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Mapa, plataa, charts, ate, may ba filmad at diffarant raduction ratios. Thosa too larga to ba antiraly includad in ona axpoaura ara filmad baginning in tha uppar laft hand cornar, laft to right and top to bottom, as many framas as raquirad. Tha following diagrama illustrata tha mathod: Las canaa. planchas, tablaaux. ate, peuvant atre filmAs A das taux da reduction diffArents. Lorsqua la documant ast trop grand pour Atra raproduit an un saul clichA, il ast film* it partir da I'angla supiriaur gaucha, da gaucha it droite. at da haut an baa, an pranant la nombra d'imagaa nicassaira. Laa diagrammas suivants illustrant la mAthoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 'msEsi^j^ MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2) A APPLIED IKA^GE Inc ^^ 1653 Eos! Mom Street S"«S Rochester, New rork 1 1609 USA '■JS '716) 482 - OJOO - Phone ^S <''^' 288 - 5989 - Fo« / ^a'iji^'^ THE REAL FRONT I s THE REAL FRONT BY ARTHUR HUNT CHUTF LATB FIRST C4NA0IAN DIVUION II A R lUlCTHERS PUBLISHERS * ORJ. AND LONDON 1 S i J 4 1 Tire Rrai, fbont Copyright, ioi«. I>y Harper & nrnthrrn Printed in the United States nf America Publislicd March. 1918 o-s ■vT'^^Jiiwy VSittWiwiiK^^BHMKIHasr ^ TO t -i THE MEMORY OF MY FRIEi^lD Lieutenant John L. Godwin. C.F.A. WHO SLEEPS ON THE FIELD OF HONOR 77571 Jiii — irmin- -t"— ¥¥TT^Tnr-iniiiTnnrnrTT-"i ' T~^^^W^^M^l? CRAP. I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. vin. IX. X. XI. XII. xiir. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. xvm CONTENTS IVTnODUCTION . . P40H The Making ok t„e Fj^^t V.v/n ' ' * '^ Fhom r«. Base to t„k fL^ " " ' ^^"" THE KoARiNo GriNs • • ^* Angei^ of Death . . ^^ The Real Front . ^^ On Our Strfet op a^ * ' 77 lufcET OF Adventure The End OF A Bitter Day ' ' ' ' ^^ The Faith OF A Soldier "'^ Mv FiN^T Moment in France . ' ' ' J!! The Day OF Reckoning" ' ' ^^^ Through Death v^^,, '"•••• 145 A Cradle OF Our VjcToRxrs ^'" How Sleep THE Brave ' ' * ' • • 269 "Vers la Gloire" ^^^ 298 ' ! .'^ ■*/ 'M r^^'^H-M. -:•;■,. INTRODUCTION ALL those who have come under the star- -^~*- shells of the firing-line, have touched the point where life is epic. Where the brazier fires burn at night along the shivering trenches existence may be bare of comfort, but it rings with loud adventure. Unto our children's children, and beyond, the grayest lives lived in those trenches shall shine forth with colors of romance. It is well to read history in an arm-chair, but it is far better to make history under the blue. It was grand to live in the spacious days of good Queen Bess. But we need envy no past age, who have helped to make the history of this present. Beyond the objective happenings, the author has tried to bring home some of those subjective facts, that will remain, when mere events have been forgotten. The Real Front is a place where one is always face to face with the profundities of life. I was talking with a gray-bearded gentleman the other day and, speaking of a certain event, I said, "Of course, sir, only old men like yourself and I can appreciate such things." 'M INTRODUCTION He looked at me in a quizzical manner, and aughmgly exclaimed. "What do you mean, my OOj . "I mean." I answered, "that life is not meas- ured by years, but by experiences, and in that sense I am your peer in age, for I have been on the Real Front; I have dwelt for months in the lemple of the Angels of Death." My memories of France are like a vast kalei- doscope of pictures. In choosing the scenes which I have thrown again upon the screen I have sought for those that best set forth the Real front, which is still so dimly apprehended by the folks at home. Out of all the tragedy and sorrow of the trenches, the triumph of the soldierly spirit is the thimr that rises, phoenix-like, from the ashes of this war. This triumph of the soldierly spirit IS the greatest fact for me in all this conflict. Ihere flashes before me a picture from Flanders, emblematic of the triumph of this spirit. I am in Poperinghe behind the salient of ^^pres. I am at dinner in an Estaminet when down the road comes the shrill voice of the fife and drum, l-very one springs to the window. Soldiers and civilians are all rushing for a glimpse as a regiment goes marching by. Months in France cannot dim the glory of this spectacle. Only those who have been there can fully appreciate such a sight. A battalion of the Northumberland Fusilecrs INTRODUCilON is marching up from rest billets to do their stunt ui the trenches. At the head of the column on his spirited charger is the colonel of the regiment. Behind the colonel marches a goat, the battalion mascot, led by the colonel's batman. Behind, at respective distances, come the companies, each led by Its captain. Dogs without number follow faithfully at the heels of their chosen masters. Many of these dogs were possessed of happy homes far behind the lines, but they fell in with Tommy,' mstmctively loved him, and forsook all to follow the hard fortunes of the Northumberlands. rr^^l^ nia<>hine-guns go by on hand-trucks. ihe Maxim guns follow with horses and limbers and regimental transport. At the end of the line are the traveling-kitchens, smoking and steam- ing, while the cooks prepare a meal to the tramp of tlie marching men. The Tommies, as usual, are in gay humor singing with the band, laughing at one another,' flinging gibes to the crowd and kisses to madame and the two pretty Belgian girls in the Estaminet. Only here and there a grave young subaltern or the earnest-faced captain at the head of the last company call to mind the fact that many of these* men will not come back. Around the corner rattles the last transport, foLowed by the last attending dog. The fife and drums grow dim, and die away. I was in Poperinghe again when that same gay if INTRODUCTION battalion of Northumberlands came marching out. The fife and drums had come to play them back. The colonel of the gray and master- ful face was gone. The company comro'^ndcr who marched behind him was gone. The com- pany was a tattered remnant, led by a one-star subaltern. The other companies were also in tatters. I looked for the serious-faced young captain of the last company, but he was gone. Billy, the battalion mascot, was in the rear, and it was not the colonel's batman that led him. Last week I saw that battalion pass, a thousand strong. Now, scarce two hundred were return- ing. But, unkempt, war-worn, and tatter-d as this remnant was, its spirit was unbroken. The band struck up the latest hit and every marching man j'^med merrily in the chorus. That was but an expression of the soldierly spirit which over every tragedy remained unconquered. Out of the mud and mire of Flanders, out of the winter's cold and rain, out of shell-swept trenches, out of holes in the ground where men live amidst blood and mire, where corpses are thickly strewn, out of all this woe and hardship comes the voice of Tommy, singing: "Are we downhearted? No!" This is the triumph of the soldierly spirit which is the goal of all America's new armies. Arthur Hunt Chute. January, 1918. THE REAL FRONT I' •'[TrvTimn"iiiiiiiiii]rr r^^ THE REAL FRONT THE MAKING OF TIJK FIRST CANADIANS -q^IIERE «hc gtH-s. Alf!" and with that ex- ohimahon from a Garrison gunner the peaceful Sonune nightfall was rudely broken A moment before the white chalk rim of the horizon ''''' !"'''']" ''''^ '^' P'"nk of twilight, and the evemug star was l,eginning to twinkle on . world of stealing sha;ike burst tW con- * of th*' prouj/ae I the ( iichfy '■K'rio the I - iiM^^'iffiinifM^LT^i- i»j THE REAL FRONT In ans^vrr to tin- n-.l Ii>f,«'.s .signal fo stop the train JH'^un to slow . IHE MAKING OF THE FIRST CANADIANS Here was a problem indeed, and for a long time I pondered the question, What kind of soldiers would these incorrigibles make? They might serve well in an irregular war, but ahead of us was scientific fighting. Could we produce an army adequate to such exacting tests'* The grizzled old colonel at least cast a rav of li.^ht on the gloom. With masters of men 'like that we could do anything. Next day the cockney sergeant had anotlier gnm reminder of a task beyond his power. Ihe troop-train had stopped for a time in a i^rench-Canadian town famous for its ardent intoxicant, known as "Whisky Blanc" The sergeant had stationed sentries at the doors of the car with strict orders to let no one out. Suddenly Red Maclsaac confronted him Tlie cockney attempted to block the passage, but the big Cape-Bretoner whisked him away like a fly exclaiming: "Aw, git out o' me way, will ve? Ye give me a pain." At the same time that Red and his boon com- panions were leaving by the door I noticed the clinking spurs of two Annapolis County li-^ht cavalrymen momentarily in midair as their own- ers dived through the window. The sergeant was quick in sending guards upon the trail and after u short time red-coated guards and guarded 7 iii il THE REAL FRONT alike cain<> reeling baok in vnrloiis degrees of intoxication, singing at the top of their voices, "Love me and the world is mine." "If it weren't for uuld Colonel Donald Mac- Kenzie MacTiivish in there," said a somber- visaged Caj)e-Bretoner, "this menagerie would neffer arrive whateffer. But the auld hoy would deliver the goods, neffer ye fear." Thanks to tlu? iron hand of Colonel MacTavish, the Nova Scotia contingent arrived, the New Brunswick contingent was arriving at the same time, and as the two mobs flowed into each other the uproar and spontaneous rivalry engendered reminded one of a Harvard- Yale football game. Whatever the battles of the future might be, a dingdong scrap between Canada's two provinces by the sea was innninent. Indeed, several couples were already stei>ping it out for a bonnie fight when they were suddenly paralyzed by the awful voice of MacTavish, Tr, corrigible spirits might be here, but with them was their master. The place appointed for the gathering of the First (Canadians was a beautiful plain under the shadow of the grim Lamrntian Mountains. Here, about an hour's distance by train from the historic gateway of Quebec, railway sidings had been built, and along that railway and ovvv 8 THE MAKING OP THE FIRST CANADIANS the sidings, like a (vas(>les.s river, the troops of Canada's mw army flowed in streams. We were among the first to arrive, and found ourselves in a camp of only a few thousand, but day by day for the rest of tlie week tlie troops kept pouring in. Each day the white tents mardu'd farther across the plain, and each niossible for us. 1 had been promoted from the rank of a private to that of an officer, anil in my new jwsi- tion, unfortunately, I missed the lurid colors of the "Colonist Special for Berlin." One day I again saw my friend, Red Maclsaac. THE MAKING OF THE FIRST CANADIANS lie was engaged at drill and, as usual, was in con- tonlious mood. "What 'II I do that for?" he was expostuhiting. "You'll do that because hit's horders," thun- dered Sergeant-Major Fury, "Like hell I will," growled IMaelsaac, fling- ing down his rifle to eniphasi/.e his indejjen- dence. When I beheld tlie invincible Cape-Bretoner a few moments later he was bearing a Inige pack on his b'U'k, marching back and forth at the double, while the implacable Sergeant-Major Fury shot ord s at him like a Maxim. "Left turn! . . . Pick hit hup, I say— pick hit hup. now. . . . About turn. . . . Quick, now. . . • Pick hit hup there." Maclsaac was soaked with perspiration and his face was oral, for instance." "Yes, sir," I answered, looking back at the erstwhile Red Maclsaac, of the Colonists' Special for Berlin. When on a dark cold night at tlie end of Sei>tember we marched out of camp for the last time we had learned how to shoot and how to march with a pack, and had also acquired the elements of discipline. We had still need of a long schooling, but we had left the mob spirit far behind. There was a unity of company and regiment. It remained for General Alderson to teach us the unity of a brigade and of a whole division. We embarked on our transport in the morning, and late in the afternoon began to steam slowly down the St. Lawrence. Behind us lay Quebec, the gray city set upon a rock, towering up with its ancient walls to the crowning citadel, where a British flag waved out ag. .nst the sunset sky. These were the same ramparts that frowned upon the ships of Wolfe on a September long ago. But in this distant autumn twilight the scene 14 THE MAKING OP THE FIRST CANADIANS wus chuuirod, and, like our iiiolhiT, old Quebec smiled down upon us us we sailed away. CIusi)(5 Bay, an isolated estuary of the sea, presented a si range sight on the first morning of October, 1914. On shore the i)eaeeful hills i.iid white habitations of the French-Canaroachful eyes on a .sad and sodden landscape. The sweet dream of Plymouth had faded, and we struggled, wet and weary, with tents and guy- ropes. Lieutenant-General Alderson was intrusted with the final task in the making of the First Canadians. A hard rider in the hunting-field, a keen sportsman, a deep student of military science, progressive in his views, firm in his discipline, broadened by a world-wide experience, and hardened by many campaigns. Gen- ' Alderson was an ideal commander for Colonial troops. General Alderson's headquarters were situated ^ 17 I /T It! ^1. "•' THE RKAL FRONT in a small hou.s<' known an the VVwns. Reveille on the plains was no gay greet inj; of the dawn, as at Val Carlier. Sat.s uf rain. It is no di.s- crecHt to n»y Burlx-rry to stiy that I wus souki'd to the skin. Wo nmrclunl buck to camp, oozing nnd .shivering, und, joitn'ng our dutnp hhvnkets together, we Uiy on the so(KIen ground und were sofm dead to the worhl. Next morning, needless to Siiy, our knees were stiff, hence the immediate necessity of u long route march to work out cliills und rhemnatism. Of course we were pioneers in that early winter of 1911, and as such we bore the hardships of inexperience and inadequate equipment. De- spite our best efforts, an epidemic of spinal meningitis, due to the life that we were living, broke out in the camp. Those were the saddest, bluest days that I experienced in my two and a half years of soldiering. Every day I could look out of my tent into the melancholic blur of mist and rain and see the draped gun-carriage moving to the "Dead March" from Saul, while one battalion or another slowly followed their com- rade to his grave. One week we had seventeen deaths in our regiment. Last winter when I was on the Plains again for a short time, for practice on the artillery ranges, I took a pilgrimage to the Canadian Cemetery al Bulford Manor, where four hundred Canadians of the first division lie buried. These 19 ti ^T'-T ■ i (M " J, *i 'll THE REAL FRONT were our casualties in the bitterest fight that we ever fongJit. There was r trreat deal of talk in tho.e day; aboutthe-.u.uhisticated-Iooking Westerner promptlv received his change, and when the police arrived on the scene no Canadians were to be found Much of the criticism that is meted out to us was duetto the misunderstanding of opposite types. Englishmen could not see their time- honored traditions murdered by these ''ballv Colonials " without registering a kick. Old army officers were shocked at the sight of Canadian officers and rankers rolling about London arm m arm. These good English officers were uncon- scious of the fact that in Canada, before they donned the khaki, these two chaps were simply Bill and Don, and now, despite the fact that one 20 THE MAKING OF THE FIRST CANADIANS wore officer's stars and tlie other a corporal's stripes, they are still Bill and Don to each other. The gouty old squires who hud kicked their sons out were responsible for some of the strict- ures against us. One of our hoys who had been disinherited got leave from the Pluins ;ind paid a visit to his boyhood village and the old squire's home. The old man, s\ ill sor(% exclaimed : "What do you mean, sir, by coujing back here?" "Oh," answered the incorrigible one, "I just dropped round to see what time it was by the town clock. Good diiv." V Some of a later division, coming after the First Canadians, let it be known that they in- tended to live down the bad name which we had made in England. An old friend of ours, the Bishop of London, kindly replied, "Yon may be able to live down the name which the First Canadians have made in England, but you will have a task living up to the name which they have made in France." Long since, England has found in dealing with her citizen armies and her Colonial troops that old things have passed away, 'i^he Whitechapel loafer who joined the army in peace days for a shilling a day might be hammered into the automatic Tommy Atkins, but not so with these 21 4 ••^;"--r-v- li ■'T"' --'■^,— ■■1 1 ^^■iii 1 W m ',-t THE REAL FRONT free-^ ill volunteers. We could not pour new wine into old bottles, and we eould not nuike New World troops into Old World umiies. 'J^he trutii of this statement needs no argument in England to-day. The First Canadians mastered w he lesson of discipline uj>on Salisbury Plains. Two months iif(orpoises, or dart av, )ward the faintest presage of danger, flying back swiftly again to the side of their ward, and thus escorting her safely into the harbor. Shortly aftei- the transport docks the work of disembarkation begins. The gang-planks are run out, and the men file off with heavy marching order and rifles. They fall in at the poi 's of assembly and go swinging over the cobblestone pier and up into the town. The marching by of newly arrived troops is a familiar sight in the seajwrt base. In a steady and unbroken tide the manhood of England has 25 { I f\: .^^OT^fP-f! '.V r 1 THE REAL FRONT thus flowed for months throngh those shiiVe-gatM toward the trcmclies. Now the manhood of Am'TJca is flowing in a similar manner. To the mihtary stafl" at ihe base and to the French citizenry this daily arrival of new troops is a coinmon sight. But to the troops tlieraselves it is an epic moment. From the time when they first thought of joining the colors, through all the ardors of th(>ir training, witli its many changings and shiftings, they ever dreamed of the day when they should at last arrive in France. As the stolid mass of men in khaki swings along, its aspect, so coldly aloof and imjjersonal, is the inverse expri>s.sion of the leaping excitements and thrilling impressions within. Each imperturbable soldier marching along carries a living drama within lu's heart. He sees the cold gray piles of this Old World city and these monuments, hoary with memories, remind him that he, too, has come to the making of Old World history. This is the threshold. What has the future for him? His heart leaps as the splendor of daring and adventure allures him, while like .somber shadows there steal across his mind the memories of home and loved ones that may nevermore b<; seen. To linger about a seaport base in France is to have more vividly brought home to one the awful io s s FROM THE BASE TO THE FIRING LINi: carnage of this struggle. Shipload after shipload of men and material are ever discharging, and trainloads of wreckage are ever returning. We see these strong men who have just arrived, spick and span and perfect in every appearance, mov- ing up one side, while down the other come the ambulances laden with befouled and shattered humanity. As a boy in the pink of health swings down the gang-plank at one end of the pier the stretcher-bearers are carrying another boy now limp and broken up the gang-plank to a hospital ship at the other end of the pier. One steamer is discharging new guns and lim- bers and slkining equipment, wliile another is loading all kinds of wreckage which the salvage corps has gathered from the field of battle- broken gun-carriages, torn uniforms caked with mud and gore, rusty rifles, worn boots, bayonets, filthy blankets, belts, knapsacks, shattered shell- cases, and a thousand other mute reminders of the tragedy of war. From the seaport base the newly arrived troops march to the rest -camp, situated several miles outside of the town. A rest- camp is the strangest form of hostelry imagin- able. A great camp of tents and huts, afford- ing momentary hospitality to the troops eu route to the front, a mammoth hotel where 27 1 ^^ TvlSSr TIIIC HEAL I-KONT ten tliousaml may arrive iu Uie night and move off in the morning. TIic connnandant of the rest-camp at Havre said to me once: "I'm tlie biggest hotd-keeiK-r m the world. Last niglil I was the host to nine regiments, all of whom were registered for a period of less than twenty-four hours. One m'ght my hotel may be almost empty, and the next I may count my guests by the thousjinds." At the resl-camj) the troops recover from the ardors of travel. Moving over long distances iii groups of a thousand men is far .nore exhausting than the uninitiated would think. Civilian travel is exacting enough, but to move with a body of troops means infinitely more physical exertion, with endless waitings, and marchings and countermarchings. At the rest-camp the troops arc issued with trench supplies and equipment. If it is winter, they get goatskin body jackets, and, parading m tin's rig, they resemble a mass of Arctic ex- plorers. Before a regiment moves off froju the rest-camp the colonel often seizes the occasion to say a few fitting words to the men. The short 'speech of a Colonel Clark, conunanding a battalion of the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, to Ins kdted men at the rest-camp at Havre in WIS i8 :^,>. .J«"^.:#, ; iV«V.r,>^.ri^^,^^^_.4>^.^,J4lJ FROM THE BASE TO THE FIRIXG-LIXE still lingers with me. The men were drawn up in formation for divine worship. When the chaplain had ended his sen'ice Colonel Clark, a tall, grizzled Highland chieftain, stood forth and said: "Men, we are about to take our place as a part of that imperial living wall that stands between the Mother Country and her foes. It is an honor and a privilege for us to bear arms in this cause. My counsel to you for the struggles ahead is expressed in two verses of Scripture: first, 'Quit you like men, be strong,' and, second, 'Do all to the - ory of God.'" Later, I saw that gay and gallant regiment with pipes and bonnets swinging by, and, several months after, tlie familiar face of Colonel Clark, appearing among the y mules instead of locomotive. The region l)etwcen the seahoard base md tlie front comes under the nomenclature "Lines of Communication," referred to as "L. of C." "L. of C." is a most important phrase in war. It means the artery for supply and rei)lcnishment of all men and materials. Rail communication extends to a place well up-country, just outside tlic zone of fire. This place is known as the rail- head. Beyond the rail-head communication is kept up by motor lorries, and beyond that by horse transport. Before a big battle the strain on the hues of communication is tremendous. Reahzmg the importance of railway communica- tion, the British have recently been running up several new and independent lines from the sea - board. It takes a complete line of railway to feed an effective push. If in the future we are to n,ake several thrusts simultanwusly. like the oiie on the Somme, it will require an independent rail- way Inie for each thrust. It is probable that the Americans, like the British, will have their own lines of communication. Let those who are im- patient as to th,' lengtli of time taken for Ameri- 30 n flC- FROM THE BASE TO THE FIRING-LINE Ciin troops to got into the fight iiig hear in mind tliL' prohlonis of 11k« linos of connnunicution. Tlie AnK'ricun troops nioving iip-couutry ard sohh'er, trained to tlie nn'mife, and ready htr the (h'rest tests of war. Situated on the h'nes of conmuim'calion arc what wc may call the gay towns, places where the troops out of the line for a lioliday rendezvous for a good time. Some of these gay towns are gardens of unadulterated (hiight to the chaps wlio have liad for days naught hut the drah drudgery of the trenches. P:vcry human heing craves a change and recreation. Even tlie fight- ing-man must Lave a break, and he finds it in tlie gay towns. Men who live a strong life in the open do not take their pleasures mildly. They Iiit it up with considerable gusto. Gold-miners just back from the creeks into Daws^on City, cowboys arriving in town after months on the ranges, and sailors ashore from whaling cruises, celebrate their iu"- rival by "playing on the red." So it is with tlie boys just out of the line. They make these iii FROM Tin: BASK TO Till: FIIlI\G-LI\i: crslwhilc quiet Fr-iifh towns "sit up juul take iioliw." Th«y alvvuys liriiij,' a slronj,' brco/c will! IhcriM.f, as ScrK«aiit ILII fir*' MacDoiiK.il iisrd losay. "Wliilc w. 'iv in (m\\i, (JKn-'s .souu-- lliirif,' doin^' <'\try niiiniU-." IxMvr, tin- fivvnl .'vciit ill a soldier'- career in France, may onl.v i-onie omv in a year. It is suf>- p()s«'d I.) occur oflcner, luit he is foriunate if Ik- gets nine days on! of twelve months hi Emrland. Hnl while leave i.> ^'enerally so remote, I lure are alwa.ws the nearer joys of a day otT and a jam- boree in one of Ihe ;;ay (owns. Ia'I some of the ion;,'-faced kill-joys with <>vcry means of ph-asnre and yet never a sign oi ghulness regard our hghling lads, seizing an opportunity for recreation and enjoynienl and crowding ev«Ty precious moment with lli • pure joy of life. When they set out for a good lime they do the job perfectly. One must not imagine that I am referring to c.irousals and bacclianalias. .Such things have been known to occur in the army, l)ut the gay town, despite the fact that the f-verish tide flows high, is always conscious of a certain overlord known as the A. P. M., who, with sundry associates, preserves tliat air of decorum which is fitting in well-disciplined armies. Chaps who are "going wide" soon find them- selves in the toils, and it is a far jiiore terrible 3 ya M "i«=* '^ THE REAL FRONT thing to come under the ban of martial law at the front tJian it is at home. There is a certain emency to the evil-doer in Enghind. but mar- tial Jaw IS adamantine in Prance. Many tales are told in Great Britain of tJie nicorrigibles that come from the Colonies es- pecially from Australia and Canada. One hears no such tales in France. Th< wildest spirit must become tractable over there or a firing-party ends ins story. Amiens and St. Omer are typical of the gay towns. St. Omer was at one time the general headquarters of the British armies. Here dwelt Sir John French and staff. On a quiet house on a ccrtam side-street the British flag flew by day and a red-and-blue light shone by night. This was the sign of the commander-in-chief, and in years to come people will point to that house just as they do to the house which WeUington occupied at Waterloo. If G. H. Q. has departed from St. Omer the gay life still throbs in its streets. In its res- taurants, its jardins, its open squares, one still sees throngs of bright faces, men from a bare existence who have come back for a moment to snatch the sweetness of civilization. Their very attitude as they sit at tea, as they scan the hotel menu, as ihcy lean against the American bar in 34 ff !#■ Wf .Mi','Ji-'r''::, FROM THE BASE TO THE- FilM >fC-Ll>7i5- the Grand Place or saunter about the park shows that they are exhilarated in every moment. It often seems as though a man's enjoyment were inversely proportionate to his opportunity for the same. The more straitened the existence the more keen seems its appreciation of happiness when it arrives. St. Omer is purely a British center. French troops are rarely seen there. Amiens, on the other hand, is a gay town where French and British alike mingle in the merry throngs. Last fall when the Somme push was oiyVmiens, lying about twenty miles behind tlie fighting- area, was supposed to be the gayest town in France. The air of Amiens at that time always reminded one of Byron's description of Brussels when he says: There was a sound of revelry by night. And Belgium's capital had gathered tlien Her beauty and her chivalry. I was in Paris last fall for a couple of days, but the Frencli capital seemetl tame compared to the zest of life which I had just before experienced in the provincial town which served as the rendezvous for our merrymaking. Amiens is a splendid town, with a historic cathedral, fine shops and buildings, and many 35 DiH<:ARin>F.» M "^.i^rnvM, mm- M . '-^ J rrTftE:R¥AL FRONT attractions to the pleasure-s(.^.ker. One Sunday afternoon in September when I arrived in the town with a pal it seemed to me that Amiens was the most ddightful place tliat I had ever seen on earth. Lousy and wet in rain and mud. I had been lying that morning in the most un- wholesome area beyond Pozieres Cemetery. But that was my day off, and now in the afternoon I was clothe.! anew, and drinking in every moment iike sparkhng wine. I swept into this glorious town on board a motor-lorry. The difference betw-een the morning and the afternoon seemed like tlie difference between hell and heaven It was this sudden contrast, of course, that rendered my appreciation so poignant. My pal and I were worse than two kiddies just releaseost. The iiniminHitnt Coliiiiin The supply of a-h-an^K. fire, may he plac-d in all kinds of unlikely puces, as there is no trouble for them in clearing the crest. I saw a battery of howitzers in a farm-yard cov- ereped to the waist and work- ing for dear life. Sergeant Ilellfire MacDougal used to make it his boast that he could always get his gun fired before any other in the salient. lie generally made gootl his boast, but the rivalry was keen. Five minutes after llie SOS signal sent its cry through the night a thousand guns might be answering to its call. The effect of such a sud- den outburst is most inspiriting to the fighting- men. I once heard an infantryman who was pass- ing by our battery when tlie lid was thus suddenly blown off of hell yell in an ecstasy of delight: "That's the idea, bo! Soak it to 'em — hit 'cm one for me." sa ■^ i 'M'W .'^^•■i&T^^aL I THE REAL FRONT Hellfire MacDougal was arldicted to the habit of chewing tobacco. Black Napoleon was liis favorite brand. He would bite off a great chunk of Honey Dew, spit with a report like a Maxun, and then send a leaping, blood-curdling oath at his gun crew. I believe that Hellfire was descended from the Buccaneers. His forebears nuist have dwelt on the Spanish Main. He, at least, was much indebted to the Kaiser for starting the war, for, as he put it, he Jiad the-hell-of-a-good- time out of it, and of course he could never be killed. As he expressed it, "They 'ain't made the bullet yet that '11 get me." On one occasion an armor-piercing shell burst through his gun-pit and detonated on tlie gun. The crew were in action at the time and every man was blown to pieces. Hellfire at the mo- ment was having a little target-practice of his own, with a squirt of tobacco-juice just outside the gun-pit, and he went untouched. "That's what comes from usin' Black Napo- leon, boys!" he announced, nonchalantly, when one referred to his miraculous escape. The Observation Post Indirect fire is the general method in this war —that is, firing at an unseen target by means of a fixed aiming-point, the fire itself being directed WITH THE ROARING GUNS by a forward observing officer, known as the F. O. O., who, from some vantage-point in ad- vance, observes the bm-st of our shells and wires the correction to the guns in the rear. The observation post may be situated in any convenient position that commands the enemy's zone; the steeple of a clmrch, the top of a house or a barn, a lofty tree, a high cliff, a shell crater, may serve as the O. P., as it is called. The O. P. is always a dangerous place, as the enemy's guns are continually searching the opposite side for j»oints likely to serve for observation. Early in the war when artillery officers got together one heard of wild experiences in pre- carious O. P.'s, most of which have long since been shot to kindling-wood. On one occasion an artillery officer had just ensconsed hims.lf in a lof I steeple, which had been all but shot away, when the enemy opened fire on the steeple again. Before the observer could make good his retreat the enemy registered a direct hit on the tottering structure and the whole thing crashed to earth, smashing th- rSrtunate gunner to death, and burying hii. in ii- aps of debris. Among the commonest places for an O. P. is the upper story of an old house or barn. These lonely buildings, often all that remains on a razed and shatteretl landscape, are tlie most 55 I THE REAL FRONT dcplorjihle places imaginable in whicli to spend llie niglit. In tlie long, silent hours of darkness it seems as tJiough the ghosts of otlier days were ever running riot through the place. We had an O. P. once in a place known as "The Ilauntetl Chateau." It was situate before. The Intelligence Summary is r(7,'arded by some as a weighty proondcrous professors shall sift out with W(i;j;Jit y couunent. In time of battle the F. O. ()., if he is not ob- serving in the front line, is generally at battalion headquarters, giving every latest liappening to the anxious ears at the guns. Into the battalion headquarters, as into a whisj)ering gallery, come the rumors from all parts of the trenches: "Our guns are shooting short" . . . "Enemy are coming over" . . . "Enemy have pene- trated into our front in tliirty-seven" . . . "Trenv^h mortars are crumping in parapet of thirty-five." All these items are passed back immetliately to the guns and determine their policy in the battle. Keeping up communications during a bom- bardment is a most diflScult and dangerous task. 60 WITH THE ROARIxVr; GUNS ^k)mctiines the linos arc hrok«'n sini iltanwu.^ in several places by shell-fin-. Insfaiiily i^^rt communication is broken, linemen are despatched to mend the wires. They move out simultane- ously from both ends, following long the line until they .liscover the bre/'k and mend it. To move out across a field where death is fall- ing like leaves in an autumn forest requires the finest kind of pluck. But the signaler^ never seem to fail. "Ilearn, the wires are down!" exclaims the officer who has been for a minute fruitlessly fingering the telegraph-key. "Very good, sir," answers the faithful Hearn, and leaves the protection of the deep dugout and ' egins to run along the trench with shells crump-^ ■Tig in every direction. Some time passes. Mearn does not return, and the communication ... not re-establi.shed. Mitchell, I guess Hearn has gone down. 1 ou carry on his place," is the next order. "Very good, sir," answers Mitchell, and with- out a question goes out into the storm of bursting shrapnel. Sometimes one lineman after another is de- spatched, and all fail to return. But at all costs communication must be re-established. There are no braver men in the war than the artillerv 01 ( m I, } THE REAL FRONT signalers, and none who make a greater sacrifice in the path of duty. During three months in the Somme last fall our battery had its signalers completely wiped out three times in succession. It got so that I never expected to meet one of the old-timers after the second or third trip. "\Vliere is Mac?" one would inquire, missing an old face. "Oh, he went west last week," would be the answer. When we are attacking, the forward observing officer goes over the top just like the rest. He generally goes with the second wave, which also includes the colonel and headquarters staff of the battalion. Once out in No Man's Land, the F. O. O. and his signalers make for a prearranged point in the enemy's line which is to serve as the new advanced O. P. As the artillery party crosses No Man's Land a field telephone is carried with them, and a wire is run out connecting them with the guns. If the first F. O. O. goes down, word comes back to the reserve officers waiting in front-line dugouts, and a second steps forth to fill the place of him who has fallen. Sometimes before the attack is over the third or fourth may be called out to fill the gap. It is the duty of the F. O. O. during an attack 68 iBM I W'j''WW&^'kWWrm: WITH THE ROARING GUNS to kcq) the ^uns informed as to the position of our a, I always lieard the whir of passing shells. The sight of the Angels of Death by day is fearsome enough, but the sound of their voices at the dead of night opens out for the imagina- tion boundless horizons of dread. Our guns were in action before the dawn. I walked behind our gun-pits with an emotion which I had never ielt before. At the entrance to No. 1 gun some one had painted with grim irony, "Whizz Bang & Co., Wholesale and Re- tail Dealers in Death." As I flashed my electric torch upon thai sign I realized how apt it was for such a business. Last night the German sub-Heutenant who di- rected the quick fire about my head was serenely oblivious to all the terrors that I was suft'ering. With liim it was merely a mechanical task. He had his allotted time for bombardment, and he paced up and down, impatiently waldiing his 70 ANGELS OF DEATH \v rist-wjitch, and when tlie time was up cried to the battery, "Stop!" and returnwl to his warm dugout as indifferently as the smithy returns from his forge. I myself had directed the fire of tliousanus of rounds in like manner. "It's all in the day's work," I used to say to myself; "a mechanical task to he done and nothing more." Standing behind the crashing breech-blocks, the ground shaking from the recoil, I gave little thought to what was happening at the other end of the business. Often I said to a parting shell, "I hope you kill a dozen Boche." But it was all a cold, uiipersonal thing. That morning I had a new experience. Wr were indeetl wholesale and retail dealers in death, and, worse still, in those terrors that go before. I found myself regarding the bloody business in a i;ew light. I .saw the reeking gun-pits, and, standing at the entrance of the nearest one, I i,.w,r"fl in. The place was full of smoke, the s+. ■icJi )f burning cordite, and thi pantings of t;!!' -I niggling gun crew. There was the crash of a brcediMock, and a cry of "Ready!" with ;•:» an- :.',,' cry of "Fire!" The ground shook fruiu the CO < > sion The gun recoiled and, as it ran back from the ivcoil, the breech-block was 71 '■I THK REAL FRONT •;t;TM' ko-'J ¥ K: '» »1 swung open, nnci a liiriM trail of backfire IcaptHi into tlu' K'un-pit, i' C.hirwali tro.)por, I saw tluil hv was on Iiis kncos. wifli luwl liowtnl against Ih,. farlli, in flmt prostrate attituy broatluHl on man in passing, and lie who was u living being became as th- elml arul tJio .-arth. They toncJuMl thai yonng officer wJio a moment befor,. was pulsing, br.'athing, vital, and now he lay there, stark and still. Small wonder the tribesman from l],e East fell down ))efore such fearsome pow. r. The Angels of Death to wJiich he bowed were mad.' in the foundrf. s of Essen, faslu'oned bv iJie finite liaml of n.an, hut fraught with an inlin^o mission. Where the light of a thousand fur- nace fires made red tJ.e canopy of mght tJiose sliells wore fashioned, just as u ere fashioned spade and scytiie. In tlie arsenals they lay inanimat.> and harm- less as any implement of peace. The stolid Ger- man watchman dozt^l l,oside them, just as he 73 MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHART lANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2) 1.0 I.I Hi m mil 2.2 3.2 36 "'"^^ r 12.0 .8 ^ ./1PPLIED IIVMGE I nc ^^ 1653 las' Mam St'eet r-S Rochester, New York U609 USA ^S: (716) 482 - 0300 - Pfone as (716) 288 - 5989 - fa« ■Ma n THE REAL FRONT dozed in clmrcli on Sunday morning. Sight- seers at tJie arsenal moved tlvrough tlie long, dark aisles where those dread legions lay. But the sightseers saw only a sleek painted case of metal, a rounded nose, and a fuse of burnislied brass. Once as the door was opened wile to let in high-born visitors the sunlight flashed across the row on row of burnishe 1 THE REAL FRONT I climbed up on the parapet between two sentries; both were peering intently through the gloom. "All quiet on the front to-night?" I inquired. "All quiet for the moment, sir," came the answer. Like one on the shore of a soundless sea, I gazed into the voiu of No Man's Land. Again those preternatural nerves, taut as a violin-string, seemed to catch the premonitions of a coming storm. "Keep a sharp lookout," I whispered to the sentry. " It may be superstition on my part, but I feel ct ain tliat hell's going to pop to-night." "I think you're right, sir," said the sentry. "It feels a bit queer to me just now." For some time I lingered in the fire-trench. But the unbroken calm remained. Glancing at my wrist- watch, I saw that the hour of the dawn was approaching, and I wended my way down the communicating trench into the supports where my dugout was situated. I was forward observing officer for the artillery, whose duty it was to keep the guns in touch with the front line My signalers and linemen were all asleep except the man on duty, who sat under a candle-light, with the 'phone strapped to his ears, his fingers on the telegraph-key. 78 .-WJ V -' ) THE REAL FRONT "Any message from llie bultery?" I inquired. "No, sir. No word," came llie rei)ly. OiiLsi(le, the soft wind wus croonidg u slumher song. I stretched myself und was preparing for the hixury of sleep wlien there came a wail h'ke a lost soul through the night. It enrled wilJi a slu-iek and a sickening thud, and with a roar our dugout was shaken as tliougli l)y an earth- quake. We were old-timers, tlie telephonist and I. "That's a Minnie!" I exclaimed. "Yes, sir; and rather close, too," ventured the cold-blooded signaler. I jumped out into the trench and listened. The air was thick witli the voice of Minnie. Now if there was anything I loathed, it was a Minnie's strafe. Minnie is short for Minnie- whuffer, whicli is a hundrcnl-pound trench mortar used by the Boche. In a lecture at a school be- hind the lines I once heard an officer refer to the Minnie as a "great bluffer," but slie has a great moral effect, he continued. The despicable Minnie has more terror-arous- ing qualities than any other form of ordnance with which I am acquainted. The disgusting part of it is that it is so primitive. Silent Lizzies, which are heard after they have passed, are worthy of respect because of their speed, but to be killed by a :Minuie seemed as ignominious as 79 m 5 TIIK REAL FttONT l)cing mil over by a liearse. rriiuitive as Minnie is, we iiKiiit give her her due — slie can give one t]ie worst attack of "wind-up," wliich is trench vernacular for fear, of anything I know. One at a time in tlie air is not bad; you can at least make a bid at doed one of the hundred- pound bombs. I closed my eyes on the horrible scene that ensued. Out of all tliat mass only three remained alive, and, groaning and man- glemp to avoid one Minnie, in stark ter. or h' eard another coming. Every- thing tended to produce a panic in tlie soul. Blind and insensate were the forces against us; brain and skill were of no avail. 84 I'l.K nUAl, FRONT Sla.„linK .,„ .1, lir..,iirif.„„„| <.,„,.„, r:,',"" '-""■Pi.-l at llrs, to ..LtiJ „^ ^w;r?"V' "r <-"--■''""«?•• I. ■n.ui.,,: out }"" "■ ml In lu„o. rUpoin, v,„. out ),o ,„„.( c„r«l ,„r«.., that you'll avr l.'av. ' "• ';"">™- •' d>oolin« up. IVc got u Zo on a lm,cl,.n,„rtar battery ov.t Ihor. " t.>k»,K a hcanug of U,e direction of the- fla.J, with ju.t above our heads. Instinttively I duekx,! and. ^ I did «,, i„ u.e glare of a 4 . n^l i aw a .ghlander »tand forU, behind .ne.' : ',, e. upon the screen of my nnnd for a m„„ ... ,„o picture of that Highlander re„,ain, for all .ime In the expWon of the bo,nb he was blottc.; " ' gouged up from the earth. When tJ.e smoke and fire had cleared away I rushed to the spot to re^or needed succor, but the last trace o'f h^ Highlander was gone forever. Next dav P^mpted by aspeeial curiosity, I deseenL It that gapmg hole in the earth and ransacked the spot, but a strip of plaid from a kiltie, andl r^ 9S ■oiu. l! >' .M^ THE REAL FRONT ribbon worn on tlie tartan sock were all that I could find. Ptolemys and Rameses, the Egyp- tian Pharaohj, lived thousands of years ago, and their physical semblances still remain. But the Highlander la the twinkling of an eye passed from the seen to the unseen, and by the diabolic power of Minnie his every vestige was scattered to tlie elements. Small wonder that we have a mortal fear of Minniewhuffers. I c'imbed on the sill of the fii-e-trench again by Cai)tain Rush, feeling nauseatetl by the incident of the Highlander. Beside me I hoard Rush call down his curse on the Minnie, and his wrath enkindled mine, and I almost prayed for another flash to disclose the position of the trench mortar. A long, fruitless wait followed, with no more telltale flashes in the expected direction. Up the trench a short distance the parapet had been smashed in in several places, and Fritz kept raining his bombs on that one spot. "I must take a look at the hell Fritz's raising up the way," I said to Captain Rush. "So long, Cap.'* "Cheeroh, old top!" he answered. And I left him at his post of observation. A few moments later I saw him carried out of trench, his leg and hip smashed to pulp, and the next night in the clearing-station at Poperinghe he "went 86 mwwsm, \ .it^&' *'L M.fMjit,,- THE REAL FRONT west" without ever having regained conscious- Dawn breaking over the war-saddened land- -ape found the Minnie strafe developing int"; general engagement. Bombardier MaeWnley. a trusty signalman, stood beside me. with a tele- phone whieh he had attaehed to wires com mumeating with our dugout in the rear.Td" stant at ention of two linemen to keep up eom- .fo:hrarXr::t:Lr:l^ intense fire. Our parapet, already cru,nped "„ m severa places, was now being smal^T II p.eees and great geysers from exploding t2 shot up from the trenches. A dugout near bv out was the company headquarters of the front ime. The capn's m there, boys!" a sergeant exclajmed aghast, and. forgetting a|, thouX o maJ::. "'""' '° ''"'""^ "■'^ company'com The bombardment increased until one won- dered U.at any living being remained in our fZt tae This was undoubtclly the prelude to a Boche attack. At any moment now the bU^^ h i THE REAL FRONT might lift and we should see Fritz coming over. The time had come for that cry which the front line sends down only in direst extremity. Pick- ing up the telegraph-key, I ticked away in a frenzy: dot, dot, dot— dash, dash, dash— dot, dot, dot. Again and again I repeated the signal, which was the SOS, the cry for help from the front line. Bombardier Mackinley, hearing the signal, produced an S O S rocket from his pocket and fired it from a pistol. A long trail of blue-and-crimson light shot up into the sky. My first task was done. I saw Bombardier Mackinley hastily fixing a bayonet to the end of a rifle. The bombardier expected his last minute soon, and he intended to sell his life dearly. For a moment of awful suspense I waited, gazing through the twilight mists of No Man's Land. Across the waste country Fritz's front parapet could just be discerned in the uncertain morning light. Suddenly the enemy barrage lifted, and over the top of the enemy parapet appeared a dim mass of leaping figures. "They're coming, Mackinley!" I shouted, and instantaneously I heard the first whir in answer to our SOS. One battery was in action, and one after another the others joined in. Before five minutes had elapsed nearly a thousand guns had taken up the note in answer to our cry for 88 ^ THE REAL FRONT help The air above oi,r heads was hummiW to constant whir of sliells as thpv «o ^ tnwor^ ti, . ^ passed across toward the enemy's parapet. That living wall of^Germans advancing to the ".'f ,T r^^' ^""^^ ""^ unawares in the midst of No Man's Land. Down they went likl so mueh standing corn, and a wounded handful oiJy were ab e to drag themselves back into Uie safety of their trenches. For nearly an hour our guns continued to bombard the enemy's front line, while they re- phed m kand on our trenches. An artillery duel Ike this may be good sport for the gunners, but It s a hvmg hell for the poor boys in the trenches Lue so many rats they are herded together' crouchmg under the storm, and praying that it may soon pass. To be in the front line when the infantry are under a bombardment is to under- g^ory of Uns war Beyond the cavalry and ar- 1 ery and all other arms of the service, theirs IS the major price of sacrifice both in attack and m defense. An hour after the dawn the enemy were thoroughly sick of the hell which they had started. For some time their guns were silent. Our bat- teries continued slow fire for the sake of having the last word, and then one by one they ceased 89 ' r^ . -• •"«>♦-' I \f ( ( :» THE REAL FRONT until only a faint whirring here and there re- mained of that tremendous symphony that answered the SOS. A message from battah'on headqua."ters brought the assurance that the situation was completely in hand. This message was transmitted to the battery in the rear. Soon a calm as profound as a Sabbath day reigned on both sides. Our front line was smashed in several places. In one spot where the enemy fire had concentrated, the parapet was razed for a distance of ten yards. But, looking across through my periscope, I was rejoiced to see that Fritz's parapet had suffered far worse than ours. Out in No Man's Land the ground was gray with the bodies of dead Germans who had been mowed down by onr machine-guns and artillery. In a strong redoubt just opposite, broken beams, twisted rails, and sheets of corrugated iron bore witness to the effectiveness of our howitzer-fire. The registration on this spot had been perfect. In the words of Bombardier Mackinley, "We put that happy home on the blink for fau-." Stretcher-bearers were now busy carrying back the wounded to the first-aid dressing-station situated in support trenches. Here they would lie all day, until, under cover of darkness, they would be placed on trolleys drawn by horses two 90 THE REAL FRONT miles back to where the field ambulance would stetion "" "^ ^""^ '"° ^^^"^ ^"^ ^^ *^^^^"S- The dead lay in the trenches all day. At night they would be buried by working p..ties of pioneers. As I left the fire-lrendi it had changed again from the real front to a place of rustic peace. True, the shell-holes aboundcxl, but there was no sound of strife. It was a sum- mer mormng. High up in the blue au aeroplane was hummmg to the sun. Along the s;i/,r, you are," In deference to ll)is fir.sl K''««'inK» I ininie«li- iilel.v leariuil how lo "hug tlie butli-nmU" ul iJio slighlesl provocation. On (piiet d.iys one may move up and down the front line willi iJie utmost frei*dom. IntK'cd, on a sunny morning, walking up .hhI down the nar- row l)ourd walk, the peac«' is oiUn efjual to what you would find in your own hack garden. But u figure regiu*ding a mirror fixed at the end of u bayonet, or an officer gii/ing through a pe; iscope, reminds one that the board walk is laid on epic ground. At any minute this spot may become the storm center of battle. Regardi'd in this selling, the dirt-coveretl figures lounijiiig along the fire-step become Homeric in tJieir signitievond ins own wire whea our chaps is in front of them." 105 't] THE REAL FRONT Walker's hatltilion were known as the "Kings of No INIan's Lund," and to watch the non- chalance witli whidi tins fair-]iaire "Ask Brains 11 V T?^i ih ^ THE REAL FRONT The trench-mortar officer, and the bombing of- ficer, hold two very unwholesome jobs, which, strange to relate, are much sought after. As Andy Morrison, of the bombers, cheerfully ob- served, "Our chances of sprouting daisies are always of the best." The most sought-after positions at the front are not the safe and easy places, but the tasks of greatest danger. Wlien one man will apply for the post as inspector of supplies at the base, a hundred will volunteer for tlie bombers or trench mortars. An air of suppressed merriment pervades tlie dugout of the Suicide Club and there is always a bubbling over into laughter. A crowd of ir- repressibles in the dormitory of a boys* school are the nearest approach to this group in the junior headquarters mess, only the dormitory does not possess such a uniform exuberance of spirit. In spite of all the hardships and all the dangers along our front-line Street of Adventure, it is always a place of happiness. Each man is blessed by that deep calm that comes alone to tJiose who are doing their duty. Others at home in places of ease may worry and fret, but these men who are doing their duty to the full may greet the darkest future undismayed and with a cheer. 106 ,1" 1iy ON OUR STREET OF ADVENTURE A man at the front who started out to take it seriously would be in the madhouse in loss than a month. But the light-hearted ones, escaping Mmmes and Lizzies, may go on indofinitelv. The successful soldier of the trenches never loses an opportunity for happiness. He often de- velops into a more care-free, merry lad than he was at school ten years before. The light heart in the midst of danger and tribulation is our last invincible defense. ^ s VII THE END Ou- A BITTER DAY V n JN iJie diAtouu park the shells were faning thick as leaves in an aiituiini furest. The niglitfall was bitter and gray. TJie sunsliine with which the day began long since liad fled. Fast-moving somber clouds were blotting out tlie sky, while squalls of wailing wind gave promise of a night of storm. Along the road tluit dipped beyond the chfiterai park a line of troops were passing. They marched in single file with serried intervals and apprehensive step, like hunted deer, moving swiftly at the double, tlien falling flat upon tlieir faces, while the blast of death went hurtling overhead. The men wore helmets covered with the same material as the sand-bags of the trenches. Their uniforms were in color like the dust of tjie road. On their sJioulders they bore great packs; their rifles were carried at the trail. WTien they 110 'I: I j i ^ THE END OF A BITTER DAY cIoubKxl they were opprcb^cxJ by these toiling bunions. Ever since noon over llie (ii,, „f tJu- roa.j in an endless chain the troops Juul hwn passing Sometimes a fatal sJiell fell ulhwart that human cJiain, and one, two, tliree, or more went down. Ihere was a rusli of stretelier-bearers, and limp figures were removed. But tJic column did not waver. TJie broken links were closed, and the endless chain moved on. Whilever else nu'glit liappcn, U)^ firing-line must be fed, and tliese marching men could know no pause. Inside the cjiateau the thick walls muffled every noise, tlie sound of tlie guns seemeil far away, and the cry of the stricken could not be heard. \\Tien the storm began I was afraid t]iat the chateau would soon be al)out our heads, but the calm of the brigadier gave me faith in tJie in- vulnerability of tlie walls. Tlie great, diu-k, paneled room was wrappocrs. Once during the early after- noon a sliell came crasliing tlirough the upper stories of tlic chateau. I was all atremble. But the brigadier, with whom I was conversing at that moment, merely raised his eyebrows and with cold indifference announced : " That's pretty close, my boy. Go on, my boy, go on. Don't let that interrupt you." Now and again a sudden ring ;.f tlie phone told of a frantic cry from tlie trenches or the guns. Often the adjutant breathed witli excite- ment as he uttered portentous news. Some- times there was a pause while the chief glanced at a map or pondered dispositions. But his im- perturbable calm was unbroken, and always in that quiet, low-spoken voice he gave his answer. Only once in that long and trying day did I hear his accent change. He was for some time Hi THE END OF A BITTER DAY wiUiout a message from u cerUiin forwiird ob- serving officer, 'mat's he tlierc for?" he ex- claimed, testily, ami. taking Uie phone, he laid down th(; hiw in iJie terms of a soldier. IVIiUiy a time Uiereafter, wlien I hml been far forward in the midst of battle, there came with a steadying peace the picture of that brigadier. Two weeks later our line was sudtrauc for our Everywhere the streets of the littl. f seemed to effervesce with .. • ^^'^^ ness. ""'^^ nierriinent and glad- -" ur tcth^ir r ~- their streams of wounded mZ u ^^ pouring in with Motor-buses were 1 ""*> ^n with supports from thf- f..r i i country. All tJie old faces hJZ """^ l^e valley of death, or be^td r"''',' 'T laughinfrstrtw^f], u i , ^®"^- Through the ^ ^'^' *^^"' ^^;- "'^drunk, their meals 115 »■ 'tL' .mmfwrn:'^-! VH A"i;*--,.i.-^' THE REAL FRONT uneaten; in the shops they had dropped their purchases; from street corners and baths, from canteens and billets, tliey came to the points of assembly with a rush, adjusting rifles and equip- ment as they came. There were a fer jharp orders, and the men had marched away. Last night in the Estaminet des Trois Amis all was blithesome and light-hearted. But the black hand of war again had swept those merry lads into inferno, and little Yvonne sobbed to herself as she sat alone and desolate. The foundations of our world of yesterday seemed as established as the hills; to-day they are as mist. Yesterday I stood at attention while the major-general of a division passed. Tommies and mere junior officers might come and go, but tliat resplendent general passing in his luxurious limousine seemed fixed and set. Indeed, had I not said to myself as he passed, "His future is secure." But in the chateau on that bitter evening the adjutant announced in tones of awe, "The general of the division hold- ing our left was killed this morning." The brigadier's headquarters for me was a place of ever-increasing gloom. It had gone ill with us, and every mischance was echoed back into that chateau, as into a whispering gallery. One's heart grew heavy with ever-increasing 116 ', :■ ■« ■: : •'.:• '^:\ , , '•y: .>", THE END OF A lUTTER DAY news of disaster. At sucli an liour tJie imper- turbability of the brigadier sJiadowed forth his invincible faith. He smiled as I clicked my spurs and saluted to liim in parting, ami called out, "Good luck to you, my lad," I left the room. In the liallway I met tlie adjutant. "I envy your old boy liis stoic calm," I declared. "The same here," said the adjutant. "He is certainly a priceless exami)le to tlie rest of us chaps." Leaving the chateau for tlie noise witliout was like coming from the deep recesses of a light- house into the open of an angry sea. One's first unpulse was to dart back again into the cloistral seclusion of the muffled walls. OverJiead there was a co--^ant wliir of shells. The Germans had go^ Toplane the exa- t position of a heavy ba \..y opposite, and around the gun- pits tliere was an endless rain of bursting shells. The cordite in one gun-pit was ignited by the detonation of an enemy shell. In a moment the whole gun-pit glowed with fire, and flames forty feet high leaped up into the heavens. "Gawd pity the poor blighters in that gun-pit!" some one exclaimed. I felt a pang for those unfort- unate gunners who in a twinkling would be burned to a crisp. 117 il f" M^£ :f--i il I THE REAL FRONT It was pitch dark now, but the landscape was momentarily alight from the burning cordite. In the glare we hel Id that long, thin column still moving at the double over the dip of the road. In the lurid light the crouching, dart- ing figures looked more than ever like hunted beasts. That morning when I arrivtxl all was sunshine in the courtyard. Tlirough the wood behind the morning light was stealing, the trees were thrilling to the voices of the springtime. As we canteretl in towartl the stables n:y charger pricked his ears to the voice of a lark. I brcathees.siinisli<' ones at home think thai all is awry, Ihul (Jonc,n-e .sweetness still reigns in tJio trend.es. MuoJ, of the spirit of the Galilc-un Master ,s fonnd in the .higout and on the fire- step. In the summer of 1JM4 I did not think that a wor d so utterly selfless as the front line could ex. *'Over there" it seems as though one uould do anylhmg for the other fellow. Thev are all up against it, and it is tJie unwritten code that a spmt of Iielpfulness must be shown by all. When men are dwelling daily on the edge of sudden death we find qualities of soul within them that we never dreamed of. Most men hoZ "^ ^'^^'' ^^ ^^'"^ ^'"""^ "'^" ^"^ ^« ^"^ Boys who at home seemed worthless cads at the front show forth the most godlike bravery and devotion None would reprehend more tlian liiey such allusions to their service. But I am sure tJ.at if Jesus Christ caane back to the norld on this Clmstmas Eve, He would go under tJ.e star-shells of the firing-line to find those who would understand Him best. Prof. Alexamler Belmain Bruce, Uie famous Seotch theologian, a few years ago made what was then considered a very radical statement; h. sa,d that he was becoming more and more con- Ha 1 * ■ ! t^ THE REAL FRONT vinced that the true Church was not in the chui'ch, but outside of the churcli, scparatcxl from it not by immorality and godlessncss, but by sincerity and deep moral earnestness. Our Lord would find tJie society of many of our churches to-day quite as uncongenial to Him as that of the temple which He cleaned out with a scourge. But in the trenches He would come unto His own just as He did among the liarlots and publicans and sinners long ago. They would hail Hun, not only as their Lord, but as their own Big Brother in their daily round of sacrifice. " 'E's been all through these trenches, and tliat's why 'E knows us and we knows 'Ln," was the way a Tommy put it, in claiming Jesus as his ally. Deep down in the heart of ahnost every soldier I believe that there is a faith in Jesus Christ as his ally and as his Saviour. They who have been tlu*ough the deep waters together have a comradeship that none others can know. In- stinctively the soldier turns to the Master of sacrifice as to one of them. The "Comrade in White" is not some dijn distant figure for the men on the battle-fields. In war the veil between the seen and the unseen gets tliinner, and many a simple Tommy has pierced that veil with eyes of vision, and has 130 m. M imm jsm THE FAITH OF A SOLDIER come to know that face, that theologians have seen only in a glass darkly. All have heard of tlie angel of Mons. Critics at home discuss the appearance and all such evidences of the supernatural in cold aloofness. I heard one of the Old Army who was ther. speak of the "Comrade in White" who appeared among our armies in the bittereat days of the retreat. Every accent of the old soldier as he referred to this phenomenon of faith was that of profoundest reverence. His very attitude seemed to imply, "Take off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou staudest is holy ground." A friend of mine who was standing by said, "Oh, he's just a superstitious Catholic." "Well," I answered, "victorious armies have always been made up of just such superstitious Catholics." The pikemen of Charles Martel, the followers of Jeanne d'Arc, the horsemen of Oliver Cromwell, the mutiny victors of Have- lock's army, all these were allied with unseen legions. In front of their captains and in front of their generals it was always the "Com- rade in WTiite" who marched at the head of tJie forces. Never have I been so distressed over the ap- parent strength of the Germans as when on quiet 131 li If i: t ■TFjl' ftfc- V 4;»^««^- s^^ I I THE REAL FRONT spring nights I Jiave heard them singing where tlieir trenches were near to ours: "£m Feste Berg ist wiser Gott" which in English is, "A mighty fortress is our God." To hear those strong German voices rising in tlie night and swelling in that great chorus of Luther's battle-hymn, sounding with a note of omnipotence, created in my heart a respect for our enemy's might and power whicli I had never felt before. This respect was only dimmed by later intimate revelations of their hypocrisy. "Hark, the herald angels sing!" will be sung at many a point on the firing-line this Christmas, and to the Tommy there will be no incongruity in tlie singing. While a lot of people at home who never had any faith are worrying their friends on how to reconcile faith and war, the soldier out of the sacrifice of war is learning a faith that he never knew in peace. For him all creeds and dogmas of belief and unbelief are united in the one eternal principle of sacrifice. The creed of a true soldier is one with the creed of the Galilean. The famous painting called "The Greater Love," exhibited at the Royal Academy two years ago, brings out this fact. The picture shows a dead soldier fallen at the foot of the cross on which hangs tlie dead figure of the 132 f -^T^ THE FAITH OF A SOLDIER Christ. Underneath is the inscription. "What greater thing can a man do than to lay down liis h'fe for a friend?" The Christian rehgion is built up on the fun- damental principle of the cross. This is also the fundamental principle of soldiering. We hear stories of the oflBcer who went out into No Man's Land to bring in a wounded Tommv and died in the effort; of the young lieutenant who, seeing a bomb with the fuse set dropped among his men, fell upon it. and was blown to pieces, thus saving the lives of his men; of the devoted Tommy who intercepted witli his own body the steel of the en ny's bayonet and thus died to save his capta Every day on the western front men are , ,ying down their lives for their friends, and, better still, there are multitudes of those whose days are a living sac- rifice for their comrades. Over the carcass- strewn fields of France we read the faith of the soldier, a faith inarticulate in life, but bearing witness forever in death. WTiile the soldiers are proving their faith at the front, we at home must not be losing ours. H. G. Wells, writing of the present appalling con- dition, says: "Men will have to look to another Power. Tliey might very well look to Him now —instead of looking across the Atlantic. They 133 Hr^ if f u m I THE REAL FRONT have but to look up and they will see Him. And until they do look up and see Him this world is no better than a rat-pit." The greatest and most dangerous onslaught which the German propaganda is making against us m America to-day is in spreading abroad Uie Idea that this is a material instead of a sphitual struggle. If America became unbued with the idea that this were merely a material struggle, she would soon lose her fighting effectiveness. Russia has fallen down because of this. Democracies can- not long be kept fighting merely for temporal gam, for territorial aggrandizement, for trade rights, or for world power. A war fought on such baser issues would soon lose its appeal to the people. But a spiritual struggle, rightly ap- praised, will command the deathless devotion of all free peoples. The British Commonwealth and the French Republic, after all their depletion of treasure and manhood, arc keener to wage this war to an end than they were in 1914, because they realize more profoundly than ever that this is a spiritual struggle. The Crusaders of France and England traveled far from Uieir homes, and togetJier faced danger privation, and death. Godfrey de Bouillon and Richard Coeur de Lion were alike in their de- IM THE FAITH OF A SOLDIER cause of rescuing votion to cher. So to-day England and Fr„nee are once more fighting together, the manJiood of both nations are united as tJie Crusaders of old in a spiritual struggle, and most rightly America at last is with them Above all things it beliooves Ajnerica at this hour to teach her new armies the deeper issues of this struggle. _ Cromwell said, "The secret of an armv's fight- ing power is tliat each soldier shall know that for which he is fighting." Now is the time for a Peter the Hermit to rise up in America and to preach to our New Crusaders at Yaphank, at Plattsburg. and at all camps and training-areas where American soldiers are being prepared for the fray; to tell them that tliis is a spiritual as well as a national war, a Second Crusade, that as they train it must be in soul as well as in body for It IS the soul of an army that stands against aU onslaughts and that in the end brings victory borne one has written from Verdun, "Only he who has heaven in his heart can withstand this hell. IX MY FINEST MOMENT IN FRANCE jyjY finest moment in France was ihe first time we advanced our guns, after nearly two years of waiting. I found very little of the gay or dashing in my experience of modern war- fare. It was rather a melancholy round of dis- mal tasks, calhng more for tlie qualities of stolid- ity and patience than for those of valor and dash. "I am fed up," was the commonest expression of all in the Tommy vernacular. One of the officer's hardest tasks was to keep the spirits of his men bucktxl up. Suddenly in the Somme push there was ex- perienced a change of spirit tliroughout the en- tire forces. Wliile we sat still in one place month after month our spirits steadily descended, but when we were once advancing we were un- dismayed by cold, or hardship, or lack of food or ceaseless toil, or added dangers, or increasing death. None of these things mattered so long as we were going ahead. 139 -sa^swaF/^ f-i t-:^ MV FINEST MOMENT IN PRANCE The first tuiie we advanced the guns of oi,r battery in tl,e S.,nu„e Ia.t fall wa, rLpp,™ moment of all ,„y eighteen n,o„ths- fightfngt Franee That was what we al! went il Fran« or, and at last, after eeaseles, and apparently"^ effective ^enfiee. we began to realize U.e end of our existfiioe. "' One bright summer morning in column of route our battery pulW out of the Ypres saHent place m the back country well behind the lines Here on a great tract of n-ild country, reserved a^ a maneuvermg area, we practised assiduously for open warfare. -^ During month, of virtual siege-work much of U.e aet,es of „pe„ e,Ml„g ^ad been fo,^„,te„ ^ thu nmneuvering-area we were trained again at battery dnll, at taking up new positionT at connng ,nto aetion at the gallop, and at c^ operating with cavalry. The air was full of eypeotan.,- during these days. Were we destine for an ..dvance soon' VVere we really to become an armi-. de eha^ei Some sa,d that Prit.'s line c„„,d „o, ,,e blC that the war would end where we were. Bu evdently ,he Powers that Be thought oti.er "se or they would not thus have train«l us i„ "" „ maneuvers. ^ 137 li j^'r'i'\ !' i THE REAL FRONT \Micn the training bcliind tJie lines Was cndetl we were despatched to tlie Somnie, and as we marched tliither the speculations and rumors increased. Once in action in our new position, we never really settled down as in former places. Some- how there was a feeling that our gun-pits here ivcre temporary aoiding-places. At night we watched the star-shells with the long track of light that traced tJie German line. "Behind that line is where our guns are going to be, me boys," said Hellfire MacDougal, sergeant of No. 1 section, to his gun crew on the first night in hction. "All of us fellers may not be alive to git there, but this old howitzer is goin* to bark right over there where Fritz's battalion reserves are guzzlin' beer and pretzels right now." The first tii e I was up in the f it line in this sector I found myself regarding t' opposite para- pet with strange emotions. In . le Ypres salient and in all other places heretofore the opposite parapet marked a forbiddm country, an in- scrutable land which we might not explore. As I scanned tliat gray lin? of sand-bags thai marked out the Huns' parapet I seemed to read, "Thus 'ir shalt thou come, and no farther." But in tlie Somme I read a new writing. Every time I regarded Fritz's front line I seemed to descry 138 f^m 'f^ MY FINEST MOMENT IN FRANCE the name of a popular English revue. "Come Over Here. Always beckoning from the cpi>o. «;t|- parapet by day and beaconing in the Verey Over^llTe!""''' "" ''"' '"'"^'""' "^^-- After nearly two weeks of waiting I was back at the w.^jon-Iines. acting as battery captain. m} job bc::,g to move ammunition forward to the guns, hot nearly u week I had been rushing up t].e supply, until we had several thousand rounds in reserve and still the guns were crying for jnore. Next strafe we 'ave 'ell's goin' to pop for fmr ,,^,^,^^^, ^j^^, sergeant.nujor wi:en the briMde headquarters ordered still more anmiuni- lion to be dehvered in our already deluged pits. • I? f"", ' '°°' ^^^ sergeant-major. "That -ghtU.ehd blew off o"elir I was standing twilight when an aeroplane, sailing low. dropped a white flare across the heavens. In a twinkling the stillness was gone and a thousand guns sj^ke with one voice. Instinctively every one looked at his neighbor and exclaimed, "The big push has begun!" '^ ^ All night long, without a break, the bombard- ment continued About four in the morning, after ceaseless hours of hauling ammunition, I sank down m my tent and. instantly was asleep. 139 ^ 1, »■ KCi THE REAL FRONT !.\ .1 J)c awukcnwl almost immediately by a ;'j.!L(^r who hao.sition. On each side of the roaougal treated the boys to selections from 141 fjm^f ii IF THE REAL FRONT that trenchant vocabulary that won him his name. Once when a gun had been deeply mired and its olistinacy was just beginning to work on our tempers there appeared a sight to cheer the most despondent. Across the field came a swarm of Boclie prisoners, a gray-headed Prussian colonel marching alone at the head. The colonel had lost his helmet, he was unkempt and unshaven, and his clothes were covered with dirt, but his white shoulder badges showed intact. His haughty attitude and his supercilious counte- nance marked him as one of our captured lions. One leonine prisoner like that was worth more than a thousand of the abject, pot-bellied, blink- ing, spectacled Fritzes that followed after. That colonel was a soldier worthy of our own steel, a true prize of war. As he marched dovm the line with his head in the air he paid us all the com- pliment of saying, "At last you've taken a real prisoner." After that incident of the colonel I saw nothing of our advance except a momentary glimpse of a disabled tank high on the side of a trench. The task in hand was so all-absorbing that one lost the sense of other things. But, in spite of all obstacles, we arrived at the place which yesterday Fritz had called his H2 ;t - -, MY FINEST MOMENT IN FRANCE country. Of course we did not cheer, the job in hand was too grhn and too exacting for any mere aside. But as the guns were swept into their new positions the order wa^ given, "Halt! Ac- tion front." T:very man lieard tJiat order with a deeper joy . ..d satisfaction than he had ever known before in France. All about at our feet lay the dead and the «lying while the stretcher-bearers passed back and lorth like angels of mercy. Out of the opposite sky-lmc came a constant whir of shells, and an unbroken hail of shrapnel rained about us Sometimes near and sometimes Iiappilv, far away a high explosive-shell sent a great gey- ser of earth and fire and steel high up into the air. "It's pretty thick," some one exclaimed. "Aw, g'arn! WTiat d'ye expect up here?" ex- postulated his pal. "It may be hot, but we'll blame soon make it hotter when we're passin' the fast freight back to Fritz!" Every man had long since earned his rest All night at the guns, with its awful nerve-rackin- shock, and now all day under shell-fire, these men were ceaselessly toiling, stripped to the waist, "iggmg for dear life to make an overliead pro- tection for themselves and the guns from the showers of shrapnel. Human endurance was 143 ^■■1 u: r. t I m I THE REAL FRONT long since exhausted. But the only taps that sounded there for rest were the taps of death. But what mattered exhaustion, or pain, or wounds, or death? We had justified the end of our soldier's existence, and such a consciousness brouglit a satisfaction that outweighed all else. K' u- Tf^. ^il^r.Cl^^^r X if? THE DAY OF RECKONING" TT all began on board the "Colonist Special for Berlin." Our troop-train had stopped at a French-Canadian town famous for its ardent intoxicant known as whisky hlanc. Tlie troop-train of the New Brunswick con- tingent lay on an adjacent track. Tliey had already been waiting there for hours. Despite the pickets, many New Brunswick incorrigibles had broken loose and had succeeded in kindling their spirits with the French-Canadian fire-water. As the Nova-Scotian train came to a stop, Arch Roary MacCabe swung liimself onto Uie platform of our car, which bore the inscription, 'Colonist Special for Berlin." Arch Roary was crazy drunk. The whisky hlanc had gone to his head and had transformed Inm into a maniac. His eyes were those of a wild beast seeking his prey, and an oozy slime covered his mouth. With the bound of a panther he under the near platform of our car. 10 IM n^^tET*^^- \ r i 1 THE REAL FRONT A little cockney sergeant, in blissful ignorance of the lumber-jack's fury, rushed toward hun, exclaiming, pompo'isly, " 'Ere, 'ere, git hout of this, Oi soiy." A mist came over Arch Roary's eyes as he reached out and sent the plucky little cockney flying headlong off the platform. With a yell that ended in a scr'?am he announced, "I'm Arch Roary MacCabe, boss of tlie Miramichi drive, and T can clean up every dirty little herring- choker of a Nova-Scotian from here to the Banks of Newfoundland." The Nova-Scotians fought stoutly, but the wild Arch Roary, thanks to his whuky blanc, was possessed of superhuman strength and fierce- ness, and he felled his adversaries on the right and left, and crashed gloriously on, until, at the far end of the car, he was suddenly confronted by the leonine Red Maclsaac. Kipling's lines about when two strong men come face to face, were the first lines that came to me as I lay sprawled across a seat, with a gash in my head, and dimly regarded our Highland cham- pion confronting the madman of Miramichi. They were a rare brace of fighters as they stood confronting each other. According to Bombard- ier Judkins's description, "Red Maclsaac was built like a keg of nails, and was just as hard; 146 ••THE DAY OF RECKONING" and Arch Roary was a regular wildcat, quicker 'n greased lightnin'!" Red Maclsaac had been trained on the green pastures of the sec . Toiling with the cod hooks and dories had given him his broad and iron back, while ceaseless brawls ashore, on the baiting- grounds at Canso, had taught him all the latest tricks in catch-as-catch-can and rough-and- tumble fighting. From the Breton Frenchmen, who brought their barks to the Canso Straits to bait, and from tlie fishermen of St. Pierre and Miquelon he had learned all the fancy kicks and knock-out strokes, from the deadly "French Lash" to the "Whalebone Bend." Axch Roary was equally well versed in fair means and foul. The habitant voyageur in the shanties and along the river had introduced him to many a coup de grace not included in the Marquis of Queensberry's category. Handling logs with the river running white had trained in him that spirit which is as three to one in a fighter. None of us in the car could think of interfering now that a real fight was on. Many of us had experienced rough handling in that wild charge down the aisle, but we forgot our personal grudge in the epic struggle before us. 147 i! m ■i ^ ^ THE REAL FRONT "Ay, mon, but yon's a pretty pair o' lads whateffer," said old Quartermaster-sergeant MacQuirtle, who was an elder in the kirk at Judiac. MacQuirtle was a man of God, but he had an eye for fighting beauty. No ring-side crowd in 'Frisco ever got more spectacular demonstrations of the cardinal vir- tues of tlie fighting-man than were vouchsafed to us in that brief five minutes. The car, recently full of uproarious troops, was now silent as a church. Men crowded onto tlie seats over one another's shoulders and up into the sleeping-berths above, and hung,' fixed and breathless, on the fighting men. At the beginm'ng Quartermaster-sergeant MacQuirtle had rubbed his hands in holy glee, exclaiming: "It's a feight! It's a feight!" But such epic struggles were beyond words, and every one bent toward the common focus, every sense lost in the oneness of tlie fight. At a climactic moment when every one's in- terest was intensest on the battle the door of the car was flung open, and into the fighting area strode Col. Donald MacKenzie MacTavish. Arch Roary, who was back-stepping from a slaughter-house blow of Maclsaac's, trampled on the colonel's toe and the wild Red came charging on. No one in the crowd seemed to notice the 148 iI/fVfcT'li'^-.* *'T1IE DAY OF RECKONING" intrusion of the colonel until, like the crack of doom, his awful voice rang out. Every man in that car, barring Arch Roary, knew the hell that lay behind that voice. In a twinkling the compact and annular ring-side mass had dissolved; like a herd of sheep they went helter-skelter; the invincible Maclsaac took on the aspect of a willed sunflower, and a nmte, imperious finger pointing toward tlie door was enough to insi)ire the erstwhile incorrigible MacCabc to retire as precipitately as he had lately advanced. "Ay, but he's a fearsome mon whateffer, is the auld colonel," observed Quartermaster-sergeant MacQuirtle. No man or beast could brook tlic wrath of MacTavish. Wlien his eye flashed and passion quivered in his voice the colonel be- longed to elemental things, a spirit brother to cyclones and volcanoes; mere men and human fighters were swept away before him. Arch Roary, retiring to his own contingent, told in tones of loudest braggadocio how that he had gone through the herring-chokers' train like a ramrod tlirough a gim-barrel. "None of 'em's any good. They're a lousy bunch of slab-sided codfish. I et a hul earful of 'em up alive," declared Arch Roary, For the glor^' of their homeland, the New- 149 1 V z I : I i fl 4 II' if- I :;l lit THE REAL FRONT Brunswickers were only too glad to overlook the cruel way in which Red Maclsaac liad left his trade-mark on ihe features of Arch Roary. ITiey accepted his story wiUiout question, and when they met tlieir rivals in the days to come they taunted them on how one lumber-jack was good for a car-load of slab-sided dorymen. Old Quartermaster-sergeant MacQuirllc was a man of experience and ripe wisdom. But it was more than his Judiac blood could stand when a blatant son of the Miramiclii taunted him tlius at the army canteen. MacQuirtle threw all his peace precepts to the winds, and the saddened friends ,f the blatant one carried his prostrate form to the hospital on the canteen door. Colonel MacTavish, if he had only known, would certainly never have interrupted tliat sweet fight on the Colonist Special for Berlin. ^Vhat endless tribulations the cdonel created for hmiself by causing the fight of two individuals to expand itself into the fight of two batteries! A week after he irrived at Valcartier Camp the defaulters' parade brought up before the colonel no less than fifteen men, the fv" comple- ment of a leave party that had visite, he city cf Quebec the day before. "Left turn! 'At off! 'Shun!" Sergeant-major Fury brought the culprits up with a jerk, caustic 150 ••THE DAY OF RECKONING" fire ami sarcasm leaping alike from liis bristly mustache and his trembling swagger stick. "Oh, you miserable clogs I Oh, you miser- able dogs!" The lion-taming sergeant-major seemed to be saying this accustomed blessing as he regarded his lambs with splenetic hatred. The crime for which the unfortunate fifteen were yanked up before the colonel was that tliey had used their brass belt buckles for black- jacks on the DufFerin Terrace the afternoon before. \Vhen the beautiful ladies were there promenading with their Pomeranian poodles these shameless sons of Judiac, lusting for re- Vf'nge, had encountered the New Brunswick leave party, and had straiglitway set to work to qualify them one and all for an extended sick leave. "The shame o' it were, sir, that it appened roight where the loidies toikes afternoon tea. l^ey 'ad 'is Majesty's uniform on, sir, witen they gives tliis sliameful spectacle. The scenes was onid, the language was 'orrible, and the loidies screamed something orful." One may infer from Sergeant-major Fury's description that the Willie-boys-afternooii-tea atmosphere was rudely transformed. Moldy Macintosh, Thirsty Thorn, and all the rest of B Battery lea\'e party received the sen- tence, "Ten days C. B. and get your hair cut." 151 1 1 ill M TIIK REAL FRONT C. B. means confined to barraelcs, and became a more and more fri^quent lerni in B Battery as time went by and the animosity increased for D Battery, the New Brunswick unit. By the time that tliese two units had arrived in France tJiey Jiad worke«I up a rivalry that was famous tliroughout tJie division. This rivalry was not witJiout its blessings. If I caught Driver Red Maclsaac wiUi his liamess in bad condition I had but to mention tlie fact tJiat Arcli Roary's liarness looked so much bet- ter, and Maclsaac's cheeks would J>ecome as re iM. "THE DAY OF RECKONING" We were rolii-vwl on tliat iKisition by I) BaL- tory, ami ti«l tJie target, which we and our predecessors for nionUis had been seeking for in vain. A few evenings later the majors of the two respective batt«rit\s encountered eacli otJier in a town behind ilu- lines and Jiad no eml of chafing and liorse-play willi eacli otlier regarding tlie lucky sJiot. "AJi, well," exclain:eoing in my line, I am unable to explain Larr>''s forte. Put I was told by Bob Hanson tlat I^rry jKissesswl rare powers of con- (juest with tlic daughters of Eve. Bob said that Larry did not care for anything tliut looked easy, but when a regular queen came along he always set out to attach her to his triumphal chariot. In Armentitires, one of our gay towns behind the lines, there dwelt a certain beautiful maiden named Camille who was known as the belle of the western front. I have been all up and down the line myself in the course of my two years in France, and even though I do pose as a savant, I will aver unhesitatingly that Camille of Ar- mentieres was the most charming young lady that I liad seen in that land where tliey are very fair and very plenty. Of course Larry Douglas baited his hook and set out sweethearting with Camille on every pos- sible occasion. Our guns were in action for a long time behind the trenches near that favored town, and Larry had ample opportunity to cult- ivate what they called in Armentieres his affaire de ca^ur. On his day off Larry would come down from the observation post covered with mud, his fac<; dirty and unshaven, his dothes ragged, unkempt, 1S4 • ■' .d'^^amm-y pr^i^Hrwn J ••THE DAY OF RECKONIiNG" and lousy. lie lookwj like a porfwl Imrlesquc of a hobo. But when he had bathetl in the warm tub which Hurtle, his servant, had preparwi for him, and was washed and clotlied anew, one diu«>aBir,a.k»,acnK' ¥^: I' m THE REAL FRONT of those who bear portentous news. Red grasped my shoulder to support his breathless body and. pointing into the darkness, he exclaimed, with tones of awe, "D Battery is stuck in the mud, just two hundred yards to our left." Quartermaster-sei^geant MacQuirtle hea.u the intelligence and repeated it to the rest of the boys. The chaps who a minute before were dead beat and lifeless now trembled wiUi excitement. "Our day will come, our day will come," panted Red Maclsaac, repeating the supplication which had been on his lips for over two years. "Get mounted the drivers." was the order, and drivers never mounted with more snap or deter- mination. Our day of reckoning had come. It came at the eleventh hour, when our bodies were weak and our horses were spent, but it found our spirits unbroken. There was now only one soul in all that crowd of men. There was only one will and one purpose, that was to win. at last, a fair and honest victory against the worthy rivals that had seared their name upon our soul. Driver Dupont whispered something in the ears of his imperial roans. They say the word he whispered was, "D Battery." Emperor Nero snorted at the word, probably in a shame of memory from the horse-show. Whatever the magic word was, it sent tho great roans rearing 168 ■i i ..fM ft' < < THE DAY OF RECKONING* and plunging, and the traces strained and tight- ened through every tugging team. The guns not only budged, but moved— nay, more, tliey marched, and within an hour we had arrived at our goal. "Now we'll go and pull D Battery out of the hole," exclaimed Red Maclsaac, and on his face there shone a light of joy that I had never seen before. D Battery had still a qua ter of x mile to go when we approached them with our prof- fered assistance. They were in no mood to lose their championship in sweetness of temper, after all that night of superhuman strivings. But our chaps were buoyant with the flush of victory, and they spared their rivals nothing as they rubbed it in. As shrapnel was bursting about, it was im- perative that D Battery should be got ahead as quickly as possible. Red Maclsaac offered help to Arch Roary MacCabe, but his good of- fices were greeted by a flood of fierce invective by the former boss of the Miramichi. Suddenly a cloud of shrapnel burst over his head, and Arch Roary went plunging out of his saddle with a curse. A number of h's pals rushed to the prostrate soldier. Red Maclsaac was the first to reach him. " Let me take him ! Let me take him !" he im- 169 \h 3 ' I if THE REAL FRONT plored to the sergeant-major who would thrust him away. Some one grabbed his arms, but he tore himself free, exclaiming: "He was me enemy, I tell ye. I stood up to him when he was up, and now I'll stand by him when he's down." The others gave way to this plea, and as tenderly as a woman Red Maelsaae raised the wounded man and placed him across his saddle; then he himself mountea. With his foe of that unfinished fight which had precipitated an end- less warfare in two batteries, he set off at an easy canter for the dressing-station. B Battery and D Battery at last had made their day of reckoning. U n , K\ XI THROUGH DEATH VALLEY BY DAYUGHT "V^EA, though I walk through the Valley of ■*■ the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil." With tones that rang in every heart, the padre uttered these words as the text of his discourse on that Sunday night in Albert. The cellar of the ruined distillery serving as a church was crowded. A row of gas-flares shed a fitful light across the faces of the soldiers. Earnest, sad, and reverent, those faces seemed to hang upon the padre's words. Outside, and just beyond them in the night. Death Valley lay, with its horror of an awful darkness. A far-off muffled roar told that the Angels of Death were abroad in the valley. There was not a man in that crowd that had not felt the horror of Death Valley. Many of their pals had halted there forever, and many of them there had raced against the dawn in frantic terror, lest daylight should find them in that dread passage with their doom. In a world of peace, that distillery cellar with 171 : '.. r ■ u. ^'s.'u'N'iiriA.^^Kr I' -i i .i. w la THE REAL FRONT its piJed-up vats would have been an incongruous place for a church. But soldiers, dwelling on the fringes of eternity, require no ecclesiastical de- vices to produce a worshipful spirit. In all that throng of serious men, one face was forever arresting my gaze; that was the face of Cyril Hallam. He sat where the flickering light shone full upon him, his pale features accentuated by the white flare, his blue eyes fixed upon tlie preacher with an infinite yearning. As I gazed upon him I saw the evidence of one who had a warfare in his heart. Happy is the soldier who fights only with the Hun. But Cyril Hallam knew a battle-field within more poignant than the battle-field without. I found myself that night gazing upon him again and again as he sat beneath that flaring light. Over his face there passed the ever-chang- ing pictures of his soul. At one time his sad eyes were radiant, as though that melancholy cellar held for him apocalyptic visions. Gilhooly of the Inneskillen Dragoons and Cor- poral Tompkins of the Northumberland Hussars were breathing heavily and blankly gazing at the padre. Wliat vast gulfs separated those stolid fighting-men from the fair angel spirit that shone in Cyril Hallam's face! As the padre came to the end of his sermon he 172 THROUGH DEATH VALLEY BY DAYIJGHT told how that in Death Valley God would give us all stout hearts and make us brave in every crisis. At these words a shadow flitted over Hallam's face. It was not so easy for him to accept that which the crowd had taken for granted. After two years of soldiering Cyril Hallam re- mained an individualist. As such he was a phenomenon, for the army tends to weld all men together. It creates a spirit of collectivism; with this spirit men, thinking only of the regi- ment, forget themselves, and go over the top fearlessly. Cyril Hallam, in spite of all his soldiering, could not cease to be an individualist, and this individualism caused him pain, of which his brother oflScers never dreamed. With the others there was no question. If an awful crisis came, of course they would all stand up to it like men or they would all go down together. "The strength of the wolf is the pack, and the strength of the pack is the wolf." This was the undoubt- ing philosophy of Larry Douglas and Tommy McGivern, the other two subalterns of Cyril's battery. But Cyril could never see it that way. He knew not the strength that others gained from the crowd spirit. For him as an individualist all 173 VX^^ :es, before a brazier fire in the billet, he plunged into a dis- cussion of the thoughts whi.h it had prompted. "I wish that I wasn't such a natural-born coward," he exclaimed, deprecatingly. "Nonsense!" answcrc;! Bob. "You're a bit more modest than the rest of us, that's all." "No," said Cyril; "you chaps are able to buck up against whatever happens. But I am always haunted by this fear of failure. It used to be bad enough at Ypres. When we left there I thought tliat we might find . 'etter place for a spell, but this is a thousand times worse. With this ceaseless run of battles, I am sure that some- thing awful is impending for me." "That's all in your mind," advised Bob. "You're allowing your imagination to run away with you. Take a tip from me and forget to- morrow. A soldier's got no business with any- thing but to-day." " Y'es, that's all right for you," Cyril answered, 176 T^-k iJimmA TIIROlJCilF DEATH VAM.IiV ».i' DAYLKIHT •'l)ut n to-morrow wJiorcin I should fail is some- thing I cannot help fearing. TJic other .ay I stood on the heights by Pozi^res Cemetery and gaze J down into Death Valley. A„ a.nmunition- Innher was moving up toward the guns The batteries on Beautncr.t Iltfmmel opened up upon them, and there before mv eyes, searcely half a nule away. I saw that gallant bunch of men ami horses lilown to pieces. "The tiling has haunted me over since. Every time I go into the valley at night with ammuni- tion for the guns, I am afroid that I may get stuck by some accident, and tliat the dawn mav still find me in that awful place. I tell you. old man. Death Valley troubles me by night and dav It s nothing tangible I fear, but just the awful thought that I may prove a coward there." Just then an orderly entered and. saluting, an- nounced. "A message from ti.e forward guns sir." Hallam's face grew pale and Jus hand trembled as he reached for the fateful message. His bat- tery had ♦' . guns, situated in ai; advanced and perKous p.„.aon, at the far end of Death Valley ju«t fifty yards behind the front-line trencJi.' Ine guns had been moved to this far-forward P' ition preliminary to an attack that had been immment for several days. 177 'JVEWTr' ¥L-\i^-Zi'm£x4mX^ '1i i i 2MI THE REAL FRONT Tlie inossaRe wlilcli llalluin road was In the form of an '«r(k«r from the hnKaik- headquarters to the baltrry commander, stating that the homhanhnenl preliminary lo the "next push" woiild bejjin on the following evening at seven- thirty. The brigade order read: "Your battery must have at the forward guns at least one thousand rounds H. E. The battery commander will see that there is no shortage from the specified figure. Ammunition states must be in by noon to-morrow." Below the brigade order the bat- tery commander had written: "To O. C. Wagon- lines: For your information and necessary ac- tion. Get limbers through at all costs before noon to-morrow." Hallam knew, by memorandum appended, that another four hundred rounds would be necessary to give th^ required total, to be shown on am- munition -".tate of the following noon. On account of Death Valley being under ob- servation by the Germa'i batteries by day, the hauling of ammunition was done at night. This was a long and perilous task, on account of tlie state of the roads from shell-holes and mud, the wet season being well advanced. As all his horses were dead beat from an arduous two weeks of advancing guns and ma- 178 Mm ri ; ■i i m 1 ^^' L. Ail ■ • J » i^m • .itjr. TimOLGII DEATH VALLEY BY IMYLICIIT trrinl it wos impossil,Ie to tal: the road for Mveral J.ours. An orderly .summoned the svv Konnl-nmjor. and -, he entorod Rol> Hanson de- parted. To tl... sergeant-major Ilallam ^^ave his orders: \ou will have reveille sounde.l at fvo- tinrty a.m. ^ ,ko eight limbers, eight horses . . • lnnf)er. Have teams hooked in and read ' move off at three-fifteen. Send an orderly hn- >m ^-ately to the aimnunif ion-dump, and tell ihrm to be reatly to suj.ply us with four hun- dred rounds H. E. at three-thirty." "Very good," said Uie sergeant-major, and soon Ins clinking spurs were singing over the cobblestones m the courtyard and his strident voice was fixing orders in the drowsy heads of trumpeter, cook, and night sentry. It was now close to mid -ht'and the chill ^ovember air brought grim . linders of winter campaigning Hallam was sleep ing on the stone floor of a shattered mansion, o.i the fringes of he town of Albert. The wind came in gusts through a great shell-hole in the wall, and from a rent m the roof the stars appeared. But no matter how inhospitable these quarters might seem his sleeping-bag was his happy home. He buckled the straps tight to keep out the wind, pulled do^Ti his Balaklava hehnet over his head, and in a twinkling was asleep. 179 il '■f ^ ■ I ■uJ^-"fT ^m:r^:mts^t^tiaffasis^ ;| ;i|i:i;|i!f|l| ill n ' i ' a: » m THE REAL FRONT In his sleep, Cyril Hallam was troubled by wild nightmare. Death Valley haunted him in his dreams. He seemed to be forever racing against the dawn on that dread passage. Then there came a break in his dream and he beheld Death Valley in the sunshine. Up and down the valley the green grass was growing, and the flowers were blooming with sweet perfume; daisies, anemones, and buttercups were there, and high in heaven he heard the voice of a lark singing of the springtime. Everytliing was se- rene with peace and beauty. Surely this was not Death Valley! While he doubted the place, he saw beside a warbling brook a little wooden cross. He bent over to read, and there beheld his owii name, painted in black letters on that scant memorial, "Lieut. Cyril Hallam, dead on the Field of Honor." From the shock of this apparition he awoke with a start, to hear from the courtyard the soar- ing voice of the trumpeter sounding reveille. "I bought a horse — I bought a cow — I bought a d-o-n-k-e-y !" The silver voice sounded above the soft night winds, and Cyril Hallam heard it as one who hears the note of doom. For over two years, each day for him had begun with that self- same call. But this morning he listened to it with a cold and shivering dread. 180 ^ ■%':::i^JW: ..^^. >1 flE^SS^iJ^^ THROUGH DEATH VALLEY BY DAYLIGHT For a few moments Hallam lay in his sleeping- bag and thought of the many dieerless dawns to which he had arisen since joining the army. He thought of that dark September morning, long ago, when the alarm-clock went off in his little room at home and summoned him to the sad parting from his mother. TJiat for him had been the bitterest moment of all his life, and this mornmg he likened unto it. But the same stem voice of duty whispered in his ear, and suddenly the door burst open witli a rush of cold wind and his servant announced, brusquely, "Your break- fast IS ready, sir." It was a bitter-cold morning, with a high wind that set one shivering; but a warm breakfast ottset the rigors of the November wind. His servant then helped him adjust revolver and trench -lamp to his Sam Browne belt, and with gas-helmet case slung over his shoulder and wearing a steel helmet, he sallied forth fully accoutered for the exigencies of the front. The horse-lines were all astir; drivers were put- ting Uie fimshing touches to their harness, while Ihibers '"""^^ ^^^^ «^eir teams hooked into the "It's a nice dark morning for your run through ^0 the guns, sir," announced the sergeant-major, 181 ' I -r w 'Jf 'If,, ' m'l-f/fi, i H I: 'Hi ' i I i:-'it hi .1 it ill THE REAL FRONT cheerily, as Hallam flashed his light upon a busy group which he was superintending. "Yes, the morning's all right," he answered, "but there's very little darkness to spare, that's the trouble." "Oh, I guess you'll make it, all right," the sergeant-major laughed. "If you don't, it '11 be a nice little bit of running the gantlet, that's all." Hallam did not laugh; he was tremulous as an aspen, with a sickening feeling gripping at his throat. He persuaded himself that he did not flinch before the prospect of death, but the fear that shook his frame and made him sick was the possibility that he might prove a coward. "This is the morning when I shall fail," he said to himself, as the last vestige of his confidence seemed to flee from him. Out of the darkness his groom trotted up with his horses. That morning Hallam was riding his first charger, AVhite Stockings, a thoroughbred Irish hunter, which had been commandeered from a gentleman's riding-establishment in England. White Stockings was reputed one of the finest chargers in the division. He was a big black horse, with white stockings about his four hoofs, whence his name. At 3.15 sharp all the teams were hooked in and 182 THROUGH DEATH VALLEY BY DAYLIGHT the last N C. O. had reported his subsection ready A few crisp orders and the column was tfl !1'°^ °^ '"'" '^'' thoroughfares of Albert. At 3 30 they trotted into the ammunition-dmnp at the other end of the town, and, under the direction of an officer there, began to load the hmbers with the necessary 4.5 H. E. sheUs and cartridges. By four o'clock the column was on the road again with the complete allotment of ammunition. Through the deserted and ghost-like town of Albert they passed again, by the ruined church where, from the high steeple, a figure of the Virgin and the Child hangs in midair, suspended above the street. The natives of the Somme area say that when that statue falls peace will come. Mmdf ul of that rumor, Bombardier Judd cast a wistful eye on the precarious and eery figure, announcing to the nearest driver- "It's time some of us blokes climbed up to the steeple and gave that there figger a high dive. I'd like to see 'er hit de pavement right now." "Same here!" assented the driver. "She can come down right now and close the show. I've nad enough." Sergeant Dugmore here trotted up to the head of he column, inspecting everything with a crit- ical eye. He was the senior sergeant in charge, loo ^ u^* )' n » 'ri^ia THE REAL FRONT and to him Hallam unfolded the schedule which he hoped to make that morning. Th? main road was comparatively safe at all times, but beyond the village of Pozi^res they had to turn off into Death Valley. There by daylight they would be under observation of the German batteries. It was, therefore, imperative that they should get over this stretch before the dawn. "We should be at the end of the main road. Sergeant, by five o'clock. Allowing half an hour fof the run through the valley to the guns, and half an hour for unloading, our last limber should be returning by six, and out of the zone of ob- servation and back on the main road by half past six." "Oh, we'll make it all right, sir," said Dug- more in confident tones. Sergeant Dugmore was a stolid, optimistic fellow, who never trou- bled himself about threatening dangeis until they arrived. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, was the way in which he disposed of future perils. Hallam that morning envied his sergeant in his poise of a calm and unimagi- native spirit. Between Dugmore and Hallam there were a true understanding and a real affection. Dug- more was a typical English soldier, one of the 184 THROUGH DEATH VALLEY BY DAYLIGHT Old Army, of that splendid, unchanging type, the same in fair weather and in foul. With the infallible instinct of the old soldier, Dugmore recognized in Cyril Hallam a gentle-' man, which was the first requisite of an officer. With this instinct, the old British soldiers would sooner trust themselves under the leadership of an eighteen-year-old school-boy, just out of Eton, than under a grizzled old -ergeant-major of forty years* campaigning. It was the difference in spirit that counted, and Dugmore was well aware of the high spirit of his young lieutenant. The very quality that made his brother officers doubt him made his men have faith in Hallam. They felt instinctively that his fears were for them and not for himself. All the men under his command felt a deep af- fection for Cyril Hallam. He was an officer who treated them like soldiers, and yet remembered that they had the hearts of men. When Driver Holmes's father was killed it was Cyril Hallam that comforted the lad. Hallam was walking through the horse-lines late at night when h heard some one sobbing. He peered along ti picketing rope, and there, with his head against Black Nige's mane, he found the bereaved youngster, sobbing out his sorrow against the neck of his faithful horse. It seemed that Nige, 185 , .(FM-BfS-.SJV ft f: ti M ! i ' ' THE REAL FRONT with his soft eyes and his knowing, sympathetic ears, was the forlorn youth's only comforter. But there in the darkness of the horse-lines Hallam's arm had stolen around the sobbing frame and Driver Holmes had discovered that his oflBcer was also his big brother. If Cyril Hallam could have '^een, in the gloom that morning, the affection with which his men regarded him as he galloped up and down the column, he would have felt much comfort, for he would have realized that with their love for him they would have followed him through hell. But he saw none of this. He was haunted onJy by the brooding thought that he might fail his men in the crisis just ahead. Everything went well for the first mile along the rue de Baupaume; then an accident drew Hallam from his introspective thoughts — one of his limbers, in turning too sharply, to avoid a tractor-engine, went over the embankment and broke a pole and burst two breast collars. He waited to superintend the adjustment of the new pole wiuch the limber carried in reserve, instruct- ing Sergeant Dugmore to carry on straight ahead through the town of Pozi^res. When the work of repair was completed and the limber returned to the road he galloped ahead 18C ■i* 3:.^^.: 'ir-"-.ii^'Tf .; THROUGH DEATH VALLEY BY DAYLIGHT to join the main column, telling the limber to follow under a N. C. O. Great was Hallam's consternation to find the whole main column held up on the road, only half a mile ahead. A 9.2 battery, moving up ahead with caterpillar tractor-engine, obstructed one side of the road, while a field-gun was broken down on the other side, completely block- ing the right-of-way. A group of gunners and drivers were working desperately to clear the disabled gun and limber . While this was in progress an overanxious driver in the rear, in attempting to move up, had crashed a general- service wagon against the tractor-engine and smashed a wheel. Sergeant Dugmore made frantic efforts to clear away the obstruction, while Hellfire MacDougal poured a perfervid stream of blasphemy on the heads of garrison gunners, who were forever blocking all the roads on God Almighty's earth. In the midst of all this chaos Hallam moved calmly, his quiet voice now and again uttering words of direction. His serene pea-ance was the inverse expression of the rag. g panic in his soul. During this awful hour of waiting he suf- fered agonies. Every precious minute that passed meant added danger to his men and horses. He gazed at his wrist-watch with hor- 187 -^'^mmiy:w. 1 THE REAL FRONT ror, and as the minutes. passed a feeling of hope- lessness began to settle upor him. The obstruction of the road was not cleared for over an hour, and it was nearly six when they were on the move again. By this time they should have been just leaving the guns, with less than half an hour of darkness to get them sa'ely through Death Valley. But, on account of un- avoidable delay, they had not even btgun the trip into the valley. Througii the ruineo village of Pozi^res the limbers rattled. In tJie dim gray twilight could be descried pathetic heaps of stone which once were smiling homes. Here and there batteries of heavy guns were concealed amidst the ruins, and now they began to spei.k with slow fire, as if to sadden the coming of the dawn over the war-swept horizon. Across on the heights of Beaumont Hummel a certain liveliness of the German artillery was manifest. "Yes, there's Fritz all right, alive and waiting to give us the glad hand down Death Valley!" sang out Driver Dupont, the lead driver of No. 1 Subsection. Apprehensive glances were now cast upon the heights to the west as out across the opposite horizon the dawn began to steal. High and sil- houetted against the east was a ruined tank, over 188 '^wms^^ms^^^mi m^^ JT THROUGH DEATH VALLEY BY DAYLIGHT which the sun suddenly peeped, and the day was fairly upon them. After the sun once showed his head, not a word was spoken in the column. The signal to trot was given and every driver grimly set his face as the column swept forward. The ao- pearance of the sun. on the one hand, and the sound of the guns, on the other, were grim re- mmders of the perils ahead. At this juncture of the road a long fire-screen of dust-colored canvas eight feet high had been raised on tiie left side of the road, to shield traffic from observation of Beaumont Hmnmel. In this way the:^ could pass unseen by the German gun- ners. Firally a break in the screen occurrec^ where a road turned off into Death Valley Before arriving at the break in the screen, the column was halted. Hallam had dismounted the drivers to make sure of harness for the final dash when a young subaltern from the sappers L T.."^ f road-building gang, approached hun. With a look of consternation upon his face, he inquired: "Surely you don^t intend to go through Death Valley by daylight with limbers?" "I certainly do," answered Hallam. "The push begins to-morrow and our guns must have their supply of ammunition at all cost." 189 Jf^ lA^ It t 5 l^m 11 { ■4 ' I ! »'; 1^ '5I- K^ M THE REAL FRONT Well, take it from me, old chap, you will never get through that way alive," said the subaltern. "Some limbers went in there a half an hour ago and the Boche have knocked them to smithereens. The surgeon who went in to attend to them was killed, too. See, there they are carrying out hia body now." Sure enough, as if to bear out his words, up the road and around l»y the screen came a group of Red Cross orderlies, carrying the limp form •f the surgeon who had just been killed. "This road is going to be closed in daylight by an army order," went on the sapper, "and if you go through now you will not only be throw- ing your own men away, but you will draw fire on us." Hallam looked at the sun that would be shim'ng on him as a target clear down the valley, and then at the German batteries firing at close range. Just th.n the picture of thai little cross which had hai.nted his dream the night before loomed before him. Was this a premonition, a warning? If he were going to his death alone, he would not flinch, but should he lead his men to death with him? For an awful five minutes he waited in trem- bling vacillation. His will power seemed to leave him; the dangers ahead seemed to magnify 190 Hi" #".'^- THROUGH DEATH VALLEY BY DAYLIGHT '^nl»"^\ ""?? '"' '"^ "«"« «^"»- 'rf'h 'he re8po„,,l„l,ty of hi, „,en? Could he not make some excu,e and go a.M,„l another way? I, ^ "P to h,m what he should do. He would IT, r: XX.?;''"' "''-•' •*^''-»''^'-^ Sergeant Dugmorc here galloped up on h« thL"'"'' rr,; ■■'^"'- Senreant^haMo you tinnk we had better do, go a«.und by -he t^. Tlji-king only of his own safety, the sir- siaTr'^' "^-- - *^^^^z This sounded to Hallam like a eapilulation to danger, and he rememherd that the tramway would take all day. The major had sa ^3 arnm«n,„„n through at all eost by noon. • • He^ Oie great en™ whieh he had always feared fe F an„ had eome, and he was going'to pr:ve a Mure Already a voiee seemed to be whimper- ing m h« ear, "You coward '" """.per- ITie order "Right . .verse" was t«.mbli„g on "IS lip; his sergeant advised it- .1,. . viml it- I.:, i ™"*"' "' 'he sapper ad- vised It, h,s men by every fearful attitude were implonng for that order; his own .hysieal sj^ seemed to ery out, "Right revere." "^ But over ajl these urgings, that spirit whieh <■-'* -r. t-rl 1^ ; ^ :1 ;.':.f I I, 1 :: 'ii 1* P ! ^ 'it I:' III THE REAL FRONT made him an officer by divine riglit rose triumph- ant, and in a cahn and even voice he announced : "Men, we must go ahearl and finish this job. At any cost ammunition must be got throuf^h to the guns. Our only duty is to deliver the goods or to fall in the attempt." He divided the cohimn into four subsections of two limbers each, putting each subsection untitr a N. C. O., with instructions to move off at len- minule intervals. In this way tlie target pre- 8en*od would be smaller and more difficult to reach. "I will lead off with the first subsection," he announced, "'^arh subsection will follow at re- spective intervals." A moment L^ter Hallam's subsection was mounted, and with a thunder of hoofs and a roar of wheels they went at the full gallcp down the hard pai'c road. A moment's halt at the screen, a left wheel, and out into the full observation of the Hun batteries they swept, out into the open of Death Valley in broad daylight. Was ever such a tempting of Providence? For the first few hundred yards the road was firm and the headlong gallop continued. Once in the face of the German guns, every thought of vacillation or uncertainty fled. Like the gambler playing for heavy stakes, Cyril Hallam had com- 192 rii»Li' 'mA u'^u ''"'™' ^''" ^;he,astti„j„r;.t:t;':f^:^^^^^^^ The sergeant was a powerful fellow uZT^' lay h,s rifle, with the bayonet feed Hlf""' could imagine how one of hi, (,.!/' , f™" would have dehVhwl • J """^ slioulders for'en.:Htf:Hrf"'B:r"«-' Hundreds of ^es Cyril Hallam had pCed wm If n J "*l;ll il I !■ M . 3 .■;*♦ r til THE REAL FRONT dead forms without seeing them. This morning he seemed to have a strange interest in the pros- trate bodies strewn about. On other occasions he might have passed without seeing one, but now none escaped him. Perhaps it was a fellow- feeling. He was on the harvest-fields of Death; upon the heights of Beaumont Hummel the reapers were busy, and at any moment they might also gather him in with those who had already fallen. To the left and far to the rear he could see another group. Bombe; ^r MacDonald and the second subsection were also in the valley. The horses were now wet and panting, and the deep mud made the hauling extremely hard. Two halts had to be ordered to allow the teams to gain their wind. Nearer and nearer, the longed-for crest of the protecting hill began to loom up before them, like a covert from the tempest, until at last, with horses and drivers alike soaked with that dire sweat that comes from fear of death, they dragged themselves under the crest and were safe from observation by the enemy. Up over a ramshackle bridge where a horse fell off into the mudjf^ve minutes' tugging to get him out, and with a last rush they arrived at the guns. The battery had been in action during the night and all were asleep, but the sentry gave 196 i!ii THROUGH DEATH VALLEY BY DAYLIGHT the alarm and the crews came tumbling out of the gun-pits where thcvslent Tl, i- ,'' "^ "' wheeled ;„t„ ^ "'cj Slept. The hmbers were -"4ei::n?ti--"S^'- to lose a second in getting out of here " w«"lT "" ?''' '"^^™'' " '='<»'<• °f Grapnel came dangerously near, but none heeded it safely Hallam proceeded to the dugout where the rpitr.?;^'— «"-'-'^io'>..rbi" wr't^r-mtt^tnfr^rr" «l yet to find you." ' "'^'' " don t get me coming thmugh Death Valley by daylight agai« with ammunition unless I bi^g it in by aeroplane." * As each subsection completed its unloading it set off mimediately on the return. AVhen 1 e came out of U.e major's dugout the las two unbers under Sei^eant Dugmore were just trot t ng over the bridge, and the sound of bulsW shells down the valley told him that the Gcrma^ were agam searching for them. ^<^™'«" 197 r"-* f .,i i^ If I i I 1 I M ■i ? ( r liiijil. I THE REAL FRONT ^ White Stockings was all atremble, pawing the air and neighing, when Hallam approached. He was very high-strung, and the inactivity amid the din was too much for him. It required a supreme effort to mount, and instantaneously, as the rider's knees gripped his withers, the horse was away like the wind. Dashing around onto the trail, Hallam caught sight of his men at long intervals, struggling back down the valley, while here and there the shells were bursting. As if to welcome him into the lists, a 4.1 high-explosive shell buried itself near by, showering White Sxckings and himself with flying dirt. For a moment the horse quivered, irresolute, the proximity of the shot serving to check him; then away again with his great, lop- ing strides of the hunting-field, while Hallam pinched himself, and examined the horse's flanks to make sure that no piece of the shell had gone home. At a furious gallop he tore down the valley, passing one limber after another until the fore- most had been reached. Looking back along the line, he saw for an instant the doughty Dupont guiding with omnipotent hand his fiery steeds; then a great burst of earth and smoke came up from beneath and swallowed them in a cloud of flying debris. When the cloud of the explosion 198 i .iia_.. ^ THROUGH DEATH V.ULEV BY DAVUGHT oped back while the lead horsesluke^l^^ hmber were detached, according to custom Tn, aStr; T™ "'^ -„a^tic/:At;; i' «wieu partner. The enemv hnW of ]..^ direct lii't- +K i • " ^*' '^'^^ scored a .™ :;^::.fhirrr^^^^^^^^^^^^^ wheel dnver wa. also dead, with a , ' " . ^tt «.^«>.u»„ was Jef ::;"or-r"'-'' Battles he had par :„sc^;eS :X-S bccorne m the e.ves of all a pillar ;f th ba t v seeming as fixed as the hills Bnt nV l • •*^' 189 w0m ^J N [» . ( r/ \ :il :U rf 1 f 1 ii\ THE REAL FJlONT The lead driver and his riding-horse went down together; tlie horse was killed and the man slightly wounded in his left arm. Thf dead iiorse was known as Nige, Driver Holmes's especial pet. He had been driven in a team with another black liorse, known as Nigger, and now, as they cut out old Nige, Nigger rubbed his nose against his driver, his ears forward, his eyes wide, his every attitude asking patheti- cally, '* What have they done with my old mate, Nige?" Sorrow was written in every attitude of the poor horse. Hallam pitied his men under shell-fire, but the horses stirred in him an even deeper sympathy. It was heartbreaking for him to see the trem- bling fear of the poor dumb animals, to feel their unreasoning alarms, to hear their terrifying breath when they were hit, and to look upon tlieir mild, reproaciiful eyes as they died. To see these horses that he had loved and cared for for months tortured and dying was almost more than Hallam could stand. Nigger, it was discovered, also had a flight wound in the breast. He was, therefore, de- tached, and the wounded horse proceeded to the rear, while the limber went on with four horses, which was an easy draft, as the ammunition had been discharge"'"• So^eant Dugmore. He Jadh'"'"'' "^'" '"M where U,ere was a casualty and h"! T"'"'"™ -ster of the ..•tuatio„!''^s;dl':lt:?;^ '«? o'ly feel its b^ath T„ ■ ■ *" ™"''' "^f- «Wid old BritirL JT'I '." '"■' ^''"o. the 'c-Pt. "Aw. sttTrw^'T"'' .■■" «- — fet then another burs ^>. ""r- *'">•"'" and two drivers Z,uT t^"'^ *™' '"»"e Both of the jri^rf :ZT rr ^"' "o™- were hftcd ont^Zriu"'""'"'- ^"'^ »^ "«y the Ihnbers wt ast t "•""'' ■'' ^'""' «>"' Through all th,! , ■ "^ ambulances, 'am still .Id'";, :^;;'^ -" -'"•"or Cyrii Hal- ™:en things ;it:^Xc';ir3to';r ""'"'• ama.«l at hirj; haTen;""" ""'^ •"= "" Or-K, u ""Miaken poise. T«„^3ubseet,ons had already THE REAL FRONT passed around into comparative safety; then in a rapture of joy he saw the other subsections disapi>ear, one by one, Sergeant Dugmore van- ishing after the last limber. Like a true officer, Hallam was riding a hun- dred yards behind, so as to be sure that all his men got into safety first. As the last of his h'mbers went out of sight, he knew that he had successfully run the gantlet through Death Val- ley by daylight. He had met his crisis in France, and he had conquered. He was no coward. He turned in his saddle to take a parting glance at Beaumont Hummel, when a whirring noise filled his ears; then everything went black about him from_a great explosion, and darkness followed. ■V. XII THE RED CROSS NURSB ^hich her blue eyes snarkt .T u"""" ""^"^ dimpled with a sLji.? ' ''^''" ^'' ^"^^ ^'« regards her approach with rhapsodv pL T' passes colIaDsevi inf^ ti, ™apsody, and as she t- a couapses mto the arms of his matP Cil hooley, exclaiming. "Mav th. iT , ... Wess us, but the an^I i, ""^^ ^^^° Somme!" °^''' ^^^^ ^^« to the Down the long dark street nt th^ • j »mce this old town ha.^.obbed to maiden C"! Wl I; M 1» S II' ^ ' 1 1 1 ! ^11 THE REAL FRONT steps. But in th( somber present the light of other days rekindles as the fair nurse passes. No wonder that Private Murphy loses himself in rhapsodies. The whole long street goes with him. The armorer corporal at the door of his billet, looking up from his work with sour and knitted brow, suddenly has his face reflecting brightness. He has seen her and that is enough. The pompous regimental sergeant-major, tlie cares of an empire shadowed forth on his features, without warning setms to drop into his secund childhood as he halts u curse in mid-career and whispers, "The dear little thing!" A battalion, marching off for tlie front, are favored by an especial smile, and with lighter hearts they slog along over the pavd to their fate. Driver Derbj sWre, of the Army Service Corps, intercepting the smile intended for the fighting- men, arrogates the same to himself, and is spirited through high air by its very memory, until he runs amuck of Private Murphy, who exclaims, "Aw, ye smirkin' strawberry - jam pincher, faith, an' ye've got a dose o' shell-shock from lookin' at tlie loidy." All the way down that darkened street the little nurse takes with her a reciprocity of smiles. At the far end of the town, grim, glowering General Bangs, just entering his car, catches a THE RED CROSS NURSE natu.„ak«. .Be who.: Zl^kt ""'""'•"' »houW„otbea„„„e.t'„*tl»^°J--™ all nonsense." he exclaimed "Z. ' ' exposing our „„„en to Zl'r 1 ""'«^'»"V orderlies and male nnr J^ "' " ^'"'' ""'« But the univem te^r^ r?'''"'°"""™™t. « that iCZTlnir!'" ™""''«' "■«" women are ^f mo", Cv' """'■»'"'«'»'» «' the .0 Be, oundM^r it':;'r;;r '■-■■"«■'- "Pooh.p.hrwhen.omL"'^ar:t-'^- battle-field. I^rd Kitchener was o^o *05 of those who at first tnri ^ M THE REAL FRONT bt'lieved in male nurses. But later ex|X'rience completely clianged his views, and he became an out-and-out believer in Sisters being alta-'hed even to clearing-stations well up towanl the firing-line. The present war has established the position of the nursing Sister us an indispensable adjunct of the army in the field. I saw in France the grave of a nurse who had died in active service. Hers wa^•' as truly a soldier's grave as that of any fallen infantryman or gunner. Faithful unto death in her post of duty, she left behind the same example of courage and of self-devotion that characterized her brothers of the combatant forces. The life of a Red Cross nurse is one of extreme hardship and privation, and often of great danger. The lot of nurses in our peaceful oi{*«,>, as wo arc all aware, is o bed of roses. But the life of the army nurse is even more exact- ing. There is no regularity for them as in civil life, and in times of great battles they often work night and day, without sleep or rest, until they drop from slieer exhaustion. During one of our big battles on the Somme last fall over ten thousand cases passed through one clearing-station alone in less than a week. The awful strain upon the handful of Sisters in the clearing-station in a time like this seems be- THE RED CROSS NURSE yond endurance. Yel with in(i„i,, ,„,i,.ne.. and U^e «„„.„,„„« i„.„,„ „, „„„„j,^j_ ,^,^ , w. 1. " '"' ""' ■•«"">■ invincihl,. s»wl ne« One of ,1,0 .l„n,Iin« miraW.., ,„ „,,. ,-, „,, ,,„^, hey pr..«.rve their eh.^ry «„;,,, „.,„•,,, „',.;', Ihe wan.faee,i Tommy i, ,„„„. ^„,,, .^ a„v "Iher restorative. One w„„l,i exp«V 7 i d «.em cal o„., and harden«l after n.'on.h, „f I' kmd of hfe but such i, not the ea.se. Those wl^ .tee"",;:" ''""''''"■"'"■ "'«' '"'" >-^ o smce 1914, seem to possess as .spontaneous » ^ynjpathy a, those wi.„ have oniy'just ar:^"^ fmnt they are often in a deplorable eondilion Unhemp and unshaven their clothes filthy ';,• seems loathsome, and yet these gentle .Sisters bathe them and clothe them anew, setting thm with wh,eh they would engage in the mist pleasant occupation. The savant, like my old friend of the city cluh things. Why. he would maintain, " U,e cmer- ^c.s of war would render her absolutely'::, 'm. From my observation of the Red Cross ""-e. my faith.., capability of woman C i07 i'fi ! ! !i if! I; I' I \ ft th It ^1 REAL FRONT infinitely increased. I no longer have ears for this idle prattle on the limited sphere of wonie' about their not being able to do this ar not having the power to stand that. I have , .mji h little chit of a girl with a Ri-d Cross brassarJ f , ^^^P^^^* ui ueaut^. that comes a one tJiroiiL^I. iove and service Tf .V. tu , "'rougn st-rvice. It IS the same love iness fli.f ^tcrnal frc^nc. wh.le firefly charmer, wax and ^thcit antithe^s to war h. Iho trenehe. gl-ng to budd up and to restore, mile our busmess ,. to kin. iheir. i. ,„ ^Jj^ T renche. one catehe. horrific fiaslu. „f U.e dep "ughlo of human sacrifice and love. 209 If I l-i '■ i ' if !jr li THE REAL FRONT In the awful hell of the front line our faith in humanity may be shaken. But that faith re- turns when we go into the hospitals ;. id see the soft hand of the Sister, soothing the fevered brow of friend ar ■ oc alike. Heartsick from the sordid scenes of this most brutal war, I love to remember the German sur- geon who carefully dressed one of our wounded men in No Man's Land, and gently carried him back into our lines, to the care of his own com- rades. A British surgeon who afterward re- dressed the wound told me that the enemy sur- geon had performed a masterly task in his first dressing. The nobility of war in other days was in such deeds as this. Among an enemy that has crucified our Red Cross stretcher-bearers with bayonets, that has fired on the ambul-rce flag, and that has sunk our hospital ships • seas— among such abysmal foes one is glad ... for a single ray of kindness like that of the good German doctor. In our hospitals I am glad to say that such old chivalry still reigns. When I see one of our own sweet nurses tenderly soothing tJie pain of a wounded Hun I say to myself, "There is still room for faith." Here at least the precepts of Him who taught us mercy are not altogether dead. 210 %: t '> . ■P'..*-^ THE RED CROSS NURSE There are pacifists in whom I believe mth all m heart. They are the pacifists of th Re" bat . fieW. Far be ,t from me to lighten the k'lhng Germans. War for us is war to the death. But I am glad that the flag of Z ^mZ ?rf °"' ^° ^''^^^ '^^' 0" ™emies! :«"otfSlzr — ■ "'"■ -- I remember in a elearing-station at Aire-sur- wounds. Mommg, noon, and night the nurse on h,s case was watching over him. attending to his every wh.m, and soothing his every feaf as he slipped toward the Dark Valley. Before he ^erthlfi;;:: """^^ '--''^ '- '^^ It was my duty to censor this sad epistle. I hold ,t in nnnd as a tragic memoir of the war In quamtest German it ran: dred in our Fati.erluud.'^Sod ^ forev"^ '^"^ *" "^' '''"■ Heinrich. The beauty of a life of service is most serene when we behold such ministrations as those "f this nurse to a stricken foe. 2H I iff .!■,■! ■I 1 !■ if '- i I S^^-r I I THE REAL FRONT Many romances are woven in the hospitals, and a war wedding is often a happy sequel to the story. A rough, big-hearted Australian, who was in the next bed to me in a base hospital, confided in me the evolution of his heart since coming under the ministrations of the nursing Sisters. "You see, mate, I'm what they call a bush- ranger out in Australia. I'm one of the hard ones, and I always passed as a woman-hater. I used to look with contempt on my pals who lost their heart upon a little bit of flufiF. I've played oi the red all my life, and my conception of woman was beastly low. But this hospital business has opened my eyes to something new in woman, something I never dreamed of. I can feel it comin', mate — some day I'm goin' to fall for one o' these little girls as bad as the worst. That fair-haired cove of the Flying Corps across the ward there just worships the night Sister's shadow, but I must confess he's got nothin' on me." The "fair-haired cove of the Flying Corps" did have something on the Australian, however, for he v/as the Young Lochinvar who walked off with the bride. A few months later I recognized his picture in the Illustrated London News over the caption, "War Wedding." The picture was 212 ■^^- w^ > f^ .'» < THE RED CROSS NURSE taken just outside an old ivy-covered parish c'hurcli. A guard of honor of his broHier officers had formed tJic arch of slender swords. ana^£:m^^?^£^^iL!j£«^a1^::^*> THE REAL FRONT tortuous ways of fever I know that the glad hght on Sister O'Calh'gan's face was, beyond all else, restoring me. Sister O'Calligan, moving up and down that darkened ward, casting lier shadow from a night- lamp in her hand, always recalled to me the title, "The Lady of the Lamp," by which fond phrase the wounded of the Crimea always referred to Florence Nightingale as she passed among them at night. Always before the lights were dimmed and we went to sleep in the ward Sister O'Calligan would sing to us with a rich Irish voice. I can recall a young cavalry subaltern who would always implore at the end, "Oh, Sister, just one more!" Sister O'Calligan added to the charms of her lovely face and her violet eyes the beauty of a life of service. It was this that made us worship her very shadow as she passed along the ward. "I'll always remember you. Sister!" exclaimed the impassioned young cavalry subaltern as he left the hospital, and he spoke for every one of us. Just as the Crimean veterans worship the memory of their "Lady of the Lamp," of Scutari on the Bosphorus, so I shall always adore the picture of my "Lady of the Lamp of St. Omer." 214 ,U-J7_ 7. S^L *..-.■ -T'.'' tit THE RED CROSS NURSE Wherever the Red Cross nurse appears in the abysmal scenes of war, there are the roses of romance. As out of inire and filtli the h'lies bloom, so out of hate and strife their deeds of service ever blossom forth with swcn^-tness and witii fragrance. I xra THE STUFF THAT MAKES A SOIJ)IEIv ^M Mi H i 1 i : r ;'■ . '! ■|w i -il lit 'i i T TNDER the barrack gate and across tlie ^^ square of the training-depot sweep a liorde of new recruits; tliey have just arrived, and tJiey represent a mob of disorder and chaos. A sergeant-major of the regulars, a lion-tamer whose duty it will be to hammer discipline into the mob, regards its uncontrolled vagaries with contemptuous eye. The sergeant-major stands well back in the shadow of the gateway beside the sentry-box. None of these unconscious young men surging by give him a thought, but the vigilant eye of the lion-taming sergeant loses nothing. The youth with the impudent look is slated for a lesson in authority, many with stooping shoulders and ambling gait are already allottetl to extra hours of "setting-up," a moon-faced individual whose every move spells stolid is un- consciously assigned to the "awkward squad." A raucous- voiced, hard-looking gang from the 216 t\*':.-t-c JS- (- THE STUFF THAT MAKES A SOLDIER city slums are llio last to i)a.ss tlirou^h t}w gate and they straightway l,egin to desecrate the harrack square with their obscene and strident language. Immwh'ately. in imagination, the sergeant had this gang doing pad drill at the "steady douhle." "I'll take it out of Vm," exclaimeealcd to me as ideal soldiers. Rivy and Francis were twin brothers in the Ninth Lancers. They were two of the finest j>olo-players in the world, men of perfect physique and of hardest physical training. They were possessed of keen minds, and no post-gradual e student at Harvard, working for his doctor's degree in philosoi)hy, was more assiduous than these two officers in their study of military science. Above all, they THE STIFF THAT MAKKS A Soi.dikr were men of sph-mlid spirit. For wnr^ \n season ami out, tl,oy were striving to' !»,. ^.^kI soldiers, to be ready wlien their country net^l.-d lliem. It was because of men like the Crenfells that the 01<1 ronteniptil,Ies were iibh- to stand against overwlu'Iniing odds. Capt. Rivy Grenfell and Capt. Francis Cienfell. V.C, are l,oth <]ead. but tlieir example remains a priceh-ss ideal for tJie young soldiers that come after. Tlie sergeant-mnjor. the colonel, the adjutant, and all tliose in authority at the training-d..pot, have a high ideal for the young recruit. But he himself must awaken and cherish that same ideal for luniself and toil and strive unceasingly toward its attainment. If the young recruit has the right stuff in him the days ami months in the trainmg-deiKit will work wonders with him. Within a short perio,!!;^Klit. THE STUFF THAT MAKES A SOLDIER If one of our soft young men from a city office were forced out onto a grueling march of several days, with open bivouac in perishing winter weather, he would soon give in from exJiaustion and exposure. If he were suddenly dropped from his quiet room into the hell of the front h'ne, his heart would stop beating from slieer shock. Sometimes when new drafts arrive in the line they encounter a particularly bad time on their first day. Perhaps one is blown up by a shell and is found dead without a mark on his body. The shock was too great, and lu's resistance powers were not yet keyed up to tJie demand. While an old-timer might be blown up and come down grinning, an unseasoned soldier would come down stark and cold. My old company commander in 1914, who is now serving his third year in France, is for me the truest embodiment of the stuff that makes a soldier. He was a captain when I first met him, though he is far beyond that rank to-day. It was in August, 1914, that I first met the captain. He was standing in front of his tent speaking to one of his platoon commanders. "Look 't here, young feller," he was saying, "I don't want so much talk out of you about the dif- ference between an officer and a man. I tell 220 .:^KmwL.y!^B,^mmB. iSk.^ :«av K^iK.: ill if i' • * -f? THE REAL FRONT you that we are all soldiers, and if we deserve it, 'soldier' is tlie highest term that can be applied to any of us, irrespective of rank." I looked at the captain as he stood there with his trim figure. His legs were thin, his waist was lean, his shoulders were square, and his head was carried high. The small pointed nms- tache and the swagger-stick under his arm gave the finishing toucli of dasji to his soldierly figure. When off duty our company commander was what is technically known in the cavalry as a "regular blood." He was a darling of the ladies, and a ringleader in every wildest jamboree. But whatever lie was in his gay moments, with all his dashing exuberance of spirit, he was austere and cold as an iceberg when he stood before his company on parade. At the very be- ginning the captain appealed to me as an ideal soldier. But with Lord Roberts his motto was, "Still learning." Some veterans of other wars thought that they knew it all at the start. Not so with the captain. "I'll tell you, boys," he would say, "we're going in for classic fighting now. And we've got to be trained to the minute. South Africa was a ragtime show to what we will be up against in the Germans." If this ofiicer was my ideal in August, 1914, how mucli more was he the embodiment of the JZSO Kill ^ir ■^mf^Mt ix:wmK''^i-^mf^,w^ ! • THE STUFF THAT MARKS A SOLDIHR stuflF that makes a solditT when I last liohcld him, heading his regiinent in column of route on one of the roads tliat lead toward the Somme' The swagger-stick was missing, his nuistadie was not trimmed as in old days, but his manner was stiil daslung and debonair. SJiining buttons and accouterments still spoke of the old-time pride of person. In his eye there was a cahn and serene look, as though through long nights of vigil in the trenches he had worshiped at tlie shrine of BuddJia. The volatile and scintil- lating glance, the delight of the ladies on Uie Dufferin Terrace, was gone. In its place was an expression of calm and imperturbability. As I looked upon tlie eyes of my old friend I tJiought of all that they had seen since last we met, and was thrilled, for shining through those eyes I saw the soldierly spirit, the spirit which is the greatest glory of our time. T^- development of a soh'ierly spirit should be thf tnd of all training; and it will be the highest outcome of all campaigning. It is the possession of tins quality tJiat enables ten men to beat a hundre 1, and fifty to rule a thousand. The story of the British conquest of India, and of Scott's campaign in Mexico, are examples of how moral force may triumph over overwhelming numbers. A soldierly spirit enables a man to be cheerfu( m 231 THE REAL FRONT privation, to put faith in his .superiors, to practise necessary self-confidence and self-restraint, to act with initiative amidst unforeseen dangers, and to obey all orders with courage and disregard of self. It was the soldierly spirit that permeated Jack- son's infantry at Chancellorsville, that spirit held the Ypres salient in 1914 when we were one to ten. Lord Kavanaugh's Household Cavalry Brigade stood alone and unbroken against vast hordes of Germans on Mennin Ridge berouse every trooper of the Household Cavalry was possessed of a soldierly spirit. This spirit has cliaracterized all Canada's New World troops since the beginning. 'Hi 11 f 'mi f'fftl f; ,^lf-|||j i|:^ i i: m^ XIV NEW WORLD TROOPS IN AN OU) WORLD WAR rpiIE Unitod States has entered the World War with becoming modesty. The period of her neutrahty was the jK-riod of her probation. During the time when she was trying to kcvp out of the war her cars were fiHed with the recrinn'na- tions and reproaches of those more ardent citizens who were for instant participation. During all this period the magnitude of the task was imng fully revealed to her. At last in deadly earnest, and shorn of all illusions and false hopt^s, the United States has entered the struggle. No nation has entered the war with a deeper seriousness, and with a more becoming humility. Out of the period of her probation the United States has emerged with a contrite heart. Despite the tendency of the New World for big talk, no bluster or jingoisia is heard in the country to-day. The tendency has been to depreciate, rather than to expatiate on, the influence of American 233 tr. iij'! ! if i : f i ! «TV' 'In -m' "''■' THE REAL FKONT intervention. And yet America's entrance into the struggle will stand out as the greatest event in the history of the war. Mr. Awjuith, sp<'aking in the House of Commons, said, "I douht whether even now the world realizes the full significance of the step which America has taken." American intervention marks an epoch in worKl history. IIer< for the first time the Old World and the New are joined together in a com- mon struggle on a common battle-field. The "splendid isolation policy," the foreign policy of the United States since its birth, has been al>andoned. She has now definitely entered the arena of world politics, and is destined to l)c- come a new force in the sphere of international relations. America planned to keep out of all entangling alliances with Europe. Put now, on account of the solidarity of mankind in the struggle for freedom, America has plunged into the vortex of world politics, and as war is the present policy of world politics, she has plunged into the vortex of world war. EurojK) sees with awe the great New WorKl across the water prejmring to join her in the strife. Britain, the Old Gray Mother of the English-s|»eaking race, beholds with tears of glad- ness a long-lost daughter joining hands again. >''(" ''J la*-' NEW WORLD TROOPS IN OLD WORLD WAR Thanks to the pood offices of the Kaiser, kinsfolk have come to«vther. Wilhuni not only obligingly cemented the British Commonwealth, homel- and ami Colonies, but he has added America to limt Kng hsh-.srK.aking tmion. which must ever make for lil)erty and jH-ace on earth. The London Times referred to the arrival of Genc^ral Pershing's men as the •' return of tin- 1 iI^Tims. It was a ha,>,,y ailusicm, for as the IMirty of the J/fl2//„«vrcrosseursuit I^st year in the trenches in front en Ypres I met one Major Stewart, who had form, v been an officer m the American Regvilar Armv It was at the time of Sanctuary Wood battle.^hen the Canadians had lost heavily. We fell to dis cussing the rea.sons why J,e, an American, was in what seemed to be another's quarrel. "I came," said Major Stewart, simpiv, "be- cause I luHl to come. You were fighting for liberty for my liberty as well as yours, and I cyuldn t stand th,. id<>a of having some one eJse purchasing my liberty for me." At that time tJie bloodie.sl fighting was in progress, the Canadians having lost ground, winch, according to their tradition, had to be regained. Two days later tlie Seventh Battalion. i35 l; ■p ! ■'■ )f If 'M Jtj »l^C i I ! >■! } n ililiij ^i THE REAL FRONT lying next to IVIajor Stewart's, the Tenth, were going over the top. They had lost all their senior officers, and Major Stewart volunteered to lead them over. Just as he was leading the charge over the parapet he was wounded in the foot, and was carried back into the trench, where a few moments later he was killed by another shell. The words and heroic example of that galh<: ', officer of the American Regulars, who fell with us, remain with me a tokcu Oi the best spirit of this New World. New armies are being born in America to-day with the same crusading spirit of my friend, 'dajor Stewart. I have visited Plattsburg Camp. I have inspected several of the training regiments, and I have heard the heart-beat of multitudes of American young men, and I say that what Canada has done the United States will do. If the war drags on, as it gives evidences of doing, this country will be able to render vaster and more decisive service than smaller Canada could think of rentlcring. General Bell said at Madison Square Garden, "The United States is proud of Canada, because Canada is American, and we hope some day that Canada will be proud of the United States, be- cause the United States is American." As 236 m l^!^a'SML'MiJTV--li,^'mj . NEW WORLD TROOPS IN OLD WORLD WAR Canadians we know that Canada shall yet he proud of the service rendered by the groat nation World ''' '^" ^'"'"^'" ""^ ^'^^- N^^ Nothing could surpass the earnestness of this «>untry as she enters upon the war. The prepa- ratmn for the Civil War was a half-hearted thing o the preparation which the country is making for this struggle. If Walt Whitman was so moved by the sight of the few thousands that Civil War, what would he say now, could he see a m, hon men answering the call instantly that war IS declared? An old veteran whom I met at the Union League Club said to me, "The enthusiasm and spir.t with which we have entered this war far exe^^ Uie spirit with which we began in Many questions arise as we regard the New World preparing for the struggle. How will the New World troops do on the classic battle-fields of Europe? These will not be guerrilla fights but battles directed by profound mastef J; strategy and military science. Will our generals be adequate to such tests? How will the Amer- ican contribution affect the struggle in Europe, as to Its methods, and as to its ultimate issue? «87 •rjefflW-rtT' THE REAL FRONT Ml' I And how will the Old World itself affect America? These are some of the many questions that arise in our minds at this moment. In reply to questions that arise, it may be safely averred at the start that the necessary men will be forthcoming. In the last analysis, the war will be won by men, more men, and yet more men. It should always be borne in mind that the fighting-men on tlie firing-line, beyond aeroplanes and inventions and all else, will be the decisive factor. The United States is rightly preparing for a long war. According to official despatches from Washington, "No army officer who is acquainted with the real situation expects the war to end until the United States has sent at least one million men to the firing-line, and perhaps two millions may be needed." There should be no cause for 'mdue worry as to the discovering of proper leadership for the higher commands. The crisis of the American Civil War brought forth some of the greatest masters of strategy and military science of all time. An ofiicer in the English Staff College to-day who is a candidate for advancement is required to pass an examination in Colonel Henderson's Life of Stonewall Jackson. That distinguished graduate of West Point who fell at 238 NEW WORLD TROOPS IN OLD WORLD WAR Chancellorsville has become a mentor in the mihtary schools of Europe. Prof. William James, in his address on "The Energies of Man," says, "A new position of rt spons^hMy will usually show a man to be a L stronger creature than was supposed." Cron,- wen s and Grant's careers are stock examples of how war will wake a man up. Canada abounds with such examples. Major- General Sir Arthur Currie. C.B., K.C.M G who now commands the Canadian Corps, w^; at he beginning of the war an urJcnown real-estate broker in British Columbia. Major-General s! R. E. W Turner, V.C, C.B.. D.S.O., K.C.M.G., v^as quietly conducting a wholesale grocery busi ness m Quebec in the summer of 1914. To-dav after a briHiant career in France, he represents- the Canadians at the War Office. As in the Civil War, so in this present crisis, the United shine forth again on the pages of her history. The whole future of Europe and America will be changed because of their present union in this v^ar. Each side will make its contribution to the other and when the war is over the Old World will be newer, and the New World will be older because we have fought together America is not going "over there" to ape f* fti ! h I THE REAL FRONT Old World traditions. She will go with the freshness of her own new life. You cannot pour new wine into old bottles, and you cannot make New World troops into Old World soldiers. After a hard experience England has learned this lesson from her Colonial troops. At the begin- ning the regulation automatic drill sergeant wanted to make all the Colonials according to the prescribed pattern of Tommy Atkins. But tlie free and breezy lads from overseas, unlike the Billingsgate loafer, were not in the army for a shilling a day, and they refused to be hammered into automatons. Some even went so far as to blast the most time-honored traditions of the service. A big Australian private was walking through London after the Dardanelles show. He had been through that baptism of hell, and with his sleeves rolled up, as the Anzacs love to wear them, he sauntered along the Strand, an ideal picture of a rough-and-ready Colonial who cared not one whit for ceremony, but who could be depended upon for fighting. He encountered a pink-faced English youth, who had just got his commission, one of the Percival or Cuthbert type, whom we refer to in the army as "poodle-fakers." The young one, with a due sense of his dignity, held up the big 240 NEW WORLD TROOPS IN OLD WORLD WAR Australian private for not saluting him. "Don't you know an hofficer when you see 'im?" he exelaimed The Anzac drew lu'mself to his full height and, bending, clapped the youth with a mighty hand, announcing, "Sonny, you trot along home and tell your mother that you've seen a real, live soldier!" Unconventiomility will be one of the eharac- tenstics of the New World troops. This country does not take kindly to forms and ceremonies I remember once, while dining at the Hotel l*olkestone in Boulogne, there entered the dining- room a tall, commanding figure in the uniform of first lieutenant. What caused e^-ery one to look at him was not merely his imrerious figure but a full-grown beard which adorned his face well trimmed but prolific. A young English officer seated at my table nearly cx.llapsed. According to King^s Rcgula- horn and Orders it was required that every of- ficer and man should "shave all except the upper ip, which is responsible for the regulation Eng- hsh army mustache. The cause of this flutter of excitement in the dimng-hall turned out to be a Western American. now an officer with the Canadians, who had ormerly served in the Philippines. Later I had the pleasure of meeting this bearded subaltern. ii m!< THE REAL FRONT and found him to be a real Westerner, who, in his own phrase, was an old-stager, and didn't give a whoop in hell for any inane convention. In speaking of his beard he said, jocularly, "If his Majesty the King can wear a beard, I see no reason why I, a true American, fighting in hi.i forces, may not be permitted to emulate his Majesty to that extent." I found in a deeper confidence of friendship that the reason why this officer wore a beard was to hide an ugly gash across the face, which was the result of a w ound received in the Philip- pines. I may add that this breezy Westerner has since become a major in our forces. lie lost nothing by his unconventionality, because it was sincere, a mark of greatness rather than a weakness. I know of no subaltern who commanded more respect than this same eccen- tric Californian. A story is told of how one time he was on his way up to the trenches; his rank badges were hidden by his Burberry rain-proof; striding along in his imperious way, he passed a sentry, who gave him the field-officer's salute. A few moments later a friend, following there, inquired, "Have you seen a platoon commander pass here re- cently?" "No," said the sentry, "but a general with a beard went by a minute ago." The gen- £42 !t^^ip-^J NEW WORLD TROOPS IN OLD WORLD WAR eral with the beard was none other than our un- conventional Californian. ^ This unconventionality will distinguisli Amer- lean troops in France. I thought of this the other day as I accompanied Colonel Wolf around Plattsburg Camp. On entering the comman- dant s office. I, as a British officer, was imme- diately struck mth Ihe lack of ostenUition and military display. Throughout the entire camp I observed that the same informality prevailed. The basis of the camp was iron discipline, the same as at Aldershot, only the old-time trappings were gone. The boys at Plattsburg, just like the Anzacs, represent a soldiery with its sleeves m the Wilderness said, "There was none of the pomp and parade of war, only its horrible butchery. The same pronouncement will apply to the Americans in this war. WTiat the Colonials have already donc^ is a presage of what we may yet expect from the Americans. The Canadians. Australians. South- Afncans, New-Zealanders, and Americans will be blood-brothers in the field. All are New World troops, with the same restless and im- patient spirit. The First Australian Division last year took over a new portion of the line in France, known 243 1 1 , . ■H^ ^^^HkP^^g 9e^ Ik, lii THE REAL FRONT as Plug Street. This was their initiation intc war on the western front, and the portion of tlu line assigned to them was therefore comparativel} easy. Here on Plug Street many of Britain's olc divisions got their first taste of trench warfan in comparatively easy stages. When the Anzacs arrived Plug Street was synonymous for "Easy Street," but not for long On their first night in the line the Germans pui it over the Anzacs and captured several Stoke; guns. "The iron has eni i?d our soul," said i great, brawny -armed Anzac captain whom I mel at dinner behind the lines a l\.tle later. "Bui we will take it out of these blankety-blanl Fritzes yet. They can't put it over us foi good." How well they kept their promise wa: witnessed by the "little hell" that began a\ Plug Street. The Canadians thought that they had a coraei on trouble in the blofxly salient of Ypres. Bu' often on quiet nights, between "stand-to" ant "stand-down," our sentries on the rim of the fire trench would hear distant rumblings. "What' that?" one would exclaim; then the other wouk wink knowingly and answer, "Them's the An zacs, raisin' their own little hell down on Plu^ Street " Before long the sentries will have oc casio 'n like manner to wink and exclaim 244 ^«AI IF NEW WORLD TROOPS IN OLD WORLD WAR "Them's Persliing's First Americans, raisin' their own little hell down yonder." No matter Iiow quiet that portion of tJie line may be when PersJiing's men first arrive, they may be dependecJ upon to start something right away. The proverbial Yankee hustle is not only a good quality in business, it is also a decisive quality in war. Where we have had a eon.imra- tive deadlock, and the game is becoming a stalemate, the impatient and restless energy of the West will be an acquisition. Admiral Mahan says: "War, once declared, must be waged of- fensively, aggressively. The enemy must not be fended off, but smitten down." Intense activity IS a characteristic of the American. This charac- teristic is a desideratum in war, where there can be no respite and no truce. That restless, fever- ish, impatient spirit that characterizes a crowd on Wall Street, which some one has called "Newyork- itis," may be hard on the nerves, but it produces millionaires, and the same spirit in Flanders will produce tlie discomfiture of the enemy. "As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be" never was a motto for the citizens of the New World. Canada showed her reaction against tJie "Let- well-enough-alone" policy when she kicked over the traces and started trench- raiding. Up till that time raids were never heard 215 I;; f , i it' Ml 'I 1 ! \ \ i ^ \\ THE REAL FRONT of. No Man's Land was a forbidden rnd in- scrutable country. When the restless Western- ers of the Seventli, Eighth, and Tenth Battalions looked across No Man's Land it called them, just as the unknown woods and mountains of British Columbia had called them. Old heads were shaken, and serious faces looked askance, when these wild Canadians first mentioned raiding. But, thanks to these pioneers, we have a new departure in trench warfare, and now raids are the regular order of the day. The Second Brigade of the First Canadiiin Division have won for themselves the title "Kings of No Man's Land." To them that dread country between the trenches is no longer known as No Man's Land. They call it "The Dominion of Canada." Canada's record for in- novation will soon be shared by the United States. Hindenburg may look for greater sur- prises than he has yet known from that section of tlie line held by American troops. Most of the great inventions of this war arc the product of tlie American mind. The aero- plane, the submarine, the machine-gun, and tl^e howitzer, have revolutionized modern warfare. All these inventions came from America. It is not unreasonable, then, to suppose that the inven- tive mind of this countrj', in reply to the added 246 m NEW WORLD TROOPS IN OLD WORLD WAP. nofd caused by Uie country's own dungvr, will \mng forth new and terrible contrivunces of destruction. The War Department at Washington has very wisely appointed a special bureau to deal with new inventions. We may safely predict that tliis bureau will not be one of lesser ijniwr- tance in its influence on winning the war. It would take liic imagination of a Jules Verne to even dare to propjiesy some of the hellish sur- prises that the New World may let loose on the enemy in the near future. Some one has sug- gested that the "Yanks" will be putting an elec- tric wire out in No Man's Land, cliargtxl with ten thousand volts, and electrocuting the Fritzes as they come over on a charge. It is a fruitful subject for romance, but I shall not trust myself on such an infinite vista. SuflSce it that tJie wizardry of the American mind is fighting with us, and perhaps beyond our dreams and imagin- ings it may make itself felt in the fight. The German.- introduced poison giis, liquid fire, and other hellish perversions of modern combat. They also flung away every rule of old-time chivalry. The Englishman w.'is somewhat slow to awaken to the dirty play. Ix>ng after the "Marquis of Queonsberry rules" 'u-id been aban- doned the idea < Hghling fair was uppermost in ii7 *fB m\ ■• THE REAL FRONT his mind. But not so with the Canadians. The minute the dirty work bt'gan they were ready to meet fire with fire. Fritz wishes now when he meets us that lie had played to the ruK's of the game, because in introducing dirty work he has found in the Colonial a "rough-neck" who can always do him one better. I know that the Americans can be trusted to take care of ihtmselves in a game like this. I often liken the position of New World troops in this war to a hockey match which I saw once between a slick city team and a country team from the backwoods of Nova Scotia. Thinking that they had an easy crowd, the city team started in to "rough-house." Before the game was over the brawny Nova-Scotians had literally mopped up the ice with the ones who began the dirty work. "That's what we always plan to do with a bad actor like Fritz," I told the boys at Plattsburg. I could almost hear their hearts thump a loud Amen as they exclaimed, "We're right there with you, bo!" In the instruction at Plattsburg I was glad to find that they were not teaching them any "rules of the game." They are going prepared for rough and tumble, and I know that they will give as good as they get. 248 J&. NEW WORLD TROOPS IN OLD WORLD WAR The oonfidome with which Ilin.anburg un- nounwd that ho would mop np the Americans reminds one of Uw confidena- with which Mrs. Partington started to mop up the ocean. American intervention was at first treated in the German press a.s a fact hardly worthy of consideration. One regrets that Mark Twain did not live to l>e able to ^.Jtc on the miscalculations of the Kais<'r. His last and greatest miscalculation was the United States of America. The Kfliser, with his divine-right, medieval mind, could not rightly interpret the New World, [le thought first that the spirit of this country was .julescent. There is a current story which uptl\- expresses the spirit of this country. Some one said that it the Uniteil :^fi)tes broke with Germany there would bo si.U. fl.o„;sand trained • .••!■. {< German soldiers spring "Well," said an Amen there will be sixty thvn- i x* !< . 'em to." This is a startling reply ^r ' » i puted to be all milk and wulv. blood is in this land, and that blood at last is aroused and boiling. The Crown Prince's sleek hair is beginning to stand on end as he watches with stark terror the rising of the great New 249 I he country 'if they do, *s to hang •' " ;io is re- The fighting ft THE REAL FRONT World. One can imagine his petulant tone as Little Willie exclaims to Big Willie, "Look what you've gone and started now!" There was a famous cartoon published in Punch years ago entitled, "The Kaiser's Bad Dream." It represented the old Kaiser, William I., in a dream contemplating with terror a dragon rising out of the eastern sea. The dragon was called "The Eastern Peril." In like manner ere long we may imagine the present Kaiser con- templating a new danger arising across the Atlantic entitled, "The Western Peril." The Statue of Liberty will even yet haunt the Holicn- zoUern dreams. As I look at the sky-line ol Manhattan Island I see an emblem of the progiessive spirit of this New World. I hear Lady Macbeth crying over her "little hands" and the sin which they have committed, and then, turning away from the shame that these "little hands" may commit, I regard • the cafions of iron and steel of lower Broadway; all this is the work of these frail, weak "little hands." Against the shame that these "little hands" may commit stands the glory of New World achievement. The Man- hattan sky-line is but an emblem of that spirit that must surmount every obstacle and burst every barrier. From the Pilgrims who crossed In ■!■«« NEW WORLD TROOPS IN OLD WORLD WAR the Mayflower to the last Slav who crossed in the steerage they all came because Europe was too CTamped and confining for them. That progres- sive spirit which brought them to this New World and which is making this New World is now ris- ing to burst the bonds that Old World tyranny would thrust upon them. If the war continues until America gets a big army in the field in Europe we may depend upon it that these New World troops, impinging upon their comrades of England and France, will im- part much of their freshness to the Old Workl people. What an experience it will be for the poilu who has dwelt all his life in a village of France, or for the cockney who has never been beyond the Bow Bells until these shifting scenes of war, when they meet as comrades the citizens of tJie boundless West! What vast horizon tliese American soldiers will bring to the little French homes where they are billeted! With what open-eyed wonder Madame and La Belle Demoiselle will listen in the Estaminets as some lad from Texas tells of life along the border. After the war Yankee slang will be heard behind the plows in Picardy, and gray cathedral towns will thrill with memo- ries of (he great New Worlourtesy and honor ruled, a calmer, deeper city of the past. We well might strive to have that old New York restored, and France rnay help us in the striving. On the Subway the other day, where every one was jostling and jolting, I saw an Old Worid touch that came like someth"ng sweet and from far away. A big, surly bully of the Prussian type had just elbowed a wan-faced lady aside and flung himself into a seat when from across the aisle a true Frenchman, with all the courtesy and gallantry of his race, arose and bowed the old lady into his seat. It was not the mere act. but Ue chivalry that seemed to ring through it that flung its glove of Argentine into the boorishness of th** Prussian. 253 !i' iilfii THE REAL FRONT Good breeding, courtesy, and ancient cliivalry still reign in France. They are among the Old World treasures which we may borrow from her. No nation can teach better than France the les- son that there are possessions more precious than life. A little French maiden in the town of Aire-sur-le-Lys had lost three of her brothers in the war; her fourth and last brother was called out in the 1917 class. I sympatliized with her, but she smiled and said, sweetly, "C'est j)our France." The depth of devotion with which they all say, "It is for France,'* brings the tears to my eyes. Our American lads will learn the profoundest truths of patriotism as they observe the heart of France. The United States will emerge from this strug- gle with a far more potent and clearly defined national sentiment. In the crucible of sacrifice, hyphenated ones, Irisli-Americans, German- Americans, and all such, will pass away. Out of the sufiFering for a common cause will be born the spirit, which will say as devoutly as the little French maiden, "It is for America." Pa- triotism will reveal its true meaning to the masses in the light of the sacrifice that is to come. Rupert Brooke speaks of the place where an English soldier falls on foreign soil as "that little plot that is forever England." There are fields in £54 ft I . -^*I6^^^ NEW WORLD TROOPS IN OLD WOlihD WAR France that will be "forever America." As the sod of the Old World gathers to itsdf the blood of the New. that soil will become forever New World ground. "When the boys come home" they will return to a better New World because tJiey have fought and struggled in this Old World war. (■S ( XV SERVING QUE SOLDIERS IN a previous chapler entitled "From the Base to tlie Firing-line" a description was given of the every-day life of the soldier in France outside of the trenches. We often hear such exclamations a3s, "Jack's in the firing-line," or, "My boy's been up in the trenches for two years." Judging by these ex- clamations, one would infer that the blessed lad;- were in the fire-trench all the time. Such an idea is ridiculous. I have been surprised at tht number of people at home that suffer tliii delusion. As was already shown, the soldier's life ii France has its gay times as well as its sad times With the soldier as well as with the civilian ther< must be periods of rest and recreation as wel as periods of struggle. During the hours in France which he has fo play or rest the soldier presents a problem for tli folks at home. 256 T'^f^^r SERVING OUR SOLDIKRs When the boys coine out of the- Irenihc-s. after a long, hard stunt, wlu-n tliey have shed their filthy, lousy rags antl are washed and elolhed anew, then it is that their spirits niour.t high 1 hey are out for a good time. They are going to have a Jamboree, no matter how inhospitable the town nor how i>oor the opr)ortunities for gladness They will walk incredible distances, hop trains and motor-lorries, and by l,ook or by erook they will arrive at the nearest center of stirring hfe As a man craves food, so also he craves the vx- citement of social life. The war-weary soldier out of the trenches for a six-ll is bound to find that life. Whether the life that he finds in Ann'ens, in Armentieres, in Poperinghe, or Bieuielle, or in any other of the to^vns Ix'hind the lines, is up- lifting or downpulling deiH'nds largely upon the efforts which we have made. Our lads can go back to these towns and wander about disconsolate and find nothing to welcome them but the cafds and the 1. iri)ies, or they may be supplied with all kinds of legitimate amusements, and social blessings, Ix-cause we at home have thought not only of their physical, but also of their moral, well-being. If the American base in France and all the towns along the American lines of communica- ' 257 If ■' i u:\ d u r- iinl THE REAL FRONT tion are to afford uplifting influences for tin Auu-rican troops, it will not conic by chatu<' It will come because the i>eople at home thouglil of the lx)ys in these [)laces and have paid tin price in money and in service to provide the in stitutions which they needed. The Secretary of War has instituted a wise am far-seeing policy in appointing Mr. Fosdick t( look into the problem of the social well-lK'ii^ of the troops. The Secretary of War has learne< from our experience that the casualties of iin morality may disqualify as effectively as th< casualties of shell-fire, and it therefore behoove us to exert the utmost precaution in safeguardiii; the moral life of our troops. I am not referring here to coddling the soldier.^ Some of the women at home, unfortunately, hav been addicted to this. I heard an old SoutlnTi colonel in Virginia grow apoplectic over this tli other day. "My God, sir!" he expostulated "what are we coming to when the ladies trea troops like milksops? We never Iiad any c that in my day." But we needn't worry i the boys get a little coddling here and thert the dear women will not be able to do i long. In France we must multiply as far as posslbl those good agencies for serving the troops tlu 258 r h 4 i '? §' SERVING OUR SOLDIERS aro not only npIiftinK. bt.t are also .strong, joyous, and robust. VVhon J.ick. or Bob, or Bill got their first pass, and start to promenade the streets at the Amer- ican seaport base. I liope that they will soon find as many clubs, tea-rooms, canteens, cinemas. an»l jIockI friends waiting to greet them as th" British Tommies now have at Havre and Boulogne. When General Pershing's men come out of the line for recreation I hope that they will have far more facilities for legitimate amusement than we of the First Canadians had s uikU- (he drill sergeant the tendency of the army is to knock out his individualism and to creal.- in its stead a crowd spirit. As the recruit be- comes more and more a soldier he thinks I«'ss and less of self, and more and more of tl - r< i^,7i,. .[. Finally, as a true soldier, he acts nv)f Uji fdmscl/! but for the greater whole. Whether he liv s or dies is secondary to the good of the re.i-nent THE REAL FRONT It is the creating of this collective spirit th enuMf's a vast body of men to act in times crisis like one man. While individuals thinkii only of themst«lves would Ijo hiding tinder tl crashing i)ara,'f»ts, the regiment dauntlessly go over the top w ith the first wave. The f( r of ea< man is lessened by the crowd s[)irit which i spin-s liim. This crowd spirit whicli proves such a strengi to the soldier in times of danger is itself often source of fwril to him in times of calm. Wil this rrowd spirit it is easier to go over the par pet in the front line, and in like manner with lli crowd spirit it is easier to go to hell behind tl line. Whoys at the base, at th«' rest-cami)s, on the lines of communication, on the training-areas, and in billets. The seaport base offers a fruitful fic-ld for many civilians wlio are anxious to serve th(> fighting- men. The British out of tlu ir long e.vperience have ijerfected many helpful institutions which 261 SP MICROCOPY RESOLUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No 2) 1.0 I.I 1.25 If 1^ *■• 1 4,0 1.4 2.5 1 2.2 2.0 1.8 1.6 ^ APPLIED INA^IGE Inc ^l '653 East Mam Street rjS Rochester. Ne* vork 146G9 USA 1^= (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone SSS (716) 288 - 3989 - Fa« ^ _„ ^._ THE REAL FRONT add to the comfort and happiness of the troop; and which might profitably be emulated by th Americans. Canteens under the direction of capabl women, and attended by pretty girls, offer rt freshment alike to drafts coming in and t wounded and men on leave just departing. Tli canteen has become a great institution wit! on army, and it will doubtless attain a similar ini portance with the Americans. The canteens are situated in a corner of th freight-sheds where the troops disembark from th ships, at railway stations, at rest-camps, an( other convenient points. At these cant( ens th troops are served free with coffee, rolls, an( sandwiches. With the men just off a troop-shii: or entraining at the station, there is no oppor tunity for them to prepare refreshment for thcni selves. A warm drink provided by these ladic is a real blessing, and their sweet smile is often still greater blessing. Some canteens are far more ambitious than th mere roUs-and-coffee booth. They carry a larg stock of foods, candies, and cigarettes, and sol diers' necessities; indeed, they are the soldier.< general store. Canteens of this sort are als( run by the Y. M. C. A. While our battery was in action in the Ypre 262 :mMT^: r ^wR:^^^^^:'m^^ m ^•^;- SERVING OUR SOLDIERS salient in 1916 we used to keep our officers' mess supplied with canned goods and shredded wheat from a Y. M. C. A. canteen situated in a cellar of Ypres. Soup-kitchens have become quite common on the lines of communication and at the base. They are almost entirely run by women. Some soup-k:- .liens serve only the wounded; others are for the benefit of troops on the move. The soup is made up in gallons in great boilers. Each Tommy always has his canteen on his hip, and one by one, with smiling faces, they file by while the charming girls and motherly women who at- tend the kitchen ladle out the steaming soup. "Gol blyme me. matie," exclaimed one cockney to another, " I don't know which I loikes best, the 'ot broth or the loidy's foice." Some of the best women of England, botli young and middle-aged, have been engaged in serving in these canteens and soup-kitchens. I saw the elder daughter of Premier Lloyd George busily helping in a canteen one day in Boulogne. Lady Angela Forbes established a bath place for the troops near Boulogne. The army handles public baths for the soldiers, but with the Eng- lishman's love of being clean a bath is always a longed-for luxury. Hence the added facilities in this direction are greatly appreciated. There 863 5^*^ ^J^S-3fl s^^ r5i THE REAL FRONT are now a numhor of free baths instituted by dif- ferent societies in various places. One finds the Y. M. C. A. not only at the base, but everywhere where the troops are congre- gated, even riglit up to the support trenches. On the Somme last year I used to remark on the sign of the Red Triangle which appeared outside of a Y. M. C. A. dugout in a most unwholesome area. The Y. M. C. A,, embracing in its service tlie whole Jinny, irrespective of creed or belief, is the real solution for the problem of serving tlie troops. At the base thej' always have a perfect equip- ment for entertainments, moving-picture shows, religious services, and social gatherings. Their plant includes reading and social rooms, games, phonographs, pianos, baths, lunch-counters, and, in short, everytliing necessary to improve tlie social well-being of the enlisted men. Up in tlie shelled area the Y. M. C. A. carry on their work in cellars, ruined buildings, tents, shacks, dug- outs, and all kinds of unlikely places. The opportunities for letter-writing offered bj the Y. M. C. A. are especially appreciated not only by the troops, but by their friends at home In the huts or tents there is always the requisit( material for writing. The total amount of letter paper consumed by the American troops already 864 w»^im^^m SERVING OUR SOLDIERS amounts to a million shevts of p.per and a J.alf a million envelopes a day. This is a shVht example of the magnitude of Uie undertaking Mr. Baker. Secretary of War. has said of the Y. M. C. A.. "It provides for the social side— the home side of the life of the soldiers, and its in- fluence in rationalising the strange environment into which this crisis has plunged our young men has been and will be most beneficent." My observation of the Y. M. C. A. in France is tiiat It is the best possible way througji wliich one at home can serve the lads at the front. A pub- lic-spirited American asked me the other day, "What is the most effective means by which' I can invest my money for tlie social well-being of our troops?"^ I answered. "Unquestionably the Y. M. C. A." They have perfected tJie system of service to the troops until it has become an indispensable part of the army, by its very na- ture outside of the regular establishment*, but nevertheless an absolutely essential arm of tlie service. There is a good deal of quackery and trumpery in the many mushroom philanthropies that spring up in war-time. It is therefore a relief for one aave the Y. M. C. A. as an au- thentic institution, where every cent invested for service will bring the -reatest possible return to those for whom it was intended. i65 \f 1- "!H THE REAL FRONT An officers' club which was started in Boulogne many months ago has proved a great boon. The Y. M. C. A. and other institutions cater to the enlisted men. On account of their position, of- llcers cannot mingle too familiarly with the rank and file, and in consequence the soldier is gener- ally far better cared for than the officer in regard to social institutions. Realizing this especial need, a number of wise and public-spirited folk at home got together and organ^'zed the Officers' Club at Boulogne. This club now occupies an entire building, with bedrooms where officers coming or going may spend the night. There is also a reading-room, a social-room, and a first- class restaurant. In the early days of the war I remember wan- dering disconsolately all over Boulogne. The strange French town offered no place of hospital- ity. But to-day the Officers' Club has become at once a home and a place of social forgathering to all itinerant officers. Similar clubs have since sprung up at St. Omer, Poperinghe, and other places on lines of communication and well up toward the front. The Americans might also do well to emulate our exan ole in organiz'iig similar officers' clubs. One word of advice might not be out of plact here regarding the sending of parcels to the boy; 2C6 •vf5^::-^«ir5S>M mBmm^imifw^mf'''wi v^' SERVING OUR SOLDIERS in France. There are three staple articles that are always most welcome to the soldiers- chocolate, cigarettes, and chewing-gum. These articles are portable and can be easily shipped and they are always serviceable. Simplicity should always be the guide in making up packages for France. Hard chocolate is a food, indeed the best ration for emergency. Cigarettes help to while away the heavy hours on thv front line. Wrigley's celebrated chewing-gum is an article for which I hold no advertising brief, but our boys in France have blessed the name of Wrigley. Gum-chewing may appear vulgar, but it is sooth- ing to the nerves. When a man's mouth is d-y from the terror of shell-fire, chewing-gum has its compensations. In sending parcels I would give one word of caution. Shun the inventions that are palmed off by enterprising merchants as indispensable additions to the soldiers' equipment. Tliese in- ventions miry appear pretty to you on the shop counter, but they are generally useless in the trenches. While in France I received an abundance of such trash from well-meaning, kmd-hearted friends. A man in the trenches does not need much h the line of equipment, and all these necessaries are provided by ordnance. «87 THE REAL FRONT In our desire to assist the boys in France w< should always remember that our efforts mus find expression through regularly organized so cieties that have the official recognition; other wise it W(iuld be impossible to do anything, knew a lady in Richmond, England, who wa frightfully vexed and declared that she wouli do no more work for tlie soldiers because th War Office required her to work through recog nized channels, instead of carrying on petty littl schemes in Jier own way. In the army, will civilians as with soldiers, everything must com under regulations. The folks at home must a! ways remember this fundamental requirement o discipline. ■ i ■ M i- I In? n\ I I II M I ^asar; 'r^'.V ' XVI A CBADLE OP OUR VICTORIES PJEART of this land and hope of this nation IS the Barrack Square at Plattsburg. For the casual observer that camp on the enchanting shore of Lake Champlain is merely a sight of pass- ing interest. For those who have eyes to see. hisloi^^ ^«^^»°g of a new page in American Those in America who are awake realize that this country ,s t.'ptoeing on the tlirc.hold of a g orious epoch. For them the Barrack Square o the tramm- ... 's pregrxant with victories of the nation ' l.al . vet to be. I„ the crowded cantonments c. ^ ^sburg are boys of unknown name whose heroic deeds may even yet be told to children s children. When Jeffries and Johnson fought for the championship of the world the eyes of all America were on their respective training-camps. How much more should the eyes of America be on tlie camp where she herself is training for that greater 268 'rsi:. y .i^\-i^k^ytiaia'ia^^^f^*^ji:s£^^ dcatBt" if fill -^ ;?■ ^r .1: It |;:l,^ If 1 t 111 I |l I'llfl f 1,1- THE REAL FRONT gladiatorial combat cn\vrapping her own dosliny! Plattsburg is one of the most interesting places in America to-day. On the way thilher our car passed through the glories of the Adirondacks, but I nmst confess that i was far more intent on seeing the place where this country's history is in the making than I was on regarding the beauties of nature alon., the way. Three years before, in August, 1914, I was training with the First Canadian Division at Val Cartier. Fellow-feeling makes us v, ondrous kind, and also wondrous keen. 'Vith a sympathy an(J a curiosity rarely experienced, I regarded tlu rows of huts and the sand-pits and the rifle ranges that marked the outlines of the camp. At first sight this might have been one of Eng land's great training-centers at Salisbury Plain or Aldershot, then the appearance of felt hats an( the absence of fixed bayonets and punctiliou ceremony marked it as truly American. The headquarters was situated in a large brirl building, to which I went. Unchallenged by an; sentries, and without any clinking of spurs o clanking of steel, I found myself in the com mandant's office. "Thi^ is more like going in to see a colUg president than going in to see a commandin officer," I said to myself. Everywhere was al 270 ^■WJKMP^"^ A CRADLE OP OUR VICTORIES s(Micc of that ostontuHon and military display which, as a Brit-sh soldier, ha inle^^'iews with the young nun that eanie hefon him was his kindly attitude toward ihem all, The army, alv.ays a desi^lism, is, alas, too in- frequently, a bvnevolent desixjtisni. It was ;i rare pleasure to see a high officer treat mere un- derling;^ with the deference which tlie con> mandant here showed to all. In company with Colonel Wolf I made a toui around the camp, inspecting its equipment, anc observing the men at their various tasks. Nt Varsity team out for the season's troi)hy wer« more keen than the training troops. Every mat appeared to be in deadly earnest. Nothing aj* IHuls so much to an oflficcr as to see his mei really trying, and here every man was doin hi best. As I watched a group of men marching b; witJi sloped arms from the rifle-ranges, ther seemed to come to me a momentary din from tha far-off battle-line; tlicn, looking at tlie placi scenery, involuntarily T exc' ' >ied, "It's a Ion way to Tipperary !" These boys will soon enoug have their sl^are of the awful line; meanwhih 272 ^> i A CRADLE OF OUU VICTOKIES ii. this pnurfiil sancluary Ihvy are \vnn\mn 'vdl tlKi'r Spurlun Ifssons fur iJu- iron £ . V" 4S i li THE REAL FRONT up of the resplendent glories of the Iron Division had fallen into other hands. As the cortege passed tlie place .vhere we were standing, our irregular shifting mass suddenly became rigid as every soldier came to the salute a salute tliat bespoke tlie soldier's deepesi feeling. A half-hour after tlie general's funeral I sav many of the faces lately darkened by sorrov again radiant and fair. Whatever clouds migh be without, true soldiers never suffer them lonj within. Last night was a restless and txmiultuous one This evening there is a momentary lull. It i; the lull in the storm. The nerves are tensch waiting for ihe thunders that shall break again bijt, meanwhile, in that gay forgathering of thi Estaminet de Commerce, there is no place for sa< repining. Death we regard as a very unpleasant fellow a home. We are cowards when he appears. Th sight of the hearse in the street, or the crepe oi the door, gives us chill premonitions. Bu death, whom we evad.. so well in days of pea v is ever present in a world of war. At home in the good old world of peace w speak of the Angel of Death. His rare but tragi visitations are cataclysms in our homes. "Ove 280 HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE Tliere" it is no longer the Angel of Death. We must say Angels of Death "Over Tliere," for they fly in legions. One is ever dwelling beneath the shadow of their withering wings. On the right and left, comrades are always falling, until what was cataclysmic in our homes becomes inciderNal in our trenches. In the family circle the passing of a loved one is like a fixed star falling out of heaven. At tlie front it is one of the events that make up the warp and woof of every day. "Forgetting those things which are behind'' must ever be tlie soldier's motto. Our dearest pal slept here last night- To-ni ,dit his sleeping- bag is empty. With wistful eyes J gaze across the dugout at his place, and .•'s I think of all our months of sweetest comradeship so rudely ended the tears are welling up into my eyes. But tears and the tender past must wait in this stern present. A loud rapping is heard from without, and in explosive notes of alarm a voice cries forth, "S O S! Battery action!" Up under the scintillant flare of the star-shells there is a sud- den burst of hec^i^ light and a muffled roar. Up there beneath that flare some of our boys are dying, and others in frantic tones cry forth for us to save them. We read their cries in trailing rockets through the night. 281 r.^' ^h, ^.^ p :m£t iB K w : ■■ THE REAL FRONT ** Forgetting tlie things which are behind," v, the servants of tlie guns, must leap to action, ai give back our thunders in answer to that cry. Gone is tlie moment of lender memories and welling tears. Old John, our lovtnl and trus pal, is missing, but liis place is filled. Sha and clear tlie orders ring out, just as Old Jol would have rung tiiem. The crack of ; eighteen-pounder answers, while a howitzer ba beside, and in another minute a thousand gu are talking. Peace gives us time to mourn, but war kno' no such respite; and perhaps it is just as well, i otherwise the weight of sorrow would engulf i Now and again, as I have moved up and (\o\ * ehind the various portions of our line, in Fran or Flanders, I have paused for contemplation one of our great and ever-growing cenieteri< Everywhere behind the lines one encountt these tragic, yet soul-enkindling, plots of grou that have been forever hallowed by the bor of our brave. Who can regard the grave of a man who di for his country without experiencing emotit that lie too deep for words? On such spots c enters into the inner meaning of the sacrifice Calvary. "For what greater thing can a m do than to lay down his life for a friend?" «82 lk^&!^i£«'tU^<.iaignr!i»^£»a0;iHf:Iation in nieteries. icounters )f ground he bones who died emotions spots one icrifice of m a man HOW SLEEP TIIK BRAVE In front of Westminster Abbey Uiere is a column, erected to the dead heroes of West- minster School. Many a time, as a lac, I have stood in front of that column and read in solemn Silence its inscription: To those Boys educated at Westminster School who tml the Russian an 1 Indian Wars. Anno DoS ml to ia.8. some m early youth, some full of years and honor ..me on the field of hattle. s<.me from woun.is In , s^:;.' ness hut .ho all alike gave their lives for thnr eoun y. rh« eolumn ,s ereet«l by their ol.l school-fc-ilows. at ^estmmster School, with the hope that it may inspire L their successors the same courage and self-devotion. On the reverse side of the column I read the long list of flames, from Field-Marshal Lord Itaglan. the commander-in-chief, to tlie youngest cornet and middy who had died. From the school quadrangle came the merry laughter of Westminster boys at play, am' standing there there came upon my soul the first dawning of tJiat sacrifice which soldiers make when they lay down their lives for tlieir country. During tJie armistice between the first and second Balkan wars I was in Egypt. Traveling one day across the desert, I alighted at a station called Tel-el-Kebir. Here W^olseley won his vic- tory over Arabi in 1882. On that January day of 1913 I found a single building, serving as a railroad station, and beside it a cemetery. witJi 283 'aiftT3^^-A»^.-<«iH^ iFtr-i'fffigriirtfwrfr nmiiirTTifffininrMB""™™~—^* i ' U 'I « J THE REAL FRONT its rows of crosses, drawn up in as orderly fashion as a company on parade. I entered the cemetery, and the first name read was that of Lachlan MacTavish, of a certr Scottish egiment. The burr of his Ilighla; name sounded like the rush of a mountain tai in his far-off Highland home. For the mome I seemed to feel the freshness from tlie mojrlaii and the heather, tlien my eye caught the pathe little cross that stood amid tlie shifting of t desert sands. There, as never before, I realiz the sacrifice of those who laid down tlieir lives a foreign soil in the service of their flag. A yet profounder realization of this sacrif was borne upon me one evening in June, 19 That night I entered the trenches beyond ( venchy town for the first time. At twilighc I turned in from the La Ba Canal, crossed a field to the main street Givenchy, and proceeded down into the toi The place was completely abandoned, and 1 been badly ruined by sliell-fire. In that twili; hour the streets were full of haunted houses, stinct with ghosts and memories. A solit dog, leaping across a wrecked bridge that hi by a single trestle, appeared like a ghou creature. One was oppressed by these haunting shad< 284 ;i i AJ ^- *. (.'.■Mi^-^J ». «».-.% K^'^'-iV V Jl \^3r.smmau^mifZ w^ HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE in what had once been Givmcliy homes, far more than one was hy the frequent note of shells pass- ing over the town. In one quaint house, who.se wdl had been erushed in. I saw a little cradle. What eloquence of tragedy was there! In a saildened mood I approached the dis- t.IIerj'. In one of the houses opposite a grand pmno still remained intact. The Fifth Royal Il.gidand. rs of Canada were coming out of the trenches that night. The first company was already out. and one of their musicians was play- mg, ^To You. Beautiful Lady in Pinhr upon the maarmonious and .strident instrument. Up and down in the rooms of the adjacent houses the Highlanders were cake- walking?, some with their packs still on their backs. The burst- ing of several shells in a side-street only served to accentuate the comedy of the scene, ^^^lat- ever else happened, this battalion was going out so the musician pounded the keys in ecstasy' and the boys cake-walked with equal glee Through the shadowy distillery I wended my way vnih a higher spirit from the contagious mer- riment of the Highlanders. Beyond the dis- tillery was another open field, and a farm- yard with the buildings long since razed to the ground^ Hardly a stone was left standing in this spot. The enemy's shells had surely reaped 2S5 ^^^PW! IT 111 '■« r • 'Hill ^^ 1 -kMi i i i ' THE REAL FRONT good harwst here. Bcsitle Uic ruined farm wi the witness of a still sadiler harvest. A wv\v tery, ^ith its row on row of little wooden crossc stretched out toward the communicatii trenches. The night was falling fast, and there in tl gathering ^!oom I waited for over an hour for ti last company coniiiig in. In tl 2 darkness one wi (Specially touched by the meaning of those lilt I >es. In fitful light beneath the star-shel these crosses loomed before mc in momentai flashes, tlien faded in the night. How profound was the iK'ace that Hngen round that spot! In front of me I could see tl white glare that marked the firing-line, whem came now and then, the rattle of musketry, tl popping of machine-guns, or the crump of bur^i ing shells. Behind mc in Givenchy town the artist w still performing on the grand piano. "The Pii Lady" was the limit of his repertoire, but tl Irrepressibles .^f ill danced on. Between the gri firing-line, on the one hand, and the revelry of tl Highlanders, on tlic other, stretched those lit! wooden crosses. In their quiet plot the bra slept well that night, for they had done th( duty. Their work was finished, and well might th( 888 T I ..sbr- X- aav TW-ij HOW SLKKP THE IIRAVK slet.p on, k.unviuK that M.o.s<. coinra,„radr,s k.I.i.ul' would i;i« faithful unto dntlh. From our h'ne (ho ralMo of rldvs lold mv || u Kngland was busy and that our fnM,p.s up fhrre H^re kc«t.ping their faith with U. Ir pals who had du'd. "I've copi I'd it, mate; swat Vm one for mo " wore the dying words of a game lillle coeknoy "Go alKJUt your duty," was the last sjH-eoh of the stricken Colonel MacT^^in of tlie Sixth Gordons, to tlio.sc who paused in tlic fighting to a I tend to him. Whuc all these dead required was that the «vmg should fight on, and thus keep faith will, them. Up and down that bivouac of the dead I seemed to feel Uieir unseen sentry walking. Where they had pitched their silent tents they too, had set their silent picket. That nigh\ «hove those shadowy graves, the sentrv of thj dead paused and listened. From the line came the sound of fighting. From behind came the voice of revelry and song. And this was as it should be. Not in repining, but in gladness, must the soldier spend his resting hours. Soon. ^T^tTV^'^* Highlander who was pounding out «The Pink Lady," and all his jolly dancers- 887 v^ • •:■ #Riw^ A* ■>»>-& » 1- m i 1.1 THE REAL FRONT would join these dead in their narrow beds. Bu there they were playing their part as true soldior; I seemed to hear tJie sentry of the dead cr out that night: "All's well! All's well!" Tl brave might sleep their sleep in peace, becaui their comrades behind were doing their duty. In France one encounters soldiers' graves all kinds of unlikely places. Right in the fron line trenches before Hill 60 there was a litt wooden cross with the name of a French sold. painted on it. The soldier fell away back m t first months of the war. when everythmg w fluid and the tide of war was shiftmg back a forth. Soon after that our lines locked and fro and ever since he has been sleeping in that f rigl f ul place known as Our Front. For months that little cross had stood the while landmarks all about had been ^n out. while the tower of tlie Clotli Hall had h pulverized, and the Verbranden Windmill sp tered to kindling-wood. I have often pau up there on the front line, after a nasty "stra from Fritz, and regarded with awe that unmo wooden cross. With parapets crumpled in many places, and the ground about pocked v shell-holes, amid all this wild havoc tlie sin memorial to the dead French soldier seeme( bear a charm. 288 Is. But soldlors. lead cry !" Tlic because duty, raves in tie front- ; a little h soldier ck in the ting was back and md fro/A', at friglit- tod there, en wiped had been nill splin- ;n pause*] y "strafe" , imniortiil )led in in )cked with tlie simple seemed to HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE At home we have a cemetery in a place of rustic peace, looking down to where the sliips go out to sea. There in tJieir snug Iiaven tlie dead forgot tJieir storms. But under the wooden cross, up tJiere in the front-line trench, the fallen French soldier slept just as soundly as they. Mines might be sprung around his grave, and months of storms and thumlers roll across his resting-place, but the inviolate cross remained, an emblem of his peace un- broken. One day on the Somme, while moving over a fresh battle-ueld, looking for a new position for our guns, I chanced upon the grave of a corporal of tlie East Surrey Regiment. He had been liastily buried, just where he fell upon the field of battle. There had been no time for ceremony or for tlie planting of a cross. His rifle had been thrust into the ground to mark the grave, and his soldier's cap was placed upon the mound of turf to serve as a mcmoriul. That little weatlier-beaten khaki cap was unobserved by many, but to those who saw it was a memorial as eloquent as costly marble. As I bent over to examine the grave I saw a sliingle on which some rough hand had scribbled a short text with an indelible pencil. The rains had washed blue streaks across the writing. One could just de- '^ 289 \H ill' *^.<*j ^^ THE REAL FRONT cipher the text. It was, "Thou art forever with the Lord." , ^ . , The rough soldier's epitaph brought to mind a visit which I had made to the Catacoinos of bt Calixtus. There on the tomb of a baby gu^ I read in Greek, "Dearest Cleo,^ sweetest child, thou art forever with the Lord." To encounter such evidences of faith on the battle-field of the Somme or in the Catacombs o St. Calixtus ..as to feel instinctively that here at last was the real thing. Matters of faith were dark enough on the Somme, but to read the hop< of that Tommy was like the bursting forth frou darkness of some serene and shm"»g star I was in the Ypres salient in ApnU 1915. an. back there again in the spring of 1916. Iha bloody and awful salient is a vast graveyard c Canada's fairest and best. A voung Canadian officer, who was a comrac of mine, told me how that in the summer of 191 he left the city of Ypres. a cameo of pricele beauty, with the splendor of its Clo^ Hall a its cathedral and its guilds, and took the trai line out to Kru^ Ira^sthenk Corner Ahghtr there, he and his sister crossed the fields where daisies and anemones were growing, and r<|al themselves in the wondrous charm of that He ish landscape. Now on those same fields tJ 290 m r witli tiind a of St. girl I child, on tlie iinbs of * here at h were lie hope th from 15, and , That ?yard of comrade r of 1913 priceless Hall and he tram- \lightin?; ;vherc tlio d regaKHJ lat Flcm- tclds that HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE officer is sleeping, and in summers to come the flowers that spring up there shall wave above his grave. On fine mornings in June as I have been coming in or going out from our battery position I have passed tlirough the grounds of Bedford House and Belgian Chateau, and I have marveled at what must have been the exceeding beauty of that place in times of peace. A wistful loveliness still lingers round the ruins. If in the past light hearts have journe -d there for scenes of beauty, in years to come a host of deeper hearts will journe nere as to a shrine. If where an Englishman is buried on a foreign soil is called "a little bit of England," then we may call tlie Ypres salient a mighty bit of Canada. If any one were to inquire what is the most important city of Canada, we might answer, unhesitatingly, "The city of Ypres." The hosts of our young men who have fallen in battles round that city have hallowed the name for all Canadian hearts, and rendered the place ours in the deepest sense. Montreal, and Halifax, and Vancouver, are among our lesser cities, but Ypres, where so many of our brave are buried, shall remain for us the city of ^dT everlasting possessions. In years to come, the touchstone for the Maple Leaf wtII 891 I iiM f -I': THE REAL FRONT not be "Queenstown's Heights and Lundy's Lane," but "Ypres and T^gemark." ^ I stood one night on a certain hdl that com- mands the firing-line in an almost boundless panorama. Beside me was an officer of th( Second Canadian Division, who had just com( out. There that night, by its white trad o iridescent light, we could trace the course of tl. firing-line for many miles through France an( Flanders. Just to our left the line of light jutted far oul like a lone cape into the sea. "What is th. iutting-out place?" my friend inquired. "That," I answered, "is the Ypres salient, tl bloody angle of the British line." To mention the name of Ypres is to have one memory awakened with a veritable kaleidosco] of pictures. That trail of light that jutted o into the night looked like a cape, and an in cape it has been through months and years war. But the holding of that cape has been an awful cost, and there was not an inch alo that trailing line of light that had not cost trailing line of blood. Just after the first gas attack in April, 19 the whole countryside was in a panic. 1 roads were filled with civilians in alarm, flee down country, and with limbers ^nd march m si^2^.^m lUndy's ,t com- imdless of the ;t come trail of e of the ice and far out, is that lent, the Lve one's idoscope tted out an iron years of 5 been at ich ah)ng t cost its .ril, 1915, tiic. The tn, fleeing marching HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE troops hastening up. I was passing tlirough the town of Vlamerthigne, which is situated two miles beyond Ypres. In a field at the side of the road I saw a funeral party. It consisted of sev- eral pioneers, serving as grave-diggers, a gray- headed Scottish major, and a corporal's guard to act as firing-party. I learned that this inconspicuous group were burying the last original officer of a battalion of the Cameron Highlanders. The dead officer was a young subaltern, and the gray-haired old major was his father, who had come from another regi- ment I J attend the funeral of his son. As they were lowering the body, v/rapped in a gray blanket, into a grave, the old major re- monstrated: "No, not there, not there! He fought with his men in life, and he shall be buried with them in death.'* So, over in a great, deep trench, where a num- ber of the rank and file of the fallen Camerons were already laid, the body of their dead subal- tern was placed. As I saw th? officer and his men of that bonnie Highland regiment thus laid to rest together, I tliought of the requiem of Saul and Jonathan, "They were beautiful in their lives, and in their deaths they were not divided." As the rifles rang out in a volley for the last 293 ; , ? ■ ■ '^ •Jir-^. •MM ' i ; ■ 1 i i t t Ij 1 "1 • •'' 1 s. 1 i-' !' J[ 1 K ^ • ll . .1 te ttL^ THE REAL FRONT farewell a passing squadron of the Bengal Lancers, crack cavalry from the Khyber Pass, halted suddenly and came to the salute. Thu. troopers from the Highlands of India paid theii last respects to a fallen comrade from the High lands of Scotland. I was out of th<- trenches in hospital at the tini< that my dearest friend in France was killed. Or first returning to the front I did not have th courage to visit his grave. I sent some of m; men to plant flowers there, and after a tune went myself. That was my most poignant rac ment in France. The flowers had sprung up and were bloomm on his grave, and a little white cross stood thei with the name of my beloved pal upon it. Nej by stood anc her cross, bearing the name of h brother. I thought of what they two had dor for their country, and of what their widow* mother had given, and beside those two whi crosses all that we living ones called sacrifi. seemed to grow pale and fade into insignificanc Verbranden Moulin, Hill 60, and Mount Son are three hills to the left of Ypres. For Flandc in the summer cf 1914 they were points m landscape of beauty. For Canada to-day th are triple landmarks of glory and sorrow. One morning in August, 1916, our brigade 294 Bengal p Pass, Thus d their J High- he time d. On ave the ! of iny time I ant rao- loominj^ od there ;. Near le of his lad done widowed vo white sacrifice lificance. nt Sorrel Flanders ints in a day they w. irigade of I HOW SLEEP THE BRAVE artillery said "Good-by" to "WiptTs." With mingled feelings 1 turned back in my saddle and gazed long and intently at the tragic place that had cost us so much of our precious blood. The towers of the Cloth Hall and the cathedral were in ruins. The high steeple of the Poperingho church still stood. I was glad to bid these land- marks all good-by, but in those fields and hills be- yond I left my heart wath many a fallen comrade. Often since my heart has journeyed back there to those same tragic fields in which they sleep. But I know that they are sleeping well, in the repose of those whose work is nobly done. I think that some of our American allies, who are new to the sacrifice of this war, have not yet entered into its deeper and hidden meaning. As the long lists of inevitable American casualties appear in the newspapers, we must not get into a panic of the soul, we must not pity the men who have fallen. They need no pity, and could they speak Lhey would repudiate such maudlin sentiment. If the fallen brave could talk to us, we know tliat it would be to tell us to envy them, anu not to pity them, because their lives have found so glorious an ending. Idealism wanes in prosperity and waxes in ad- versity. England has become a new England 295 mm (i !*.; it 'ii-1 ( ■ j 1 i ' ''' 1 : \ " 1 I' . * j • 1 THE REAL FRONT out of the adversities of Uiis war, and in tJie same struggle a new America will be born. I met a certain woman at dinner not long ago. a representative of that prosperous type of fe- male referred to by the prophet Amos as the "Kine of Bashan." She wave * |i ; ; ■ u J : THE REAL FRONT likewise engulfed in an impenetrable gloouK But, from ll.e red of t}.e P.ltsburg .ky to the flash of the Ca>nbrai guns, tor those wth eyes to .,«., there stn-tehe.s an infinite panorama of the clorv of modern war. , . i For many, in arsenals and trenches, this glor, is obscured. But he who can stand off to gau perspective will catch glimpses of mfimte gran deur of our human struggle as this war unfold before him. , , It is the popular thing to say tliat there is n glory in this war, or that the glory of the struggi is unseen. But for sheer splendor of spectacle modern battle-field renders paltry and dmi ever field in tlie past about which artists and poe have painted and sung. Let those who talk about th English line : Waterloo withdraw and from a distance ga upon that grim line of England and of France t day. A line that stands, not for a tragic hoi or for a day; a line that stands while weeks r into months, and months roll into years- If admire tlie British calm in the squares at Quat Bras, a calm tiiat lasted through Uiose aw hours, what shall we say of the British ca^. those who stand in the long lines at Ypres. imperturbable as the passing years? If one asks for the spectacular in his scene. S04 - V r „-:- - -r"--"7 '^ r^ "VERS LA GLOIRE gloom. to the ?yes to of the is glory to gain e gnin- unfolds •re is no struggle sctacle a ni every id poets li line at ace gaze ranee to- Ejic hour, reeks roll s. If we ,t Quatre- h calm of Ypres, as i scenes of martial glory, let him tu a away from the Thin Red Line, or from the Old Guard's white and blue; let him regard 'he vaster si)ectacle of modern war, traced against the widest reaches of ihe night, over earth and sky and sea. Let him watch the battle-fltH'ts go drop[)ing down along the foreland, with blinking lights that talk through leagues of gloom; or watch above the battle-fields where a thousand stars look down, and where another thousand stars leap up to meet them in the night. If the poet Byron waxed so eloquent when he sings of battle's magnificently stern array, what would he say could he but catch one swe<'ping glimpse of tlie star-shells rising on that half- thousand miles of battle-line from the Vosges Mountains to the sea? In spite of all its tragec' ' all its sorrow, this war represents the h twn flower of glorj% alike in splendor of spectacle, and in its deeper splendors that are hidden in tlie hearts of men. In the days of chivalry about which we boast so nmeh, glory was a monopoly reser^'ed for knights and kings. In those brave days the shining splendor rode alone with the 6Iite in pageantry of scarlet and gold. In this war glory walks on foot, not with kings and princes, but -o 805 ^:f^''L^-^^r}9^ 7^ il fif 1 k-d f> Ml Hi (It' THE REAL FRONT with heroes of unknown ncame, iu liomespun gray, and kliaki- with laborers and navvies with the poor and with the lowly, 'the glor: of this war is the glory of the cv^mmon man. In this wai those that were high and might; have fonie to tlie humblest tasks, and those tha once were tlie greatest have become the servant of all. Riding down from the front line, one evening on the Somme, I encountered a colunui of marcl ing troops. As they wore bandoliers, I reco: nized them as mounted men. "Wlio are you?" I called out. "The Royal Horse Guards— Blues," some oi answered. "V'h->t have you been doing up front? inquired. "Burying the dead at Moltke Farm," reph< the former speaker. The Household Cavalry, the right of the h in the British Army, acting as scavengers of t battle-field! "Alas," moans the defender of t privileged classes, "alas, how the glory has c parted !" But the Horse Guards, serving at tl menial work, are but an emblem of democra for which we fight, where all alike must share 1 meanest task, and where all alike may aspire the highest glory. 306 Ikil ••VERS LA GLOIRE" The spirit in which these high-horn men work out their loathsome duties is one of the brightest features of this war. "I suppose you chaps are pretty well dis- gusted with your latest job," I said to the officer who marched at the head of the Blues. •'Not at all, old chap," he said. "We're bally well glad to have our part to do, whatever it may be." That high-born officer of the Blues, meet- ing his meniil task in that brave and uncom- plaining spirit, was adding to the luster of his regiment. Valor and glory shine brightest when we behold them in sacrifices such as that of Gen. John Gough, V.C, who went from his place of safety far down the line to take comforts to his old troops, and was killed while on his mission of mercy. If where a high officer sacrifices him- self for his men is glorious, what shall we say of the deed of a British officer who offered him- self to save his foe.'' During an attempted daylight raid on the part of the Germans they were held up by a williering machine-gun fire and retired with great loss to their own trenches. One poor Hun, who was terribly wounded, was impaled upon his owti wire, and he hung there writhing in agony before the eyes of both armies. Finally the sight S07 v^»«v.i«^ ■t t* . j THE REAL FRONT of his suffering and his cries for lielp were toe much for an English officer in the trenches op posite. Vaulting over the parapet, he walko< boldly across No Man's Land in the direct fact of tlie foe, and, lifting his wounded enemy froii the impaling wire, he carried him across th( Ilim parapet and down into his own trenches When he arrived there, a German officer tool an iron cross which he wore off his own breast and placed it on the breast of the brave Britis] officer. The firing on both sides ceased whil he returned to his own trenches. And lookin on, both friend and foe alike knew that they ha beheld the highest form of martial glory. Those who imagine that this war is all basene< are mistaken, for humanity is still greater tha enmity, and often sacrifice is greater than vi< tory. A lady visiting in a Dublin hospital was talkm with a wounded soldier on religion. The soldi« drew from under his pillow a little Engli; Testament. "This was given to me," he said, "by ni enemy. We met in No Man's Land and one < us had to go. I killed him. While he was dyii I bent over and gave him to drink from n water-bottle. He could speak English and 1 drew this Testament from his tunic, and with I 308 "VERS LA r.LOIRE" dying breath said: 'Tins book has lx,-eii tin- water of hfe to me. I give it to you.'" Like u lone star from the Ilun's ni;,'ht of bar- barism shines out the dying e\umi)Ie of this Christian soldier of our foe. In the tiays of peace that are to come, when Germany has for- gotten the nightmare of the clanking sab(T an