The Wonder of War on Land

by Anonymous

  CHAPTER I

  WHERE THE SHELL STRUCK

  The windows rattled ominously as the first vibration from the cannonshook the school.

  It was Tuesday, the Fourth of August, 1914.

  The master laid down his book and rose. His shoulder crooked forwardthreateningly.

  "The German guns!" he said.

  There was a sharp indrawing of breath among the lads seated on theforms.

  "It is War! Black, treacherous, murderous war!" exclaimed the master,his voice vibrant with passion. "Those shells, now falling on Belgiansoil, are the tocsin for world-slaughter.

  "You will remember, boys," he continued, his tones deepening, "that Itold you, yesterday, how at seven o'clock on Sunday evening, withoutany provocation whatever, Germany announced she would invade Belgiumon the false pretext that France was planning an advance through ourterritory.

  "The dastardly invasion is accomplished. This morning a German forceattacked us at Vise, bombarded the town and crossed the Meuse onpontoon bridges."

  "How can Germany invade us, sir?" asked Deschamps, the head boy ofthe school. "You told us, sir, that Belgium is perpetually neutral byagreement of all the nations of Europe."

  "She is so, by every law of international honor, by every pledge, bysolemn covenants sealed and sworn to by Germany herself," came thereply. "Civilization, humanity, progress, liberty--all the things whichmen have fought and died for--depend on the faith of a plighted word.If a man's gauge and a nation's gauge no longer stand--then everyprinciple that has been won by the human race since the days that thecave-man waged war with his teeth crashes into ruin."

  "But what shall we be able to do, sir?" asked Horace Monroe, one of theelder boys.

  "We can do what the cave-man did when the cave-bear invaded his rudehome!" thundered the patriot. "We can fight with every weapon we have,yes, if we have to throw ourselves at the enemy's throat with nakedhands. Such of our troops as we could mobilize at a moment's noticeare ready, but every man who has served his time in training will beneeded. I go to-night!"

  "For the front, sir?" asked Deschamps.

  "For the cave-bear's throat!"

  The room buzzed with an excited whispering.

  "Who will take the school, sir?" the head boy asked.

  The old reservist looked down at the school, a somber fire glowing inhis eyes. His gaze caught those of his pupils, one after the other.Some were bewildered, some eager, but all were alight with the responseof enthusiasm.

  He put both hands on his desk and leaned far forward, impressively.

  "I wonder if I can trust you?" he said.

  An expression of wounded pride flashed over the faces of several of theolder boys.

  "Not one of you can realize," the master continued, speaking in alow tense tone which none of the lads had ever heard him use before,"just what war means. It spells horrors such as cannot be imagined.It turns men into beasts, or--" he paused, "into heroes. There is nomiddle ground. There is patriotism and there is treachery. Either, onedeserves trust, which is honor; or one does not deserve trust, which isinfamy."

  He looked at the boys again.

  "I wonder if I can trust you?" he repeated.

  "Trust us, sir!" shouted a dozen voices.

  "Do you dare ask it," he replied, "knowing that any one who fails orbreaks his trust will be a traitor?"

  There was a moment's pause, as the master's solemnity sank deep intothe boys' consciousness. Dimly they realized that the issue wassomething far greater and graver than anything they had known before.

  Horace broke the silence.

  "Have we deserved that you should distrust us, sir?" he asked.

  The old patriot flashed a quick look at him.

  "You are boys, still," he said, "that is all. It is your youth, notyour disloyalty that I fear."

  He studied the faces one by one. Each boy returned his gaze frankly andunflinchingly.

  "I will trust you," the master said.

  He leaned down to his desk and, with all the lads watching him, wrotein heavy letters on a sheet of paper that lay on his desk.

  "There lack but ten days to the end of the term," the master said, whenhe had finished writing. "I am to trust you for that length of time.You give me your word of honor?"

  A chorus of assent greeted him. Not a voice was missing.

  "Hear me, then," the old patriot declared, straightening up from hisdesk. "As boys of Belgium, born and reared on Belgian soil; as boysof Belgium, sons of a land that has never known dishonor; as boys ofBelgium, who have worked with me in this little village school ofBeaufays together, I trust you. If any one of you fails in that trust,let the rest see to it!"

  "We will, sir," they answered.

  "I go to defend Belgium," said the master, "but I leave behind me agreater teacher than myself. That teacher is a boy's sense of honor."

  He took a thumb-tack from a drawer of his desk and fastened the placardto the upper part of his chair.

  It bore the one word:

  PATRIE

  "There is your master," he said. "School will meet daily, as usual,until the end of the term. My chair is not empty while that wordstands there. Let no one be absent. Let none neglect his work. Let theolder lads help the younger. As for your conduct, as for your work--Ihave your word of honor. Your Fatherland! Your Home-land! Your Belgium!There is no more to say."

  In the great stillness that followed these words, the roar of thecannon was clearly heard in the distance.

  "The guns, again!" said the master. "School is dismissed untilto-morrow."

  The boys filed out silently, despite their excitement, but, onceoutside, a babel of questions and exclamations arose. Deschamps' voicewas heard above the rest.

  "I know how to handle a rifle, sir!" he said, with eager determination.

  The old reservist looked sharply at the lad.

  "You have not had your military service, yet," he said.

  "I could volunteer," the boy responded. "You said, sir, yesterday, thatif there were an invasion, volunteers would be needed."

  "Your mother--" the old patriot began, but Deschamps interrupted him.

  "Mother is a Belgian, sir," he said. "She'll understand."

  "I was counting on your example in the school," objected the master.

  The lad shook his head confidently.

  "There's no need of me, sir," he replied. "The fellows will all playsquare."

  "I hope so," said the master, thoughtfully. Then, knotting hisforehead, he asked, "Who is next in rank after you? Monroe, is he not?"

  "Yes, sir," put in the boy named, "I'm next in place."

  "That's what I thought. Let me think. You were not born in Belgium,Monroe, were you?"

  "No, sir," responded Horace, "I'm an American."

  The master pondered a moment.

  "You have no part, then, in this war," he said slowly.

  Horace flushed at the implication.

  "I gave my word of honor with the others, sir," he said. "You don'tthink, sir, that means any less to an American boy!"

  The master nodded in satisfaction at the retort.

  "I beg your pardon," he replied, as though speaking to an equal, "I amsatisfied."

  He locked the school door and gave the key to Horace.

  "Come with me to the house, Monroe," he added. "I want to give you somefinal instructions."

  "Very well, sir," Horace replied.

  "Deschamps," the master continued, turning to the head boy, "if you arereally in earnest about volunteering, you had better go home at onceand talk the matter over with your parents. I will call at your houseon my way through the village. If your father and mother agree, you mayaccompany me."

  "Oh, I'll persuade them to let me go!" announced the lad with assurance.

  "And your ambitions to become an artist?" queried his old teacher.

  "Belgium first!" Deschamps declared.

  The master smiled indulgently at the tone of boyish bombast,
but, nonethe less, it was evident that he was well pleased.

  "Very well, Deschamps," he said, "in that case I will see you in anhour's time."

  "Can't we go with you part of the way, sir?" asked half a dozen of thesmaller lads, clustering around him.

  "No," came the decided reply, "most certainly not."

  "But we want to see the fun!" piped up one of the smallest boys in theschool.

  The master put his hand kindly on the youngster's shoulder.

  "Ah, Jacques, Jacques," he said, "pray that you may never see it! I amsick at heart to think of what may happen to this little village if thered tide of war rolls over it. Good-bye, boys; remember your trust.Come, Monroe, we must be going."

  Some of the elder pupils stopped to shake hands with their old master,but most of the younger ones went running in groups along the villagestreet, with fewer shouts than usual, eager to tell at home the strangehappenings of that day at school. Horace and the master turned towardthe end of the village, the old patriot taking the opportunity towarn the American lad against allowing the boys to go to extremes inexercising their new-found responsibilities.

  "They are much more likely to be too strict than to be too slack," hesaid, "balance and judgment come with age and experience. They willneed the curb, not the whip. I am torn with the idea of leaving theschool when no one knows what may happen, but I cannot stay away fromLiege. Hear how those guns continue!"

  "Just what are you going to do there, sir?" asked Horace.

  "Whatever I am told to do," was the answer. "A soldier only obeysorders. I served my time with the artillery and my old battery is atFort Boncelles. I hope they will let me go there, but guns have changeda great deal since my time, and perhaps my experience may be of littleuse. Yet the principles are the same, still."

  "Does Madame Maubin know as yet that you're going, sir?" asked Horace,as they neared the house.

  "No," said the master, "she does not. Of course, we have talked aboutthe possible German invasion, but I said nothing which would alarm her.She will have to be told now."

  Like all boys, Horace had a deep dislike for emotional scenes,especially of a domestic character, and he would have given a good dealnot to be compelled to go into the house, but there was no help for it.Mme. Maubin had seen them coming, and she opened the door.

  "Are those German guns?" she asked.

  "Yes," said the master, halting on the threshold.

  "Then it is all true?"

  "The invasion?" he sighed. "Alas, it is all true."

  She turned and walked into the house, the others following.

  On a chair, near the window, lay the old uniform.

  "Lucie!" cried the master, understanding.

  "Did you think that I would fail you," she said, "or try to hold youback?"

  They went into the inner room together.

  In a few moments, the woman came out.

  "You will drink a cup of milk before you go, won't you?" she asked,addressing Horace. "M. Maubin tells me that you are going to walk partof the way with him. You do not go all the way?" she added, wistfully.

  "I'd like to, Madame," answered the boy, "I'd love to volunteer. Butthey wouldn't let me. You see," he continued, "I'm an American and thatcounts me out. Deschamps is going, though."

  The woman looked at Horace with a sudden intensity that frightenedhim for a moment. He remembered having heard that the master's wifepossessed strange gifts. But she shook herself out of her fixity ofpose and continued,

  "And the school is closed?"

  "No, Madame," answered Horace, "the school is not closed. M. Maubin hasput the school in our trust."

  "In your trust? In the boys' keeping?" she queried. "I don't quiteunderstand."

  Whereupon Horace told the story of the appeal to the honor of theschool and the One Word on the master's chair.

  The woman's face glowed with pride.

  "I will help you," she said, impulsively, "I will come to the school."

  Horace stiffened up.

  "Pardon, Madame," he said, "but the master's chair is not empty."

  The master's wife smiled at the lad's quick defense of his charge.

  "I had forgotten," she said, "it is a trust, yes? Then I will notcome. But perhaps, after school hours, if there are any of the youngerchildren who need help in their lessons, they may come here? This housewill always be open to them."

  _Courtesy of "The Graphic."_

  "PLEASE, COLONEL, CAN'T I JOIN?"

  The Boy Scouts of England, France and Italy have been of invaluableservice during the war.]

  At this point, the door of the inner room opened and the masterentered, in uniform. He looked quizzically at his wife.

  "I was afraid," he said, "that it would not fit. It is twenty yearssince I wore it last. And I am not as slim, dear, as I was then."

  "I altered it yesterday," she said, quietly.

  "Yesterday we knew nothing!" exclaimed the master, in surprise.

  "When the army was finally ordered to the front on Friday," shereplied, "it was not difficult to guess that danger was very close.And, Jean, if there were danger, I would not need to be told that youwould go."

  The schoolmaster put his arm around his wife as he handed her to herseat at the table.

  "Mark you this, Monroe," he said, "and remember it: The strength of acountry is in proportion as its women are strong."

  "M. Maubin," asked the lad, as they sat down to their hasty meal,"before you go, I wish you'd explain to me a little what this war isabout. Being an American, I'm not up on European politics, and I can'tquite make head or tail out of the muddle. So far as I understand,Austria quarreled with Servia because the Crown Prince was shot bya Servian. That's natural enough, although it doesn't seem enough tostart a war. Suddenly, Germany invades Belgium. What's Germany got todo with Servia? And where does Belgium come in?"

  The master glanced at his pupil.

  "It's impossible to explain the tangle of European politics in a fewwords," he said, "but you are right in wanting to know the causes ofthe war. I'll put them as simply as I can.

  "Every international war in the world's history has been an aggressivewar, waged either to win new territory or commerce, or to take backterritory or commerce which had been wrested from its former owner.Very often, this indirect but real cause is cloaked by some pettyincident which looms up as the direct cause, and, not infrequently, theantagonism of one nation to another has a powerful effect. Civil wars,on the other hand, are generally due to money conditions."

  "Was our American Civil War due to that?" Horace asked.

  "Yes," the master answered, "it was due to the disturbed balanceof economic conditions between slave-holding and non-slave-holdingStates."

  "And was our Spanish-American War a war of aggression?"

  "Certainly, on the part of Cuba. The Cubans tried to shake off theyoke of Spain and possess the territory for themselves, and Spain, notaltogether unnaturally, resented America's sympathy with the rebels."

  "And this war?" asked Horace. "Is it for commerce or for territory?"

  "For both," the master answered. "The main, though indirect, cause ofthis war is Germany's need for commercial expansion. The direct causeof the war is Austria's desire for revenge on Servia's plotting againsther, which, in its turn, grew out of Austria's theft of the territoryof Bosnia and Herzegovina.

  "In this war, not only are great empires opposed, but two greatinternational principles also are opposed. Belgium, France, andEngland hold the belief that international affairs can be regulated byhonorable agreements, as between gentlemen. Germany holds the beliefthat international affairs can be regulated only by force, as betweenruffians.

  "Germany has always proclaimed the doctrine of 'blood and iron' orthe policy that 'might makes right.' In accordance with this belief,Prussia has built up the greatest army the world has ever seen. Shehas done more, she has made militarism a part of the very fiber of theGerman soul. It is not the Mailed Fist which rules Germany, it is theMa
iled Fist which is Germany. The Kaiser's Army, for the last dozenyears, has been coiled like a snake, watching its chance to strike.

  "Austria-Hungary is a ramshackle empire. Her people are disunited.Only one-third of her people are of Teutonic stock, though Austria isGerman in her rule. More than one-half of the population is Slav. Theempire is a mass of disorganized units held together by force and sinceAustria lacks this force, she is compelled to depend on German forceas an ally. Hence, whatever is done by Austria entangles Germany andAustria cannot take any action without Germany's permission."

  "So that is where Germany comes in!" exclaimed Horace. "I begin to see,now."

  "Next," continued the master, "consider Servia, a country about halfas large again as Belgium. She gained her autonomy, under Turkey, acentury ago. At the end of the Russo-Turkish War, by the Treaty ofSan Stefano, a strip of territory inhabited by Servians was given toBulgaria. The Treaty of Berlin, supported by all the European Powers,declared Servia's independence but did not return the territory. Foryears Servia had struggled to get an outlet to the sea and when,after a sharp war, she succeeded, Austria opposed her and was backedby Europe. A Servo-Bulgarian war followed, in which Austria againintervened.

  "In 1908, Austria, without rhyme or reason, annexed the greatterritories of Bosnia and Herzegovina, which had been put under herprotection by the Treaty of Berlin. This act of national dishonoralmost precipitated a European War. To Servia's ambitions it was adeath-blow, for it placed Austria between her and the sea. The resultis that Servia harbors a grudge against Austria which is not less thanher hatred for her old master, Turkey."

  "No wonder Servia was spoiling for trouble," said Horace, thoughtfully.

  "Unfortunately, she was," the master agreed. "The Pan-Serbs, who thinkServia ought to include Bosnia, Herzegovina, and Old Servia, have longbeen a thorn in Austria's side. The Austrian emperor, himself, in anaddress from the throne, stated that 'the flame of the hatred of Serviafor myself and my house has ever blazed higher,' and he declared--notwithout reason--that 'a criminal propaganda has extended over thefrontier.' It must be remembered, however, that this propaganda wasAustria's fault, for she tore up the Treaty of Berlin in 1908 just asGermany tore up her treaty with Belgium the day before yesterday.

  "Just a word, Monroe, about the 'balance of power.' In order for Europeto live at peace, no one nation or group of nations must be allowed toget too strong. Since Germany and Austria are allies, other nationsmust form defensive alliances, and one of the strongest of these wasbetween France and Russia."

  "Why those two?" queried Horace. "They're not neighbors."

  "No," the master replied, "but they are both neighbors of the CentralPowers. France seeks revenge from Germany for the Franco-Prussian Warof 1871, when Alsace-Lorraine was taken from her. Russia could nevercope single-handed with the military forces of Germany and Austria. If,however, the Germanic powers attacked either France or Russia, by thisalliance they would be confronted by an enemy on the opposite frontier."

  "So when Russia had to back up Servia," said Horace slowly, "France hadto back up Russia. Is that it?"

  "Exactly. Now, see where England stands. By a naval agreement withFrance, the British possessions in the Mediterranean are watched overby a French fleet. The English Channel, which commands the north shoreof France, is patrolled by a British fleet. On Saturday last, threedays ago, England assured France that, in the event of trouble withGermany, she would protect French interests in the English Channel andthe North Sea. This bottles up the German fleet. That, you see, my boy,is where the nations stand. Now let us come to the actual beginning ofthe war."

  Horace redoubled his attention, leaning forward with one elbow on thetable.

  "On June 28, five weeks ago," the master continued, "the heir to thethrone of Austria, the Grand-Duke Francis Ferdinand, together with hiswife, were shot and killed by a Servian student. The crime occurredin the streets of Serajevo, capital of the province of Bosnia, whichAustria had wrongfully annexed six years before. Austria claimed thatthe assassination was part of a plot known to the Servian government,but this charge was denied and has never been proved.

  "For three weeks there were no outward signs of a storm. Probably thetime was spent by Austria and Germany in arranging the details ofwar. On July 23, Austria sent an outrageous and peremptory ultimatumto Servia. That little country, realizing that the assassination hadplaced her in a false position, acceded to all Austria's demands saveone, which she could not yield without giving up her own sovereignrights."

  "Which, I suppose," interjected Horace, "she wouldn't do. No countrywould."

  "The ultimatum," continued the master, "only gave Servia two days' timeto reply. This haste was for the purpose of forcing the issue beforethe other Powers could take action. Russia, the next day, asked Austriato give Servia more time. Austria, in consultation with Germany, toldRussia to keep 'hands off.' It was clear, then, that Austria intendedto use the assassination as a pretext to gobble up Servia in thesame way that she had gobbled up Bosnia and Herzegovina six yearsbefore. Russia commenced to mobilize her army to help Servia, if helpwere needed. The Austrian army was already mobilized on the Servianfrontier."

  "Just what is mobilization, sir?" asked the boy; "I've heard the wordused so much during the last few days."

  "Mobilization," answered the master, "means getting ready to move.It means the organizing of an army, bringing troops from distantgarrisons, artillery from concentration points, arranging food depotsfrom which provision trains can be run regularly, munition depots tofeed the guns, preparation and equipment of hospitals in the field andat the bases, wounded transportation and ambulance systems, stables,forage depots and veterinary stations for the cavalry and artilleryhorses, repair shops for military machinery, supply depots for uniformsand equipment, and a thousand other things besides. Each of these mustinterlock and have its place. Each one must move along a route, mappedout in advance and by a time-table as rigid as that of a railroad.A modern army on the march is a segment of civilization on the moveand almost every department of human industry is represented. Themobilization and handling of an army is the most staggering problem oforganization known to the human race."

  "One never thinks of all that," said Horace, thoughtfully.

  "To proceed with the events that led to war," the master continued,looking at his watch and speaking more quickly. "On July 25, Austrianotified Servia that she was dissatisfied with the reply to theultimatum. This was equal to a declaration of war. The next day,Russia, seeing Germany's hand behind the Austrian plot, warned theKaiser that interference would not be tolerated. This declaration fromRussia imbroiled her ally, France. Belgium, being required to keep anarmy of defense on her frontier, commenced to mobilize also.

  "The very next day, July 27, the Austrians invaded Servia. At almostthe same hour, shots were exchanged between German and Russian sentrieson the frontier. On July 28, war began between Austria and Servia.Great Britain, at this time, was striving with might and main to keepthe war from spreading and had urged both Germany and Russia to keepthe peace.

  "On July 31 Germany forced the European War by simultaneous action attwo points. She sent an ultimatum to Russia, ordering her to ceasemobilization within 12 hours. She sent an ultimatum to France demandingneutrality and asserting that she would require the keys of the Frenchfortresses of Verdun and Toul as guarantee of that neutrality."[1]

  "By what right?"

  "None in the world! It was impossible for Russia to demobilize, withher neighbor and ally Servia already under the fire of Austrian guns;it was equally impossible for France to hand over the keys of her maindefensive positions to her arch-enemy.

  "On August 1, Germany declared war on Russia, and advanced her armyto striking distance of the Belgian frontier. On August 2--that wasthe day before yesterday--German troops crossed the French frontier atthree points and invaded Luxemburg, an independent state. That evening,Germany notified Belgium that she intended to violate her neutrality."


  "Why is Belgium supposed to be neutral? Can't she go to war? Isn't shean independent country?"

  "She is," was the reply, "but her war-making powers are withheld bythe universal agreement of the Powers. Belgium is the key to WesternEurope. Peace depends on Belgium's good faith. According to a treatysigned in 1839, we form 'an independent state of perpetual neutrality,'this treaty being signed by France, England, Prussia, Austria, andRussia. In 1870, during the Franco-Prussian War, Germany declared thatthis Belgian treaty could not be violated. In 1911, Germany repeatedthe assurance and again in 1913. All the while she had drawn maps forthe invasion of Belgium and had built military railways to threaten ourfrontier.

  "Germany has always stated that it was a matter of honor with her tokeep Belgium intact. Those guns you hear, Monroe, mark Germany's denialof her national and international honor. History, with all its dark andbloody deeds, has never seen a more dastardly flaunting of disgrace andtreachery. Observe that Germany had invaded Luxemburg, invaded France,invaded Belgium, declared war on Russia, and authorized Austria toinvade Servia before a single hostile act had been committed by Russia,France, Belgium, or England.

  "The Kaiser's armies count for victory on speed and surprise. For thatreason, every day, yes, every hour that we can hold them back beforeLiege, gives Belgium and France the opportunity to prepare, gives theworld a breathing space. Every minute counts, and that is why I amgoing to join the colors!"

  "I wish I could go," pleaded Horace, as the master rose from the table.

  "It is impossible," the master replied, "belonging to a neutral nation,it would not be permitted. The United States may be dragged into thewar later--there is never any means of telling how long such a war maylast--and then, perhaps, you will be called on. And now," he continued,"if you will step outside for a minute, I'll join you there, and we'llgo on to Deschamps' house."

  Realizing that the master wished to bid farewell to his wife, Horaceput on his cap and waited in the village street. The master joined himin a few minutes and they walked along silently. At last the reservistspoke.

  "I wonder," he said, musingly, "if I will ever see Beaufays again."

  Horace was startled. This was bringing the war home to him with avengeance.

  "You don't mean that you think--" he stammered.

  "That I may be killed?" queried the master, calmly. "Certainly. That isall War consists of--killing and being killed. Why should I expect toescape? One always hopes, of course."

  For a few significant moments nothing more was said.

  Deschamps' father and mother were standing at the door as the masterand Horace approached. As they reached the gate, the would-be recruitcame swinging out. He turned and kissed his father on both cheeks. Hismother clung to him passionately.

  "You will take care of him, M. Maubin?" she pleaded.

  "Madame," he answered, "Belgium must take care of him. He is hiscountry's son, now, not yours or mine."

  His father said only,

  "Shoot straight, my son!"

  When, on the Friday before, the seventeen men in actual service in theBelgian Army who lived in Beaufays had marched from the little villageto join the colors, there had been a certain air of martial gayety.This evening, however, the groups of villagers who passed the masterand the two boys looked grave.

  _Courtesy of "J'ai Vu."_

  A BELGIAN BOY HERO.

  Twice decorated by King Albert for service at the front and fordiscovering dangerous military spies.]

  One of the men, a hunchback, very powerful in build despite hisdistorted frame and who was known as the cleverest man in the village,came shuffling up beside them.

  "You are going, M. Maubin?"

  "It is evident."

  "And where?"

  "My old regiment is at Boncelles," the reservist answered, "I hope tobe allowed to join it. They will know, at Liege, where I can be of themost service."

  "Reynders and Vourdet also are going. They leave to-morrow," thehunchback said, naming two of the older villagers.

  "It would be better, M. Croquier," rejoined the master, "if they wentto-night."

  "Why?" queried the other, in response, as he kept beside the three, hisshambling gait keeping pace with their brisk walk. "You don't think aday will make any difference, do you, M. Maubin? Our good forts willkeep the Germans back for a month, at least. Brialmont declared theywere impregnable."

  "Maybe," said the old patriot, "and maybe not. Brialmont's plans weremade twenty years ago. This lad and I will help to keep the invadersback to-night. The Germans are prepared, we are not. Every riflecounts."

  "I will see Reynders and Vourdet at once," the hunchback answered,eagerly. "They shall hear what you have said. Perhaps they, too, willgo to-night. Good fortune!"

  "Good-bye!" the master said.

  The old reservist and the two boys, one on either side of him, passedthe outskirts of Beaufays and struck out upon the road leading intoLiege. It was a glorious evening, after a sultry day. The roads wereheavy with dust, but a light breeze had sprung up.

  Here and there a home with a little garden nestled beside aswift-flowing brook. The magpies flickered black and white amongthe thickets. The crows cawed loudly of their coming feast on earlywalnuts, not knowing that the plans of the German General Staff wereproviding for them a fattening feast on the horrid fruits of war. Thecrops were ripe for harvest. All was peaceful to view, but a sullenshaking vibration at irregular intervals told the cannons' tale ofdestruction and slaughter. Little, however, did any of the threerealize that the smiling landscape was already ringed with steel orthat the road they trod would, on the morrow, shake with the tramplingof the iron-gray German hosts.

  "I told them at home," said Deschamps, breaking the silence, "that yousaid every one would be needed. Why is there such a hurry, sir? Can'tour regular army hold the forts?"

  "No," said the master, "I am afraid not, because the Germans arecounting on speed and surprise. They must take Liege and they must takeit quickly."

  "I don't see why," the lad objected. "Can't the Germans march either tothe north or south of Liege and avoid the forts altogether?"

  "They can, of course," the old reservist answered, "but that wouldn'tdo them any good. It is a question of the Line of Communication. Anarmy is composed of human beings. First and foremost it must be fed.Remember Lord Kitchener's famous address to the Punjab Rifles:

  "'You must not get into the way of thinking,' he said, 'that men cango on fighting interminably. Men get hungry, men get thirsty, men gettired. In real warfare, where many hours of hard marching and fightingmay pass before you achieve success, you have to ask yourselves at thecritical moment:

  "'Can I trust my men, with gnawing pains of hunger in their stomachs,with a depressing sense of having suffered casualties and with fatiguein all their limbs; can I trust them to press upon the retreating enemyand crush him? Men cannot fight well unless they are fed well, and mencannot fight when they are tired. More than once on active service, Ihave taken the ammunition out of my ammunition carts and loaded them upwith bully beef.'

  "I could go on and point out to you that troops must be properlysheltered and properly equipped. Even without any battles, an army willhave a considerable proportion of its men in hospitals from sickness,and, after the first battle, there are thousands of wounded to besurgically treated and nursed. What is true of men is true also of thehorses for the cavalry and artillery; they cannot advance unless theyare fed, nor when they are tired.

  "Moreover, a modern army fights mainly with gunnery and rifle fire,very little with cold steel. Guns and rifles are useless withoutammunition. Machine guns will fire 30,000 shots in an hour. Both lightand heavy artillery depend for their results on continuous hammering.For every step in advance that troops make, they must be followed withfood for the men, food for the horses, and food for the guns.

  "Think, boys, of the size of a modern army. One single army corps oftwo divisions of three brigades each, contains over 43,000 combatants.Of this, over one
half is infantry, the rest including the machine gunsections, the field artillery, the heavy artillery, the siege artilleryand engineering and signal corps. It takes 9,000 non-combatants inthe field to look after this army, the train including ten provisioncolumns, with special field bakeries and field slaughter-houses, tenammunition columns, twelve field hospitals, to say nothing of specialbridge sections and a host of minor but essential units. Picture toyourselves the amount of food which has to be transported to feed these52,000 men three times a day, most of which has to be brought fromlong distances to the front and there cooked and distributed. Conceivethe thousands of tons of cartridges and shells needed to supply theinfantry and the various kinds of artillery!

  "The Line of Communication is the only thing which keeps an armygoing, which enables it to operate. If that be cut, the guns aresilenced and the army starves. It is absolutely imperative to everyadvancing army that its rear, its Line of Communication, be safe fromattack by the enemy. It is the artery which carries its life-blood. Youcan easily see that, for such an immense transportation work, controlof the railways of a country is the first chief need of an invadingarmy. No wagon system could provision an army or keep it supplied withmunitions.

  "Liege is Belgium's eastern railroad center. Six miles north of theforts of Liege lies the frontier of Holland. South of Liege lies thebroken, mountainous country of the Ardennes, uncrossed by railways andimpossible as a line of transport. Troops could only march through thedifficult Ardennes country if they were sure of being able to securesupplies when they had reached the other side.

  "Certainly, Deschamps, as you suggest, the German Army could divide andmarch by roads north and south of Liege. Suppose it did so. What then?After the main army had passed, we could sally forth from Liege, cutthe Line of Communication and, by starvation and lack of ammunition,compel the surrender of the whole invading army.

  "No, boys, not only must the Germans enter Liege, but they must captureevery single fort before it is safe for them to proceed. Not until thelast gun is silenced in Forts Loncin, Flemalle and Boncelles is WesternEurope threatened. When Liege falls, Belgium falls, and if the fallcomes too quickly, the whole of Western Europe may go."

  "But will Liege fall?" asked Horace.

  "That," answered the master, "is what we are going to see."

  He held up his hand for silence.

  "The shots are coming nearer," he said.

  The words were hardly out of his mouth when the ground shook with aheavy detonation and both the boys staggered.

  "That was not a German shell," declared the old reservist; "that wasone of our forts replying."

  "Fort Embourg?" queried Deschamps.

  "Undoubtedly." He turned to the younger lad. "You will have to go back,Monroe," he said. "If Liege is already in a state of siege, you have noright to enter the ring of forts."

  "Can't I go at least as far as Embourg?" begged Horace. "You might letme see one shot, sir."

  "I only hope you won't see too many," answered the master, "but, ifyou're so keen about it, you may come as far as the ring of forts. Atthe cross-roads leading to Tilff, you must turn back."

  "By Mother Canterre's bakery?"

  "Exactly," said the master, smiling a trifle grimly. "But you need notexpect to buy any little cakes there, now that the guns of Embourg havebegun to reply. You may be sure that Mother Canterre has been sent awayinto safety. The forts must be left clear."

  "I wish I were like Deschamps," declared Horace, enviously, "goingright into the very thick of it!"

  "I'm not so sure that Deschamps will go 'into the thick of it,' as youcall it," responded the old reservist; "a raw recruit is not likely tobe sent direct to the fighting front. It is much more likely that hewill be sent back to cover Brussels or Antwerp."

  "But if we are defending ourselves and there is such need for haste,"said Deschamps, "why do I have to enlist as a soldier at all? Whycan't I just take a rifle and join in?"

  The master listened intently to the explosion of a bursting shell somedistance away, before he replied.

  "It is one of the recognized rules of war," he said, when the sound ofthe shell-burst had died away, "that battles are fought between thearmies of opposing countries, not between the civilian populations ofthose countries. A civilian, not in uniform, who is caught in the actof fighting with the enemy, is treated as a spy and shot. The Germanseven refused to recognize the organized French _franc-tireurs_ in thewar of 1871.[2] True, the Hague Convention permits an invaded people totake up arms to defend itself, but it is not likely that Germany willpay any attention to the rules of civilized warfare, even though shesigned them.

  "Treaties mean nothing to the Kaiser's government, which has declared,'the State is a law unto itself,' and again, 'Weak nations have notthe same right to live as stronger nations,' and yet again, 'the Stateis the sole judge of the morality of its own actions.' Massacreand barbarism lie behind Germany's announcement that 'if a singlenon-combatant in a city or village fires a shot against occupyingtroops, that city or village shall be considered as having rendereditself liable to pillage.' That means, Deschamps, that if you shouldfire a single shot in defense of your own home, before you join thearmy, the Germans would deem that a sufficient excuse for burning andsacking the entire town of Liege."

  A shell screeched over them, exploding on the further side of a smallhill to their left.

  The master looked startled, but neither of the boys showed any signs offear.

  "Is that what a shell sounds like?" asked Horace curiously. "I thoughtit was much louder."

  The master cast a sidewise glance at him.

  "Have you ever seen a large shell burst?" he asked.

  "No," responded the boy.

  "After you do," the old reservist commented, "you will feeldifferently."

  Another shell, not quite as near, whistled behind them.

  "They may hit us!" exclaimed Deschamps, with a nervous laugh, theincredulity in his tone revealing how little he realized his danger,nor the devastation wrought by a modern shell.

  "Go back, Monroe," said the master, quickening his steps.

  Horace kept step by step beside him.

  "You said I might go to the corner," he protested; "it's only a littleway further."

  From over the hill came drifting a smell of acrid smoke.

  "Do you think I'll see--" began Horace.

  An earth-shaking detonation cut short his words, and, in the earlydusk, the flash and the cauliflower cloud of smoke could be seenarising from the fort.

  "We're replying," cried the old patriot, elation in his voice. "Waittill they come within range of our 6-inch guns!"

  A turn of the road brought them within direct sight of Fort Embourg.

  "Look!" cried the master, "they're going to fire again!"

  The boys halted.

  As they looked, from the smoothly-cropped grass mound slowly arose anenormous steel-gray mushroom, like the dream of some goblin multiplieda thousandfold. Then, suddenly, without a sign or sound of warning,this dome belched flame and smoke, rocking the earth around. Then down,down sank the grim gray mushroom, leaving no mark of its presence savethe green mound on which, the day before, sheep had been grazing, andthe drifting puff of smoke overhead.

  The exhilaration of the boys dropped. There was something terrible andmalign in the slow rising of that goblin dome, in its sudden ferocityand in its noiseless disappearance.

  "That shell will strike several miles away," the old reservist said,"perhaps where men are now fighting. If so, then you have seen a burdenof death, of suffering and of carnage starting on its way. War is ahorrible thing, boys, a horrible thing! But," he added sadly, "it is anecessity from which the world will never be free."

  A hundred yards farther brought them to the cross-roads.

  "Here you must go back, Monroe."

  Horace looked wistfully at the quiet road ahead of him, windingpeacefully under its green cloud of trees.

  "I've never been in a war," he said. "I d
o want to see a little bit ofthis one!"

  _Courtesy of "The Graphic."_

  SMOKE, THE HERALD OF DEATH.

  A 12-inch howitzer behind the British lines on the Somme, smashing theGerman lines several miles away.]

  "Count yourself happy," said the old reservist solemnly, "for everyhour of your life up to this time that has been free from sight orsound of war. You--"

  A crash and a flare!

  A blast of fire struck the boy in the face and all became blank.

  Then, slowly, slowly, out from a black void, Horace felt hisconsciousness struggling back. It was as though his brain were a jaggedmountain which his mind was trying to climb. With an inward panic, heopened his eyes.

  He found himself in a clump of bushes, stunned and dazed. Gropingly hepassed his hands over his face.

  His eyebrows and eyelashes were gone, scorched away by the flame. Therewas a smell of singeing on his clothes. A terrific nausea possessedhim, caused, though he did not know it, by the vacuum produced by theshell-burst. Otherwise he was unhurt.

  Painfully and with a strong feeling of unreality, the boy staggered tohis feet and looked around him.

  In the road was a deep hole, upon which a cloud of dust was slowlysettling. The air still seemed to rock backwards and forwards with thevibration, and the falling leaves whirled irregularly to the ground.

  But--where were the others?

  For the moment, Horace lost his nerve.

  "Where are they? Where are they?" he screamed, his high-pitched cryrasping his blistered throat.

  Then,

  "Steady, Monroe," he heard a voice behind him. "You will need all yourcourage."

  Horace turned at the words.

  The master was kneeling at the side of the road, beside Deschamps, whowas stretched out limply, the blood oozing from a wound in his forehead.

  The sight steadied Horace at once. He got a grip on himself, though hewas still dizzy and sick with the shock of the shell and his head wasringing painfully. One ear seemed deaf. A black giddiness seized him ashe crossed the road with staggering, uncertain steps.

  "Is he killed?" asked Horace.

  "No," answered the master, "but badly hurt. His wound will need instantattention. Unhinge a shutter from the cottage over there."

  Running with stumbling steps to the deserted bake-shop, Horace liftedfrom its hinges one of the long shutters and dragged it back to wherehis comrade lay.

  "Put him on this," said the master softly.

  Together they lifted the would-be recruit and laid him gently on theshutter, then picked up the burden, the master taking the head andHorace the feet.

  "Where to, sir?" asked Horace, as he took a firm grip on the improvisedstretcher.

  "To Embourg Village," was the reply; "we must find a doctor at once."

  They had not gone another two hundred yards when the screech of anapproaching shell was heard.

  "Put him down," cried the master, "and lie down flat yourself!"

  Horace did not delay. Gently, but rapidly, he lowered his end of thestretcher and laid himself flat on the bed of the road. He had hardlytouched ground when a shell hit a house not more than eighty yards infront of them. The boy saw the great shell, like a black streak, justbefore it struck. Then, even before he heard the explosion, he saw thewhole house lift itself into the air, quite silently.

  "Put your fingers in your ears!" cried the master.

  Horace saw the gesture but the words were lost in a terrific roar whichprojected the air in waves which seemed almost solid as they struck.In the place where the house had stood there remained only a risingcolumn of brick-dust, rosy red. Above this towered a petaled cloud ofblack smoke, and above this, again, a fountain compounded of particlesof the house, of earth, and of shell driven upwards by the force of theexplosion.

  Horace no longer felt any eagerness to see shell-fire. He wasthoroughly frightened. A look of panic had crept into his eyes. Not forthe world, though, would he have admitted it. He did not try to speak.His throat was parched and the roof of his mouth was dry.

  They picked up the stretcher in silence.

  "Here is the doctor's house," said the master, as they entered thevillage, and, turning, met the young surgeon on his way out of the gate.

  "Patient for you, Doctor!" said the master.

  "Father will attend to him," came the reply, "I'm hurrying to Liege.They need me there. What is it? Accident case?"

  "Shell splinter," said the master.

  The doctor halted and turned back.

  "Already!" he exclaimed.

  Horace and the master carried their burden into the house, the doctorfollowing them.

  "I'll look at him," he said, "and let Father dress the wound. He hasn'tpracticed for ten years, but every medical man will have to work now,I'm thinking."

  They laid Deschamps on the operating table.

  Quickly and deftly the young surgeon unwound the bandages which themaster had tied around the wounded lad's head, and examined the injurycarefully.

  Then he reached for his instruments.

  "He will be blind," he said, "totally blind, without hope of recovery."

  "He was to have been an artist," said the master.

  "Yes," replied the surgeon. "War is made up of broken lives!"

  FOOTNOTES:

  [1] The master could not have said this in 1914, for the secretdocuments were not made public until 1918. The author makes him say it,here, to show the political moves clearly.

  [2] Later in August, 1914, Germany declared that the Belgian GardeCivique would be considered as non-combatant. It was thereforedismissed, though afterwards reformed.