations made by -shells. It was still happening, too. Another nine-inch, with your only -view of your surroundings the wall of earth which you hugged. Crash-- -and safe again! - -“Pretty!” L---- said, smiling. He was referring to the cloud of black -smoke from the burst. Pretty is a favourite word of his. I find that -men use habitual exclamations on such occasions. R----, also smiling, -had said, “A black business, this!” a favourite expression with him. - -“Yet--pretty!” R---- and I exclaimed together. - -L---- took a sliver off his coat and offered it to us as a souvenir. -He did not know that he had said “Pretty!” or R---- that he had said -“A black business!” several times that afternoon; nor did I know that -I had exclaimed “For the love of Mike!” Psychologists take notice; and -golfers are reminded that their favourite expletives when they foozle -will come perfectly natural to them when the Germans are “strafing.” -Then another nine-inch, when we were out of the gallery in front of the -warrens. My companions happened to be near a dugout. They did not go in -tandem, but abreast. It was a “dead heat.” All that I could see in the -way of cover was a wall of sandbags, which looked about as comforting -as tissue paper in such a crisis. - -At least, one faintly realised what it meant to be in the support -trenches, where the men were still huddled in their caves. They never -get a shot at the enemy or a chance to throw a bomb, unless they are -sent forward to assist the front trenches in resisting an attack. It -is for this purpose that they are kept within easy reach of the front -trenches. They are like the prisoner tied to a chair-back, facing a gun. - -“Yes, this was pretty heavy shell-fire,” said an officer, who ought -to know. “Not so bad as on the trenches which the infantry are to -attack--that is the first degree. You might call this the second.” - -It was heavy enough to keep any writer from being bored. The second -degree will do. We will leave the first till another time. - -Later, when we were walking along a paved road, I heard what seemed the -siren call of another nine-inch. Once, in another war, I had been on a -paved road when--well, I did not care to be on this one if a nine-inch -hit it and turned fragments of paving-stones into projectiles. An -effort to “run out the bunt”--Cæsar’s ghost! It was one of our own -shells! Nerves! Shame! Two stretcher-bearers with a wounded man looked -up in surprise, wondering what kind of a hide-and-seek game we were -playing. They made a picture of imperturbability of the kind that is a -cure for nerves under fire. If the other fellow is not scared it does -not do for you to be scared. - -“Did you get any shells in your neighbourhood?” we asked the -chauffeur--also British and imperturbable--whom we found waiting at a -clearing station for wounded. - -“Yes, sir, I saw several, but none hit the car.” - -As we came to the first cross-roads in that dead land back of the -trenches which was still being shelled by shrapnel, though not another -car was in sight and ours had no business there (as we were told -afterward), that chauffeur, as he slowed up before turning, held out -his hand from habit as he would have done in Piccadilly. - -Two or three days later things were normal along the front again, with -Mr. Atkins still stuffing himself with marmalade in that two hundred -yards of trench. - - - - -XXIV - -WINNING AND LOSING - - The Western front: a pulsating, changing line--Offensive with the - British--The buoyant youth of England--Not a “good show”-- - English sportsmanship--A successful battalion--Psychology of - the charge--“Here we are again!”--Stories of the capture--The - “Keetcheenaires”--An army in the making. - - -Seeming an immovable black line set as a frontier in peace, that -Western front on your map which you bought early in the war in -anticipation of rearranging the flags in keeping with each day’s news -was, in reality, a pulsating, changing line. - -At times one thought of it as an enormous rope under the constant -pressure of soldiers on either side, who now and then, with an “all -together” of a tug of war at a given point, straightened or made a -bend, with the result imperceptible except as you measured it by a -tree or a house. Battles as severe as the most important in South -Africa, battles severe enough to have decided famous campaigns in -Europe in older days, when one king rode forth against another, became -the landmark incidents of the give and take, the wrangling and the -wrestling of siege operations. - -The sensation of victory or defeat for those engaged became none the -less vivid because victory meant the gain of so little ground and -defeat the loss of so little; perhaps the more vivid in want of the -movement of pursuing or of being pursued in the shock of arms in past -times when an army front hardly covered that of one brigade in the -trenches. For winners and losers returning to their billets in French -villages, as other battalions took their places, had time to think over -the action. - -The offensive was mostly with the British through the summer of 1915; -any thrust by the Germans was usually to retake a section of trenches -which they had lost. But our attacks did not all succeed, of course. -Battalions knew success and failure; and their narratives were mine to -share, just as one would share the good luck or the bad luck of his -neighbours. - -You may have a story of heartbreak or triumph an hour after you have -been chatting with playing children in a village street, as the -car speeds toward the zone where the reserves are billeted and the -occasional shell is warning that peace is behind you. First, one -alights near the headquarters of two battalions which have been in an -attack that failed. The colonel of the one to the left of the road -was killed. We go across the fields to the right. Among the surviving -officers resting in their shelter tents, where there is plenty of room -now, is the adjutant, tall, boyish, looking tired, but still with no -outward display of what he has gone through and what it has meant to -him. I have seen him by the hundreds, this buoyant type of English -youth. The colonel comes out of the farmhouse and he sends for some -other officers. - -In army language, theirs had not been a “good show.” We had heard the -account of it with that matter-of-fact prefix from G. H. Q., where they -took results with the necessarily cold eye of logic. The two battalions -were set to take a trench; that was all. In the midst of merciless -shell-fire they had waited for their own guns to draw all the teeth out -of the trench. When the given moment came they swept forward. But our -artillery had not “connected up” properly. - -The German machine guns were not out of commission, and for them it -was like working a loom playing the bullets back and forth across the -zone of a hundred yards which the British had to traverse. The British -had been told to charge and they charged. Theirs not to reason why; -that was the glory of the thing. Nothing more gallant in warfare than -their persistence, till they found that it was like trying to swim in -a cataract of lead. One officer got within fifty yards of the German -parapet before he fell. At last they realised that it could not be -done--later than they should, but they were a proud regiment and -though they had been too brave, there was something splendid about it. - -With a soldier’s winning frankness and simplicity they told what had -happened. Even before they charged they knew the machine guns were in -place; they knew what they had to face. One spoke of seeing, as they -lay waiting, a German officer standing up in the midst of the British -shell-fire. - -“A stout-hearted fighter! We had to admire him!” said the adjutant. - -It was a chivalrous thought with a deep appeal, considering what he had -been through. Oh, these English! They will not hate; they cannot be -separated from their sense of sportsmanship. - -It was not the first time the guns had not “connected up” for either -side, and German charges on many occasions had met a like fate. Calm -enough, these officers, true to their birthright of phlegm. They did -not make excuses. Success is the criterion of battle. They had failed. -Their unblinking recognition of the fact was a sort of self-punishment -which cut deep into your own sensitiveness. One young lieutenant could -not keep his lip from trembling over that naked, grim thought. The -pride of regiment had been struck a whip-blow which meant more to the -soldier than any injury to his personal pride. - -But next time! They wanted another try for that trench, these -survivors. No matter about anything else--the battalion must have -another chance. You appreciated this from a few words and more -from the stubborn resolution in the bearing of all. There was no -“let-us-at-’em-again” frightfulness. In order to end this war you must -“lick” one side or the other, and these men were not “licked.” One was -sorry that he had gone to see them. It was like lacerating a wound. -One could only assure them, in his faith in their gallantry, that they -would win next time. And oh, how you wanted them to win! They deserved -to win because they were such manly losers. - -At home in their rough wooden houses in camp we found a battalion which -had won--the same undemonstrative type as the one that had lost; the -same simplicity and kindly hospitality which gives life at the front -a charm in the midst of its tragedy, from these men of one of the -dependable line regiments. This colonel knew the other colonel, and he -said about the other what his fellow-officers had said: it was not his -fault; he was a good man. If the guns were not “on,” what happened to -him was bound to happen to anybody. They had been “on” for the winning -battalion; perfectly “on.” They had buried the machine guns and the -Germans with them. - -When a man goes into the kind of charge that either battalion made he -gives himself up for lost. The psychology is simple. You are going to -keep on until--! Well, as Mr. Atkins has remarked in his own terse -way, a battle was a lot of noise all around you and suddenly a big bang -in your ear; and then somebody said, “Please open your mouth and take -this!” and you found yourself in a white, silent place full of cots. - -The winning battalion was amazed how easily the thing was done. They -had “walked in.” They were a little surprised to be alive--thanks to -the guns. “Here we are! Here we are again!” as the song at the front -goes. It is all a lottery. Make up your mind to draw the death number; -and if you don’t, that is velvet. Army courage these days is highly -sensitised steel in response to will. - -They had won; there was a credit mark in the regimental record. All -had won; nobody in particular, but the battalion, the lot of them. -They did not boast about it. The thing just happened. They were alive -and enjoying the sheer fact of life, writing letters home, re-reading -letters from home, looking at the pictures in the illustrated papers, -as they leaned back and smoked their briar-wood pipes and discussed -politics with that freedom and directness of opinion which is an -Englishman’s pastime and his birthright. - -The captain who was describing the fight had retired from the army, -gone into business, and returned as a reserve officer. The guns were to -stop firing at a given moment. As the minute-hand lay over the figure -on his wrist watch he dashed for the broken parapet, still in the haze -of dust from the shell-bursts, to find not a German in sight. All were -under cover. He enacted the ridiculous scene with humorous appreciation -of how he came face to face with a German as he turned a traverse. He -was ready with his revolver and the other was not, and the other was -his prisoner. - -There was nothing grewsome about listening to a diffident soldier -explaining how he “bombed them out,” and you shared his amusement over -the surprise of a German who stuck his head out of a dugout within a -foot of the face of a British soldier, who was peeping inside to see -if any more _Boches_ were at home. You rejoiced with this battalion. -Victory is sweet. - -When on the way back to quarters you passed some of the New Army men, -“the Keetcheenaires,” as the French call them, you were reminded of -how, although the war was old, the British army was young. There was -a “Watch our city grow!” atmosphere about it. Little by little, some -great force seems steadily pushing up from the rear. It made that -business institution at G. H. Q. feel like bankers with an enormous, -increasing surplus. In this the British is like no other army. One has -watched it in the making. - - - - -XXV - -THE MAPLE LEAF FOLK - - Canadians at the front--Home folks to the American--One touch of - New York slang--Hustlers--The discipline of self-reliance-- - Charging through gas--Our bond with the Canadians--Their - optimism and sentiment--The Princess Pats--Holding down the - lid of hell--The second battle of Ypres--The Story of May - Eighth--Holding a salient--The Germans prepare to attack-- - The marksmen of the P. P’s--Down go the Germans--The attack - broken--Official record of the struggle--Machine guns buried-- - Reinforcements and ammunition--The third and severest charge-- - Seventy-five per cent. casualties--The P. P’s, “regulars”-- - Modern knights. - - -These were home folks to the American. You might know all by their -maple leaf symbol; but even before you saw that, with its bronze none -too prominent against the khaki, you knew those who were not recent -emigrants from England to Canada by their accent and by certain slang -phrases which pay no customs duty at the border. - -When, on a dark February night cruising in a slough of a road, I heard -out of a wall of blackness back of the trenches, “Gee! Get onto the -bus!” which referred to our car, and also, “Cut out the noise!” I -was certain that I might dispense with an interpreter. After I had -remarked that I came from New York, which is only across the street -from Montreal as distances go in our countries, the American batting -about the front at midnight was welcomed with a “glad hand” across that -imaginary line which has and ever shall have no fortresses. - -What a strange place to find Canadians--at the front in Europe! I -could never quite accommodate myself to the wonder of a man from -Winnipeg, and perhaps a “neutral” from Wyoming in his company, fighting -Germans in Flanders. A man used to a downy couch and an easy-chair -by the fire and steam-heated rooms, who had ten thousand a year in -Toronto, when you found him in a chill, damp cellar of a peasant’s -cottage in range of the enemy’s shells was getting something more -novel, if not more picturesque, than dog-mushing and prospecting on the -Yukon; for that contrast we are quite used to. - -All I asked of the Canadians was to allow a little of the glory they -had won--they had won such a lot--to rub off on their neighbours. If -there must be war, and no Canadian believed in it as an institution, -why, to my mind, the Canadians did a fine thing for civilisation’s -sake. It hurt sometimes to think that we also could not be in the fight -for the good cause, too, particularly after the _Lusitania_ was sunk, -when my own feelings had lost all semblance to neutrality. - -The Canadians enlivened life at the front; for they have a little -more zip to them than the thoroughgoing British. Their climate spells -“hustle,” and we are all the product of climate to a large degree, -whether in England, on the Mississippi flatlands, or in Manitoba. -Eager and highstrung the Canadian born, quick to see and act. Very -restless they were when held up on Salisbury Plain, after they had come -three-four-five-six thousand miles to fight and there was nothing but -mud in an English winter to fight. - -One from the American continent knew what ailed them; they wanted -action. They may have seemed undisciplined to a drill sergeant; but -the kind of discipline they needed was a sight of the real thing. They -wanted to know, What for? And Lord Kitchener was kinder to them, though -many were beginners, than to his own new army; he could be, as they had -their guns and equipment ready. So he sent them over to France before -it was too late in the spring to get frozen feet from standing in icy -water looking over a parapet at a German parapet. They liked Flanders -mud better than Salisbury Plain mud, because it meant that there was -“something doing.” - -It was in their first trenches that I first saw them, and they were -“on the job, all right,” in face of scattered shell-fire and the sweep -of the searchlights and the flares. They had become the most ardent of -pupils, for here was that real thing which steadied them and proved -their metal. They refashioned their trenches and drained them with -the fastidiousness of good housekeepers, who had a frontiersman’s -experience for an inheritance. In a week they appeared to be old hands -at the business. - -“Their discipline is different from ours,” said a British general, “but -it works out. They are splendid. I ask for no better troops.” - -They may have lacked the etiquette of discipline of British regulars, -but they had the natural discipline of self-reliance and of “go to it” -when a crisis came. This trench was only an introduction, a preparation -for a thing which was about as real as ever fell to the lot of any -soldiers. It is not for me to tell here the story of their part in -the second battle of Ypres when the gas fumes rolled in upon them. I -should like to tell it and also the story of the deeds of many British -regiments, from the time of Mons to Festubert. All Canada knows it in -detail from their own correspondents and their record officer. England -will one day know about her regiments; her stubborn regiments of the -line, her county regiments, who have won the admiration of all the -crack regiments, whether English or Scots. - -“When that gas came along,” said one Canadian, who expressed the -Canadian spirit, “we knew the _Boches_ were springing a new one on us. -You know how it is if a man is hit in the face by a cloud of smoke -when he is going into a burning building to get somebody out. He draws -back--and then he goes in. We went in. We charged--well, it was the -way we felt about it. We wanted to get at them and we were boiling mad -over such a dastardly kind of attack.” - -Higher authorities than any civilian have testified to how that charge -helped, if it did not save the situation. And then at Givenchy-- -straight work into the enemy’s trenches under the guns. Canada is a -part of the British Empire and a precious part; but the Canadians, all -imperial politics aside, fought their way into the affections of the -British army, if they did not already possess it. They made the Rocky -Mountains seem more majestic and the Thousand Islands more lovely. - -If there are some people in the United States busy with their own -affairs who look on the Canadians as living up north somewhere toward -the Arctic Circle and not very numerous, that old criterion of merit -which discovers in the glare of battle’s publicity merit which already -existed has given to the name Canadian a glory which can be appreciated -only with the perspective of time. The Civil War left us a martial -tradition; they have won theirs. Some day a few of their neutral -neighbours, who fought by their side will be joining in their army -reunions and remarking, “Wasn’t that mud in Flanders--” etc. - -My thanks to the Canadians for being at the front. They brought me back -to the plains and the Northwest, and they showed the Germans on some -occasions what a blizzard is like when expressed in bullets instead of -in snowflakes, by men who know how to shoot. I had continental pride in -them. They had the dry, pungent philosophy and the indomitable optimism -which the air of the plains and the St. Lawrence Valley seems to -develop. They were not afraid to be a little emotional and sentimental. -There is room for that sort of thing between Vancouver and Halifax. -They had been in some “tough scraps” which they saw clear-eyed, as they -would see a boxing-match or a spill from a canoe into a Canadian rapids. - -As for the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry, all old -soldiers of the South African campaign almost without exception, -knowing and hardened, their veteran experience gave them an earlier -opportunity in the trenches than the first Canadian division. Brigaded -with British regulars, the Princess Pats were a sort of _corps -d’élite_. Colonel Francis Farquhar, known as “Fanny,” was their -colonel, and he knew his men. After he was killed his spirit remained -with them. Asked if they could stick, they said, “Yes, sir!” cheerily, -as he would have wanted them to say it. - -I am going to tell you about the work of the Princess Pats on May -8th, not to single them out from any other regiment, but because it -is typical of the kind of fighting which many another regiment has -known and I have it in illustrative detail. Losses, day by day losses, -characteristic of trench warfare, they had previously suffered in -holding a difficult salient at St. Eloi--losses that added up into the -hundreds. Heretofore as one of them said, they had been holding down -the lid of hell, but on May 8th they were to hold on to the edge of the -opening by the skin of their teeth and look down into the bowels of -hell after the Germans had blown off the lid with high explosives. - -It was in a big château that I first heard the story and felt the -thrill of it told by the tongues of its participants. There were twenty -bedrooms in that château. If I wished to stay all night I might occupy -three or four--and as for that bathroom, paradise to men who have been -buried in filthy mud by high explosives, the Frenchman who planned it -had the most spacious ideas in immersions. A tub or a shower or a hose -as you pleased. Some bathroom, that! - -For nothing in the British army was too good for the Princess Pats -before May 8th; and since May 8th nothing was quite good enough. Five -of us sat down to dinner in a banquet hall looking out on a private -park, big enough to hold fifty. The talk ran fast. - -“Too bad Gault is not here. He’s in England recovering from his -wound. Gault is six feet tall and five feet of him legs. All day in -that trench with a shell wound in his thigh and arm. God! How he was -suffering! But not a moan--his face twitching and trying to make the -twitch into a smile--and telling us to stick.” - -“Buller away, too. He was the second in command. Gault succeeded him. -Buller was hit on May 5th--and missed the big show--piece of shell -in the eye.” - -“And Charlie Stewart, who was shot through the stomach. How we miss -him. If ever there were a ‘live-wire’ it’s Charlie. Up or down, he’s -smiling and ready for the next adventure. Once he made thirty thousand -dollars in the Yukon--and spent it on the way to Vancouver. The first -job he could get was washing dishes--but he wasn’t washing them -long. Again he started out in the Northwest on an expedition with -four hundred traps to cut into the fur business of the Hudson’s Bay -Company. His Indians got sick; he wouldn’t desert them--and before -he was through he had a time which beat anything yet opened up for us -by the Germans in Flanders--but you have heard such stories from the -Northwest before. Being shot through the stomach the way he was all the -doctors agreed that Charlie would die. It was like Charlie to disagree -with them. He always has his own point of view. So he is getting well. -Charlie came out to the war with the packing-case which had been used -by his grandfather, who was an officer in the Crimean War. He said that -it would bring him luck.” - -The 4th of May was bad enough--a ghastly forerunner for the 8th. On -the 4th the P. P’s, after having been under shell-fire throughout the -second battle of Ypres--the “gas battle”--were ordered forward to a -new line to the southeast of Ypres. To the north of Ypres the British -line had been driven back by the concentration of shell-fire and the -rolling, deadly march of the clouds of asphyxiating gas. - -The Germans were still determined to take the town which they had -showered with four million dollars’ worth of shells. It would be big -news--the fall of Ypres as a prelude to the fall of Przemysl and of -Lemberg. A wicked salient was produced in the British line to the -southeast by the cave-in to the north. It seems to be the lot of the -P. P’s to get into salients. On the 4th they lost 28 men killed and 98 -wounded from a gruelling all-day shell-fire and stone-walling. That -night they got relief and were out for two days, when they were back -in the front trenches again. The 5th and the 6th were fairly quiet; -that is, what the P. P’s or Mr. Thomas Atkins would call quiet. Average -mortals wouldn’t. They would try to appear unconcerned and say they had -been under pretty heavy fire--which means shells all over the place -and machine guns combing the parapet. Very dull, indeed. Only three men -killed and seventeen wounded. - -On the night of May 7th the P. P’s had a muster of 635 men. This was -a good deal less than half of the original total in the battalion, -including recruits who had come out to fill the gaps caused by death, -wounds and sickness. Bear in mind that before this war a force was -supposed to prepare for retreat with a loss of ten per cent. and get -under way to the rear with the loss of fifteen per cent., and that with -the loss of thirty per cent. it was supposed to have borne all that can -be expected of the best trained soldiers. - -The Germans were quiet that night--suggestively quiet. At 4.30 the -prelude began; by 5.30 the German gunners had fairly warmed to their -work. They were using every kind of shell they had in the locker. Every -signal wire the P. P’s possessed had been cut. The brigade commander -could not know what was happening to them and they could not know his -wishes--except that it may be taken for granted that the orders of any -British brigade commander are always to “stick it.” - -The shell-fire was as thick at the P. P.’s backs as in front of them. -They were fenced in by shell-fire. And they were infantry taking what -the guns gave in order to put them out of business so that the way -would be clear for the German infantry to charge. In theory they ought -to have been buried and mangled beyond the power of resistance by what -is called “the artillery preparation for the infantry in attack.” - -Every man of the P. P’s knew what was coming. There was relief in their -hearts when they saw the Germans break from their trenches and start -down the slope of the hill in front. Now they could take it out of the -German infantry in payment for what the German guns were doing to them. -This was their only thought. Being good shots, with the instinct of the -man who is used to shooting at game, the P. P’s “shoot to kill” and -at individual targets. The light green of the German uniform is more -visible on the deep green background of spring grass and foliage than -against the tints of autumn. - -At two or three or four hundred yards no one of the marksmen of the -P. P’s, and there were several said to be able to “shoot the eye off -an ant,” could miss the target. As for Corporal Christy, the old bear -hunter of the Northwest, he leaned out over the parapet when a charge -began because he could shoot better in that position. They kept on -knocking down Germans; they didn’t know that men around them were -being hit; they hardly knew that they were being shelled except when -a burst shook their aim or filled their eyes with dust. In that case -they wiped the dust out of their eyes and went on. The first that many -of them realised that the German attack was broken was when they saw -green blots in front of the standing figures--which were now going in -the other direction. Then the thing was to keep as many of these as -possible from getting back over the hill. After that they could dress -the wounded and make the dying a little more comfortable. For there -was no getting the wounded to the rear. They had to remain there in -the trench perhaps to be wounded again, spectators of their comrades’ -valour without the preoccupation of action. - -In the official war journal where a battalion keeps its records--that -precious historical document which will be safeguarded in fireproof -vaults one of these days--you may read in cold official language what -happened in one section of the British line on the 8th of May. Thus: - -“7 A. M. Fire trench on right blown in at several points.... 9 -A. M. Lieutenants Martin and Triggs were hit and came out of left -communicating trench with number of wounded.... Captain Still and -Lieut. de Bay hit also.... 9.30 A. M. All machine guns were buried -(by high explosive shells) but two were dug out and mounted again. A -shell killed every man in one section.... 10.30 A.M. Lieut. Edwards -was killed.... Lieutenant Crawford, who was most gallant, was severely -wounded.... Captain Adamson, who had been handing out ammunition, was -hit in the shoulder, but continued to work with only one arm useful.... -Sergeant-Major Frazer, who was also handing out ammunition to support -trenches, was killed instantly by a bullet in the head.” - -At 10.30 only four officers remained fit for action. All were -lieutenants. The ranking one of these was Niven, in command after Gault -was wounded at 7 A. M. We have all met the Niven type anywhere from -the Gulf of Mexico to the Arctic Circle, the high-strung, wiry type, -who moves about too fast to carry any loose flesh and accumulates none -because he does move about so fast. A little man Niven, a rancher, a -horseman, with a good education and a knowledge of men. He rather fits -the old saying about licking his weight in wild cats--wild cats being -nearer his size than lions or tigers. - -Eight months before he had not known any more about war than thousands -of other Canadians of his type, except that soldiers carried rifles -over their shoulders and kept step. But he had “Fanny” Farquhar of the -British army for his teacher; and he studied the book of war in the -midst of shells and bullets--which means that the lessons stick in -the same way as the lesson the small boy receives when he touches the -red-hot end of a poker to see how it feels. - -Writing in the midst of ruined trenches rocked by the concussion -of shells, every message he sent that day, every report he made by -orderly after the wires were down was written out very explicitly-- -which Farquhar had taught him was the army way. The record is there of -his coolness when the lid was blown off of hell. For all you can tell -by the firm chirography he might have been sending a note to a ranch -foreman. - -After his communications were cut, he was not certain how much support -he had on his flanks. It looked for a time as if he had none. After -the first charge was repulsed he made contact with the King’s Royal -Rifle Corps on his right. He knew from the nature of the first German -charge that the second would be worse than the first. The Germans -had advanced some machine guns; they would be able to place their -increased artillery fire more accurately. Again green figures started -down that hill and again they were put back. Then Niven was able to -establish contact with the Shropshire Light Infantry, another regiment -on his left. So he knew that right and left he was supported--and by -seasoned British regulars. This was very, very comforting--especially -so when German machine gun fire was not only coming from the front but -in enfilade--which is so trying to a soldier’s steadiness. In other -words, the P. P’s were shooting at Germans in front while bullets were -whipping crosswise of their trenches and of the regulars on their -flanks, too. Some of the German infantrymen who had not been hit or had -not fallen back had dug themselves cover and were firing at a closer -range. - -The Germans had located the points in the P. P’s’ trench occupied by -the machine guns. At least, they could put these hornets’ nests out -of business, if not all the individual riflemen. So they concentrated -high explosive shells on them. That did the trick; it buried them. But -a buried machine gun may be dug out and fired again. It may be dug out -two or three times and keep on firing as long as it will work and there -is any one to man it. - -While the machine guns were being exhumed every man in one sector of -the trench was killed. Then the left half of the right fire trench -got three or four shells one after another bang into it. There was no -trench left: only macerated earth and mangled men. Those emerging alive -were told to fall back to the communicating trench. Next the right end -of the left fire trench was blown in. When the survivors fell back to -the communication trench that was also blown in their face. - -“Oh, but we were having a merry party,” as Lieutenant Vandenberg said. - -Niven and his lieutenants were moving here and there to the point of -each new explosion to ascertain the amount of the damage and to decide -what was to be done as the result. One soldier described Niven’s eyes -as sparks emitted from two holes in his dust-caked face. - -Papineau tells how a tree outside the trench was cut in two by a shell -and its trunk laid across the breach of the trench caused by another -shell; and lying over the trunk limp and lifeless where he had fallen -was a man killed by still another shell. - -“I remember how he looked because I had to step around him and over the -trunk,” said Papineau. - -Unless you did have to step around a dead or wounded man there was no -time to observe his appearance; for by noon there were as many dead and -wounded in the P. P’s’ trench as there were men fit for action. - -Those unhurt did not have to be steadied by their superiors. Knocked -down by a concussion they sprang up with the promptness of disgust of -one thrown off a horse or tripped by a wire. When told to move from one -part of the trench to another where there was desperate need, a word -was sufficient direction. They understood what was wanted of them, -these veterans. They went. They seized every lull to drop the rifle -for the spade and repair the breaches. When they were not shooting -they were digging. The officers had only to keep reminding them not to -expose themselves in the breaches. For in the thick of it--and the -thicker the more so--they must try to keep some dirt between all of -their bodies except the head and arm which must be up in order to fire. - -At 1.30 a cheer rose from that trench. It was for a platoon of the -King’s Royal Rifles which had come as reinforcement. Oh, but that band -of Tommies did look good to the P. P’s! And the little prize package -that the very reliable Mr. Atkins had with him--the machine gun! You -can always count on Mr. Atkins to remain “among those present” to the -last on such occasions. - -Now Niven got word by messenger to go to the nearest point where the -telephone was working and tell the brigade commander the complete -details of the situation. The brigade commander asked him if he could -stick, and he said “Yes, sir!” which is what Col. “Fanny” Farquhar -would have said. That trip was hardly what could be called peaceful. -The orderly whom Niven had with him both going and coming was hit by -high explosive shells. Niven is so small--it is very difficult to hit -him. He is about up to Major Gault’s shoulder. - -He had been worrying about his supply of rifle cartridges. There were -not enough to take care of another German infantry charge which was -surely coming. After repelling two charges, think of failing to repel -the third for want of ammunition! Think of Corporal Christy, the -bear-hunter, with the Germans thick in front of him and no bullets for -his rifle! But appeared again Mr. Thomas Atkins--another platoon of -him with twenty boxes of cartridges which were rather a risky burden to -bring through the shell fire. The relief as these were distributed was -that of having something at your throat which threatens to strangle you -removed. - -Making another tour of his trenches about four in the afternoon, Niven -found that there was a gap of fifty yards between his left and the -right of the adjoining regiment. Fifty yards is the inch on the end -of a man’s nose in trench warfare on such an occasion. He was able to -place eight men in that gap. At least, they could keep a lookout and -tell him what was going on. - -It was not cheering news either to learn a little later that the -regiments on his left had withdrawn to trenches about three hundred -yards to the rear--a long distance in trench warfare. But the P. P’s -had no time for retirement. They could have gone only in the panic of -men who think of nothing in their demoralisation except to flee from -the danger in front without thinking that there may be more danger to -the rear. They were held where they were under what cover they had by -the renewed blasts of shells--putting the machine guns out of action -again--which suddenly ceased; for the Germans were coming on again. - -Now was the supreme effort. It was as a nightmare in which only the -objective of effort is recalled and all else is a vague struggle of -all the strength one can exert against smothering odds. No use to ask -these men what they thought. What do you think when you are climbing up -a rope whose strands are breaking over the edge of a precipice? You -climb--that is all. - -The P. P’s shot at Germans. After a night without sleep, after a -day among their dead and wounded, after the torrents of shell-fire, -after breathing smoke, dust and gas, these veterans were in a state -of exaltation entirely unconscious of dangers of their surroundings, -mindless of what came next, automatically shooting to kill as they were -trained to do, even as a man pulls with every ounce of strength he has -in him in a close finish of a boat race. - -Corporal Dover had to give up firing his machine gun at last. Wounded, -he had dug it out of the earth after an explosion and set it up again. -The explosion that destroyed the gun finally crushed his leg and arm. -He crawled out of the _débris_ towards the support trench which had -become the fire trench, only to be killed by a bullet. - -The Germans got possession of a section of the P. P’s’ trench where, it -is believed, no Canadians were left. But the German effort died there. -It could get no farther. This was as near to Ypres as the Germans were -to go in this direction. When the day’s work was done and there in -sight of the field scattered with German dead, the P. P’s counted their -numbers. Of the 635 men who had begun the fight at daybreak one hundred -and fifty men and four officers, Niven, Papineau, Clark and Vandenberg, -remained fit for duty. - -Papineau is a young lawyer of Montreal, who had already won the -Military Cross for bombing Germans out of a sap at St. Eloi. Vandenberg -is a Dutchman--but mostly he is Vandenberg. To him the call of youth -is the call to arms. He knows the roads of Europe and the roads of -Chihuahua. He was at home fighting with Villa at Zacatecas and at home -fighting with the P. P’s in front of Ypres. - -Darkness found all the survivors among the P. P’s in the support -and communication trenches. The fire trench had become an untenable -dust-heap. They crept out only to bring in any wounded unable to help -themselves; and wounded and rescuers were more than once hit in the -process. It was too dangerous to attempt to bury the dead, who were in -the fire trench. Most of them had already been buried by shells. For -them and for the dead in the support trenches interred by their living -comrades Niven recited such portions as he could recall of the Church -of England service for the dead--recited them with a tight throat. -Then the P. P’s, unbeaten, marched out, leaving the position to their -relief, a battalion of the King’s Royal Rifle Corps. - -Eighteen hundred strong they had come out to France; and after they -had repulsed German charges in the midst of shells that mauled their -trenches at Hooge on that indescribable day of May 8th, one hundred -and fifty were able to bear arms and little Lieutenant Niven, polo -player and horseman, who had entered as a private, was in command. -Corporal Christy, bear-hunter of the Northwest, who could “shoot the -eyes off an ant,” by some miracle had escaped without a scratch. All -the praise that the P. P’s, millionaire or labourer, scapegrace or -respectable pillar of society, ask is that they were worthy of fighting -side by side with Mr. Thomas Atkins, regular. At best one poor little -finite mind only observes through a rift in the black smoke and yellow -smoke of high explosives and the clouds of dust and military secrecy -something of what has happened in a small section of that long line -from Switzerland to the North Sea many times; and this is given here. - -Leaning against the wall in a corner of the dining-room of the French -château were the P. P’s’ colours. Major Niven took off the wrapper in -order that I might see the flag with the initials of the battalion -which Princess Patricia embroidered with her own hands. There’s room, -one repeats, for a little sentiment and a little emotion, too, between -Halifax and Vancouver. - -“Of course we could not take our colours into action,” said Niven. -“They would have been torn into tatters or buried in a shell crater. -But we’ve always kept them up at battalion headquarters. I believe -we are the only battalion that has. We promised the Princess that we -would.” - -In her honour an old custom has been renewed in France: knights are -fighting in the name of a fair lady. - - - - -XXVI - -FINDING THE BRITISH FLEET - - The Briton’s island instinct--Secrecy surrounding the fleet--The - magic message--The journey--A night drive along the bleak coast - of Scotland--Boy scouts as sentries--An obdurate guard--The - navy yard--The Admiral’s “quarter deck”--The largest contract - in all England--Great dry docks--Patriots in workmen’s clothes. - - -The Briton’s national self-consciousness is surrounded by salt water. -His island instinct is only another word for sea instinct. Ebb and -flow of war on the Continent, play of party politics at home, optimism -and pessimism wrestling in the press--in the back of his head he was -thinking of the navy. - -During the first year of the war all other curtains of military secrecy -were parted at intervals; but the world of British naval operations -seemed hermetically sealed. One could only imagine what the Grand Fleet -was like. He had despaired of ever seeing it in the life, when good -fortune slipped a message across the Channel to the British front, -which became the magic carpet of transition from the burrowing army in -its trenches to the solid decks of battleships; which changed the war -correspondent’s modern steed, the automobile, trailing dust over French -roads, to destroyers trailing foam in choppy seas off English coasts. - -But not all the journeying was on destroyers. One must travel by car -also if he would know something of the intricate, busy world of the -Admiralty’s work, which makes coastguards a part of its personnel. -There was more than ships to see; more than one place to go in that -wonderful week. - -The transition is less sudden if we begin with the career of an open -car along the coast of Scotland in the night. Dusk had fallen on the -purple cloud-lands of heather dotted with the white spots of grazing -sheep in the Scotch highlands under changing skies, with headlands -stretching out into the misty reaches of the North Sea, forbidding -in the chill air after the warmth of France and suggestive of the -uninviting theatre where, in approaching winter, patrols and trawlers -and mine-sweepers carried on their work to within range of the guns of -Heligoland. A people who lived in such a chill land, in sight of such -a chill sea, and who spoke of their “bonnie Scotland forever,” were -worthy to be masters of that sea. - -The Americans who think of Britain as a small island forget the -distance from Land’s End to John o’ Groat’s, which represents coast -line to be guarded; and we may find a lesson, too, we who must make our -real defence by sea, of tireless vigils which may be our own if the old -Armageddon beast ever comes threatening the far-longer coast line that -we have to defend. For you may never know what war is till war comes. -Not even the Germans knew, though they had practised with a lifelike -dummy behind the curtains for forty years. - -At intervals, just as in the military zone in France, sentries stopped -us and took the number of our car; but this time sentries, who were -guarding a navy’s rather than an army’s secrets. With darkness we -passed the light of an occasional inn, while cottage lights made a -scattered sprinkling among the dim masses of the hills. One wondered -where all the kilted Highland soldiers whom he had seen at the front -came from, without, I trust, disclosing any military secret that the -canny Highlanders enlist Lowlanders in kilty regiments. - -The Frenchmen of our party--M. Stephen Pichon, former Foreign -Minister, M. Réné Bazin, of the Academie Française, M. Joseph Reinach, -of the _Figaro_, M. Pierre Mille, of _Le Temps_, and M. Henri Ponsot-- -who had never been in Scotland before, were on the lookout for a -civilian Scot in kilts and were grievously disappointed not to find a -single one. - -That night ride convinced me that however many Germans might be moving -about in England under the guise of cockney or of Lancashire dialects -in quest of information, none has any chance in Scotland. He could -never get the burr, I am sure, unless born in Scotland; and if he were, -once he had it the triumph ought to make him a Scotchman at heart. - -The officer of the Royal Navy, who was in the car with me, confessed -to less faith in his symbol of authority than in the generations’-bred -burr of our chauffeur to carry conviction of our genuineness; so -arguments were left to him and successfully, including two or three -with Scotch cattle, which seemed to be co-operating with the sentries -to block the road. - -After an hour’s run inland and the car rose over a ridge and descended -on a sharp grade, in the distance under the moonlight we saw the floor -of the sea again, melting into opaqueness, with curving fringes of foam -along the irregular shore cut by the indentations of the firths. Now -the sentries were more frequent and more particular. Our single light -gave dim form to the figures of sailors, soldiers, and boy scouts on -patrol. - -“They’ve done remarkably well, these boys!” said the officer. “Our -fears that, boylike, they would see all kinds of things which didn’t -exist were quite needless. The work has taught them a sense of -responsibility which will remain with them after the war, when their -experience will be a precious memory. They realise that it isn’t play, -but a serious business, and act accordingly.” - -With all the houses and the countryside dark, the rays of our lamp -seemed an invading comet to the men who held up lanterns with red -twinkles of warning. - -“The patrol boats have complained about your lights, sir!” said one -obdurate sentry. - -We looked out into the black wall in the direction of the sea and could -see no sign of a patrol boat. How had it been able to inform this lone -sentry of that flying ray which disclosed the line of a coastal road to -any one at sea? He would not accept the best argumentative burr that -our chauffeur might produce as sufficient explanation or guarantee. -Most Scottish of Scots in physiognomy and shrewd matter-of-factness, as -revealed in the glare of the lantern, he might have been on watch in -the Highland fastnesses in Prince Charlie’s time. - -“Captain R----, of the Royal Navy!” explained the officer, introducing -himself. - -“I’ll take your name and address!” said the sentry. - -“The Admiralty. I take the responsibility.” - -“As I’ll report, sir!” said the sentry, not so convinced but he burred -something further into the chauffeur’s ear. - -This seems to have little to do with the navy, but it has much, indeed, -as a part of an unfathomable, complicated business of guards within -guards, intelligence battling with intelligence, deceiving raiders by -land or sea, of those responsible for the safety of England and the -mastery of the seas. - - * * * * * - -It is from the navy yard that the ships go forth to battle and to the -navy yard they must return for supplies and for the grooming beat of -hammers in the dry dock. Those who work at a navy yard keep the navy’s -house; welcome home all the family, from Dreadnoughts to trawlers, give -them cheer and shelter, and bind up their wounds. - -The quarter-deck of action for Admiral Lowry, commanding the great base -on the Forth, which was begun before the war and hastened to completion -since, was a substantial brick office building. Adjoining his office, -where he worked with engineers’ blue prints as well as with sea maps, -he had fitted up a small bedroom where he slept, to be at hand if any -emergency arose. - -Partly we walked, as he showed us over his domain of steam-shovels, -machine shops, cement factories, of building and repairs, of coaling -and docking, and partly we rode on a car that ran over temporary rails -laid for trucks loaded with rocks and dirt. Borrowing from Peter to pay -Paul, a river bottom had been filled in back of the quays with material -that had been excavated to form a vast basin with cement walls, where -squadrons of Dreadnoughts might rest and await their turn to be warped -into the great dry docks which open off it in chasmlike galleries. - -“The largest contract in all England,” said the contractor. “And here -is the man who checks up my work,” he added, nodding to the lean, -Scotch naval civil engineer who was with us. It was clear from his look -that only material of the best quality and work that was true would be -acceptable to this canny mentor of efficiency. - -“And the workers? Have you had any strikes here?” - -“No. We have employed double the usual number of men from the start of -the war,” he said. “I’m afraid that the Welsh coal troubles have been -accepted as characteristic. Our men have been reasonable and patriotic. -They’ve shown the right spirit. If they hadn’t, how could we have -accomplished that?” - -We were looking down into the depths of a dry dock blasted out of the -rock, which had been begun and completed within the year. And we had -heard nothing of all this through those twelve months! No writer, no -photographer, chronicled this silent labour! Double lines of guards -surrounded the place day and night. Only tried patriots might enter -this world of a busy army in smudged workmen’s clothes, bending to -their tasks with that ordered discipline of industrialism which wears -no uniforms, marches without beat of drums, and toils that the ships -shall want nothing to ensure victory. - - - - -XXVII - -ON A DESTROYER - - Losing one’s heart to the British navy--“Specialised in torpedo - work”--Watching for submarines--Passing a flotilla--The eyes - of the navy--Cold on the bridge--A jumpy sea--Look out for - the spray--A symphony in mechanism--Around a bend and: the sea - power of England! - - -Now we were on our way to the great thing--to our look behind the -curtain at the hidden hosts of sea-power. Of some eight hundred tons’ -burden our steed, doing eighteen knots, which was a dog-trot for one of -her speed. - -“A destroyer is like an automobile,” said the commander. “If you -rush her all the time she wears out. We give her the limit only when -necessary.” - -On the bridge the zest of travel on a dolphin of steel held the bridle -on eagerness to reach the journey’s end. We all like to see things -well done and here one had his first taste of how well things are done -in the British navy, which did not have to make ready for war after -the war began. With an open eye one went, and the experience of other -navies as a balance for his observation; but one lost one’s heart -to the British navy and might as well confess it now. A six months’ -cruise with our own battleship fleet was a proper introduction to the -experience. Never under any flag not my own did I feel so much at home. - -After the arduous monotony of the trenches and after the traffic of -London, it was freedom and sport and ecstasy to be there, with the rush -of salt air on the face! Our commander was under thirty years of age; -and that destroyer responded to his will like a stringed instrument. He -seemed a part of her, her nerves welded to his. - -“Specialised in torpedo work,” he said, in answer to a question. That -is the way of the British navy: to learn one thing well before you -go on with another. If in the course of it you learn how to command, -larger responsibilities await you. If not--there’s retired pay. - -Inside a shield which sheltered them from the spray on the forward -deck, significantly free of everything but that four-inch gun, its crew -was stationed. The commander had only to lean over and speak through -a tube and give a range, and the music began. That tube bifurcated at -the end to an ear-mask over a youngster’s head; a youngster who had -real sailor’s smiling blue eyes, like the commander’s own. For hours he -would sit waiting in the hope that game would be sighted. No fisherman -could be more patient or more cheerful. - -“Before he came into the navy he was a chauffeur. He likes this,” said -the commander. - -“In case of a submarine you do not want to lose any time; is that it?” - -“Yes,” he replied. “You never can tell when we might have a chance to -put a shot into Fritz’s periscope or ram him--Fritz is our name for -submarines.” - -Were all the commanders of destroyers up to his mark, one wondered. -How many more had the British navy caught young and trained to such -quickness of decision and in the art of imparting it to his men? - -Three hundred revolutions! The destroyer changed speed. Five hundred! -She changed speed again. - -Out of the mist in the distance flashed a white ribbon knot that seemed -to be tied to a destroyer’s bow and behind it another destroyer, and -still others, lean, catlike, but running as if legless, with greased -bodies sliding over the sea. We snapped out some message to them and -they answered as passing birds on the wing before they swept out of -sight behind a headland with uncanny ease of speed. How many destroyers -had England running to and fro in the North Sea, keen for the chase -and too quick at dodging and too fast to be in any danger of the -under-water dagger thrust of the assassins whom they sought. We know -the figures in the naval lists, but there cannot be too many. They are -the eyes of the navy; they gather information and carry a sting in -their torpedo tubes. - -It was chilly there on the bridge, with the prospect too entrancing not -to remain even if one froze. But here stepped in naval preparedness -with thick, short coats of llama wool. - -“Served out to all the men last winter, when we were in the thick of it -patrolling,” the commander explained. “You’ll not get cold in that!” - -“And yourself?” was suggested to the commander. - -“Oh, it is not cold enough for that in September! We’re hardened to it. -You come from the land and feel the change of air; we are at sea all -the time,” he replied. He was without even an overcoat; and the ease -with which he held his footing made land lubbers feel their awkwardness. - -A jumpy, uncertain tidal sea was running. Yet our destroyer glided over -the waves, cut through them, played with them, and let them seem to -play with her, all the while laughing at them with the power of the -purring vitals that drove her steadily on. - -“Look out!” which at the front in France was a signal to jump for a -“funk pit.” We ducked, as a cloud of spray passed above the heavy -canvas and clattered like hail against the smokestack. “There won’t be -any more!” said the commander. He was right. He knew that passage. One -wondered if he did not know every gallon of water in the North Sea, -which he had experienced in all its moods. - -Sheltered by the smokestack down on the main deck, one of our party, -who loved not the sea for its own sake but endured it as a passageway -to the sight of the Grand Fleet, had found warmth, if not comfort. Not -for him that invitation to come below given by the chief engineer, -who rose out of a round hole with a pleasant, “How d’y do!” air to -get a sniff of the fresh breeze, wizard of the mysterious power of -the turbines which sent the destroyer marching so noiselessly. He was -the one who transferred the captain’s orders into that symphony in -mechanism. Turn a lever and you had a dozen more knots; not with a leap -or a jerk, but like a cat’s sleek stretching of muscles. Not by the -slightest tremor did you realise the acceleration; only by watching -some stationary object as you flew past. - -Now a sweep of smooth water at the entrance to a harbour, and a turn-- -and there it was: the sea power of England! - - - - -XXVIII - -SHIPS THAT HAVE FOUGHT - - The “invisible” fleet--No chance for German submarines--No end - to the greyish blue-green monsters--the _Queen Elizabeth_-- - Sea-power and world power--Ships that have been under fire--A - German “mistake”--Sir David Beatty--“Youth for action”--On - board the _Lion_--Sensations during the fighting--Importance - of accurate marksmanship--Crashing blasts and the scream of - shells--Watching the hits--The precious turret--Result of - German gunfire--A city of steel--Its brain-center--A panoply - of tubes, levers, push-buttons--Methods of British gunfire-- - One of the great guns--Its human complement--The gun-pointer-- - From the upper bridge--An impressive beauty--The chase off - Heligoland--Safe return of the _Lion_. - - -But was that really it? That spread of greyish blue-green dots set on -a huge greyish blue-green platter? One could not discern where ships -began and water and sky which held them suspended left off. Invisible -fleet it had been called. At first glance it seemed to be composed of -baffling phantoms, absorbing the tone of its background. Admiralty -secrecy must be the result of a naval dislike of publicity. - -Still as if they were rooted, these leviathans! How could such a shy, -peaceful looking array send out broadsides of twelve- and thirteen-five -and fifteen-inch shells? What a paradise for a German submarine! Each -ship seemed an inviting target. Only there were many gates and doors to -the paradise, closed to all things that travel on and under the water -without a proper identification. Submarines that had tried to pick one -of the locks were like the fish who found going good into the trap. -A submarine had about the same chance of reaching that anchorage as a -German in the uniform of the Kaiser’s Death’s Head Hussars, with a bomb -under his arm, of reaching the vaults of the Bank of England. - -And was this all of the greatest naval force ever gathered under a -single command, these two or three lines of ships? But as the destroyer -drew nearer the question changed. How many more? Was there no end to -greyish blue-green monsters, in order as precise as the trees of a -California orchard, appearing out of the greyish blue-green background? -First to claim attention was the _Queen Elizabeth_, with her eight -fifteen-inch guns on a platform which could travel at nearly the speed -of the average railroad train. - -The contrast of sea and land warfare appealed the more vividly to one -fresh from the front in France. What infinite labour for an army to -get one big gun into position! How heralded the snail-like travels of -the big German howitzer! Here was ship after ship, whose guns seemed -innumerable. One found it hard to realise the resisting power of their -armour, painted to look as liquid as the sea, and the stability of -their construction, which was able to bear the strain of firing the -great shells that travelled ten miles to their target. - -Sea-power, indeed! And world power, too, there in the hollow of a -nation’s hand, to throw in whatever direction she pleased. If an -American had a lump in his throat at the thought of what it meant, what -might it not mean to an Englishman? Probably the Englishman would say, -“I think that the fleet is all right, don’t you?” - -Land-power, too! On the Continent vast armies wrestled for some square -miles of earth. France has, say, three million soldiers; Germany, five; -Austria, four--and England had, perhaps, a hundred thousand men, -perhaps more, on board this fleet which defended the English land and -lands far over seas without firing a shot. One American regiment of -infantry is more than sufficient in numbers to man a Dreadnought. How -precious, then, the skill of that crew! Man-power is as concentrated as -gun-power with a navy. Ride three hundred miles in an automobile along -an army front, with glimpses of units of soldiers, and you have seen -little of a modern army. Here, moving down the lanes that separated -these grey fighters, one could compass the whole! - -Four gold letters, spelling the word Lion, awakened the imagination to -the concrete of the _Blücher_ turning her bottom skyward before she -sank off the Dogger Bank under the fire of the guns of the _Lion_ and -of the _Tiger_, astern of her, and the _Princess Royal_ and the _New -Zealand_, of the latest fashion in battle-cruiser squadrons which are -known as the “cat” squadron. This work brought them into their own; -proved how the British, who built the first Dreadnought, have kept a -little ahead of their rivals in construction. With almost the gun-power -of Dreadnoughts, better than three to two against the best battleships, -with the speed of cruisers and capable of overwhelming cruisers, or -of pursuing any battleship, or getting out of range, they can run or -strike, as they please. - -Ascend that gangway, so amazingly clean, as were the decks above and -below and everything about the _Lion_ or the _Tiger_, and you were on -board one of the few major ships which had been under heavy fire. Her -officers and men knew what modern naval war was like; her guns knew the -difference between the wall of cloth of a towed target and an enemy’s -wall of armour. - -In the battle of Tsushima Straits battleships had fought at three and -four thousand yards and closed into much shorter range. Since then, -we had had the new method of marksmanship. Tsushima ceased to be a -criterion. The Dogger Bank multiplied the range by five. A hundred -years since England, all the while the most powerfully armed nation at -sea, had been in a naval war of the first magnitude; and to the _Lion_ -and the _Tiger_ had come the test. The Germans said that they had sunk -the _Tiger_; but the _Tiger_ afloat purred a contented denial. - -One could not fail to identify among the group of officers on the -quarter-deck Vice-Admiral Sir David Beatty, for his victory had -impressed his features on the public’s eye. Had his portrait not -appeared in the press, one would have been inclined to say that a first -lieutenant had put on a vice-admiral’s coat by mistake. He was about -the age of the first lieutenant of our own battleships. Even as it -was, one was inclined to exclaim: “There is some mistake! You are too -young!” The Who is Who book says that he is all of forty-four years old -and it must be right, though it disagrees with his appearance by five -years. A vice-admiral at forty-four! A man who is a rear-admiral with -us at fifty-five is very precocious. And all the men around him were -young. The British navy did not wait for war to teach again the lesson -of “youth for action!” It saved time by putting youth in charge at once. - -Their simple uniforms, the directness, alertness, and definiteness of -these officers, who had been with a fleet ready for a year to go into -battle on a minute’s notice, was in keeping with their surroundings -of decks cleared for action and the absence of anything which did not -suggest that hitting a target was the business of their life. - -“I had heard that you took your admirals from the school-room,” said -one of the Frenchmen, “but I begin to believe that it is the nursery.” - -Night and day they must be on watch. No easy-chairs; their shop is -their home. They must have the vitality that endures a strain. One -error in battle by any one of them might wreck the British Empire. - -It is difficult to write about any man-of-war and not be technical; for -everything about her seems technical and mechanical except the fact -that she floats. Her officers and crew are engaged in work which is -legerdermain to the civilian. - -“Was it like what you thought it would be after all your training for a -naval action?” one asked. - -“Yes, quite; pretty much as we reasoned it out,” was the reply. -“Indeed, this was the most remarkable thing. It was battle practice-- -with the other fellow shooting at you!” - -The fire-control officers, who were aloft, all agreed about -one unexpected sensation, which had not occurred to any expert -scientifically predicating what action would be like. They are the only -ones, who may really “see” the battle in the full sense. - -“When the shells burst against the armour,” said one of these officers, -“the fragments were visible as they flew about. We had a desire, in the -midst of our preoccupation with our work, to reach out and catch them. -Singular mental phenomenon, wasn’t it?” - -At eight or nine thousand yards one knew that the modern battleship -could tear a target to pieces. But eighteen thousand--was accuracy -possible at that distance? - -“Did one in five German shells hit at that range?” I asked. - -“No!” - -Or in ten? No! In twenty? Still no, though less decisively. One got -a conviction, then, that the day of holding your fire until you were -close in enough for a large percentage of hits was past. Accuracy was -still vital and decisive, but generic accuracy. At eighteen thousand -yards all the factors which send a thousand or fifteen hundred or two -thousand pounds of steel that long distance cannot be so gauged that -each one will strike in exactly the same line when ten issue from the -gun-muzzles in a broadside. But if one out of twenty is on at eighteen -thousand yards, it may mean a turret out of action. Again, four or -five might hit, or none. So, no risk of waiting may be taken, in face -of the danger of a chance shot at long range. It was a chance shot -which struck the _Lion’s_ feed tank and disabled her and kept the cat -squadron from doing to the other German cruisers what they had done to -the _Blücher_. - -“And the noise of it to you aloft, spotting the shots?” I suggested. -“It must have been a lonely place in such a tornado.” - -“Yes. Besides the crashing blasts from our own guns we had the screams -of the shells that went over and the cataracts of water from those -short sprinkling the ship with spray. But this was what one expected. -Everything was what one expected, except that desire to catch the -fragments. Naturally, one was too busy to think much of anything except -the enemy’s ships--to learn where your shells were striking.” - -“You could tell?” - -“Yes, just as well and better than at target practice for the target -was larger and solid. It was enthralling, that watching the flight of -our shells toward their target.” - -Where were the scars from the wounds? One looked for them on both the -_Lion_ and the _Tiger_. That armour patch on the sloping top of a -turret might have escaped attention if it had not been pointed out. A -shell struck there and a fair blow, too. And what happened inside? Was -the turret gear put out of order? - -To one who has lived in a wardroom a score of questions were on the -tongue’s end. The turret is the basket which holds the precious eggs. A -turret out of action means two guns out of action; a broken knuckle for -the pugilist. - -Constructors have racked their brains over the subject of turrets in -the old contest between gun-power and protection. Too much gun-power, -too little armour! Too much armour, too little gun-power! Off the -Virginia capes we have pounded antiquated battleships with shells as -a test, with sheep inside the turrets to see if life could survive. -But in the last analysis results depend on how good is your armour, -how sound your machinery which rotates the turret. That shell did not -go through bodily, only a fragment, which killed one man and wounded -another. The turret would still rotate; the other gun remained in -action and the one under the shell-burst was soon back in action. Very -satisfactory to the naval constructors. - -Up and down the all-but perpendicular steel ladders with their narrow -steps, and through the winding passages below decks in those cities of -steel, one followed his guide, receiving so much information and so -many impressions that he was confused as to details between the two -veterans, the _Lion_, which was hit fifteen times, and the _Tiger_, -which was hit eight. Wherever you went every square inch of space and -every bit of equipment seemed to serve some purpose. - -A beautiful hit, indeed, was that into a small hooded aperture where an -observer looked out from a turret. He was killed and another man took -his place. Fresh armour and no sign of where the shot had struck. Then -below, into a compartment between the side of the ship and the armoured -barbette which protects the delicate machinery for feeding shells and -powder from the magazine deep below the water to the guns. - -“H---- was killed here. Impact of the shell passing through the outer -plates burst it inside; and, of course, the fragments struck harmlessly -against the barbette.” - -“Bang in the dugout!” one exclaimed, from army habit. - -“Precisely! No harm done next door.” - -Trench traverses and “funk-pit shelters” for localising the effects of -shell-bursts are the terrestrial expression of marine construction. -No one shell happened to get many men either on the _Lion_ or the -_Tiger_. But the effect of the burst was felt in the passages, for the -air-pressure is bound to be pronounced in enclosed spaces which allow -of little room for the expansion of the gases. - -Then up more ladders out of the electric light into the daylight, -hugging a wall of armour whose thickness was revealed in the cut made -for the small doorway which you were bidden to enter. Now you were in -one of the brain-centres of the ship, where the action is directed. -Through slits in that massive shelter of the hardest steel one had a -narrow view. Above them on the white wall were silhouetted diagrams of -the different types of German ships, which one found in all observing -stations. They were the most popular form of mural decoration in the -British navy. - -Underneath the slits was a literal panoply of the brass fittings of -speaking-tubes and levers and push-buttons, which would have puzzled -even the “Hello, Central” girl. To look at them revealed nothing more -than the eye saw; nothing more than the face of a watch reveals of the -character of its works. There was no telling how they ran in duplicate -below the water line or under the protection of armour to the guns and -the engines. - -“We got one in here, too. It was a good one!” said the host. - -“Junk, of course,” was how he expressed the result. Here, too, a man -stepped forward to take the place of the man who was killed, just as -the first lieutenant takes the place of a captain of infantry who -falls. With the whole telephone apparatus blown off the wall, as it -were, how did he communicate? - -“There!” The host pointed toward an opening at his feet. If that failed -there was still another way. In the final alternative, each turret -could go on firing by itself. So the Germans must have done on the -_Blücher_ and on the _Gneisenau_ and the _Scharnhorst_ in their last -ghastly moments of bloody chaos. - -“If this is carried away and then that is, why, then, we have--” as -one had often heard officers say on board our own ships. But that was -hypothesis. Here was demonstration, which made a glimpse of the _Lion_ -and the _Tiger_ so interesting. The _Lion_ had had a narrow escape -from going down after being hit in the feed tank; but once in dry -dock, all her damaged parts had been renewed. Particularly it required -imagination to realise that this tower had ever been struck; visually, -more convincing was a plate elsewhere which had been left unpainted, -showing a spatter of dents from shell-fragments. - -“We thought that we ought to have something to prove that we had been -in battle,” said the host. “I think I’ve shown all the hits. There were -not many.” - -Having seen the results of German gun-fire, we were next to see the -methods of British gun-fire; something of the guns and the men who did -things to the Germans. One stooped under the overhang of the turret -armour from the barbette and climbed up through an opening which -allowed no spare room for the generously built, and out of the dim -light appeared the glint of the massive steel breech block and gun, set -in its heavy recoil mountings with roots of steel supports sunk into -the very structure of the ship. It was like other guns of the latest -improved type; but it had been in action, and one kept thinking of this -fact that gave it a sort of majestic prestige. One wished that it might -look a little different from the others, as the right of a veteran. - -As the plugman swung the breech open I had in mind a giant plugman on -the U. S. S. _Connecticut_ whom I used to watch at drills and target -practice. Shall I ever forget the flash in his eye if there were a -fraction of a second’s delay in the firing after the breech had gone -home! The way in which he made that enormous block obey his touch in -oily obsequiousness suggested the apotheosis of the whole business of -naval war. I don’t know whether the plugman of H. M. S. _Lion_ or the -plugman of the U. S. S. _Connecticut_ was the better. It would take a -superman to improve on either. - -Like the block, it seemed as if the man knew only the movements of the -drill; as if he had been bred and his muscles formed for that. One -could conceive of him playing diavolo with that breech. He belonged to -the finest part of all the machinery, the human element, which made the -parts of a steel machine play together in a beautiful harmony. - -The plugman’s is the most showy part; others playing equally important -parts are in the cavern below the turret; and most important of all is -that of the man who keeps the gun on the target, whose true right eye -may send twenty-five thousand tons of battleship to perdition. No one -eye of any enlisted man can be as important as the gun-pointer’s. His -the eye and the nerve trained as finely as the plugman’s muscles. He -does nothing else, thinks of nothing else. In common with painters and -poets, gun-pointers are born with a gift, and that gift is trained and -trained and trained. It seems simple to keep right on, but it is not. -Try twenty men in the most rudimentary test and you will find that it -is not; then think of the nerve it takes to keep right on in battle, -with your ship shaken by the enemy’s hits. - -How long had the plugman been on his job? Six years. And the -gun-pointer? Seven. Twelve years is the term of enlistment in the -British navy. Not too fast but thoroughly, is the British way. The -idea is to make a plugman or a gun-pointer the same kind of expert as a -master artisan in any other walk of life, by long service and selection. - -None of all these men serving the two guns from the depths to the -turret saw anything of the battle, except the gun-pointer. It was -easier for them than for him to be letter-perfect in the test, as -he had to guard against the exhilaration of having an enemy’s ship -instead of a cloth target under his eye. Super-drilled he was to that -eventuality; super-drilled all the others through the years, till each -one knew his part as well as one knows how to turn the key in the lock -of his bureau. Used to the shock of the discharges of their own guns -at battle practice, many of the crew did not even know that their ship -was hit, so preoccupied was each with his own duty, which was to go on -with it until an order or a shell’s havoc stopped him. Every mind was -closed except to the thing which had been so established by drill in -his nature that he did it instinctively. - -A few minutes later one was looking down from the upper bridge on the -top of this turret and the black-lined planking of the deck eighty-five -feet below, with the sweep of the firm lines of the sides converging -toward the bow on the background of the water. Suddenly the ship seemed -to have grown large, impressive; her structure had a rocklike solidity. -Her beauty was in her unadorned strength. One was absorbing the majesty -of a city from a cathedral tower after having been in its thoroughfares -and seen the detail of its throbbing industry. - -Beyond the _Lion’s_ bow were more ships, and port and starboard and -aft were still more ships. The compass range filled the eye with the -stately precision of the many squadrons and divisions of leviathans. -One could see all the fleet. This seemed to be the scenic climax; but -it was not, as we were to learn when we should see the fleet go to sea. -Then we were to behold the mountains on the march. - -One glanced back at the deck and around the bridge with a sort of -relief. The infinite was making him dizzy. He wanted to be in touch -with the finite again. But it is the writer, not the practical, -hardened seaman, who is affected in this way. To the seaman, here was a -battle-cruiser with her sister battle-cruisers astern, and there around -her were Dreadnoughts of different types and pre-Dreadnoughts and -cruisers and all manner of other craft which could fight each in its -way, each representing so much speed and so much metal which could be -thrown a certain distance. - -“Homogeneity!” Another favourite word, I remember, from our own -wardrooms. Here it was applied in the large. No experimental ships -there, no freak variations of type, but each successive type as a unit -of action. Homogeneous, yes--remorselessly homogeneous. The British -do not simply build some ships; they build a navy. And of course the -experts are not satisfied with it; if they were, the British navy would -be in a bad way. But a layman was; he was overwhelmed. - -From this bridge of the _Lion_ on the morning of the 24th of January, -1914, Vice-Admiral Sir David Beatty saw appear on the horizon a sight -inexpressibly welcome to any commander who has scoured the seas in -the hope that the enemy will come out in the open and give battle. -Once that German battle-cruiser squadron had slipped across the North -Sea and, under cover of the mist which has ever been the friend of -the pirate, bombarded the women and children of Scarborough and the -Hartlepools with shells meant to be fired at hardened adult males -sheltered behind armour; and then, thanks to the mist, they had slipped -back to Heligoland with cheering news to the women and children of -Germany. This time when they came out they encountered a British -battle-cruiser squadron of superior speed and power, and they had to -fight as they ran for home. - -Now, the place of an admiral is in his conning tower after he has -made his deployments and the firing has begun. He, too, is a part of -the machine; his position defined, no less than the plugman’s and the -gun-pointer’s. Sir David watched the ranging shots which fell short -at first, until finally they were on, and the Germans were beginning -to reply. When his staff warned him that he ought to go below, he put -them off with a preoccupied shake of his head. He could not resist the -temptation to remain where he was, instead of being shut up looking -through the slits of a visor. - -But an admiral is as vulnerable to shell-fragments as a midshipman, -and the staff did its duty, which had been thought out beforehand like -everything else. The argument was on their side; the commander really -had none on his. It was then that Vice-Admiral Beatty sent Sir David -Beatty to the conning tower, much to the personal disgust of Sir David, -who envied the observing officers aloft their free sweep of vision. - -Youth in Sir David’s case meant suppleness of limbs as well as youth’s -spirit and dash. When the _Lion_ was disabled by the shot in her feed -tank and had to fall out of line, Sir David must transfer his flag. He -signalled for his destroyer, the _Attack_. When she came alongside, he -did not wait on a ladder, but jumped on board her from the deck of the -_Lion_. An aged vice-admiral with chalky bones might have broken some -of them, or at least received a shock to his presence of mind. - -Before he left the _Lion_ Sir David had been the first to see the -periscope of a German submarine in the distance, which sighted the -wounded ship as inviting prey. Officers of the _Lion_ dwelt more on -the cruise home than on the battle. It was a case of being towed at -five knots an hour by the Indomitable. If ever submarines had a fair -chance to show what they could do it was then against that battleship -at a snail’s pace. But it is one thing to torpedo a merchant craft and -another to get a major fighting ship, bristling with torpedo defence -guns and surrounded by destroyers. The _Lion_ reached port without -further injury. - - - - -XXIX - -ON THE “INFLEXIBLE” - - Veterans of the Dardanelles--“The range of them”--The Falkland - affair--The “double bluff” on von Spee--The intercepted British - wireless--Sturdee’s trap--Story book of strategy--The Germans - go down with their colours flying--Only a disordered wardroom-- - The chaplain’s anecdote--All a lark for the midshipman-- - Souvenirs of action. - - -What Englishman, let alone an American, knows the names of even all the -British Dreadnoughts? With a few exceptions, the units of the Grand -Fleet seem anonymous. The _Warspite_ was quite unknown to the fame -which her sister ship the _Queen Elizabeth_ had won. For “_Lizzie_” was -back in the fold from the Dardanelles; and so was the _Inflexible_, -flagship of the battle of the Falkland Islands. Of all the ships which -Sir John Jellicoe had sent away on special missions, the _Inflexible_ -had had the grandest Odyssey. She, too, had been at the Dardanelles. - -The _Queen Elizabeth_ was disappointing so far as wounds went. She had -been so much in the public eye that one expected to find her badly -battered, and she had suffered little, indeed, for the amount of sport -she had had in tossing her fifteen-inch shells across the Gallipoli -peninsula into the Turkish batteries and the amount of risk she had run -from Turkish mines. Some of these monster shells contained only eleven -thousand shrapnel bullets. A strange business for a fifteen-inch naval -gun to be firing shrapnel. A year ago no one could have imagined that -one day the most powerful British ship, built with the single thought -of overwhelming an enemy’s Dreadnought, would ever be trying to force -the Dardanelles. - -The trouble was that she could not fire an army corps ashore along -with her shells to take possession of any batteries she put out of -action. She had some grand target practice; she escaped the mines; she -kept out of reach of the German shells, and returned to report to Sir -John with just enough scars to give zest to the recollection of her -extraordinary adventure. All the fleet was relieved to see her back in -her proper place. It is not the business of super-Dreadnoughts to be -steaming around mine-fields, but to be surrounded by destroyers and -light cruisers and submarines safeguarding her giant guns which are -depressed and elevated as easily as if they were drum-sticks. One had -an abrasion, a tracery of dents. - -“That was from a Turkish shell,” said an officer. “And you are standing -where a shell hit.” - -One looked down to see an irregular outline of fresh planking. - -“An accident when we did not happen to be out of their reach. We had -the range of them,” he added. - -“The range of them” is a great phrase. Sir Frederick Doveton Sturdee -used it in speaking of the battle of the Falkland Islands. “The range -of them” seems a sure prescription for victory. Nothing in all the -history of the war appeals to me as quite so smooth a bit of tactics as -the Falkland affair. It was so smooth that it was velvety; and it is -worth telling again, as I understand it. Sir Frederick is another young -admiral. Otherwise, how could the British navy have entrusted him with -so important a task? He is a different type from Beatty, who in an -army one judges might have been in the cavalry. Along with the peculiar -charm and alertness which we associate with sailors--they imbibe it -from the salt air and from meeting all kinds of weather and all kinds -of men, I think--he has the quality of the scholar, with a suspicion -of merriness in his eye. - -He was Chief of Staff at the Admiralty in the early stages of the war, -which means, I take it, that he assisted in planning the moves on the -chessboard. It fell to him to act; to apply the strategy and tactics -which he planned for others at sea while he sat at a desk. It was his -wit against von Spee’s, who was not deficient in this respect. If he -had been he might not have steamed into the trap. The trouble was that -von Spee had some wit, but not enough. It would have been better for -him if he had been as guileless as a parson. - -Sir Frederick is so gentle-mannered that one would never suspect him -of a “double bluff,” which was what he played on von Spee. After von -Spee’s victory over Cradock, Sturdee slipped across to the South -Atlantic, without any one knowing that he had gone, with a squadron -strong enough to do unto von Spee what von Spee had done unto Cradock. - -But before you wing your bird you must flush him. The thing was to -find von Spee and force him to give battle; for the South Atlantic is -broad and von Spee, it is supposed, was in an Emden mood and bent on -reaching harbour in German Southwest Africa, whence he could sally out -to destroy British shipping on the Cape route. When he intercepted -a British wireless message--Sturdee had left off the sender’s name -and location--telling the plodding old _Canopus_ seeking home or -assistance before von Spee overtook her, that she would be perfectly -safe in the harbour at Port William, as guns had been erected for her -protection, von Spee guessed that this was a bluff, and rightly. But -it was only Bluff Number One. He steamed to the Falklands with a view -to finishing off the old _Canopus_ on the way across to Africa. There -he fell foul of Bluff Number Two. Sturdee did not have to seek him; he -came to Sturdee. - -There was no convenient Dogger Bank fog in that latitude to cover -his flight. Sturdee had the speed of von Spee and he had to fight. -It was the one bit of strategy of the war which is like that of the -story books and worked out as the strategy always does in proper -story books. Practically the twelve-inch guns of the _Inflexible_ -and the _Invincible_ had only to keep their distance and hang on -to the _Scharnhorst_ and the _Gneisenau_ in order to do the trick. -Light-weights or middle-weights have no business trafficking with -heavy-weights in naval warfare. - -“Von Spee made a brave fight,” said Sir Frederick, “but we kept him at -a distance that suited us, without letting him get out of range.” - -He had had the fortune to prove an established principle in action. It -was all in the course of duty, which is the way that all the officers -and all the men look at their work. Only a few ships have had a chance -to fight and these are emblazoned on the public memory. But they did -no better and no worse, probably, than the others would have done. If -the public singles out ships, the navy does not. Whatever is done and -whoever does it, why, it is to the credit of the family, according to -the spirit of service that promotes uniformity of efficiency. Leaders -and ships which have won renown are resolved into the whole in that -harbour where the fleet is the thing; and the good opinion they most -desire is that of their fellows. If they have that, they will earn the -public’s when the test comes. - -Belonging to the class of the first of battle-cruisers is the -_Inflexible_, which received a few taps in the Falklands and a blow -that was nearly the death of her in the Dardanelles. Tribute enough for -its courage--the tribute of a chivalrous enemy--von Spee’s squadron -receives from the officers and men of the _Inflexible_, who saw them -go down into the sea tinged with sunset red with their colours still -flying. Then in the sunset red the British saved as many of those -afloat as they could. - -Those dripping German officers who had seen one of their battered -turrets carried away bodily into the sea by a British twelve-inch -shell, who had endured a fury of concussions and destruction, with -steel missiles cracking steel structures into fragments, came on board -the _Inflexible_ looking for signs of some blows delivered in return -for the crushing blows that had beaten their ships into the sea and saw -none until they were invited into the wardroom, which was in chaos-- -and then they smiled. - -At least, they had sent one shell home. The sight was sweet to them, -so sweet that, in respect to the feeling of the vanquished, the victor -held silence with a knightly consideration. But where had the shell -entered? There was no sign of any hole. Then they learned that the fire -of the guns of the starboard turret midships over the wardroom, which -was on the port side, had deposited a great many things on the floor -which did not belong there; and their expression changed. Even this -comfort was taken from them. - -“We had the range of you!” the British explained. - -The chaplain of the _Inflexible_ was bound to have an anecdote. I don’t -know why, except that a chaplain’s is not a fighting part and he may -look on. His place was down behind the armour with the doctor, waiting -for wounded. He stood in his particular steel cave listening to the -tremendous blasts of her guns which shook the _Inflexible’s_ frame, and -still no wounded arrived. Then he ran up a ladder to the deck and had -a look around and saw the little points of the German ships with the -shells sweeping toward them and the smoke of explosions which burst on -board them. It was not the British who needed his prayers that day, but -the Germans. - -Perhaps the spirit of the _Inflexible’s_ story was best given by a -midshipman with the down still on his cheek. Considering how young -the British take their officer-beginners to sea, the admirals are not -young, at least, in point of sea service. He got more out of the action -than his elders; his impressions of the long cruises and the actions -had the vividness of boyhood. Down in one of the caves, doing his part -as the shells were sent up to feed the thundering guns above, the -whispered news of the progress of the battle was passed on at intervals -till, finally, the guns were silent. Then he hurried on deck in the -elation of victory, succeeded by the desire to save those whom they had -fought. It had all been so simple; so like drill. You had only to go on -shooting--that was all. - -Yes, he had been lucky. From the Falklands to the Dardanelles, which -was a more picturesque business than the battle. Any minute off the -Straits you did not know but a submarine would have a try at you or you -might bump into a mine. And the _Inflexible_ did bump into one. She -had two thousand tons of water on board. It was fast work to keep the -remainder of the sea from coming in, too, and the same kind of dramatic -experience as the _Lion’s_ in reaching port. Yes, he had been very -lucky. It was all a lark to that boy. - -“It never occurs to midshipmen to be afraid of anything,” said one of -the officers. “The more danger, the better they like it.” - -In the wardroom was a piece of the mine or the torpedo, whichever it -was, that struck the _Inflexible_; a strange, twisted, annealed bit -of metal. Every ship which had been in action had some souvenir which -the enemy had sent on board in anger and which was preserved with a -collector’s enthusiasm. - -The _Inflexible_ seemed as good as ever she was. Such is the way of -naval warfare. Either it is to the bottom of the sea or to dry docks -and repairs. There is nothing half way. So it is well to take care that -you have “the range of them.” - - - - -XXX - -ON THE FLEET FLAGSHIP - - The “grande dames” of the fleet--The boarding--Nelson’s heritage-- - Guardians of the peace of the seas--Sir John Jellicoe--The - China seas incident--The compliment returned at Manila Bay-- - Friends in the service--That command of Joshua’s--Waiting - and watching--England’s true genius--A complete blockade-- - Intricate and concentrated mechanism--Personality of Sir John-- - The spirit of service. - - -Thus far we have skirted around the heart of things, which in a fleet -is always the commander-in-chief’s flagship. Our handy, agile destroyer -ran alongside a battleship with as much nonchalance as she would go -alongside a pier. I should not have been surprised to have seen her -pirouette over the hills or take to flight. - -There was a time when those majestic and pampered ladies, the -battleships--particularly if a sea were running as there was in this -harbour at the time--having in mind the pride of paint, begged all -destroyers to keep off with the superciliousness of _grandes dames_ -holding their skirts aloof from contact with nimble, audacious street -gamins, who dodged in and out of the traffic of muddy streets. But -destroyers have learned better manners, perhaps, and battleships have -been democratised. It is the day of Russian dancers and when aeroplanes -loop the loop, and we have grown used to all kinds of marvels. - -But the sea has refused to be trained. It is the same old sea that it -was in Columbus’ time, without any loss of trickiness in bumping small -craft against towering sides. The way that this destroyer slid up to -the flagship without any fuss and the way her bluejackets held off from -the paint as she rose on the crests and slipped back into the trough, -did not tell the whole story. A part of it was how, at the right -interval, they assisted the landlubber to step from gunwale to gangway, -making him feel perfectly safe when he would have been perfectly -helpless but for them. - -I had often watched our own bluejackets at the same thing. They did -not grin--not when you were looking at them. Nor did the British. -Bluejackets are noted for their official politeness. I should like -to have heard their remarks--they have a gift for remarks--about -those invaders of their uniformed world in Scotch caps and other kinds -of caps and the different kind of clothes which tailors make for -civilians. Without any intention of eavesdropping, I did overhear one -asking another whence came these strange birds. - -One knew the flagship by the admirals’ barges astern, as you know the -location of an army headquarters by its automobiles. It seemed in the -centre of the fleet at anchor, if that is a nautical expression. Where -its place would be in action is one of those secrets as important -to the enemy as the location of a general’s shell-proof shelter in -Flanders. Perhaps Sir John Jellicoe may be on some other ship in -battle. If there is any one foolish question which one should not ask -it is this. - -As one mounted the gangway of this mighty super-Dreadnought one was -bound to think of another flagship in Portsmouth harbour, Nelson’s -_Victory_--at least, an American was. Probably an Englishman would -not indulge in such a commonplace. One would like to know how many -Englishmen had ever seen the old _Victory_. But, then, how many -Americans have been to Mount Vernon and Gettysburg? - -It was a hundred years, one repeats, since the British had fought a -first-class naval war. Nelson did his part so well that he did not -leave any fighting to be done by his successors. Maintaining herself -as mistress of the seas by the threat of superior strength--except in -the late fifties, when the French innovation of iron ships gave France -a temporary lead on paper--ship after ship, through all the grades -of progress in naval construction, has gone to the scrap heap without -firing a shot in anger. - -The _Victory_ was one landmark, or seamark, if you please, and this -flagship was another. Between the two were generations of officers and -men working through the change from stagecoach to motors and aeroplanes -and seaplanes, who had kept up to a standard of efficiency in view of -a test that never came. A year of war and still the test had not come, -for the old reason that England had superior strength. Her outnumbering -guns which had kept the peace of the seas still kept it. - -All second nature to the Englishman this, as the defence of the immense -distances of the steppes to the Russian or the Rocky Mountain wall -and the Mississippi’s flow to the man in Kansas. But the American -kept thinking about it; and he wanted the Kansans to think about it, -too. A sentimentalist envisaged the tall column in Trafalgar Square, -with the one-armed figure turned toward the wireless skein on top of -the Admiralty Building when he went on board the flagship of Sir John -Jellicoe. - -One first heard of Jellicoe fifteen years ago on the China coast, when -he was Chief of Staff to Sir Edward Seymour, then Commander-in-Chief of -the Asiatic Squadron. Indeed, one was always hearing about Jellicoe. -He was the kind of man whom people talk about after they have met -him, which means personality. It was in China seas, you may remember, -that when a few British seamen were hard pressed in a fight that was -not ours that the phrase, “Blood is thicker than water,” sprang from -the lips of an American commander, who waited not on international -etiquette but went to the assistance of the British. - -Nor will any one who was present in the summer of ’98 forget how Sir -Edward Chichester stood loyally by Admiral George Dewey, when the -German squadron was empire-fishing in the waters of Manila Bay, until -our Atlantic Fleet had won the battle of Santiago and Admiral Dewey -had received reinforcements and, east and west, we were able to look -after the Germans. The British bluejackets said that the rations of -frozen mutton from Australia which we sent alongside were excellent; -but the Germans were in no position to judge, as none was sent to them, -doubtless through an oversight in the detail of hospitality by one of -Admiral Dewey’s staff. No. Let us be officially correct. We happened to -run out of spare mutton after serving the British. - -In the gallant effort of the Allied force of sailors to relieve the -legations against some hundreds of thousands of Boxers, Captain Bowman -McCalla and his Americans worked with Admiral Seymour and his Britons -in the most trying and picturesque thing of its kind in modern history. -McCalla, too, was always talking of Jellicoe, who was wounded on the -expedition; and Sir John’s face lighted at mention of McCalla’s name. -He recalled how McCalla had painted on the superstructure of the little -_Newark_ that saying of Farragut’s, “The best protection against an -enemy’s fire is a well-directed fire of your own”; which has been said -in other ways and cannot be said too often. - -“We called McCalla Mr. Lead,” said Sir John; “he had been wounded so -many times and yet was able to hobble along and keep on fighting. I -corresponded regularly with him until his death.” - -Beatty, too, was on that expedition; and he, too, was another -personality one kept hearing about. It seemed odd that two men, who -had played a part in work which was a soldier’s far from home, should -have become so conspicuous in the Great War. If on that day when, -with ammunition exhausted, all members of the expedition had given up -hope of ever returning alive, they had not accidentally come upon the -Shi-kou arsenal, one would not be commanding the Great Fleet and the -other its battle-cruiser squadron. - -Before the war, I am told, when Admiralty lords and others who had the -decision to make were discussing who should command in case of war, -opinion ran something like this: - -“Jellicoe! He has the brains!” - -“Jellicoe! He has the health to endure the strain, with years enough -and not too many!” - -“Jellicoe! He has the confidence of the service!” - -The choice literally made itself. When any one is undertaking the -gravest responsibility which has been an Englishman’s for a hundred -years, that kind of a recommendation helps. He had the guns; he had -supreme command; he must deliver victory--such was England’s message -to him. - -When I mentioned in a despatch that all that differentiated him from -the officers around him was the broader band of gold lace on his arm, -an English naval critic wanted to know if I expected to find him in -cloth of gold. No; nor in full dress with all his medals on, as I saw -him appear on the screen at a theatre in London. - -Any general of high command must be surrounded by more pomp than an -admiral in time of action. A headquarters cannot have the simplicity -of the quarter-deck. The force which the general commands is not in -sight; the admiral’s is. You saw the commander and you saw what it was -that he commanded. Within the sweep of vision from the quarter-deck was -the terrific power which the man with the broad gold band on his arm -directed. At a signal from him it would move or it would stand still. -That command of Joshua’s if given by Sir John one thought might have -been obeyed. - -One hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four hundred twelve-inch guns -and larger, which could carry a hundred tons and more of metal in a -single broadside for a distance of eighteen thousand yards! But do not -forget the little guns, bristling under the big guns like needles from -a cushion, which would keep off the torpedo assassins; or the light -cruisers, or the colliers, or the destroyers, or the 2,300 trawlers and -mine-layers, and what not, all under his direction. He had submarines, -too, double the number of the German. But with all the German -men-of-war in harbour, they had no targets. Where were they? One did -not ask questions that could not be answered. Waiting, as the whole -British fleet was waiting, for the Germans to show their heads, while -cruisers were abroad scouting the North Sea. - -At the outset of the war the German fleet might have had one chance in -ten of getting a turn of fortune of its favour by an unexpected stroke -of strategy. This was the danger which Admiral Jellicoe had to guard -against. For in one sense, the Germans had the tactical offensive by -sea as well as by land; theirs the outward thrust from the centre. They -could choose when to come out of their harbour; when to strike. The -British had to keep watch all the time and be ready whenever the enemy -should come. - -Thus, the British Grand Fleet was at sea in the early part of the war, -cruising here and there, begging for battle. Then it was that they -learned how to avoid the submarines and the mine-fields. Submarines -had played a greater part than expected, because Germany had chosen a -guerrilla naval warfare: to harass, to wound, to wear down. Doubtless -she hoped to reduce the number of British fighting units by attrition. - -Weak England might be in plants for making arms for an army, but not -in ship-building. Here was her true genius. She was a maritime power; -Germany a land-power. Her part as an ally of France and Russia being to -command the sea, all demands of the Admiralty for material must take -precedence over demands of the War Office. At the end of the first year -she had increased her fighting power by sea to a still higher ratio of -preponderance over the Germans; in another year she would increase it -further. - -Admiral von Tirpitz wanted nothing so much as to draw the British -fleet under the guns of Heligoland or into a mine-field and submarine -trap. But Sir John Jellicoe refused the bait. When he had completed his -precautions and his organisation to meet all new conditions, his fleet -need not go into the open. His Dreadnoughts could rest at anchor at a -base while his scouts kept in touch with all that was passing and his -auxiliaries and destroyers fought the submarines. Without a British -Dreadnought having fired a shot at a German Dreadnought, nowhere on the -face of the seas might a single vessel show the German flag except by -thrusting it above the water for a few minutes. - -If von Tirpitz sent his fleet out he, too, might find himself in a -trap of mines and submarines. He was losing submarines and England was -building more. His naval force rather than Sir John’s was suffering -from attrition. The blockade was complete from Iceland to the North -Sea. While the world knew of the work of the armies, the care that -this task required, the hardships endured, the enormous expenditure of -energy, were all hidden behind that veil of secrecy which obviously -must be more closely drawn over naval than over army operations. - -From this flagship the campaign was directed. One would think that many -offices and many clerks would be required. But the offices and the -clerks were at the Admiralty. Here was the execution. In a room perhaps -four feet by six was the wireless focus which received all the reports -and sent all the orders, with trim bluejackets at the keys. “Go!” and -“Come!” the messages were saying; they wasted no words. Officers of -the staff did their work in narrow space, yet seemed to have plenty of -room. Red tape is inflammable. There is no more place for it on board -a flagship prepared for action than for unnecessary woodwork. - -At every turn the compression and the concentration of power were -like the guns and the decks cleared for action in their significant -directness of purpose. The system was planetary in its impressive -simplicity, the more striking as nothing that man has ever made is more -complicated or includes more kinds of machinery than a battleship. One -battleship was one unit, one chessman on the naval board. - -Not all famous leaders are likeable, as every world traveller knows. -They all have the magnetism of force, which is quite another thing from -the magnetism of charm. What the public demands is that they shall win -victories, whether personally likeable or not. But if they are likeable -and simple and human in the bargain and a sailor besides--well, we -know what that means. - -Perhaps Sir John Jellicoe is not a great man. It is not for a civilian -even to presume to judge. We have the word of those who ought to know, -however, that he is. I hope that he is, because I like to think that -great commanders need not necessarily appear formidable. Nelson refused -to be cast for the heavy part, and so did Farragut. It may be a sailor -characteristic. I predict that after this war is over, whatever honours -or titles they may bestow on him, the English are going to like Sir -John Jellicoe not alone for his service to the nation, but for himself. - -Admiral Jellicoe is one with Captain Jellicoe, whose cheeriness even -when wounded kept up the spirits of the others on the Relief Expedition -of Boxer days. “He could do it, too!” one thought, having in mind -Sir David Beatty’s leap to the deck of a destroyer. Spare, of medium -height, ruddy, and fifty-seven. So much for the health qualification -which the Admiralty lords dwelt upon as important. After he had been -at sea for a year he seemed a human machine, much of the type of that -destroyer as a steel machine--a thirty-knot human machine, capable of -three hundred or five hundred revolutions, engines running smoothly, -with no waste energy, slipping over the waves and cutting through them; -a quick man, quick of movement, quick of comprehension and observation, -of speech and of thought, with a delightful self-possession--for there -are many kinds--which is instantly responsive with decision. - -A telescope under his arm, too, as he received his guests. One -liked that. He keeps watch over the fleet himself when he is on the -quarter-deck. One had a feeling that nothing could happen in all his -range of vision, stretching down the “avenues of Dreadnoughts” to the -light-cruiser squadron, and escape his attention. It hardly seems -possible that he was ever bored. Everything around him interests him. -Energy he has, electric energy in this electric age, this man chosen to -command the greatest war product of modern energy. - -Fastened to the superstructure near the ladder to his quarters was a -new broom which South Africa had sent him. He was highly pleased with -that present; only the broom was von Tromp’s emblem, while Blake’s had -been the whip. Possibly the South African Dutchmen, now fighting on -England’s side, knew that he already had the whip and they wanted him -to have the Dutch broom, too. - -He had been using both, and many other devices in his campaign against -von Tirpitz’ “_unter see_ boots,” which was illustrated by one of the -maps hung in his cabin. Quite different this from maps in a general’s -headquarters, with the front trenches and support and reserve trenches -and gun-positions marked in vari-coloured pencillings. Instantly a -submarine was sighted anywhere, Sir John had word of it, and another -dot went down on the spot where it had been seen. In places the sea -looked like a pepper-box cover. Dots were plentiful outside the harbour -where we were; but well outside, like flies around sugar which they -could not reach. - -Seeing Sir John among his admirals and guests one had a glimpse of the -life of a sort of mysterious, busy brotherhood. I was still searching -for an admiral with white hair. If there were none among these seniors, -then all must be on shore. Spirit, I think, that is the word; the -spirit of youth, of corps, of service, of the sea, of a ready, buoyant -definiteness--yes, spirit was the word to characterise them. Sir -John moved from one to another in his quick way, asking a question, -listening, giving a direction, his face smiling and expressive with a -sort of infectious confidence. - -“He is the man!” said an admiral. I mean, several admirals and -captains said so. They seemed to like to say it. Whenever he -approached one noted an eagerness, a tightening of nerves. Natural -leadership expresses itself in many ways; Sir John gave it a sailor’s -attractiveness. But I learned that there was steel under his happy -smile; and they liked him for that, too. Watch out when he is not -smiling, and sometimes when he is smiling, they say. - -For failure is never excused in that fleet, as more than one commander -knows. It is a luxury of consideration which the British nation cannot -afford by sea in time of war. The scene which one witnessed in the -cabin of the Dreadnought flagship could not have been unlike that of -Nelson and his young captains on the _Victory_, in the animation of -youth governed with only one thought under the one rule that you must -make good. - -Splendid as the sight of the power which Sir John directed from his -quarter-deck while the ships lay still in their plotted moorings, it -paled beside that when the anchor chains began to rumble and, column -by column, they took on life slowly and majestically gaining speed one -after another turned toward the harbour’s entrance. - - - - -XXXI - -SIMPLY HARD WORK - - England’s navy, the culmination of her brains and application--A - perpetual war-footing--Pride of craft--The personnel behind - the guns--Physique, health, conduct--Fate’s favourites in the - trenches!--Gun practice--A miniature German Navy--The acme of - efficiency--The British nation lives or dies with its navy--The - prototype of our own Atlantic fleet. - - -Besides the simple word spirit, there is the simple word work. Take the -two together, mixing with them the proper quantity of intelligence, and -you have something finer than Dreadnoughts; for it builds Dreadnoughts, -or tunnels mountains, or wins victories. - -In no organisation would it be so easy as in the navy to become slack. -If the public sees a naval review it knows that its ships can steam and -keep their formations; if it goes on board it knows that the ships are -clean--at least, the limited part of them which it sees. And it knows -that there are turrets and guns. - -But how does it know that the armour of the turrets is good, or that -the guns will fire accurately? Indeed, all that it sees is the shell. -The rest must be taken on trust. A navy may look all right and be quite -bad. The nation gives a certain amount of money to build ships which -are taken in charge by officers and men who, shut off from public -observation, may do about as they please. - -The result rests with their industry and responsibility. If they are -true to the character of the nation by and large that is all the -nation may expect; if they are better, then the nation has reason to be -grateful, Englishmen take more interest in their navy than Americans in -theirs. They give it the best that is in them and they expect the best -from it in return. Every youngster who hopes to be an officer knows -that the navy is no place for idling; every man who enlists knows that -he is in for no junket on a pleasure yacht. The British navy, I judged, -had a relatively large percentage of the brains and application of -Britain. - -“It is not so different from what it was for ten years before the war,” -said one of the officers. “We did all the work we could stand then; -and whether cruising or lying in harbour, life is almost normal for us -to-day.” - -The British fleet was always on a war footing. It must be. Lack of -naval preparation is more dangerous than lack of land preparation. It -is fatal. I know of officers who had had only a week’s leave in a year -in time of peace; their pay is less than our officers’. Patriotism kept -them up to the mark. - -And another thing: Once a sailor, always a sailor, is an old saying; -but it has a new application in modern navies. They become fascinated -with the very drudgery of ship’s existence. They like their world, -which is their house and their shop. It has the attraction of a world -of priestcraft, with them alone understanding the ritual. Their drill -at the guns becomes the preparation for the great sport of target -practice, which beats any big game shooting when guns compete with -guns, with battle practice greater sport than target practice. Bringing -a ship into harbour well, holding her to her place in the formation, -roaming over the seas in a destroyer--all means eternal effort at the -mastery of material with the results positively demonstrated. - -On one of the Dreadnoughts I saw a gun’s crew drilling with a dummy -six-inch, weight one hundred pounds. - -“Isn’t that boy pretty young to handle that big shell?” an admiral -asked a junior officer. - -“He doesn’t think so,” the officer replied. “We haven’t any one who -could handle it better. It would break his heart if we changed his -position.” - -Not one of fifty German prisoners whom I had seen filing by over in -France was as sturdy as this youngster. In the ranks of an infantry -company of any army he would have been above the average of physique; -but among the rest of the gun’s crew he did appear slight. Need more be -said about the physical standard of the crews of the fighting ships of -the Grand Fleet? - -One had an eye to more than guns and machinery and to more than the -character of the officers. He wanted to become better acquainted with -the personnel of the men behind the guns. They formed patches of blue -on the decks, as one looked around the fleet, against the background -of the dull, painted bulwarks of steel--the human element whose skill -gave the ships life--deep-chested, vigorous men in their prime, who -had the air of men grounded in their work by long experience. One noted -when an order was given out that it was obeyed quickly by one who knew -what he had to do because he had done it thousands of times. - -There are all kinds of bluejackets, as there are all kinds of other -men. Before the war some took more than was good for them when on -shore; some took nothing stronger than tea; some enjoyed the sailor’s -privilege of growling; some had to be kept up to the mark sharply; an -occasional one might get rebellious against the merciless repetition of -drills. - -The war imparted eagerness to all, the officers said. Infractions -of discipline ceased. Days pass without any one of the crew of a -Dreadnought having to be called up in default, I am told. And their -health? At first thought, one would say that life in the steel caves -of a Dreadnought would mean pasty complexions and flabby muscles. For -a year the crews had been the prisoners of that readiness which must -not lose a minute in putting to sea if von Tirpitz should ever try the -desperate gamble of battle. - -After a turn in the trenches the soldiers can at least stretch their -legs in billets. A certain number of a ship’s company now and then get -a tramp on shore; not real leave, but a personally conducted outing -not far from the boats which will hurry them back to their stations -on signal. However, all that one needs to keep well is fresh air and -exercise. The blowers carry fresh air to every part of the ship; the -breezes which sweep the deck from the North Sea are fresh enough in -summer and a little too fresh in winter. There is exercise in the -regular drills, supplemented by setting-up exercises. The food is good -and no man drinks or eats what he ought not to, as he may on shore. So -there is the fact and the reason for the fact: the health of the men, -as well as their conduct, had never been so good. - -“Perhaps we are not quite so clean as we were before the war,” said an -officer. “We wash decks only twice a week instead of every day. This -means that quarters are not so moist and the men have more freedom of -movement. We want them to have as much freedom as possible.” - -Waiting, waiting, in such confinement for thirteen months; waiting for -battle! Think of the strain of it! The British temperament is well -fitted to undergo such a test, and particularly well fitted are these -sturdy seamen of mature years. An enemy may imagine them wearing down -their efficiency on the leash. They want a fight; naturally, they want -nothing quite so much. But they have the seaman’s philosophy. Old von -Tirpitz may come out and he may not. It is for him to do the worrying. -They sit tight. The men’s ardour is not imposed upon. Care is taken -that they should not be worked stale; for the marksman who puts a dozen -shots through the bull’s-eye had better not keep on firing, lest he -begin rimming it and get into bad habits. - -Where an army officer has a change when he leaves the trench for his -billet, there is none for the naval officer, who, unlike the army -officer, is Spartan-bred to confinement. The army pays its daily toll -of casualties; it lies cramped in dugouts, not knowing what minute -extinction may come. The Grand Fleet has its usual comforts; it is safe -from submarines in a quiet harbour. Many naval officers spoke of this -contrast with deep feeling, as if fate were playing favourites, though -I have never heard an army officer mention it. - -The army can give each day fresh proof of its courage in face of the -enemy. Courage! It takes on a new meaning with the Grand Fleet. The -individual element of gallantry merges into gallantry of the whole. -You have the very communism of courage. The thought is to keep a cool -head and do your part as a cog in the vast machine. Courage is as much -taken for granted as the breath of life. Thus, Cradock’s men, and von -Spee’s men, too, fought till they went down. It was according to the -programme laid out for each turret and each gun in a turret. - -Smith, of the army, leads a bomb-throwing party from traverse to -traverse; Smith, of the navy, turns one lever at the right second. Army -gunners are improving their practice day by day against the enemy; all -the improving by navy gunners must be done before the battle. No sieges -in trenches; no attacks and counter-attacks: a decision within a few -hours--perhaps within an hour. - -This partially explains the love of the navy for its work; its cheerful -repetition of the drills which seem such a wearisome business to -the civilian. The men know the reason of their drudgery. It is an -all-convincing bull’s-eye reason. Ping-ping! One heard the familiar -sound of subcalibre practice, which seems as out of proportion in a -fifteen-inch gun as a mouse squeak from an elephant whom you expect -to trumpet. As the result appears in subcalibre practice, so it is -practically bound to appear in target practice; as it appears in target -practice, so it is bound to appear in battle practice. - -It was on the flagship that I saw a device which Sir John referred -to as the next best thing to having the Germans come out. He took as -much delight in it as the gun-pointers, who were firing at German -Dreadnoughts of the first line, as large as your thumb, which were -in front of a sort of hooded arrangement with the guns of a British -Dreadnought inside--the rest I censor myself before the regular censor -sees it. When we heard a report like that of a small target rifle -inside the arrangement a small red or a small white splash rose from -the metallic platter of a sea. Thus the whole German navy has been -pounded to pieces again and again. It is a great game. The gun-pointers -never tire of it and they think they know the reason as well as anybody -why von Tirpitz keeps his Dreadnoughts at home. - -But elsewhere I saw some real firing; for ships must have their regular -target practice, war or no war. If those cruisers steaming across the -range had been sending six- or eight-inch shrapnel, we should have -preferred not to be so near that towed square of canvas. Flashes from -turrets indistinguishable at a distance from the neutral-toned bodies -of the vessels and the shells struck, making great splashes just beyond -the target, which was where they ought to go. - -A familiar scene, but with a new meaning when the time is one of war. -So far as my observation is worth anything, it was very good shooting, -indeed. One broadside would have put a destroyer out of business as -easily as a “Jack Johnson” does for a dugout; and it would have made a -cruiser of the same class as the one firing pretty groggy--this not -from any experience of being on a light cruiser or any desire to be on -one when it receives such a salute. But it seems to be waiting for the -Germans any time that they want it. - -Oh, that towed square of canvas! It is the symbol of the object of all -building of guns, armour, and ships, all the nursing in dry dock, all -the admiral’s plans, all the parliamentary appropriations, all the -striving on board ship in man’s competition with man, crew with crew, -gun with gun, and ship with ship. One had in mind some vast factory -plant where every unit was efficiently organised; but that comparison -would not do. None will. The Grand Fleet is the Grand Fleet. - -Ability gets its reward as in the competition of civil life. There -is no linear promotion indulgent to mediocrity and inferiority which -are satisfied to keep step and harassing to those whom nature and -application meant to lead. Armchairs and retirement for those whose -inclinations run that way; the captain’s bridge for those who are fit -to command. Officers’ records are the criterion when superiors come -to making promotions. But does not outside influence play a part? you -ask. If professional conscience is not enough to prevent this, another -thing appears to be: that the British nation lives or dies with its -navy. Besides, the British public has said to all and sundry outsiders: -“Hands off the navy!” All honour to the British public, much criticised -and often most displeased with its servants and itself, for keeping its -eye on that canvas square of cloth! - -The language on board was the same as on our ships; the technical -phraseology practically the same; we had inherited British traditions. -But a man from Kansas and a man from Dorset live far apart. If they -have a good deal in common they rarely meet to learn that they have. -But seamen do meet and share a fraternity which is more than that of -the sea. Close one’s eyes to the difference in uniform, discount the -difference in accent, and one imagined that he might be with our North -Atlantic fleet. - -The same sort of shop talk and banter in the wardroom, which trims -and polishes human edges; the same fellowship of a world apart. -Securely ready the British fleet waits. Enough drill and not too -much; occasional visits between ships; books and newspapers and a -light-hearted relaxation of scattered conversation in the mess. One -wardroom had a thirty-five-second record for getting past all the -pitfalls in the popular “Silver Bullet” game, if I remember correctly. - - - - -XXXII - -HUNTING THE SUBMARINE - - Seaplanes afloat and on high--Diabolical bombs--Sighting a - submarine--The chase--Submarine defences--Torpedo boats at - home--The mine sweepers--Patience in the cold of the North Sea. - - -Seaplanes cut practice circles over the fleet and then flew away on -their errands, to be lost in the sky beyond the harbour entrance. With -their floats, they were like ducks when they came to rest on the water, -sturdy and a little clumsy looking compared to those hawks the army -planes, soaring to higher altitudes. - -The hawk had a broad, level field for its roost; the duck, bobbing with -the waves after it came down, had its wings folded as became a bird at -rest after its engines stopped and a dead thing, it was lifted on board -its floating home with a crane, as cargo is swung into the hold. - -On shipboard there must be shipshapeness; and that capacious, one-time -popular Atlantic liner had undergone changes to prepare it for its -mothering part, with platforms in place of the promenades where people -had lounged during the voyage, and bombs in place of deck quoits and -dining-saloons turned into workshops. Of course, one was shown the -different sizes and types of bombs. Aviators exhibit them with the -pride of a collector showing his porcelains. Every time they seem to me -to have grown larger and more diabolical. Where will aerial progress -end? Will the next war be fought by forces that dive and fly like fish -and birds? - -“I’d like to drop that hundred-pounder onto a Zeppelin!” said one of -the aviators. All the population of London would like to see him do it. -Also Fritz, of the submarine, does not like to see the shadow of man’s -wings above the water. - -Seaplanes and destroyers carry the imagination away from the fleet to -another sphere of activity, which I had not the fortune to see. An -aviator can see Fritz below a smooth surface; for he cannot travel -much deeper than thirty or forty feet. He leaves a characteristic -ripple and tell-tale bubbles of air and streaks of oil. When the planes -have located him they can tell the hunters where to go. Sometimes it -is known that a submarine is in a certain region; he is lost sight -of and seen again; a squall may cover his track a second time, and -the hunters, keeping touch with the planes by signals, course here -and there on the lookout for another glimpse. Perhaps he escapes -altogether. It is a tireless game of hide-and-seek, like that of -gunnery at the front. Naval ingenuity has invented no end of methods -and no end of experiments have been tried. Strictest kept of naval -secrets, these. Fritz is not to be told what to avoid and what not to -avoid. - -Very thin the skin of a submarine; very fragile and complicated its -machinery. It does not take much of a shock to put it out of order or -a large cargo of explosive to dent that skin beyond repair. It being -in the nature of submarines to sink, how does the hunter know when he -has struck a mortal blow? If oil and bubbles come up for sometime in -one place, or if they come up with a rush, that is suggestive. Then, -it does not require a nautical mind to realise that by casting about -on the bottom with a grapnel you will learn if an object with the bulk -and size of a submarine is there. Admirals accept no guesswork from the -hunters about their exploits; they must bring the brush to prove the -kill. - -With Admiral Crawford I went to see the submarine defences of a -harbour. It reminded one of the old days of the drawbridge to the -castle, when a friend rode freely in and an enemy might try to swim the -moat and scale the walls if he pleased. - -“Take care! There is a tide here!” the coxswain was warned, lest the -barge get into some of the troubles meant for Fritz. “A cunning fellow, -Fritz. We must give him no openings.” - -The openings appear long enough to permit British craft, whether -trawlers, or flotillas, or cruisers, or battleships, to go and come. -Lying as close together as fish in a basket, I saw at one place a -number of torpedo boats home from a week at sea. - -“Here to-day and gone to-morrow,” said an officer. “What a time they -had last winter! You know how cold the North Sea is--no, you cannot, -unless you have been out in a torpedo boat dancing the tango in the -teeth of that bitter wind, with the spray whipping up to the tops -of the smoke-stacks. In the dead of night they would come into this -pitch-dark harbour. How they found their way is past me. It’s a trick -of those young fellows, who command.” - -Stationary they seemed now as the quay itself; but let a signal speak, -an alarm come, and they would soon be as alive as leaping porpoises. -The sport is to those who scout and hunt. But, again, do not forget -those who watch, those who keep the blockade, from the Channel to -Iceland, and those trawlers who plod over plotted sea-squares with the -regularity of mowing machines cutting a harvest, on their way back and -forth sweeping up mines. They were fishermen before the war and are -fishermen still. Night and day they keep at it. They come into the -harbours stiff with cold, thaw out, and return to hardships which would -make many a man prefer the trenches. Tributes to their patient courage, -which came from the heart, were heard on board the battleships. - -“It is when we think of them,” said an officer, “that we are most eager -to have the German fleet come out, so that we can do our part.” - - - - -XXXIII - -THE FLEET PUTS TO SEA - - The test of perfect motion--Is the fleet bottled by submarines?-- - The message arrives--The sea-march of dull-toned unadorned - power--Destroyers in the van--The majestic procession of - battleships--The secret in sheer hard work--The sea-lion on - the hunt--The “old” Dreadnought--The exotic Turk--An hour and - still passing--Irresistible power--Visualizing the whole globe, - safe behind that fleet--Back in London--The Zeppelin’s pitiable - target--Meaning of British dominion--A German comparison. - - -There is another test besides that of gun drills and target practice -which reflects the efficiency of individual ships, and the larger the -number of ships the more important it is. For the business of a fleet -is to go to sea. At anchor it is in garrison rather than on campaign, -an assembly of floating forts. Navies one has seen which seemed -excellent when in harbour, but when they started to get under way the -result was hardly reassuring. Some erring sister fouled her anchor -chain; another had engine room trouble; another lagged for some other -reason; there was fidgeting on the bridges. Then one asked, What if a -summons to battle had come? - -Our own officers were authority enough for me that the British had no -superiors in any of the tests. But strange reports dodged in and out of -the alleys of pessimism in the company of German insistence that the -_Tiger_ and other ships which one saw afloat had been sunk. Was the -fleet really held prisoner by fear of submarines? If it could go and -come freely when it chose, the harbour was the place for it while it -waited. If not, then, indeed, the submarine had revolutionised naval -warfare. Admiral Jellicoe might lose some of his battleships before he -could ever go into action against von Tirpitz. - -“Oh, to hear the hoarse rattle of the anchor chains!” I kept thinking -while I was with the fleet. “Oh, to see all those monsters on the move!” - -A vain wish it seemed, but it came true. A message from the Admiralty -arrived while we were on the flagship. Admiral Jellicoe called his flag -secretary, spoke a word to him, which was passed in a twinkling from -flagship to squadron and division and ship. He made it as simple as -ordering his barge alongside, this sending of the Grand Fleet to sea. - -From the bridge of a destroyer beyond the harbour entrance we saw it -go. I shall not attempt to describe the spectacle, which convinced -me that language is the vehicle for making small things seem great -and great things seem small. If you wish words invite splendid and -magnificent and overwhelming and all the reliable old friends to -come forth in glad apparel from the dictionary. Personally, I was -inarticulate at sight of that sea march of dull-toned, unadorned power. - -First came the outriders of majesty, the destroyers; then the graceful -light cruisers. How many destroyers has the British navy? I am only -certain that it has not as many as it seems to have, which would mean -thousands. Trying to count them is like trying to count the bees in the -garden. You cannot keep your eye on the individual bees. You are bound -to count some twice, so busy are their manœuvres. - -“Don’t you worry, great ladies!” one imagined the destroyers were -saying to the battleships. “We will clear the road. We will keep watch -against snipers and assassins.” - -“And if any knocks are coming, we will take them for you, great -ladies!” said the cruisers. “If one of us went down, the loss would not -be great. Keep your big guns safe to beat other battleships into scrap.” - -For you may be sure that Fritz was on the watch in the open. He always -is, like the highwayman hiding behind a hedge and envying people who -have comfortable beds. Probably from a distance he had a peek through -his periscope at the Grand Fleet before the approach of the policeman -destroyers made him duck beneath the water; and probably he tried -to count the number of ships and identify their classes in order to -take the information home to Kiel. Besides, he always has his fingers -crossed. He hopes that some day he may get a shot at something more -warlike than a merchant steamer or an auxiliary; only that prospect -becomes poorer as life for him grows harder. Except a miracle happened, -the steaming fleet, with its cordons of destroyers, is as safe from him -as from any other kind of fish. - -The harbour which is the fleet’s home is landlocked by low hills. There -is an eclipse of the sun by the smoke from the ships getting under way; -streaming, soaring columns of smoke on the move rise above the skyline -from the funnels of the battleships before they appear in sight around -a bend. Indefinite masses as yet they are, under their night-black -plumes. Each ship seems too immense to respond to any will except its -own. There is something automatic in the regularity with which, one -after another, they take the bend, as if a stop watch had been held -on twenty thousand tons of steel for a second’s variation. As they -approach they become more distinct and, showing less smoke, there seems -less effort. Their motive-power seems inherent, perpetual. - -There is some sea running outside the entrance, enough to make -a destroyer roll. But the battleships disdain any notice of its -existence. It is no more to them than a ripple of dust to a motor -truck. They plough through it. - -Though you were within twenty yards of them you would feel quite safe. -An express train was in no more danger of jumping the track. Mast in -line with mast, they held the course with a majestic steadiness. Now -the leading ship makes a turn of a few points. At the same spot, as -if it were marked by the grooves of tires in a road, the others make -it. Any variation of speed between them would have been instantly -noticeable, as one forged ahead or lagged; but the distance between -bows and sterns did not change. A line of one length would do for each -interval so far as one could discern. It was difficult to think that -they were not attached to some taut moving cable under water. How could -such apparently unwieldy monsters, in such a slippery element as the -sea, be made to obey their masters with such fine precision? - -The answer again is sheer hard work! Drills as arduous in the engine -room as at the guns; machinery kept in tune; traditions in manœuvring -in all weathers, which are kept up with tireless practice. - -Though all seemed perfection to the lay eye, let it be repeated that -this was not so to the eyes of admirals. It never can be. Perfection is -the thing striven for. Officers dwell on faults; all are critics. Thus -you have the healthiest kind of spirit, which means that there will be -no cessation in the striving. - -“Look at that!” exclaimed an officer on the destroyer. “They better try -another painting on her and see if they can’t do better.” - -Ever changing that northern light. For an instant the sun’s rays, -strained by a patch of peculiar cloud, playing on a Dreadnought’s side -made her colour appear molten, exaggerating her size till she seemed as -colossal to the eye as to the thought. - -“But look, now!” said another officer. She was out of the patch and -seemed miles farther away to the vision, a dim shape in the sea-haze. - -“You can’t have it right for every atmospheric mood of the North Sea, -I suppose!” muttered the critic. Still, it hurt his professional pride -that a battleship should show up as such a glaring target even for a -moment. - -The power of the fleet was more patent in movement than at rest; for -the sea-lion was out of his lair on the hunt. Fluttering with flags -at a review at Spithead the battleships seemed out of their element; -giants trying for a fairy’s part. Display is not for them. It ill -becomes them, as a pink ribbon on a bulldog. Irresistibly ploughing -their way they presented a picture of resolute utility--guns and -turrets and speed. No spot of bright colour was visible on board. The -crew was at the guns, I took it. Turn the turrets, give the range, lay -the sights on the enemy’s ships, and the battle was on. - -“There is the old Dreadnought,” said an officer. - -The _old_ Dreadnought--all of ten years of age, the senile old thing! -What a mystery she was when she was building! The mystery accentuated -her celebrity--and almost forgotten now, while the _Queen Elizabeth_ -and the _Warspite_ and others of their class with their fifteen-inch -guns would be in the public eye as the latest type till a new type -came. A parade of naval types was passing. One seemed to shade into the -other in harmonious effect. - -But here was an outsider, whom one noted instantly as he studied those -rugged silhouettes of steel and counted guns. She had been a Turk. -As the Turks were going to have only one battleship, they were not -bothered about squadron homogeneity. They piled turret on turret, -twelve twelve-inch guns in exotic array. She was finished and the Turks -were already on board to take her home when the war began. But British -law requires that any foreign man-of-war building in English shipyards -may be taken over for her cost in case of war. So England kept the -ship, which the Turks, I understand, thought was hardly a sporting -thing to do. - -One division, two divisions, four ships, eight Dreadnoughts--even a -squadron coming out of a harbour numbs the faculties with a sense of -its might. Sixteen--twenty--twenty-four--it was the unending numbers -of this procession of sea-power which was most impressive. An hour -passed and all were not by. One sat down for a few minutes behind the -wind screen of the destroyer’s bridge, only to look back and see more -Dreadnoughts going by. One had not realised that there were so many in -the harbour. He had a suspicion that Admiral Jellicoe was a conjuror -who could take Dreadnoughts out of a hat. - -The first was lost in the gathering darkness far out in the North Sea, -and still the cloud of smoke over the anchorage was as thick as ever; -still the black plumes kept appearing around the bend. The King Edward -VII class with their four twelve-inch guns and other ancients of the -pre-Dreadnought era, which are still powerful antagonists, were yet -to come. One’s eyes ached. Those who saw a German corps march through -Brussels said that it seemed irresistible. What if they had seen the -whole German army? Here was the counterpart of the whole German army in -sea-power and in land-power, too. - -The destroyer commander looked at his watch. - -“Time!” he said. “I’ll put you on shore.” - -He must take his place in the fleet at a given moment. A word to the -engine room and the next thing we knew we were off at thirty knots an -hour, cutting straight across the bows of a Dreadnought steaming at -twenty knots towering over us threateningly, with a bone in her teeth. - -One’s imagination sped across seas where he had cruised into harbours -that he knew and across continents that he knew. He was trying to -visualise the whole globe--all of it except the Baltic seas and a -thumbmark in the centre of Europe. Hong Kong, Melbourne, Sydney, -Halifax, Cape Town, Bombay--yes, and Rio and Valparaiso, Shanghai, San -Francisco, New York, Boston, these and the lands back of them where -countless millions dwell were all safe behind the barrier of that fleet. - -Then back through the land where Shakespeare wrote to London, with -its glare of recruiting posters and the throbbing of that individual -freedom which is on trial in battle with the Prussian system--and -as one is going to bed the sound of guns in the heart of the city! -From the window one looked upward to see, under a searchlight’s play, -the silken sheen of a cigar-shaped sort of aerial phantom which was -dropping bombs on women and children, while never a shot was fired at -those sturdy men behind armour. - -When you have travelled far; when you think of Botha and his Boers -fighting for England; when you have found justice and fair play and -open markets under the British flag; when you compare the vociferations -of von Tirpitz glorying in the torpedoing of a _Lusitania_ with the -quiet manner of Sir John Jellicoe, you need only a little spark of -conscience to prefer the way that the British have used their sea-power -to the way that the men who send out Zeppelins to war on women and -children would use that power if they had it. - - - - -XXXIV - -MANY PICTURES - - The aviation grounds--Arabian Nights’ heroes and their magic - carpets--Corps’ spirit--A chivalric custom--Billeting in - French houses--Well-disciplined guests--Teaching the art of - war--Picturesque tribesmen from India--Their loyalty--British - justice--Matins and Angelus--Farming without men--The peasants - win--Greeting the French troops--Sir John French on duty-- - “Inspecting and disinfecting”--The new “shilling a day” men-- - Albert Edward, the “willing prince”--Care of the wounded. - - -A single incident, an impression photographic in its swiftness, a -chance remark, may be more illuminating than a day’s experiences. One -does not need to go to the front for them. Sometimes they come to the -gateway of our château. They are pages at random out of a library of -overwhelming information. - - * * * * * - -One of the aviation grounds is not far away. Look skyward at almost any -hour of the day and you will see a plane, its propeller a roar or a hum -according to its altitude. Sometimes it is circling in practice; again, -it is off to the front. At break of day the planes appear; in the -gloaming they return to roost. - -If an aviator has leave for two or three days in summer he starts in -the late afternoon, flashing over that streak of Channel in half an -hour and may be at home for dinner without getting any dust on his -clothes or having to bother with military red tape at steamer gangways -or customs houses. - -The airmen are a type, with certain marked characteristics. No nervous -man is wanted, and it is time for an aviator to take a rest at the -first sign of nerves. They seem shy and diffident, men of the kind -given to observation rather than to talking; men accustomed to using -their eyes and hands. It is difficult to realise that some quiet young -fellow, who is pointed out, has had so many hairbreadth escapes. What -tales, worthy of Arabian Nights’ heroes who are borne away on magic -carpets, they bring home, relating them as matter-of-factly as if they -had broken a shoelace. - -Up in their seats, a whir of the motor, and they are off on another -adventure. They shy at mention of their names in print, for that is -not good for the spirit of corps of this newest branch in the service -of war. Anonymity is absolute. Everything is done by the corps for -the corps. Possibly because it is so young, because it started with -chosen men, the British Aviation Corps is unsurpassed; but partly it is -because of the British temperament, with that combination of coolness -and innate love of risk which the British manner sometimes belies. - -Something of the old spirit of knighthood characterises air service. It -is individual work; its numbers are relatively few. I like one of the -aviation customs, not for its chivalry alone, but because it makes one -feel more kindly toward the Germans. If a German aviator has to descend -in the British lines, whether from motor trouble or because he is -winged by an anti-aircraft gun, a British aviator flies over the German -lines and drops a “message-bag” with long streamers telling whether the -unfortunate one is dead or alive, and the Germans do the same. - - * * * * * - -Some mornings ago I saw several young soldiers with notebooks going -about our village street. They were from the cadet school where -privates, from the trenches, take a course and return with chocolate -drops on their sleeve-bands as commissioned officers. This was a -course in billeting. For ours is not an army in tents, but one living -in French houses and barns. The pupils were learning how to carry out -this delicate task; for delicate it is. A stranger speaking another -language becomes the guest of the host for whom he is fighting. Mr. -Atkins receives only shelter; he supplies his own meals. His excess of -marmalade one sees yellowing the cheeks of the children in the family -where he is at home. Madame objects only to his efforts to cook in her -kitchen; womanlike, she would rather handle the pots and pans herself. - -Tommy is thoroughly instructed in his duty as guest and under a -discipline that is merciless so far as conduct toward the population -goes; so the two get on better than French and English military -authorities feared that they might. Time has taught them to understand -each other and see that difference in race does not mean absence of -human qualities in common, though differently expressed. Many armies -I have seen, but never one better behaved than the British army in -France and Flanders in its respect for property and the rights of the -population. - -And while the fledgling officers are going on with their billeting, we -hear the t-r-r-t of a machine gun at a machine-gun school about a mile -distant, where picked men also from the trenches receive instruction in -the use of an arm new to them. There are other schools within sound of -the guns teaching the art of war to an expanding army in the midst of -war, with the teachers bringing their experience from the battle-line. - - * * * * * - -“Their shops and their houses all have fronts of glass,” wrote a Sikh -soldier home, “and even the poor are rich in this bountiful land.” - -Sikhs and Ghurkas and Rajputs and Pathans and Gherwalis, the -brown-skinned tribesmen in India, have been on a strange Odyssey, -bringing picturesqueness to the khaki tone of modern war. Aeroplanes -interested them less than a trotting dog in a wheel for drawing water. -They would watch that for hours. - -Still fresh in mind is a scene when the air seemed a moist sponge and -all above the earth was dripping and all under foot a mire. I was -homesick for the flash on the windows of the New York skyscrapers or -the gleam on the Hudson of that bright sunlight in a drier air, that is -the secret of the American’s nervous energy. It seemed to me that it -was enough to have to exist in Northern France at that season of the -year, let alone fighting Germans. - -Out of the drizzly, misty rain along a muddy road and turning past us -came the Indian cavalry, which, like the British cavalry, had fought -on foot in the trenches, while their horses led the leisurely life -of true equine gentry. Erect in their saddles, their martial spirit -defiant of the weather, their black eyes flashing as they looked toward -the reviewing officers, troop after troop of these sons of the East -passed by, every one seeming as fit for review as if he had cleaned his -uniform and equipment in his home barracks instead of in French barns. - -One asked who had trained them; who had fashioned the brown clay into -resolute and loyal obedience which stood the test of a Flanders winter? -What was the force which could win them to cross the seas to fight for -England? Among the brown faces topped with turbans appeared occasional -white faces. These were the men; these the force. - -The marvel was not that the Indians were able to fight as well as they -did in that climate, but that they fought at all. What welcome summer -brought from their gleaming black eyes! July or August could not be too -hot for them. On a plateau one afternoon I saw them having a _gymkana_. -It was a treat for the King of the Belgians, who has had few holidays, -indeed, this last year, and for the French peasants who came from the -neighbourhood. Yelling, wild as they were in tribal days before the -British brought order and peace to India, the horsemen galloped across -the open space, picking up handkerchiefs from the ground and impaling -tent pegs on their lances. The French peasants clapped their hands and -the British Indian officers said, “Good!” when the performer succeeded, -or, “Too bad!” when he failed. - -If you asked the officers for the secret of the Indian Empire they -said: “We try to be fair to the natives!” which means that they are -just and even-tempered. An enormous, loose-jointed machine the British -Empire, which seems sometimes to creak a bit but yet holds together -for that very reason. Imperial weight may have interfered with British -adaptability to the kind of warfare which was the one kind that the -Germans had to train for; but certainly some Englishmen must know how -to rule. - - * * * * * - -That church bell across the street from our château begins its clangour -at dawn, summoning the French women and children and the old men to the -fields in harvest time. But its peals carrying across the farmlands are -softened by distance and sweet to the tired workers in the evening. In -the morning its peal in their ears tells them that the day is long and -they have much to do before dark. After that thought I never complained -because it robbed me of my sleep. I felt ashamed not to be up and doing -myself, and worked with a better spirit. - -“Will they do it?” - -We asked this question as often in our mess in those August days -as, Will the Russians lose Warsaw? Would the peasants be able to -get in their crops, with all the able-bodied men away? I had inside -information from the village mayor and the blacksmith and the baker -that they would. A financial expert, the baker. Of course, he said -that France would go on fighting till the German was beaten, just as -the old men and the women and children said, whether the church bell -was clanging the matins or the angelus. But there was the question of -finances. It took money to fight. The Americans, he knew, had more -money than they knew what to do with--as Europeans universally think, -only, personally, I find that I was overlooked in the distribution-- -and if they would loan the Allies some of their spare billions, Germany -was surely beaten. - -A busy man the blacksmith, and brawny, if he had no spreading chestnut -tree; busy not only shoeing farmhorses, but repairing American reapers -and binders, whose owners profited exceedingly and saved the day. But -not all farmers felt that they could afford the charge. These kept -at their small patches with sickles. Gradually the carpets of gold -waving in the breeze became bundles lying on the stubble, and great -conical harvest stacks rose, while children gathered the stray stems -left on the ground by the reapers till they had immense bouquets of -wheat-heads under their arms, enough to make two or three loaves of the -_pain de ménage_ that the baker sold. So the peasants did it; they won; -and this was some compensation for the loss of Warsaw. - -One morning we heard troops marching past, which was not unusual. But -these were French troops in the British zone, _en route_ from somewhere -in France to somewhere else in France. There was not a person left in -any house in that village. Everybody was out, with affection glowing in -their eyes. For these were their own--their soldiers of France. - - * * * * * - -When you see a certain big limousine flying a small British flag pass -you know that it belongs to the Commander-in-Chief; and though it may -be occupied only by one of his aides, often you will have a glimpse of -a man with a square chin and a drooping white moustache, who is the -sole one among the hundreds of thousands at the British front who wears -the crossed batons of a field marshal. - -It is erroneous to think that Sir John French or any other commander, -though that is the case in time of action, spends all his time in the -private house occupied as headquarters, designated by two wisps of -flags, studying a map and sending and receiving messages, when the -trench line remains stationary. He goes here and there on inspections. -It is the only way that a modern leader may let his officers and men -know that he is a being of flesh and blood and not a name signed to -reports and orders. A machine-gun company I knew had a surprise when -resting in a field waiting for orders. They suddenly recognised in a -figure coming through an opening in a hedge the supreme head of the -army in France. There was no need of a call to attention. The effect -was like an electric shock, which sent every man to his place and made -his backbone a steel rod. Those crossed batons represented a dizzy -altitude to that battery which had just come out from England. Sir John -walked up and down, looking over men and guns after their nine months’ -drill at home, and said, “Very good!” and was away to other inspections -where he might not necessarily say, “Very good!” - -Frequently his inspections are formal. A battalion or a brigade is -drawn up in a field, or they march past. Then he usually makes a short -speech. On one occasion the officers had arranged a platform for the -speech-making. Sir John gave it a glance and that was enough. It was -the end of such platforms erected for him. - -“Inspections! They are second nature to us!” said a new army man. “We -were inspected and inspected at home and we are inspected and inspected -out here. If there is anything wrong with us it is the general’s own -fault if it isn’t found out. When a general is not inspecting, some man -from the medical corps is disinfecting.” - -Battalions of the new army are frequently billeted for two or three -days in our village. The barn up the road I know is capable of housing -twenty men and one officer; for this is chalked on the door. Before -they turn in for the night the men frequently sing, and the sound of -their voices is pleasant. - -A typical inspection was one that I saw in the main street. The -battalion was drawn up in full marching equipment on the road. Of those -officers with packs on their backs one was only nineteen. This is the -limit of youth to acquire a chocolate drop on its arm. The sergeant -major was an old regular, the knowing backbone of the battalion, which -had taken the men of clay and taught them their letters and then how to -spell and to add and subtract and divide. One of those impressive red -caps arrived in a car, and the general who wore it went slowly up and -down the line, front and rear, examining rifles and equipment, while -the young officers and the old sergeant were hoping that Jones or Smith -hadn’t got some dust in his rifle-barrel at the last moment. - -Brokers and carpenters, bankers and mechanics, clerks and labourers, -the new army is like the army of France, composed of all classes. One -evening I had a chat with two young fellows in a battalion quartered -in the village, who were seated beside the road. Both came from -Buckinghamshire. One was a schoolmaster and the other an architect. -They were “bunkies,” pals, chums. - -“When did you enlist?” I asked. - -“In early September, after the Marne retreat. We thought that it was -our duty, then. But we’ve been a long time arriving.” - -“How do you like it?” - -“We are not yet masters of the language, we find,” said the -schoolmaster, “though I had a pretty good book knowledge of it.” - -“I’m learning the gestures fast, though,” said the architect. - -“The French are glad to see us,” said the schoolmaster. “They call us -the Keetcheenaires. I fancy they thought we were a long time coming. -But now we are here, I think they will find that we can hold up our -end.” - -They had the fresh complexions which come from healthy, outdoor work. -There was something engaging in their boyishness and their views. For -they had a wider range of interests than that professional soldier, -Mr. Atkins, these citizens who had taken up arms. They knew what -trench-fighting meant by work in practice trenches at home. - -“Of course it will not be quite the same; theory and practice never -are,” said the schoolmaster. - -“We ought to be well-grounded in the principles,” said the architect-- -imagine the average Mr. Atkins talking in such language!--“and they -say that in a week or two of actual experience you will have mastered -the details that could not be taught in England. Then, too, having -shells burst around you will be strange at first. But I think our -battalion will give a good account of itself, sir. All the Bucks men -have!” There crept in the pride of regiment, of locality, which is so -characteristically Anglo-Saxon. - -They change life at the front, these new army men. If a carpenter, a -lawyer, a sign-painter, an accountant, is wanted, you have only to -speak to a new army battalion commander and one is forthcoming--a -millionaire, too, for that matter, who gets his shilling a day for -serving his country. Their intelligence permitted the architect and -the schoolmaster to have no illusions about the character of the war -they had to face. The pity was that such a fine force as the new army, -which had not become trench stale, could not have a free space in which -to make a great turning movement, instead of having to go against that -solid battle-front from Switzerland to the North Sea. - - * * * * * - -We have heard enough--quite enough for most of us--about the German -Crown Prince. But there is also a prince with the British army in -France. No lieutenant looks younger for his years than this one in the -Grenadier Guards, and he seems of the same type as the others when -you see him marching with his regiment or off for a walk smoking a -briar-wood pipe. There are some officers who would rather not accompany -him on his walks, for he can go fast and far. He makes regular reports -of his observations, and he has opportunities for learning which -other subalterns lack, for he may have both the staff and the army -as personal instructors. Otherwise, his life is that of any other -subaltern; for there is an instrument called the British Constitution -which regulates many things. A little shy, very desirous to learn, is -Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, heir to the throne of Great Britain and -Ireland and the Empire of India. He might be called the willing prince. - - * * * * * - -This was one of the shells that hit--one of the hundred that hit. The -time was summer; the place, the La Bassée region. Probably the fighting -was all the harder here because it is so largely blind. When you cannot -see what an enemy is doing you keep on pumping shells into the area -which he occupies; you take no risks with him. - -The visitor may see about as much of what is going on in the La Bassée -region as an ant can see of the surrounding landscape when promenading -in the grass. The only variation in the flatness of the land is the -overworked ditches which try to drain it. Look upward and rows of -poplar trees along the level and a hedge, a grove, a cottage, or trees -and shrubs around it, limit your vision. Thus, if a breeze starts -timidly in a field it is stopped before it goes far. That “hot corner” -is all the hotter for a burning July sun. The army water-carts which -run back to wells of cool water are busy filling empty canteens, while -shrapnel trims the hedges. - -A stretcher was being borne into the doorway of an _estaminet_ which -had escaped destruction by shells, and above the door was chalked some -lettering which indicated that it was a first clearing station for the -wounded. Lying on other stretchers on the floor were some wounded men. -Of the two nearest, one had a bandage around his head and one a bandage -around his arm. They had been stunned, which was only natural when you -have been as close as they had to a shell-burst--a shell that made a -hit. The concussion was bound to have this effect. - -A third man was the best illustration of shell destructiveness. Bullets -make only holes. Shells make gouges, fractures, pulp. He, too, had a -bandaged head and had been hit in several places; but the worst wound -was in the leg, where an artery had been cut. He was weak, with a sort -of where-am-I look in his eyes. If the fragment which had hit his leg -had hit his head, or his neck, or his abdomen, he would have been -killed instantly. He was an illustration of how hard it is to kill a -man even with several shell-fragments, unless some of them strike in -the right place. For he was going to live; the surgeon had whispered -the fact in his ear, that one important fact. He had beaten the German -shell, after all. - -Returning by the same road by which we came a motor car ran swiftly -by, the only kind of car allowed on that road. We had a glimpse of the -big painted red cross on an ambulance side, and at the rear, where -the curtains were rolled up for ventilation, of four pairs of soldier -boot-soles at the end of four stretchers, which had been slid into -place at the _estaminet_ by the sturdy, kindly, experienced medical -corps men. - -Only one ambulance, dust-covered, of the colour of the road itself came -along, clear of any blast of shells; nothing at the front sends the -same chill down the spine as the thought of a man wounded by a shell -being hit a second time by a shell. It rarely happens, so prompt and so -shrewd is the work of the Royal Army Medical Corps. - -Before we reached the village the ambulance passed us on the way back -to the _estaminet_. Very soon after the shell-burst, a telephone bell -had rung down the line from the extreme front calling for an ambulance -and stating the number of men hit, so that everybody would know what -to prepare for. At the village, which was outside the immediate danger -zone, was another clearing station. Here the stretchers were taken into -a house--taken without a jolt by men who were specialists in handling -stretchers--for any redressing if necessary, before another ambulance -started them on a journey, with motor trucks and staff automobiles -giving right of way, to a spotless white hospital ship which would take -them home to England the next night. - -It had been an incident of life at the front and of the organisation -of war, causing less flurry than an ambulance call to an accident in a -great city. - - - - -XXXV - -BRITISH PROBLEMS - - The people behind an army--Military traditions--The “regulars” at - Mons--Our ideas of conscription--British pride of regiment-- - Our West Point system--Sandhurst and the German system--Martial - team-play an instinct--The gallant British Expeditionary Force-- - A perfect instrument--Mr. Thomas Atkins, hero--England after - the Marne--Empire-wide problems--The first year wastage-- - Making a new army--Kitchener the man--Characteristics of the - British--The last battle that counts--The recruiting--Free - institutions versus a feudal socialistic organisation--“Putting - their backs into it”--The British type persists--Freedom or - “verboten” on every street corner?--England’s sturdiest blows - yet to come. - - -Throughout the summer of 1915 the world was asking, What about the -new British army? Why was it not attacking at the opportune moment -when Germany was throwing her weight against Russia? A facile answer -is easy; indeed, facile answers are always easy. Unhappily, they -are rarely correct. None that was given in this instance was, to my -mind. They sought to put a finger on one definite cause; again, on an -individual or a set of individuals. - -The reasons were manifold; as old as Waterloo, as fresh as the -last speech in Parliament. They were inherent in the Anglo-Saxon -race. Whoever raised a voice and said, This, or that, or you, are -responsible! should first have looked into his own mind and into the -history of his race and then into a mirror. Least of all should any -American have been puzzled by the delay. - -“Oh, we should have done better than that--we are Americans!” I hear -my countrymen say. Perhaps we should. I hope so; I believe so. The -British public thought that they were going to do better; military men -were surprised that they did as well. - -Along with laws and language we have inherited our military ideas from -England. In many qualities we are different--a distinct type; but -in nothing are we more like the British than in our attitude toward -the soldier and toward war. The character of any army reflects the -character of its people. An army is the fist; but the muscle, the -strength of the physical organism behind the blow in the long run -belong to the people. What they have prepared for in peace they receive -in war, which decides whether they have been living in the paradise of -a fool or of a wise man. - -As a boy I was brought up to believe, as an inheritance of the American -Revolution, that one American could whip two Englishmen and five or -six of any other nationality, which made the feathers of the eagle -perched on the national escutcheon look glossy. It was a satisfying -sort of faith. Americans had never tried five or six of any first-class -fighting race; but that was not a thought which occurred to me. As we -had won victories over the English and the English had whipped the -French at Waterloo, the conclusion seemed obvious. - -English boys, I understand, also had been brought up to believe that -one Englishman could whip five or six men of any other nationality, -but, I take it for granted, only two Americans. This clothed the -British lion with majesty, while the lower ratio of superiority over -Americans returned the compliment in kind from the sons of the lion to -the sons of the eagle. - -After I began to read history for myself and to think as I read, I -found that when British and Americans had met, the generals on either -side were solicitous about having superior forces, and in case of odds -of two to one they made a “strategic retreat.” When either side was -beaten, the other always explained that he was overcome by superior -numbers, though perhaps the adversary had not more than ten or fifteen -per cent. advantage. Then I learned that the British had not whipped -five or six times their numbers on the Continent of Europe. The British -Expeditionary Force made as fine an effort to do so at Mons as was ever -attempted in history, but they did not succeed. - -It was a regular army that fought at Mons. The only two first-class -nations which depend upon regulars to do their fighting are the British -and the American. This is the vital point of similarity which is the -practical manifestation of our military ideas. We have been the earth’s -spoiled children, thanks to the salt seas between us and other powerful -military nations. Before any other power could reach the United States -it must overwhelm the British navy, and then it must overwhelm ours and -bring its forces in transports. Sea-power, you say. That is the facile -word, so ready to the lips that we do not realise the wonder of it any -more than of the sun rising and setting. - -When we want soldiers our plan still is to advertise for them. The -ways of our ancestors remain ours. We think that the volunteer must -necessarily make the best soldier because he offers his services; while -the conscript--rather a term of opprobrium to us--must be lukewarm. -It hardly occurs to us that some forms of persuasion may amount to -conscription, or that the volunteer, won by oratorical appeal to his -emotions or by social pressure, may suffer a reaction after enlistment -which will make him lukewarm also, particularly as he sees others, also -young and fit, hanging back. Nor does it occur to us that there may be -virtue in that fervour of national patriotism aroused by the command -that all must serve, which on the Continent in this war, has meant -universal exaltation to sacrifice. The life of Jones means as much to -him as the life of Smith does to him; and when the whole nation is -called to arms there ought to be no favourites in life-giving. - -For the last hundred years, if we except the American Civil War, ours -have been comparatively little wars. The British regular army has -policed an empire and sent punitive expeditions against rebellious -tribes with paucity of numbers, in a work which the British so well -understand. Our little regular army took care of the Red Indians as -our frontier advanced from the Alleghenies to the Pacific. To put it -bluntly, we have hired some one to do our fighting for us. - -Without ever seriously studying the business of soldiering, the average -Anglo-Saxon thought of himself as a potential soldier, taking his sense -of martial superiority largely from the work of the long-service, -severely drilled regular. Also, we used our fists rather than daggers -or duelling swords in personal encounters and, man to man, unequipped -with fire-arms or blades, the quality which is responsible for our -sturdy pioneering individualism gave us confidence in our physical -prowess. - -Alas! modern wars are not fought with fists. A knock-kneed man who -knows how to use a machine gun and has one to use--which is also -quite important--could mow down all the leading heavy-weights of the -United States and England, with the latest champion leading the charge. - -Now, this regular who won our little wars was not representative of -the people as a whole. He was the man “down on his luck,” who went to -the recruiting depot. Soldiering became his profession. He was in a -class, like priests and vagabonds. When you passed him in the street -you thought of him as a strange being, but one of the necessities of -national existence. It did not interest you to be a soldier; but as -there must be soldiers, you were glad that men who would be soldiers -were forthcoming. - -When trouble broke, how you needed him! When the wires brought news of -his gallantry you accepted the deeds of this man whom you had paid as -the reflection of national courage, which thrilled you with a sense of -national superiority. To him, it was in the course of duty; what he -had been paid to do. He did not care about being called a hero; but it -pleased the public to make him one--this professional who fights for a -shilling a day in England and $17.50 a month in the United States. - -Though when the campaign went well the public was ready to take the -credit as a personal tribute, when the campaign went illy they sought -a scapegoat, and the general, who might have been a hero, was sent to -the wilderness perhaps because those busy men in Congress or Parliament -thought that the army could do without that little appropriation which -was needed for some other purpose. The army had failed to deliver the -goods which it was paid to produce. The army was to blame, when, of -course, under free institutions the public was to blame, as the public -is master of the army and not the army of the public. - -A first impression of the British army is always that of the regiment. -Pride of regiment sometimes appears almost more deep-seated than army -pride to the outsider. It has been so long a part of British martial -inheritance that it is bred in the blood. In the old days of small -armies and in the later days of small wars, while Europe was making -every man a soldier by conscription, regiment vying with regiment won -the battles of empire. The memory of the part each regiment played is -the inspiration of its present; its existence is inseparable from the -traditions of its long list of battle honours. - -The British public loves to read of its Guards’ regiment and to watch -them in their brilliant uniforms at review. When a cadet comes out of -Sandhurst he names the regiment which he wishes to join, instead of -being ordered to a certain regiment, as in West Point. It rests with -the regimental commander whether or not he is accepted. Frequently the -young man of wealth or family serves in the Guards or another crack -regiment for a while and resigns, usually to enjoy the semi-leisurely -life which is the fortune of his inheritance. - -Then there are the county line regiments, such as the Yorkshires, the -Kents, and the Durhams. In this war each county wanted to read about -its own regiments at the same time as about the Guards, just as Kansas -at home would want to read about the Kansas regiments and Georgians -about the Georgia regiments. The most trying feature of the censorship -to the British public was its refusal to allow the exploitation of -regiments. The staff was adamant on this point; for the staff was -thinking for the whole and of the interests of the whole. In the French -and the German armies, as in our regular army, the regiment was known -by a number. - -The young man who lives in the big house on the hill, the son of the -man of wealth and power in the community, as a rule does not go to West -Point. None of the youth of our self-called aristocracy, which came up -the golden road in a generation past those in modest circumstances who -have generations of another sort back of them, think of going into the -First Cavalry or the First Infantry for a few years as a part of their -career. A few rich men’s sons enter our army, but only enough to prove -the rule by the exception. They do not regard the army as “the thing.” -It does not occur to them that they ought to do something for their -country. Rather, their country ought to do something for them. - -But sink the plummet a little deeper and these are not our aristocracy -nor our ruling class, which is too numerous and too sound of thought -and principle for them to feel at home in their company. One boy, -however humble his origin, may go to West Point if he can pass the -competitive examination. Europe, particularly Germany, would not -approve of this; but we think it the best way. The average graduate of -the Point, whether the son of a doctor, a lawyer, or a farmer, sticks -to the army as his profession. We maintain West Point for the strict -business purpose of teaching young men how to train our army in time of -peace and to lead and direct it in time of action. - -Our future officers enter West Point when they are two years younger -than is the average at Sandhurst; the course is four years compared -with two at Sandhurst. I should venture to say that West Point is the -harder grind; that the graduate of the Point has a more specifically -academic military training than the graduate of Sandhurst. This -is not saying that he may be any better in the performance of the -simple duties of a company officer. It is not a new criticism that -we train everybody at West Point to be a general, when many of the -students may never rise above the command of a battalion. However, it -is a significant fact that at the close of the Civil War every army -commander was a West Point man and so were most of the corps commanders. - -The doors are open in the British army for a man to rise from the -ranks; not as wide as in our army, but open. The Chief of Staff of the -British Expeditionary Force, Sir William Robertson, was in the ranks -for ten years. No man not a West Pointer had a position equivalent in -importance to his at the close of the Civil War. His rise would have -been possible in no other European army. - -But West Point sets the stamp on the American army and Sandhurst and -Woolwich, the engineering and artillery school, on the British army. At -the end of four years at West Point the men who survive the hard course -may be tried by courtmartial not for conduct unbecoming an officer, but -an officer and a gentleman. They are supposed, whatever their origin, -to have absorbed certain qualities, if they were not inborn, which are -not easily described but which we all recognise in any man. If they are -absent it is not the fault of West Point; and if a man cannot acquire -them there, then nature never meant them for him. From the time he -entered the school the government has paid his way; and he is cared for -until he dies, if he keeps step and avoids courtmartials. - -His position in life is secure. His pay counting everything is better -than that of the average graduate of a university or a first-class -professional school, who practises a profession. Yet only three boys, -I remember, wanted to go to West Point from our congressional district -in my youth. Nothing could better illustrate the fact that we are not a -military people. From West Point they go out to the little army which -is to fight our wars; to the posts and the Philippines, and become a -world in themselves; an isolated caste in spite of themselves. I am -not at all certain that either the British or the American officer -works as hard as the German in time of peace. Neither has the practical -incentive nor the determined driver behind him. - -For it takes a soldier Secretary of War to drive a soldier; for -example, Lord Kitchener. Those British officers, who applied themselves -in peace to the mastery of their profession and were not content with -the day’s routine requirements, had to play chess without chessmen; -practise manœuvres on a board rather than with brigades, divisions, -corps, and armies. They became the rallying points in the concourse of -untrained recruits. - -German and French officers had the incentive and the chessmen. The -Great War could not take them by surprise. They took the road with a -machine whose parts had been long assembled. They had been trained -for big war; their ambition and intelligence were under the whip of a -definite anticipation. - -A factor overlooked, but even more significant than training or staff -work, was that what might be called martial team-play had become an -instinct with the continental peoples through the necessity of their -situation. This the Japanese also possess. It is the right material -ready to hand for the builder. Not that it is the kind of material -one admires; but it is the right material for making a war-machine. -One had only to read the expert military criticism in the British and -the American press at the outset of the war to realise how vague was -the truth of the continental situation to the average Englishman or -American--but not to the trained British staff. - -So that little British Expeditionary Force, in ratio of number one -to twenty or thirty of the French army, crossed the Channel to help -save Belgium. Gallantry it had worthy of the brightest chapter in -the immortal history of its regiments from Quebec to Kandahar, -from Waterloo to South Africa, Guards and Hussars, Highlanders and -Lowlanders, kilts and breecks, Connaught Rangers and Royal Fusiliers, -Duke of Wellingtons and Prince of Wales’ Own, come again to Flanders. -The best blood of England was leading Tommy Atkins. Whatever British -aristocracy is or is not, it never forgets its duty to the England of -its fathers. It is never ingrate to its fortune. The time had come to -go out and die for England, if need be, and these officers went as -their ancestors had gone before them, as they would go to lectures at -Oxford, to the cricket field and the polo field, in outward phlegm, but -with a mighty passion in their hearts. - -The Germans affected to despise this little army. It had not been -trained in the mass tactics which hurl columns of flesh forward to gain -tactical points that have been mauled by artillery fire. You do not -use mass tactics against Boers, nor against Afridis or Filipinos. It -is difficult to combine the two kinds of efficiency. Those who were on -the march to the relief of the Peking legations recall how the Germans -were as ill at ease in that kind of work as the American and British -were at home. It made us misjudge the Germans and the Germans misjudge -us when they thought of us as trying to make war on the Continent of -Europe. A small, mobile, regular army, formed to go over seas and march -long distances, was to fight in a war where millions were engaged -and a day’s march would cover an immense stretch of territory in -international calculations of gain and loss. - -For its own purposes, the British Expeditionary Force was well-nigh a -perfect instrument. As quantity of ammunition was an important factor -in transport in the kind of campaign which it was prepared for, its -guns were the most accurate on a given point and its system of fire -adapted to that end; but the French system of fire, with plentiful -ammunition from near bases over fine roads, was better adapted for a -continental campaign. - -To the last button that little army was prepared. Man for man and -regiment for regiment, I should say it was the best force that ever -fired a shot in Europe; this without regard to national character. As -England must make every regular soldier count and as she depended upon -the efficiency of the few rather than on numbers, she had trained her -men in musketry. No continental army could afford to allow its soldiers -to expend the amount of ammunition on the target range that the British -had expended. Only by practise can you learn how to shoot. This gives -the soldier confidence. He stays in his trench and keeps on shooting -because he knows that he can hit those advancing figures and that this -is his best protection. The more I learn, the more I am convinced that -the Germans ought to have got the British Expeditionary Force; and -the Germans were very surprised that they did not get it. With their -surprise developed a respect for British arms, reported by all visitors -to Germany. - -Mr. Thomas Atkins, none other, is the hero of that retreat from Mons. -The first statue raised in London after the war ought to be of him. -If there had been five hundred thousand of him in Belgium at the end -of the second week in August, Brussels would now be under the Belgian -flag. Like many other good things in this world, including the French -army, there were not enough of him. Many a company on that retreat -simply got tired of retreating, though orders were to fall back. It dug -a trench and lay down and kept on firing--accurately, in the regular, -business-like way, reinforced by the “stick it” British character-- -until killed or engulfed. This held back the flood long enough for the -remainder of the army to retire. - -Not all the generalship emanated from generals. I like best that story -of the cross-roads where, with Germans pressing hard on all sides, two -columns in retreat fell in together, uncertain which way to go. With -confusion developing for want of instructions, a lone exhausted staff -officer who happened along took charge and standing at the junction -in the midst of shell-fire told every doubting unit what to do, with -one-two-three alacrity of decision. His work finished, he and his red -cap disappeared, and I never could find any one who knew who he was. - -After the retreat and after the victory of the Marne, what was -England’s position? The average Englishman had thought that England’s -part in the alliance was to send a small army to France and to take -care of the German fleet. England’s fleet was her first consideration; -that must be served; France’s demand for rifles and supplies must be -attended to before the British demand; Serbia needed supplies; Russia -needed supplies; a rebellion threatened in South Africa; the Turks -threatened the invasion of Egypt. England had to spread her energy out -over a vast empire with an army that had barely escaped annihilation. -Every soldier who fought must be supplied over seas. German officers -put a man on a railroad train and he detrained near the front. Every -British soldier had to go aboard a train and then a ship and then -disembark from the ship and go aboard another train. Every article of -ordnance, engineering, medical supply, food supply, must be handled -four times, while in Germany they need be handled but twice. Any -railway traffic manager will understand what this means. Both the -British supply system and the medical corps were marvels. - -Germany was stronger than the British public thought. Germany and -Austria could put at the front in the first six months of the war -practically double the number which the Allies could maintain. Russia -had multitudes to draw from in reserve, but the need was multitudes -at the front. There she was only as strong as the number she could -feed and equip. In the first year of the war England suffered 380,000 -casualties on land, six times the number of bayonets that she had at -Mons. All this wastage must be met before she could begin to increase -her forces. The length of line on the Western front that she was -holding was not the criterion of her effort. The French who shared with -the British that terrible Ypres salient realised this. - -Aside from the regulars she had the Territorials, who are much the same -as our National Guard and varied in equality in the same way. Native -Indian troops were brought to France to face the diabolical shell-fire -of modern guns, and Territorials went out to India to take the place of -the British regulars, who were withdrawn for France. Every rifle that -England could bring to the assistance of the French in their heroic -stand was a rifle to the good. - -Meanwhile, she was making her new army. For the first time since -Cromwell’s day, all classes in England were going to war. Making an -army out of the raw is like building a factory to be manned by expert -labour which you have to train. Let us even suppose that the factory is -ready and that the proprietor must mobilise his managers, overseers, -foremen, and labour from far and near--a force individually competent, -but which had never before worked together. It would require some time -to organise team-play, wouldn’t it? Particularly it would if you were -short of managers, overseers, and foremen. To express my meaning from -another angle in talking once with an English pottery manufacturer he -said: - -“We do not train our labour in the pottery district. We breed it from -generation to generation.” - -In Germany they have not only been training soldiers, but breeding them -from generation to generation. You may think that system is wrong. It -may be against your ideals. But in fighting against that system for -your ideals when war is violence and killing, you must have weapons -as effective as the enemy’s. You express only a part of Germany’s -preparedness by saying that the men who left the plough and the shop, -the factory and the office, became trained soldiers at the command of -the staff as soon as they were in uniform and had rifles. These men had -the instinct of military co-ordination bred in them and so had their -officers, while England had to take men from the plough and the shop, -the factory and the office, and equip them and teach them the rudiments -of soldiering before she could consider making them into an army. - -It was one thing for the spirit of British manhood to rise to the -emergency. Another and even more important requisite went with it. If -my country ever faces such a crisis I hope that we also may have the -courage of wisdom which leaves an expert’s work to an expert. England -had Lord Kitchener, who could hold the imagination and the confidence -of the nation through the long months of preparation, when there was -little to show except repetition of drills here and there on gloomy -winter days. It required a man with a big conception and patience and -authority to carry it through, and recruits with an unflinching sense -of duty. The immensity of the task of transforming a non-military -people into a great fighting force grew on one in all its humdrum and -vital details as he watched the new army forming. - -“Are you learning to think in big numbers?” was Lord Kitchener’s -question to his generals. - -Half of the regular officers were killed or wounded. Where the leaders? -Where the drillmasters for the new army? Old officers came out of -retirement, where they had become used to an easy life as a rule, to -twelve hours a day of hard application. “Dugouts” they were called. -Veteran non-commissioned officers had to drill new ones. It was -demonstrated that a good infantry soldier can be made in six months; -perhaps in three. But it takes seven months to build a rifle-plant; -many more months to make guns--and the navy must never be stinted. -Probably the English are slow; slow and thoroughgoing. They are good at -the finish, but not quick at the start. They are used to winning the -last battle, which they say is the one that counts. The complacency of -empire with a century’s power was a handicap, no doubt. We are inclined -to lean forward on our oars, they to lean back--which does not mean -that they cannot lean forward in an emergency or that they lack reserve -strength. - -Public impatience was inevitable. It could not be kept silent; that is -the English of it--the American, too. We demand to know what is being -done. It was not silent in the Civil War. From the time that McClellan -started forming his new army until the Peninsula was six months, if I -remember rightly. Von Moltke, who built the German staff system, said -that the Civil War was a strife between two armed mobs; though I think -if he had brought his Prussians to Virginia a year later, in ’63, which -would have ended the Civil War there and then, he would have had an -interesting time before he returned to Berlin. - -The British new army was not to face another new army, but the most -thoroughly organised military machine that the world has ever known. -Not only this, but the Germans, with a good start and their system -established, were not standing still and waiting for the British to -catch up, so that the two could begin again even, but were adapting -themselves to the new features of the war. They had been the world’s -arms-makers. With vast munition plants ready, their feudal socialistic -organisation could make the most of their resources in men and material. - -More than two million Englishmen went to the recruiting depots, though -no invader had set foot on their soil, and offered to serve in France -or wherever they were needed over seas. If no magic could put rifles in -their hands or summon batteries of guns to follow them on the march, -the fact of their volunteering, when they knew by watching from day to -day the drudgery that it meant and what trench warfare was, shows at -least that the race is not yet decadent. Perhaps we should have done -better. No one can know until we try it. If liberal treatment by the -government and the course set by Secretary Root means anything, our -staff ought to be better equipped for such a task than the English -were; this, too, only war can decide. - -Whatsoever of pessimism appeared in the British press was telegraphed -to America. Pessimism was not permitted in the German press. Imagine -Germany holding control of the cable and allowing press despatches -from Germany to pass over it with the freedom that England allowed! -Imagine Germany having waited as long as England before making cotton -contraband! The British press demanded information from the government -which the German press would never have dared to ask. I have known an -American correspondent, fed out of hand in Germany and thankful for -anything that the fearful German war machine might vouchsafe, turning a -belligerent when he was in London for privileges which he would never -have thought of demanding in Berlin. - -If an English ship were reported sunk, he believed it must be, despite -the government’s denial. Did he go to the Germans and demand that he -might publish the rumours of what had happened to the _Moltke_ in the -Gulf of Riga, or how many submarines Germany had really lost? Indeed, -he was unconsciously paying a compliment to British free institutions. -He expected more in England; it seemed a right to him, as it would -at home. Englishmen talked frankly to him about mistakes; he heard -all the gossip; and sometimes he concluded that England was in a bad -way. In Germany such talk was not allowed. Every German said that the -government was absolutely truthful; every German believed all of its -reports. But ask this critical American how he would like to live -under German rule, and then you found how anti-German he was at heart. -Nothing succeeds like success, and Germany was winning and telling no -one if she had any setbacks. - -If there were a strike, the British press made the most of it for it -was big news. Pessimism is the Englishman’s natural way of arousing -himself to fresh energy. It is also against habit to be demonstrative -in his effort; so it is not easy to understand how much he is doing. -Then, pessimism brought recruits; it made the Englishman say, “I’ve -got to put my back into it!” Muddling there was and mistakes, such as -that of the method of attack at Gallipoli; but in the midst of all -this disspiriting pessimism, no Englishman thought of anything but of -putting his back into it more and more. Lord Kitchener had said that it -was to be a long war and evidently it must be. Of course, England’s -misfortune was in having the war catch her in the transition from an -old order of things to social reforms. - -But if the war shows anything it is that basically English character -has not changed. She still has unconquerable, dogged persistence, and -her defects for this kind of war are not among the least admirable of -her traits to those who desire to live their own lives in their own -way, as the English-speaking people have done for five hundred years, -without having a _verboten_ sign on every street corner. - -It is still the law that when a company of infantry marches through -London it must be escorted by a policeman. This means a good deal: -that civil power is superior to military power. It is a symbol of what -Englishmen have fought for with spades and pitchforks and what we -have fought Englishmen for. My own idea is that England is fighting -for it in this struggle; and starting unready against a foe which was -ready, as the free peoples always have, she was fighting for time and -experience before she could strike her sturdiest blows. - - -THE END - - - - -Transcriber’s Notes - - -Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a -predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not -changed. - -Simple typographical errors were corrected; occasional unbalanced -quotation marks retained. - -Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's My Year of the Great War, by Frederick Palmer - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY YEAR OF THE GREAT WAR *** - -***** This file should be named 52886-0.txt or 52886-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/8/8/52886/ - -Produced by David Garcia, Marilynda Fraser-Cunliffe, Charlie -Howard, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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