WORLD'S WAR

EVENTS

Compiled and Edited by

FRANCIS J. REYNOLDS

WORLD'S WAR EVENTS

VOLUME III

CONTENTS

A DESTROYER IN ACTIVE SERVICE

BY AN AMERICAN OFFICER

Well, I must confess that, even after war has been declared, the skies haven't fallen and oysters taste just the same. I never would have dreamed that so big a step would be accepted with so much equanimity. It is due to two causes, I think. First, because we have trembled on the verge so long and sort of dabbled our toes in the water, that our minds have grown gradually accustomed to what under other circumstances would be a violent shock. Second, because the individual units of the Navy are so well prepared that there is little to do. We made a few minor changes in the routine and slipped the war-heads on to the torpedoes, and presto, we were ready for war. One beauty of a destroyer is that, life on board being reduced to its simplest terms anyhow, there is little to change. We may be ordered to "strip," that is, go to our Navy yard and land all combustibles, paints, oils, surplus woodwork, etc.; but we have not done so yet.

We were holding drill yesterday when the signal was made from the flagship, "War is declared." I translated it to my crew, who received the news with much gayety but hardly a trace of excitement.

There is absolutely no news. We are standing by for what may betide, with not the faintest idea of what it may be. Of course, we are drilling all the time, and perfecting our readiness for action in every way, but there is a total absence of that excitement and sense of something impending that one usually associates with the beginning of war. Indeed, I think that the only real anxiety is lest we may not get into the big game at all. I do not think any of us are bloodthirsty or desirous of either glory or advancement, but we have the wish to justify our existence. With me it takes this form—by being in the service I have sacrificed my chance to make good as husband, father, citizen, son, in fact, in every human relationship, in order to be, as I trust, one of the Nation's high-grade fighting instruments. Now, if fate never uses me for the purpose to which I have been fashioned, then much time, labor, and material have been wasted, and I had better have been made into a good clerk, farmer, or business man.

I do so want to be put to the test and not found wanting. Of course, I know that the higher courage is to do your duty from day to day no matter in how small a line, but all of us conceal a sneaking desire to attempt the higher hurdles and sail over grandly.

You need not be proud of me, for there is no intrinsic virtue in being in the Navy when war is declared; but I hope fate will give me the chance to make you proud.

I have been having lots of fun in command myself, and good experience. I have taken her out on patrol up to Norfolk twice, where the channel is as thin and crooked as a corkscrew, then into dry dock. Later, escorted a submarine down, then docked the ship alongside of a collier, and have established, to my own satisfaction at least, that I know how to handle a ship. All this may not convey much, but you remember how you felt when you first handled your father's car. Well, the car weighs about two tons and the W—— a thousand, and she goes nearly as fast. You have to bring your own mass up against another dock or oilship as gently as dropping an egg in an egg-cup, and you can imagine what the battleship skipper is up against, with 30,000 tons to handle. Only he generally has tugs to help him, whereas we do it all by ourselves.

This war is far harder on you than on me. The drill, the work of preparing for grim reality, all of it is what I am trained for. The very thought of getting into the game gives me a sense of calmness and contentment I have never before known. I suppose it is because subconsciously I feel that I am justifying my existence now more than ever before. And that feeling brings anybody peace.

Back in harness again and thankful for the press of work that keeps me from thinking about you all at home.

Well, we are going across all right, exactly where and for how long I do not know. Our present orders are to sail to-morrow night, but there seems to be wild uncertainty about whether we will go out then. In the meantime, we are frantically taking on mountains of stores, ammunition, provisions, etc., trying to fill our vacancies with new men from the Reserve Ship, and hurrying everything up at high pressure.

Well, I am glad it has come. It is what I wanted and what I think you wanted for me. It is useless to discuss all the possibilities of where we are going and what we are going to do. From the look of things, I think we are going to help the British. I hope so. Of course, we are a mere drop in the bucket.

As I start off now, my only real big regret is that through circumstances so much of my responsibility has been taken by others—you, my brother, and your father. I don't know that I am really to blame. At least, I am very sure that never in all my life did I intentionally try to shift any load of mine onto another. But in any case, it makes me all the more glad that I am where I am, going where I am to go—to have my chance, in other words. I once said in jest that all naval officers ought really to get killed, to justify their existence. I don't exactly advocate that extreme. But I shall all my life be happier for having at least taken my chance. It will increase my self-respect, which in turn increases my usefulness in life. So can you get my point of view, and be glad with me?

Now I am to a great extent a fatalist, though I hope it really is something higher than that. Call it what you will, I have always believed that if we go ahead and do our duty, counting not the cost, then the outcome will be in the hands of a power way beyond our own. But if it be fated that I don't come back, let no one ever say, "Poor R——." I have had all the best things of life given me in full measure—the happiest childhood and boyhood, health, the love of family and friends, the profession I love, marriage to the girl I wanted, and my son. If I go now, it will be as one who quits the game while the blue chips are all in his own pile.

On the trip over, we were steaming behind the R——, when all at once she steered out and backed, amid much running around on board. At first we thought she saw a submarine and stood by our guns. Then we saw she had a man overboard. We immediately dropped our lifeboat, and I went in charge for the fun of it. Beat the R——'s boat to him. He had no life-preserver, but the wool-lined jacket he wore kept him high out of water, and he was floating around as comfortably as you please, barring the fact that his fall had knocked him unconscious. So we not only took him back to his ship, but picked up the R——'s boat-hook, which the clumsy lubbers had dropped—and kept it as a reward for our trouble.

We are being somewhat overhauled, refitted, etc., in the British dock-yard here. Navy yards are much the same the world over, I guess. I will say, however, that they have dealt with us quickly and efficiently, with the minimum of red tape and correspondence. We have become in fact an integral part of the British Navy. Admiral Sims is in general supervision of us, but we are directly in command of the British Admiral commanding the station. Of the U-boat situation, I may say little. There is nothing about which so much is imagined, rumored and reported, and so little known for certain. Five times, when coming through the danger zone, we manned all guns, thinking we saw something. Once in my watch I put the helm hard over to dodge a torpedo—which proved to be a porpoise! And I'll do the same thing again, too. We are in this war up to the neck, there is no doubt about that—and thank Heaven for it!

Kiss our son for me and make up your mind that you would rather have his father over here on the job than sitting in a swivel-chair at home doing nothing.

I never seem to get time to write a real letter. All hands, including your husband, are so dead tired when off watch that there is nothing to do but flop down on your bunk—or on the deck sometimes—and sleep. The captain and I take watch on the bridge day and night, and outside of this I do my own navigating and other duties, so time does not go a-begging with me. However, we are still unsunk, for which we should be properly grateful.

I have seen a little of Ireland and like New York State better than ever. It is difficult to realize how matter-of-fact the war has become with every one over here. You meet some mild mannered gentleman and talk about the weather, and then find later that he is a survivor from some desperate episode that makes your blood tingle. I would that we were over on the North Sea side, where Providence might lay us alongside a German destroyer some gray dawn. This submarine-chasing business is much like the proverbial skinning of a skunk—useful, but not especially pleasant or glorious.

When I said good-bye to you at home, I don't think that either of us realized that I was coming over here to stay. Perhaps it was just as well. Human nature is such that we subconsciously refuse to accept an idea, even when we know it to be a true one, because it is totally new—beyond our experience. Pursuant to which, I could not believe that my fondest hopes were to be realized, and that not only I, but the whole of America, would really get into the big game. Oh, it is big all right, and it grows on you the more you get into it.

Now, I realize that it is asking too much of you or of any woman to view with perfect complacency having a husband suddenly injected into war. But just consider—suppose I was a prosperous dentist or produce merchant on shore, instead of in the Navy. By now you and I would be undergoing all the agonies of indecision as to whether I should enlist or no; it would darken our lives for weeks or months, and in the end I should go anyhow, letting my means of livelihood and yours go hang, and be away just as long and stand as good a chance of being blown up as I do now. So I am very thankful that things have worked out as they have for us.

There is very little to tell that I am allowed to tell you. The technique of submarine-chasing and dodging would be dry reading to a landsman. It is a very curious duty in that it would be positively monotonous, were it not for the possibility of being hurled into eternity the next minute. I am in very good health and wholly free from nervous tension.

P.S. When despondent, pull some Nathan Hale "stuff," and regret that you have but one husband to give to your country.

Once more I get the chance to write. We are in port for three days, and that three days looks as big as a month's leave would have a month ago. Everything in life is comparative, I guess. When we live a comfortable, civilized, highly complex life, our longings and desires are many and far-reaching. Now and here such things as sleep, warmth, and fresh food become almost the limit of one's imagination. Just like the sailor of the old Navy, whose idea of perfect contentment was "Two watches below and beans for dinner."

You get awfully blasé on this duty—things which should excite you don't at all. For instance, out of the air come messages like the following: "Am being chased and delayed by submarine." "Torpedoed and sinking fast." And you merely look at the chart and decide whether to go to the rescue full speed, or let some boat nearer to the scene look after it. Or, if the alarm is given on your own ship, you grab mechanically for life-jacket, binoculars, pistol, and wool coat, and jump to your station, not knowing whether it is really a periscope or a stick floating along out of water.

Well, we got mail when we came into port this time, your letter of May 28 being the last one. I don't mind the frequent pot-shots the U-boats take at us, but doggone their hides if they sink any of our mail! We won't forgive them that.

My health is excellent, better than my temper, in fact. I am beginning to think that we are not getting our money's worth in this war. I want to have my blood stirred and do something heroic—à la moving-pictures. Instead of which it much resembles a campaign against cholera-germs or anything else which is deadly but difficult to get any joy-of-battle out of.

Do tell me everything you are doing, for it is up to you to make conversation, since there is so little of affairs at this end that I can talk about. It is a shame, for you always claimed that I never spoke unless you said something first; and now I am doing the same thing under cover of the letter.

The other day, half-way out on the Atlantic, we sighted a periscope, and some one at the gun sent a shell skimming over the C——, who was in the way, and then the periscope turned out to be a ventilator sticking up over some wreckage. However, the incident was welcome. You have no conception of how gray life can get to be on this job, and the shock of danger, real or imaginary, is really beneficial, I think. All hands seem to be more cheerful under its influence.

I was so glad to get your letters. A man who has a brave woman behind him will do his duty far better and, incidentally, stand more chance of coming back, than one who feels a drag instead of a push.

I am glad son had his first fight. You were perfectly right to make him go on. Mother used to tell how, when brother was a wee boy, he came home almost weeping, and said, "Mother, a boy hit me." Instead of comforting him, she said, "Did you hit him back?" It almost killed her, he was so utterly dumbfounded and hurt; but next time he hit back and licked.

I am well but get rather jumpy at times. Strangely enough, it is always over more or less trivial matters. Every time we have a submarine scare, I feel markedly better for a while—it seems to reëstablish my sense of proportion.

It is a mighty nerve- and temper-wearing life—at sea nearly all the time and with the boat rolling and bucking like a broncho, you can't exercise. You can hardly do any work, but only hold on tight and wipe the salt spray from your eyes. Sometimes I have started to shave and found the salt so thick on my face that soap would not lather.

Things are the same as before with us. Time passes quickly, with navigating, standing watch and sleeping when you get a chance. One day or two passes all too quickly. I wish there were more to do in the shape of relaxation when we do get ashore. The people here are cordial enough, according to their lights, but those that we meet are practically all Army and Navy people, who have no abode here themselves and are almost as much strangers as we are; and there is no resident population of that caste that would ordinarily open its doors to foreign naval officers.

Ireland is a poor country comparatively. A town of 50,000 here shows less in the way of facilities for diversion than the average town of 10,000 in the States.

Don't worry about my privations—"which mostly there ain't none." Such as they are, they are necessary and unavoidable; and, above all, we are fitted for them. You can't well sympathize with a man who is doing the thing he has longed for and trained for all his life. Besides, physical privations are nothing; it is the mental ones that hurt. A soldier in the trenches, with little to eat and nothing but a hole to sleep in, can feel happy all the same—particularly if life has something in prospect for him if he lives. But a man out of work at home, sleeping in the park and panhandling for food, is much more to be pitied, though his immediate hardships may be no greater.

The weather over here is very passable at present, but they say it is simply hell off the coast in winter. However, somebody said the war will be over in November. I hope the Kaiser and Hindenburg know it, too!

I haven't done anything heroic, which irks me. We would like to get in on the ground floor, while all hands are in a receptive mood, and before the Plattsburgers and other such death-defying supermen make it too common.

Your two letters of July 7 and 8 came this afternoon, but I got the latter first and expected from what you said in contrition that there was hot stuff—gas-attack followed by bayonet-work—in the former; therefore I was all the more ashamed to find you had dealt so leniently and squarely with me. Why didn't you come back with a long invoice of troubles of your own, as 99 per cent of women would? Evidently you are the one-per-cent woman. I bitterly regretted my whines after having written them, for their very untruth. Alas, how many people think the world is drab-colored and life a failure, and so have done or said something they regret all their lives, when a vegetable pill or a brisk walk would have changed their vision completely! Why is it that people sometimes deliberately hurt those they have loved most in the world? I suppose it is because we are all really children at heart and want some one else to cry too. The other day Smith shamefacedly abstracted from the mail-box a letter to his wife, and tore it up, and I know—oh, I know!

At a husbands' meeting on the ship the other day, we all agreed that the heavy hand was the only way to deal with women; but it seemed on investigation that no one had actually tried it the reason being apparently a well-grounded fear that our wives wouldn't like it.

This war hasn't had as much action, variety, and stimulation for us as I would like. Danger there always is, but being little in evidence, you have to prod your nerves to realize it rather than soothe them down. Lately, however, things have changed in a manner which, though involving no more danger, furnishes a somewhat greater mental stimulation, and thence is better for everybody. I regret to say that I am gaining in weight. It was my hope to come back thin and gaunt and interesting-looking. Instead of which, you will likely be mad as a hornet to find me so sleek, while you at home have done all the thinning down. Truth to tell, if you compare our relative peace and war status, you are much more at war than I am.

If you find son timid in some things, just remember that I was, too. Lots of things he will change about automatically. At his age I had small love for fire-crackers or explosives of any kind, but in two or three years, and without any prompting, I became really expert in guns and gunpowder. Try to get him to realize that the very highest form of courage is to be afraid to do a thing—and do it!

Once in a while some one of us gets a torpedo fired at him, and only luck or quick seamanship saves him from destruction. Some day the torpedo will hit, and then the Navy Department will "regret to report." But the laws of probability and chance cannot lie, and as the total U-boat score against our destroyers so far is zero, you can figure for yourself that they will have to improve somewhat before the Kaiser can hand out many iron crosses at our expense.

We had a new experience the other day when we picked up two boatloads of survivors from the ——, torpedoed without warning. I will say they were pretty glad to see us when we bore down on them. As we neared, they began to paddle frantically, as though fearful we should be snatched away from them at the last moment. The crew were mostly Arabs and Lascars, and the first mate, a typical comic-magazine Irishman, delivered himself of the following: "Sure, toward the last, some o' thim haythen gits down on their knees and starts calling on Allah; but I sez, sez I, 'Git up afore I swat ye wid the axe-handle, ye benighted haythen; sure if this boat gits saved 't will be the Holy Virgin does it or none at all, at all! Git up,' sez I."

The officers were taken care of in the ward-room—rough unlettered old sailormen, who possessed a certain fineness of character which I believe the deep sea tends to breed in those who follow it long enough. I have known some old Tartars greatly hated by those under them, but to whom a woman or child would take naturally.

What you say about my possibly being taken prisoner both amuses and touches me. The former because it seems so highly unlikely a contingency. Submarines do not take prisoners if they can help it, and least of all from a man-of-war. But I have often thought of just what I should do in such a case, and I have decided that it would be far better to die than to submit to certain things. In which case, I should use my utmost ingenuity to take along one or two adversaries with me.

So the boys at home don't all take kindly to being conscripted, eh? Well, I wish for a lot of reasons that the conscription might be as complete and far-reaching as it is in, for instance, France. I think for one thing that universal conscription is the final test of democracy. Again, I think it would do every individual in the nation good to find out that there was something a little bit bigger than he—something that neither money, nor politics, nor obscurity, nor the Labor Union, nor any one else could help him to wriggle out of. It would go far towards disillusioning those many who seem to feel that they do not have to take too seriously a government because they have helped to create it.

While I have precious little sympathy for slackers of any variety, one must not judge them too harshly because their minds do not happen to work the same as ours. In nine cases out of ten it is not a question of courage, but one of mental process. Some people come of a caste to whom war or the idea of fighting for their country is second nature. They take it for granted, like death and taxes. If they ever permitted themselves seriously to question the rightness of it; to submit patriotism and courage to an acid analysis, they might suddenly turn arrant cowards. How much harder is it, then, for people who have never even faced the idea of it before to be suddenly placed up against the actual fact!

I have been having a little extra fun on my own hook recently. The poor captain has had to have an operation, and will be on his back for some weeks.

Do I like going to war all on my own? Oh no, just like a cat hates cream. It is a wee bit strenuous, as I have to do double duty; and one night I was on the bridge steadily from 9 p.m. to 7 a.m. But the funny part is that I didn't feel especially all in afterward, and one good sleep fixed me up completely.

I had a big disappointment on my first run out. I nearly bagged a submarine for you. We got her on the surface as nice as anything, but it was very rough, and she was far away, and before I could plunk her, she got under. If she had only—but, as the saying goes, if the dog hadn't stopped to scratch himself, he would have got the rabbit (not, however, that we stopped to scratch ourselves).

I am still in command of the ship and love it, but there is a difference between being second in command and being It. It makes you introspective to realize that a hundred lives and a $700,000 ship are absolutely dependent upon you, without anybody but the Almighty to ask for advice if you get into difficulty.

It is not so much the submarines, which are largely a matter of luck, but the navigating. Say I am heading back for port after several days out, the weather is thick as pea-soup, and I have not seen land or had an observation for days. I know where I am—at least I think I do—but what if I have miscalculated, or am carried off my course by the strong and treacherous tides on this coast, and am heading right into the breakers somewhere, or perchance a mine-field! Then the fog lifts a little, and I see the cliffs or mountains that I recognize, and bring her in with a slam-bang, much bravado, and a sigh of relief.

Don't you remember the days when you thought son was dying if he cried—or if he didn't? Well, that's it!

Don't get the idea that I have no recreations. We walk and play golf, go to the movies on occasion, and there is always a jolly gang of mixed services to play with.

Life here doesn't vary much. The captain is up and taking a few days' leave, though I doubt if he will take command for two or three weeks yet. But I am having a lovely time running her.

The other night we had a very interesting chap for dinner—a New Zealander he was, who has served in Egypt, Gallipoli, the trenches in France, and is now in the Royal Naval Reserve. The tales he told were of wonderful interest. He was modest and seemed to have been a decent sort, but you could sense the brutalizing effect of war on him. Some of the things he told were such jokes on the Germans that we laughed right heartily.

The beast in man lies so close to the surface. We think we are human and law-abiding of our own volition, whereas, as a matter of fact, nine-tenths of it is from pure habit. It doesn't occur to us to be anything else. But let all standards and customs be scrapped, let us see the things done freely that never even entered our minds before, and a lot of us are liable to develop ape and tiger proclivities. We nearly all put unconscious limits to our humanity. The most chivalrous and kindly Westerner or Southerner would admit that massacring Chinamen, Mexicans, or Negroes is not such a great crime; and the most devoted mother or father is prone to regard as unspanked brats children who to a third party appear quite as well as the critic's own.

I am still in command and loving every minute of it. With any other captain than ours it would be a come-down to resume my place as a subordinate. But in his case I think that all mourn a little when he is away.

Oh, it's great stuff, this being in command and handling the ship alone. Particularly I enjoy swooping down on some giant freighter, like a hawk on a turkey, running close alongside, where a wrong touch to helm or engine may spell destruction, and then demanding through a megaphone why she does or does not do so and so. I have learned more navigation and ship-handling since being over here than in all my previous seagoing experience. In the old ante-bellum days one hesitated to get too close to another ship, even in daytime, far more so at night, even with the required navigation lights on. Now, without so much light as a glowworm could give, we run around, never quite certain when the darkness ahead may turn into a ship close enough to throw a brick at.

However, I am back in the ranks again now, as the captain has come back and resumed command.

You must not be resentful because of things you have gone through, unappreciated by those perhaps for whom you have undergone them. It is one of the laws of life, and a hard law too, but it comes to everybody, either in a few big things or a multitude of little ones. Do the people who keep the world turning around ever get due recognition? I was thinking in much the same resentful vein myself to-day, in my own small way, how thankless the job of an executive officer is; how you never reach any big end, or even feel that you have made progress, but just keep on the job, watching and inspecting and fussing to keep the whole personnel-matériel machine running smoothly, and knowing that your recognition is purely negative, in that, if all goes well, you don't get called down. And then I calm down and realize that it is all in the game, and that it is the best tribute so to handle your job in life that nothing has to be said. If your car runs perfectly, you neither feel nor hear it, and give it little credit on that account. But let it strip a gear or something go!!

I hate to tell you what I was doing this afternoon. You will think I am not at war at all when I tell you that I have been roller-skating. I was a bit rusty at first, but warmed up to it. It is about the only exercise we can get on shore, for it rains all the time. Each shower puts an added crimp in my temper, as I have been trying to get a new coat of camouflage paint on the ship. I think, if some of the old paint-and-polish captains and admirals could see her now, they would die of apoplexy.

I fear there is no chance for you to come over. Admiral Sims disapproves—not of you personally—one cannot find a place to live here, and there would be too many hardships. How would it be for you when we had said good-bye, and you saw the ship start out into a howling gale or go out right after several ships had been sunk outside? With you at home among friends, I can keep my mind on my job, which I couldn't if you were alone over here.

Let me say right now that the destroyer torpedoed was not ours. It was hard on you all to have the news published that one had been and a man killed, and not say what boat, as that leaves every one in suspense. I suppose the relatives of the man were notified, but that doesn't help other people who were anxious.

I don't suppose I can tell you which boat either, if the authorities won't. You do not know any one on board of her, however. They saw it coming, jammed on full speed, and nearly cleared it. It took them just at the stern and blew off about 30 feet as neatly as son would bite the end off a banana. The submarine heard the explosion, of course, from below, and came to the surface to see the "damned Yankee" sink, only to find the rudderless, sternless boat steaming full speed in a circle with her one remaining propeller, and to be greeted by a salvo of four-inch shells that made her duck promptly. The man killed saw the torpedo coming and ran aft to throw overboard some high explosives stowed there—but he didn't quite make it.

Our destroyers are really wonderful boats—you can shoot off one end of them, ram them, cut them in two, and still they float and get to port somehow.

Some time ago, on a pitch-dark night, one of them was rammed by a British boat and nearly cut in two. Was there a panic? Not at all. As she settled in the water, they got out their boats and life-rafts, the officers and a few selected men stayed on board, and the rest pulled off in the darkness singing, "Are we downhearted? No!" and "Hail, hail, the gang's all here." She floated, though with her deck awash; the boats were recalled, and they brought her in. She is fixed up and back in the game again now.

Where did you hear that about two destroyers being sunk off the coast of Ireland on September 3? False alarm. Of course, you have read in the papers about the convoy destroyed in the North Sea by German raiders. The two British destroyers with the convoy stood up to them and fought as a bulldog would fight a tiger—and with the same result. Somebody was arguing with the Admiral, our boss, to the effect that it would have been better for them to have saved themselves, trailed the raiders, and sent radio, so that the British cruisers could have intercepted and destroyed them. Said the Admiral, "Yes, it would have been better, but I would court-martial and shoot the man that did it." He's a wonder to serve under, as grim and strict as a Prussian, but very just, and runs things in a way that secures all our admiration—though we may fuss a bit when, expecting two or three comfortable days in port, we get chased out on short notice into a raving gale outside.

There are lots of our army people here. Some of them are just passing through, while others are stationed at near-by training camps or hospitals. I was wandering around the big hotel here, when I saw a familiar face in army uniform, and who should it be but M——. Much joy! He is near here, on temporary duty at a British hospital. I had him over to the ship for lunch, and hope to see him again. I certainly respect that boy. He has no military ambitions, and wishes the war were over, so he could get back to his wife and children; but he answered the call while others were hiding behind volleys of language, and he is here to see it through. I am afraid he is homesick and lonely, for it is harder for a boy who does not know the English than for us hardened mercenaries, who are accustomed to hobnob with everybody from Cubans to Cossacks.

I will be glad when American Army and Navy uniforms are designed by a tailor who really knows something about it. Alas, our people are distinctly inferior to the British in the cut of their jib. I think it is the high standing collar that queers us. It is only at its best when one stands at Attention—head up, chest out, arms at side—being distinctly a parade uniform. The British, with their rolling collar, and coat tight where it may be, and loose where it needs to be, are, you might say, less military and better dressed.

Tell the Enfant that I am very proud when he gets gold honor-marks on his school-papers, and I think that it probably means about the same as a star on a midshipman's collar. (That ought to get him.)

I must close and get a bit of sleep. It seems as if, when it is all over, all the heaven I will want, is to be with you and son again, perfectly quiet.

I think a true democracy is necessarily inefficient in a way. The only really efficient government in the world is the one which we intend to pull down, or else go down ourselves, trying to!

Can't you imagine, in the dim Valhalla beyond, how the archer of Pharaoh, the swordsman from the plains before Troy, and the Roman legionary will greet the hurrying souls of the aviator, the bomb-thrower, and the bayonet-man with, "Brother, what were you?"

I'd hate to have to explain to their uncomprehending ears what a conscientious objector is!

Well, to-day is one of the big days of my life, for I assumed command of this little packet. I put on my sword and fixings and reported to Captain Paine, who was most benevolent. Several of us went on shore to celebrate with a little dinner. Some of the boys just over joined in, and we became involved with some Highland officers of a fighting regiment famous throughout Europe for the last three hundred years. One's first ship, like the first baby is an event that cannot be duplicated.

I needed your letter, being about twenty years older than I was a week ago. No, no harm done. Just had my first experience of what it means under certain circumstances to be in command. Went out with certain others on a certain job. All went well, though we had a poor grade of oil in our bunkers and were burning more than we should ordinarily. Then, through certain chances, we had to go farther than expected. Still, I figured to get back with a moderate margin, when the gale struck us. You may have read of Biscay storms; well, believe me, they are not over-rated. I have seen just as bad, perhaps, but not from the deck of a destroyer. And while I am frantically calculating whether I shall have enough fuel to make port or not, there is a wild yell from the bridge that the rudder is jammed at hard-a-starboard and can't be moved. She, of course, at once fell off into the trough of the sea, and the big green combers swept clear over her at every roll, raising merry hob. All the boats were smashed to kindling-wood; chests, and everything on deck not riveted down, went over the side. In that sea you could no more manœuvre by your engines alone than you could dam Niagara with a handful of sand. A man alongside of me aft, where we were working on the steering-gear, was swept overboard, but, having a line around his waist, was hauled back like a hooked fish.

All I could do was to steam in a big circle, and at one point would be running before it, and could work for an instant or two with the seas running up to our waists. When they get over your head, you probably won't be there any longer. At that time I didn't really expect to stay afloat, but was too busy with the matters in hand to care. Well, we finally got it fixed, though we could only use about 15 degrees of rudder instead of full.

All this time we were drifting merrily to leeward at a rate that I hated even to guess at, with the certainty, unless matters mended, of eventually piling up on the Spanish coast, then not far away, though I hadn't had sight of sun or stars in days, and didn't know within fifty miles where I was. Well, when I finally headed up into it, I could just about hold her, without making any headway to speak of. You cannot drive a destroyer dead into a heavy sea at full speed without bursting her in two. Still, the situation would have been nothing to worry about much if I had had sufficient fuel. Now, you on shore may fancy that a ship just keeps on steaming till she gets there, whether it takes a month or more; but such is far from the case. Every mile you go consumes just so much fuel, and, if your margin of safety is too small, you are liable to be out of luck. And my calculations showed me that while I was using up oil enough to be making —— knots, in the teeth of the gale we were only making —— knots, and that at that rate I never would make port.

There were three courses open to me: to let her drift, consuming my oil, in the hope that it would blow over; to run into a Spanish port; or to run for France, my destination, and, if I fell short of it, to yell for help by radio, and trust to luck that they could send out and pick me up. The first course was too risky. I would be making untold miles to leeward all the time, would probably roll the masts and funnels out of her, and maybe burst down anyhow, too far off for help. The second choice was the safest. I could reach Ferrol or Vigo all right, but they would probably try to intern me; and while I had heard that King Alfonso was a regular guy and a good scout to run around with, the ensuing diplomatic complications would make me about as popular in Allied circles as the proverbial skunk at a bridge-party. So I took the final alternative, and jammed her into the teeth of it for all I thought she could stand without imitating an opera hat or an accordion. And, glory be, she made it, the blessed little old cross between a porpoise and a safety-razor blade! Whether the gale really moderated, or I got more nerve, I don't know; but anyhow I gave her more and more, half a knot at a time, until we were actually making appreciable headway against it. I never thought any ship could stand the bludgeoning she got. It seemed as if every rivet must shear, every frame and stanchion crush, under the impact of the Juggernaut seas that hurtled into her. As a thoroughbred horse starts and trembles under the touch of the whip, so she reared and trembled, only to bury herself again in the roaring Niagara of water. Oh, you thoroughbred high-tensile steel! blue-blooded aristocrat among metals; Bethlehem or Midvale may claim you—you are none the less worthy of the Milan casque, the Damascus blade, your forefathers! Verily, I believe you hold on by sheer nerve, when by all physical laws should buckle or bend to the shock!

And so we kept on. Don't you know, how in the stories it is always in a terrific gale that the caged lion or gorilla or python breaks loose and terrorizes the ship? We don't sport a menagerie on the ——, but I did pick up the contents of the dry gun-cotton case, which had broken and spilt the torpedo detonators around on deck contiguous to the hot radiator! And, of course, the decks below were knee-deep in books, clothes, dishes, etc., complicated in some compartments by a foot or two of oil and water.

Well, the next day we made a little more, and the seas were only gigantic, not titanic. The oil was holding out better, too, as we struck a better grade in some of our tanks, and I saw that we had a fighting chance of making it. By night I felt almost confident we could, and I really slept some. Next day I expected to make land, but, of course, had little idea how far I might really be from my reckoning. Nevertheless, we sighted —— Light about where I expected to, and laid a course from there into the harbor. It was a rather thick, foggy day, and pretty soon I noted a cunning little rock or two, dead ahead, where they didn't by any means belong. So I rather hurriedly arrested further progress, took soundings, and bearings of different landmarks, and found that we were some twenty-five miles from our reckoning—so far, in fact, as to have picked up the next light-house instead of the one we thought.

After this 'twas plain sailing, though I had never been into that port before. Made it about noon, took possession of a convenient mooring-buoy inside the breakwater—which buoy I found out later was sacred to the French flag-ship or somebody like that—called on our Admiral there, and was among friends. Yes, by heck, I let 'em buy me a drink at the club—I needed it! Had oil enough left for just about an hour more!

While the great campaigns were being waged on the western fronts, there was being carried on in a more remote part of the world a series of operations which involved as hard fighting and as many difficulties as were encountered in any other field of action. The campaigns in East Africa which resulted in driving the Germans from their former colonies are described in the following narrative.

EAST AFRICA

JAN CHRISTIAAN SMUTS

In the strenuous days of the Boer War I learned to know my South Africa from the Indian to the Atlantic Ocean as one learns a country only under the searching test of war. I came to know the unfrequented paths, the trackless parts of the bush, the wastes where people do not often go. I believe it is generally admitted that I covered more country than any other commander in the field on either side—and my movement was not always in the direction of the enemy!

When the present war broke out, I proceeded once more on my extensive travels, and I became something of an expert in the waterless, sandy wastes of the southern half of German Southwest Africa. As for the Kalahari Desert, over which the movement of men and transport was supposed to be quite impossible, we did not rest until we had sunk bore-holes for water for hundreds of miles, and until we had moved a large force of thousands of mounted men across an area in which it was thought no human being could ever move. One of the reasons of our success in that campaign was that, moving through the Kalahari Desert, we struck the enemy country at its very heart. The travels of Livingstone, of Selous, who was a comrade of mine in this war, and of other illustrious men in those vast solitudes of southern Africa were as joy-rides to what we had to undergo in conducting a big campaign against the enemy, and still more against nature.

When that campaign was over, and I thought my traveling days were past, the call came to East Africa, and 1916 was spent in traveling over the vast tropical expanses of that fascinating country. I need scarcely say that a military commander has often very special opportunities of learning geography. He has to study the country with the eyes not of the scientist or the traveler or the hunter, but of the soldier responsible for the lives and the movements and supplies of large masses of men. It is one thing to follow the track of the elephant or to stalk the lion or antelope or to collect butterflies or other gorgeous things; it is quite a different and, from the point of view of learning geography, certainly a far more enlightening, task to lead a large army over those virgin solitudes, where your problem involves the careful study not only of topographical features, but of all the numerous natural conditions which affect your progress. To provide for the needs of a small safari may be a light or delightful task; but the difficulties and requirements of a large force, moving forward against an alert, ubiquitous foe, compel you to probe into everything: the nature of the country, with its mountains and rivers, forests and deserts, for scores of miles around; its animal and human diseases; its capacity for supplies and transport; its climate and soil and rainfall. And one of your first discoveries is that the books of the travelers are mostly wrong. What to them was perhaps a paradise of plant or animal life is to you, moving with your vast impedimenta, a veritable purgatory. You soon come to agree with Scripture that all men are liars, and from this rule you do not even except the missionaries who write with their heads in the clouds; nor do you except the writers of intelligence books compiled in Whitehall from the hunting tales of the travelers or the fairy-tales of the missionaries, and marked "very secret." But these secrets are like most secrets of the African continent, very disconcerting to the simple, trustful soul.

These campaigning experiences were unique. Probably never before in the history of the world had such things been seen: the stillness, the brooding silence of the vast primeval forest where no, or few, white men have ever been before, and the only path is the track of the elephant; the silence of the forest, stretching for hundreds of miles in all directions, broken by the tramp of tens of thousands of armed men, followed by the guns and heavy transport of a modern army, with its hundreds of motor-lorries, its miles of wagons, its vast concourse of black porters; while overhead the aëroplane, or, as the natives call it, the "bird," more dreaded and more feared than even the crocodile in the river, passes on swiftly with its bombs for the foe retreating ahead. And what an effect this movement, continued for many months over many thousands of miles, produced on the minds of the native population, looking on in speechless awe and amazement at the mystery of the white man's doings! I have often stopped to wonder at the natives' state of mind. It must have been not unlike what is told of one of my simple countrymen, on whose farm an aviator descended with an aëroplane, never seen or heard of before, and who calmly walked forward to shake hands with the heavenly visitant, whom he believed none other than the Lord! And since horses, because of the fly, are virtually unknown in most parts of the country, the natives were dumfounded by our mounted men, strange centaur-like animals that they called "Kabure," after my mounted Boer forces, of whom at first they were mortally afraid. Even bodies of well-trained armed native soldiers have been seen to throw away their rifles and run for dear life into the bush at the first sight of mounted men.

The whole east of the African continent from the cape in the south up to Abyssinia in the north, and, I believe, farther, is marked by one persistent feature, the existence of several more or less parallel mountain-ranges rising in tiers from the coast. At the top of the last and highest mountain-range lies the great elevated inland plateau, stretching like a broad back along the continent. The first line of hills or low mountains runs at a distance of from ten to fifty miles from the coast of the Indian Ocean, and all the country between it and the sea forms a low coastal belt, which seldom rises more than a few hundred feet above sea-level, with a distinct coastal climate and vegetation. Between these coastal hills and the next range lies the second belt, called in South Africa the low veldt, again with a climate and rainfall and vegetation of its own. Next and last, at a distance of from a hundred to one hundred and fifty miles from the Indian Ocean, runs a mountain system, often rising to great altitudes, on which rests the great elevated inland plateau from four thousand to six thousand feet above the level of the sea. This plateau continues for hundreds of miles westward, and then begins to slope toward the Atlantic Ocean in the far distance. Sometimes, as in Central Africa, the slope to the west is very sudden, and another range of mountains forms the western buttress of the great central plateau. All the great rivers of Africa, with the exception of the Niger, rise on this plateau or on its mountain-flanks, which have a very high rainfall. The bush, or great forest, which is almost impenetrable in the coastal belt, becomes somewhat more open in patches in the middle belt, while on the plateau open, park-like country alternates with treeless, grassy plains, and the forest is confined to the deep valleys or the mountain-slopes. The rainfall, which is fair on the coast, becomes very light in the middle belt, which in consequence tends to have an arid character; on the plateau it is high or very high. Because of these marked differences the economic character of the three regions varies considerably. Semi-tropical products, such as maize, coffee, cotton, and millet, can be raised on an almost unlimited scale on the plateau; while rice, rubber, sisal, and copra are raised in the two lower belts.

All along the mountains which mark the western edge of the high plateau one will notice a chain of lakes, from Nyasa in the south through Tanganyika and Kivu to Lake Albert in the north. In prehistoric time some convulsion of nature broke the African continent all along its spine, and formed this system of lakes. Another break occurs on the high plateau, from Portuguese East Africa in the south to British East Africa in the north, along the Great Rift Valley, with its magnificent escarpments and weird scenery, prolonged through Lake Rudolf to the Red Sea and on to the Dead Sea and Jordan Valley. Great volcanoes, now mostly extinct, though some to the north of Kivu are still active, are a still later feature of the country.

I have referred to these lakes and to the great mountain-chain along the lakes because they formed the western boundary of German East Africa, and from the point of view of defense made a magnificent frontier so strong that the Belgian forces moving from the Congo found it impossible to invade the enemy territory from the west, and had to be moved in large part northeast before they could strike south. Once there, with their usual dash they did their work remarkably well.

As soon as this northern column had reached Kigali, the capital of the lofty Ruanda Province, the German forces fell back from the neighborhood of Lake Kivu, and the remainder of the Belgian army was able to advance from the west across the mountain barrier. Simultaneously, and in coördination with their advance, strong British columns were moving southward to the west of Victoria Nyanza. As soon as we had reached the southern shores of the lake, a new concerted forward movement by the British and Belgian columns was begun both from Victoria Nyanza and from Tanganyika, where in the meantime the German armed vessels on the lake had been bombed and destroyed by seaplanes, and Ujiji on the eastern shore had been occupied. This movement did not stop until Tabora, with the central railway, was occupied early in September, 1916.

At the same time a great movement was made in the south by General Northey, who advanced from the line between Lakes Tanganyika and Nyasa across the mountains flanking the great plateau on the west. This is a very mountainous region; but he got over the mountains, and moving north, took Bismarckburg, Neu Langenburg, and afterward Iringa, where our main forces joined hands with his. These advances, all carried out with great skill and energy against very great physical difficulties, were subsidiary to the principal attack, which was being executed from the north-east, in the neighborhood of Kilimanjaro.

The southern boundary between German East Africa and Portuguese East Africa was formed by the River Rovuma, which, coming from the high plateau and the mountains to the east of Nyasa, is one of the large African rivers. Except in its highest reaches near Lake Nyasa it is not fordable, and makes an admirable strategic line. However, as Portugal came into the war after most of the German colony had already been occupied by us, this river acquired strategic importance only toward the end of the campaign, and then in a sense adverse to us, as General Van Deventer has found to his cost. After the remnants of the German native forces had been driven across the Rovuma at the beginning of December, 1917, our forces found the swift pursuit across the river a difficult task. We are, however, now operating against the roving bands into which the enemy force has split, and if ever they try to break back to their occupied colony, they will find the line of the Rovuma a very serious barrier.

The eastern boundary of the colony is the coast-line of the Indian Ocean for almost five hundred miles, with some very beautiful harbors, and it was dominated by our navy from the day that war was declared. The Royal Navy has played a very active part in our African campaigns, and one of the most fascinating episodes of the war was the search for the Königsberg, lost after she had destroyed the Pegasus and done much damage in the Indian Ocean. She was discovered in a most secluded branch of the Rufiji River, and ultimately destroyed by seaplanes and monitors in her impenetrable lair. Yet, though destroyed, she made her voice heard over all that vast country, for her ten big naval guns, each pulled by teams of four hundred stalwart natives, accompanied the enemy armies in all directions, and, with other naval guns and howitzers smuggled into the country, made the enemy in many a fight stronger in heavy artillery than we were.

From a strategic point of view, the northern frontier was the most difficult of all. It passed north of Kilimanjaro, to the west of which is a desert belt. East of this desert belt and Kilimanjaro the enemy colony was protected by an almost impassable mountain system, with a very narrow, swampy, dangerous gap between the Usambara and Pare Mountains, and another gap of about four or five miles between the Pare Mountains and Kilimanjaro. It was impossible to move an army through the first gap; the second gap at the foot of Kilimanjaro was the place where the enemy had located himself early in the war on British territory, and with patience and skill had dug himself in, with very extensive fortifications, surrounded by dense forests and impassable swamps. Here he lay waiting for eighteen months, threatening British East Africa. From here he was driven in March, 1916, and by the end of that month our forces had conquered the whole Kilimanjaro-Meru areas. It was at this stage, and after our initial success, that the rainy season set in; and that is another great feature of German East Africa. I had read much about it, and I had heard more; but the reality far surpassed the worst I had read or heard. For weeks the rain came down ceaselessly, pitilessly, sometimes three inches in twenty-four hours, until all the hollows became rivers, all the low-lying valleys became lakes, the bridges disappeared, and all roads dissolved in mud. All communications came to an end, and even Moses himself in the desert had not such a commissariat situation as faced me.

When in the latter part of May the rains subsided, the advance against the enemy was once more resumed. In order to create the maximum difficulties for our advance, the enemy chose as his line of retreat the great block of mountains which I have referred to as forming the eastern buttress of the great central plateau. For the next three and a half months our forward movement continued with only one short pause until by the middle of September we had reached the great valleys of the Rufiji and the Great Rwaha in the far south, and across the Rwaha we could link up with General Northey at Iringa in the southwest.

It is impossible for those unacquainted with German East Africa to realize the physical, transport, and supply difficulties of an advance over this magnificent, but mountainous, country, with a great rainfall and wide, unbridged rivers in the regions of the mountains, and insufficient surface water on the plains for the needs of an army; with magnificent primeval forest everywhere, pathless, trackless, except for the spoor of the elephant or the narrow footpaths of the natives. The malaria mosquito is everywhere except on the higher plateaus; everywhere the belts are infested with the deadly tsetse fly, which makes an end of all animal transport; and almost everywhere the ground is rich black or red cotton soil, which any transport converts into mud in the rain or dust in the drought. Everywhere the fierce heat of equatorial Africa, accompanied by a wild luxuriance of parasitic life, breed tropical diseases in the unacclimatized whites. These conditions make life for the white man in that country sufficiently trying. If in addition he has to perform hard work and make long marches on short rations, the trial becomes very severe; if, above all, huge masses of men and material have to be moved over hundreds of miles in a great military expedition against a mobile and alert foe, then the strain becomes almost unendurable. And the chapter of accidents in this region of the unknown! Unseasonable rains cut off expeditions for weeks from their supply bases. Animals died by the thousand—after passing through an unknown fly-belt. Mechanical transport got bogged in the marshes, held up by bridges washed away, or mountain passes obstructed by sudden floods. And the gallant boys, marching far ahead under the pitiless African sun, with the fever raging in their blood, pressed ever on after the retreating enemy, often on reduced rations, and without any of the small comforts which in this climate are real necessities. In the story of human endurance this campaign deserves a very special place, and the heroes who went through it uncomplainingly, doggedly, are entitled to all recognition and reverence. Their commander-in-chief will remain eternally proud of them.

When in January, 1917, I relinquished the command to my successor, General Hoskins, we were across the Rufiji River in the southeast, and in the great valley formed by the principal tributaries, the Ulanga and Ruhuje rivers in the west; but the rainy season which set in shortly afterward stopped all advance until the following June.

Five months later our advance was resumed, and by the beginning of December, 1917, the last remnants of the enemy's forces had evacuated German East Africa across the Rovuma, while our forces were operating against the enemy bands far south in Portuguese territory, as I have already stated.

In economic value this region ranks very high among the tropical countries of the African continent, and probably no part of all Africa has a climate or soil more suitable for the production on an immense scale of copra, cocoanuts, coffee, sugar, sisal, rubber, cotton, and other tropical products, or of such semi-tropical products as maize and millet. In common with the rest of tropical Africa, its full development is still retarded by the undefeated animal and human diseases, especially malaria. But the time is not far distant when science will have overcome these drawbacks, and when Central and East Africa will have become one of the most productive and valuable parts of the tropics. But until science solves the problems of tropical disease, East and Central Africa must not be looked upon as an area for white colonization. Perhaps they will never be a white man's country in any real sense. In those huge territories the white man's task will probably be largely confined to that of administrator, teacher, expert, manager, or overseer of the large negro populations, whose progressive civilization will be more suitably promoted in connection with the industrial development of the land.

It is clear from their practice in East Africa that the Germans had decided to develop the country not as an ordinary colony, but as a tropical possession for the cultivation of tropical raw materials. They systematically discouraged white settlement; the white colonists, with their small farms, gradually building up a European system on a small scale, who are a marked feature of British colonies, were conspicuously absent. Instead, tracts of country were granted to companies, syndicates, or men with large capital, on conditions that plantations of tropical products would be cultivated. The planters were supplied with native labor under a government system which compelled the natives to work for the planters for a certain very small wage during part of every year; and as labor was very plentiful, with seven and a half millions of natives, the future for the capitalist syndicates seemed rosy enough. No wonder that under this corvée system East Africa and the Kamerun were rapidly developing into very valuable tropical assets, from which in time the German Empire would have derived much of the tropical raw material for its industries. The Germans realized better than most people that the value of tropical Africa lay not in any openings for white colonization, such as are being developed next door to their colonies in British East Africa, but in the plantation system, where white capital and black labor collaborate to establish an entirely different order of things. Harsh as the German system undoubtedly is, I am not prepared to deny that it is perhaps the more scientific one, and that in the long run it is the more profitable form of exploiting the tremendous natural resources of the tropics.

With regard to tropical Africa, so vast in area, so great in resources, the first desideratum for its development is the opening up of communication. The lakes, the Nile, and the Congo form the principal natural links in any chains of communication with the seaboard; and the question is, how far railways have come in or will come in to complete these chains.

Two railways built during the war in the Congo territory have largely extended the communications from east to west, and from the center to the south. These two railways have opened up many routes in Central and East Africa, and it is now possible to travel from the Indian Ocean at Dar-es-Salaam by the German Central Railway to Ujiji on Lake Tanganyika; by steamer across the lake to Albertville; thence by train to Kabalo; by steamer on to Kongolo; train to Kindu, and on by steamer and rail down the Congo to the Atlantic Ocean.

Now, as to the communications in the south, one can travel from Cape Town by rail to Bukama, and thence by steamer and rail either to Boma on the Atlantic coast, or by rail and steamer to Dar-es-Salaam on the Indian Ocean. Besides these through lines, there is the Uganda Railway from Mombasa on the Indian Ocean to the Victoria Nyanza, and there are in contemplation two other railways from the east coast to Nyasa, one from Kilwa, and one from Porto Amelia, in Portuguese East Africa. A railway is also under construction from Lobito Bay on the Atlantic to the Katanga copper areas, already reached from the south and east by the railways from Cape Town and Beira.

The question remains as to communications northward to the Mediterranean. One can travel to-day from Alexandria by rail and river to Khartoum, and thence by steamer up the Nile to Rejaf, near the Uganda border. From Rejaf to Nimule, a distance of one hundred and fifty miles, the Nile is impracticable for river transport, and therefore over that distance a railway will have to be built. But from Nimule the river is again navigable up to Lake Albert. The problem is to connect Lake Albert with the Central and South African systems.

Three routes are possible, one wholly Belgian, one partly British and partly Belgian, and one wholly British. That is on the assumption that German East Africa remains British after this war. The Belgian project is to construct the railway from the Congo bend at Stanleyville over the gold-fields at Kilo to Mahagi on Lake Albert. The British project would be to construct a line from the south of Elizabethville to Bismarckburg, at the south of Lake Tanganyika, to proceed thence by steamer to Ujiji, thence by the existing railway to Tabora, to construct a line from Tabora to Mwanza on Lake Victoria Nyanza, and a line from Entebbe on that lake to Butiabwa, on Lake Albert. The third or mixed Belgian-British line would proceed by way of Butiabwa, Entebbe, Mwanza, Tabora, and Ujiji, on Lake Tanganyika, but from there would make use of the existing line to Kabalo on the Congo. It is probable that by one or other of these three routes through communication from South Africa to the Mediterranean may be established within the next ten years. With this vital industrial aspect of tropical Africa there is wrapped up the equally important political aspect, and these two problems are certain to make of tropical Africa one of the great problems of future world politics.

Now, the Germans are not in search of colonies after the English model, and those that they have in East and West Africa had no white population to speak of before the war. Quite apart from the fact that tropical Africa would be no suitable territory for white settlement, they have no colonists to spare, since for the sake of their industrial and military future in Germany they desire the largest concentration of population possible in the fatherland. As Baron von Rechenberg, formerly governor of German East Africa, has expressed it:

"Just as we lack suitable land for settling, so we lack suitable German settlers.... For a number of years immigration into Germany has been much greater than emigration from Germany.... Even in times of peace German agriculture had not a surplus, but a shortage, of labor, and it cannot possibly accord with our interests to increase the shortage by encouraging emigration.... Regrettable though it is, there can be no question at the conclusion of peace of acquiring territory for settlement. There is no appropriate country, and there are no farmers to settle on it."

German colonial aims are really not colonial, but are entirely dominated by far-reaching conceptions of world politics. Not colonies, but military power and strategic positions for exercising world power in future, are her real aims. Her ultimate objective in Africa is the establishment of a great Central African Empire, comprising not only her colonies before the war, but also all the English, French, Belgian, and Portuguese possessions south of the Sahara and Lake Chad and north of the Zambezi River in South Africa. Toward this objective she was steadily marching even before the war broke out, and she claims the return of her lost African colonies at the end of the war as a starting-point from which to resume the interrupted march. Or, rather, as appears from Count Hertling's recent pronouncement, she claims a reallocation of the world's colonies, so that she may have a share commensurate with her world position. This Central African block, the maps of which are now in course of preparation and printing at the Colonial Office in Berlin, is intended in the first place to supply the economic requirements and raw materials of German industry; in the second and far more important place, to become the recruiting-ground for vast native armies, the great value of which has been demonstrated in the tropical campaigns of this war, and especially in East Africa; while the natural harbors on the Atlantic and Indian oceans will supply the naval and submarine bases from which both ocean routes will be dominated, and British and American sea-power will be brought to naught. The native armies will be useful in the next great war, to which the German General Staff is already devoting serious attention, as appears from the book of General von Freytag, the deputy chief of the German General Staff, recently published here under the title "Deductions of the World War."

The untrained levies of the Union of South Africa would go down before these German-trained hordes of Africans, who would also be able to deal with North Africa and Egypt without the deflection of any white troops from Germany; and they would in addition mean a great army planted on the flank of Asia whose force could be felt throughout the middle East as far as Persia, and who knows how much farther?

This is the grandiose scheme. It is no mere fanciful picture, but based on the writings of great German publicists, professors, and high colonial authorities, and chapter and verse could be quoted in full detail for every feature of the scheme. The civilization of the African natives and the economic development of the dark continent must be subordinate to the most far-reaching schemes of German world power and world conquest; the world must be brought into subjection to German militarism. As in former centuries again the African native must play his part in the new slavery. Dr. Solf, the present German Colonial Secretary, in the "Colonial Calendar" for 1917, made the following pronouncement as to the organic connection of German colonial aims with her other aims of world power:

"The history of our colonies in this world war has shown what was hitherto wanting in the German colonial empire. It has shown that it was not a proper 'empire' at all, but merely a number of possessions without geographical and political connection, and without established communications.... How greatly would the power of resistance of our colonies have been increased if they had not been isolated!... These experiences show what direction our aims must take. We shall achieve the fulfillment of our desires if we remain conscious that the colonial-political aim is not something which stands alone by itself, but must be regarded in organic connection with all other aims which we are determined to attain by the world war."

Prof. Delbrück, in a recent number of the "Preussische Jahrbücher," thus sketches the new African Empire:

"If our victory is great enough, we can hope to unite under our hand the whole of Central Africa with our old colony South-west Africa; Senegambia, Sierra Leone, the Gold Coast, Dahomey, well-populated Nigeria with the port of Lagos, Kamerun, the rich islands of San Thomé and Principe with their splendid ports, the Katanga ore district, Northern Rhodesia, Nyasaland, Mozambique, and Delagoa Bay, Madagascar, German East Africa, Zanzibar, and Uganda; and in addition the great port of Ponta Delgado in the Azores—one of the most important and most frequented coaling stations—and Horta, one of the most important centers of the transatlantic cable system. At present the Azores belong to Portugal, which is at war with Germany. Portugal also owns the Cape Verde Islands, with the port of Porto Grande, one of the most frequented coaling stations in the Eastern Atlantic.

"All these territories together have over 100,000,000 inhabitants. United in a single ownership, and with their various characteristics supplementing one another, they offer simply immeasurable prospects. They are rich in natural treasures, rich in possibilities of settlement and trade, and rich in men who can work and also be used in war. To demand them is not unjust, and does not offend against the principle of equilibrium, since Germany would thus only be obtaining a colonial empire such as England and Russia, France and America, have long possessed."

Franz Kolbe, in the "Deutsche Politik," a year ago thus described the future rôle for raiders in the South Atlantic:

"The whole coast of West Africa from the mouth of the Cross River to the mouth of the Orange River would be in German possession. When one only remembers what immense achievements were performed by the Emden in the Indian Ocean and by the Karlsruhe in the Atlantic, without any naval base, without any possibility of replenishing in port their supplies of munitions, food, etc., it will be realized what the fortification of half the West Coast of Africa would signify for Germany and for England! As soon as, in the new war, the Suez Canal is closed against England by the Turks, all traffic between England and India, Australia, and South Africa must go round the Cape of Good Hope. But then all the shipping must pass the coast of German Central Africa. It would be impossible for England any longer to concentrate her whole fleet in the North Sea and to menace Germany. She would be compelled to station a considerable fleet in South Africa for the protection of her trade, and that would mean a not inconsiderable weakening of her forces in European waters."

In the same review Emil Zimmermann explains the rôle of German East Africa in the future scheme of world power:

"German Africa, which will find allies at once in Abyssinia and in Mohammedan freedom movements, will make the employment of black troops against our European frontiers impossible. German Africa alone will give us a balance of power in the East and in Africa. It will remove the Egyptian pressure on Asia Minor. German Africa will make us a world power by enabling us to exert decisive influence upon the world political decisions of our enemies and of other powers, and to exercise pressure on all shaping of policy in Africa, Asia Minor, and southern Europe."

And in another article in the "Preussische Jahrbücher," he says: "Nearer Asia cannot continue to exist without this covering of its flank. That is the meaning of the German colonial question." In other words, Berlin-Bagdad is not safe without a great German Central or East African Empire.

The point of view of the British Empire is very different indeed. In the first place, it has never had any military ambitions apart from the measure of sea-power essential to its continued existence; in Africa it has never militarized the natives, has always opposed any such policy and has tended to study the natives' interests and regard their point of view with special favor, often to the no small disappointment of individual white settlers. Indeed, no impartial person can deny that, so far from exploiting the natives either for military or industrial purposes, British policy has on the whole, over a very long stretch of years, had a tender regard for native interests, and on the whole its results have been beneficial to the natives in their gradual civilization. In shaping this wise policy British statesmen have had a very long and wide African experience to guide them, and in consequence they have avoided the very dangerous and dubious policies which the German new-comers have set in motion. Among these not the least dangerous is to regard the native primarily as raw material to be manufactured into military power and world power.

In the second place, the objects pursued by British policy on the African continent are inherently pacific and defensive. It desires no man's territory; it desires only to live in peace and develop the great African territories and populations intrusted to its care. And looking at the future from the broadest points of view, looking at the magnitude of its material African interests and the future welfare of the vast native populations, and its difficult task of civilizing the dark continent; looking further upon Africa as the half-way house to India and Australasia, the British Empire asks only for peace and security—international peace and security of its external communications. It cannot allow the return of conditions which mean the militarization of the natives and their employment for schemes of world power; it cannot allow naval and submarine bases to be organized on both sides of the African coast, to the endangerment of the sea communications of the empire and the peace of the world. And it must insist on the maintenance of conditions which will guarantee through land communications for its territories from one end of the continent to the other.

The British Empire is not like Germany, Russia, or the United States, a compact territorial entity; it is scattered over the globe, and entirely dependent on the maintenance of communications for its continued existence. In future these lines of communication should proceed not only by sea, but also by land. One of the most impressive lessons of this vast war is the vulnerability of sea-power and sea communications through the development of underwater transport, and the immense importance of railway communication. In fact, to be really effective the two should go hand in hand. Nor are we at the end of the chapter in discovering new means of transportation. It is not only conceivable, but probable, that aërial navigation may revolutionize the present transport situation.

As long as there is no real change of heart in Germany and no final and irrevocable break with militarism, the law of self-preservation should be considered paramount; no fresh extension of Prussian militarism to other continents and seas should be tolerated; and the conquered German colonies can be regarded only as guaranties for the security of the future peace of the world. This opinion will be shared, I feel sure, by the vast bulk of the young nations who form the Dominions of the British Empire. They have no military aims or ambitions; their tasks are solely the tasks of peace; their greatest interest and aim is peace. Voluntarily they joined in this war, and to their efforts is largely due the destruction of the German Colonial Empire, and the consequent prevention of the German military system being spread to the ends of the earth. They should not be asked to consent to the restoration to a militant Germany of fresh footholds for militarism in the Southern Hemisphere, and thus to endanger the future of their young and rising communities who are developing the waste places of the earth. They want a new Monroe Doctrine for the South as there has been a Monroe Doctrine for the West, to protect it against European militarism. Behind the sheltering wall of such a doctrine they promise to build up a great, new, peaceful world not only for themselves, but for the many millions of black folk intrusted to their care.

The enemy's stubborn defence of his last colony has not only been a great feat in itself, but is also a proof of the supreme importance attached by the German Government to this African colony both as an economic asset and as a strategic point of departure for the establishment of the future Central African Empire to which I have referred. At the conclusion of peace our statesmen will be bound to bear in mind these wider and obscurer issues, fraught with such consequences to the world and to the British Empire in particular. Perhaps I may be allowed to express the fervent hope that a land where so many of our heroes lost their lives or their health; where, under the most terrible and exacting conditions, human loyalty and human service were poured out lavishly in a great cause, may never be allowed to become a menace to the future peaceful development of the world. I am sure my gallant boys, dead or living, would wish for no other or greater reward.

Greece, as a result of the intrigues of the pro-German king and queen, was a thorn in the flesh to the Allies for the first years of the war. The deposition of King Constantine, and the resumption of power of Premier Venizelos, brought Greece back to the place where her people wished to be.

GREECE'S ATONEMENT

LEWIS R. FREEMAN

The Venizelists had been having a bad time of it from the first, but the blackest hours of all were those toward the end of last April, when Constantine was still strong in Athens, and before the Saloniki Allies had found it practicable or expedient to welcome them to a full brotherhood of arms. It was during this "dark before the dawn" period that I had my first meeting with M. Venizelos, a conventional half hour's interview in the suburban villa, midway along the curve of Saloniki Bay where the Provisional Government had established its headquarters.

I had just come up from Athens, where I had found the Allied diplomats still smarting under the memories of their ignominious experiences following Constantine's spectacular coup of the previous December, and it was by no means the least of these who had told me point-blank that he could not conceive how it would be possible that Saloniki should be returned to Greece after the war. Of course it was the Royalist Government that my distinguished friend had had in mind when he spoke, but there was not much to indicate at this time that the Greece of Constantine and his minions was not also going to be the Greece of after the war.

It was with this state of things in mind, and recalling his well known ambitions to found a Greater Greece—by extending Epirus north along the Adriatic, and bringing the millions of Greeks of Asia Minor at least under the protection of the Government at Athens—that I mustered up my courage and asked M. Venizelos offhand if he felt confident of being able even to maintain the integrity of his country as it existed before the war.

"Not unless those of us Greeks who have remained faithful to the cause of humanity and our honor are ultimately able to lend the Allies material help in a measure sufficient to counterbalance the harm the action of the Royalists has caused them," was the prompt reply; "and by material help I mean military aid. We must fight, and fight, and keep on fighting, for it is only with blood—with Greek blood—that the stain upon Greek honor can be washed away. It is only our army that can save us, and that is why we have been so impatient of the delay there has been in equipping it and getting it to the front. The one division we have in the trenches now, and the two others that are ready to go, are not enough, but they are about all we have been able to raise so far. Thessaly is for us (as you may have seen in traveling across it), and would give us two more divisions at least; but our Allies have not yet seen fit to allow us to go there after them."

M. Venizelos spoke of a number of other things before I left him (notably of the extent to which the Russian revolution and the entry of America had helped him in his fight to save Greece), but it was plain that the problem uppermost in his mind was that of wiping out the score of the Allies against his country by giving them a substantial measure of assistance in the field.

"Do not fail to visit our force on the —— sector before you leave the Balkans," was his parting injunction. "There may be a chance of seeing it in action before very long, and if you do, you will need no further assurance of the way in which we shall make our honor white before our Allies and all the world."

The Serbian and two or three other Armies have been worse off in a physical way, but no national force since the outbreak of the war has been in so thoroughly an unenviable position on every other score as was that of the Venizelists at this time. The Serbs and the Belgians had at least the knowledge that the confidence and the sympathy of the Allies were theirs. Also, they had chances to fight to their hearts' content. The Venizelists had scant measure of sympathy, and still less of confidence; and when their first chance to fight was at last given them, they were allowed to face the foe only after elaborate precautions had been taken against everything, from incompetence and cowardice on their part to open treachery. That this was the fault neither of themselves nor of their Allies, and had only come about through the perfidy of a King to whom they no longer swore fealty, did not make the shame of it much easier to bear for an army of spirited volunteers who had risked their all for a chance to wipe out the dishonor of their country.

The thing that for a while made it so difficult for the Allies to know what to do with the Venizelist army was the almost ridiculous ease with which, under the peculiar circumstances of its recruitment, it lent itself to spying purposes. All the Royalists, or their German paymasters, had to do to establish a spy in the Saloniki area was to send over one of their Intelligence Officers in the guise of a deserter from the Greek army to that of Venizelos, and there he was! To send back information, or even to return in person, across the but partially patrolled "Neutral Zone" was scarcely more difficult, and it was the wholesale way in which this sort of thing went on that made it so hard for the Allies to decide just who the bona fide Venizelists were, and just how far it would be safe to trust a force to which the enemy still had such ready means of access.

There was nothing else for the Allies to do but "go slow" and "play safe" in dealing with the Venizelist army, and, under the circumstances, there is no doubt that a difficult situation was handled with a good deal of tact and common sense. Just how trying the situation of the Venizelists was, however, I had a chance to see one day when I happened to be at their Headquarters arranging for my visit to the Greek sector of the Front. Their troops had acquitted themselves with great credit in some gallantly carried out raiding operations, which must have made it doubly hard for them to put up with a new restrictive order just promulgated by the Supreme Command as a further precaution against the leakage of information to the enemy.

Just as I was about to take my departure, a copy of the new order was delivered to the Staff Officer with whom I had been conferring about my visit to the Front. He read it through slowly, his swarthy face flushing red with anger as he proceeded.

"Have you heard of this?" he said, handing me the paper, and controlling his voice with an effort, "No man or officer of our army is to cross the ---- bridge without a special permit from General Headquarters. It is only the latest in the long series of humiliations we have had to put up with. Just look at the way we stand. In Athens our names are posted as traitors who can be shot on sight. Here it isn't quite like that, but—well (he raised his hand above his head and let it fall limply in a gesture of despair), all I can say is that the only officers of the Venizelist army to be envied are those whose names are recorded here (indicating a file at his elbow). It's the death-list from day-before-yesterday's fighting."

Owing to the delay in issuing my pass in Saloniki, I did not arrive at Greek Headquarters until the evening of the day on which the big attack had taken place, and it was day-break of the morning following before I was able to make my way up to the advanced lines. The Venizelist troops had taken all their objectives, and held them with great courage against such counterattacks as the surprised Bulgars—who, not expecting an attack from the Greeks, had made the mistake of massing too much of their strength against the British and French attacks to east and west—were able to organize against them. They had been busy all night "reversing" the captured trenches in anticipation of a determined attempt on the part of the reinforced enemy to retake them in the morning.

The hilly but well-metaled cartroad, along which by the light of the waning moon I cantered with an officer of the Greek staff, had been thronged all night with the surging current of the battle traffic—an up-flow of munition convoys and reinforcements, and back-flow of wounded and prisoners—but I could not help remarking the comparative quiet and absence of confusion with which the complex movement was carried on.

"Somehow this doesn't seem quite like the transport of a new army just undergoing its baptism of fire," I said to my companion. "I've seen things on the roads behind the western front in far worse messes than any of these little jams we've passed to-night. These chaps are as businesslike as though they'd been at the game for years."

"So they have," was the quiet reply. "Our army, as recruited so far, is a new one only in name. The men who attacked yesterday were of the famous S—— Division, which fought all through the last two Balkan wars and gained no end of praise from all the foreign military attachés for its great mountain work. It was this Division which scaled the steep range beyond Doiran and drove the Bulgars out of Rupel Pass."

"The S—— Division," "Rupel Pass." Instantly I recalled how a British General, over on the Struma a few days previously, had pointed out to me a steep range of serried snow-capped mountains towering against the skyline to the northwest, and told me that the feat of the Greeks in taking a division over it at a point where even the wary Bulgar had deemed it impossible was one of the finest exploits in the annals of mountain warfare.

"The Italians have fought the Austrians at a greater altitude in a number of places in the Alps, and in our wars with the Himalayan tribesmen we have sent our Gurkhas twice as high. But all of that was after more or less preparation. Here, the Greeks simply started off and went over that range with only their rifles and the packs on their backs. I know of nothing to compare with it save the taking of Kaymakchalan by the Serbs last November in the operations which freed Monastir. Not many in Saloniki have had much good to say of the Greek as a soldier of late, but you may be sure that we can do with more men of the kind that crossed that mountain range, and there is no reason why Venizelos should not be able to bring them to us."

The hill from which we were to follow the action jutted out of the mountains into the plain like the bow of a battleship. So favorable was its position for observation—from its brow a wide expanse of mountain and valley was spread from twenty to sixty miles in three directions—that the British and French as well as the Greeks maintained posts there. We found the officers in both of the Allied "O. Pips" [signal corps talk for O.P., meaning observation post] highly enthusiastic over the work of the Greeks in their attack of the preceding day.

We found two officers in the British Observation Post chuckling over the evening bulletin, which had just been delivered to them. "You have to read between the lines of Sarrail's 'Evening Hope' if you want to get at the real facts," said one of them. "It's what it fails to tell you, that you really want to know. Now, you might be able to gather from this that all the Balkan Allies have been doing quite a bit of attacking during the last day or two at various parts of the Front from Doiran west to Albania, but you have to go between the lines to find that our shifty Bulgar friend over there gave most of them as good or better than they gave him all the way. It's sad but true that in this, our 'Great Spring Offensive,' as the papers at home have talked of it, the whole lot of us—French, British, Russian, Italian, and even the Serb—have been fought to a standstill by the Bulgar. Far as I can see, the only gain we have to show for it is in the casualty lists."

I failed to see just what there was to chuckle about in such an interpretation of the glowing lines of the evening bulletin, and said as much.

"It isn't funny in the least," was the reply, "and it would seem still less so if we could see at close range some of the things that are lying out on a hundred miles of these accursed mountain sides as a consequence of what has happened. But what did strike us as a bit rich was the fact that, of all the Allies, this little piece of the Venizelist army, which we have held in leash all winter while we made up our minds as to whether it would be safe to slip or not, is the only one of the whole lot of us that has taken all the objectives set for it."

A sporting instinct and a grim sense of humor—the readiness to admire a brave foe and the ability to extract amusement from discomfiture—are the two things that have conspired to make the British soldier so uniformly successful in treating those "twin impostors," Triumph and Disaster, "just the same."

The sky was lightening and throwing into ghostly silhouette the line of the mountain ridge across the Vardar by the time we had pushed on out along the communication trench to the Greek Observation Post on the extreme brow of the hill. Since midnight the enemy "heavies" had been coughing gruffly under the mist-blanket that overlaid the plain, dappling it with alternately flashing and fading blotches of light till it glowed fantastically like a lamp-shade of Carrara marble; star-shells, fired with a low trajectory, popped up and dove out of sight again, throwing a fluttering green radiance over the white pall which swathed the battlefield.

The mist-mask must have fended the day-break from the plain long after it was light upon the hill from where we watched, for it was not until the range of serrated peaks to the east of Doiran was all aglow with the red and gold of sunrise that the higher-keyed crack of the enemy's field-guns came welling up to tell us that the Bulgar was getting ready to go over the top. The flame-spurts—paling from a hot red to faded lemon as the light grew stronger—splashed up against the mist-pall as the jet of an illuminated fountain rises and falls, and down where the battered first-line trenches faced each other the dust-geysers of the exploding shells rolled up in clouds to the surface of the thinning vapors as the mud of the bottom boils up through the waters of an agitated pool.

For a minute or two the ragged line of the barrage wallowed forward through the outraged mist alone. Then, as a sudden flight of rockets spat forth from the Greek first line to warn that the enemy infantry was on the way, all the Allied artillery that could be brought to bear opened up and began dropping shells just behind where the murky mist-clouds marked the swath of the Bulgar barrage.

For the space of perhaps two or three minutes the fog-bank swirled and curled in swaying eddies as the shells came hurtling into it; then—whether it was from a sudden awakening of the wind or through the licking up of its vapors by the first rays of the now risen sun, I never knew—almost in the wave of a hand, it was gone, revealing a broad expanse of trench-creased plain with a long belt of gray figures moving across it in a cloud of dust and smoke.

"It isn't much of a barrage as barrages go on the western front," said Captain X—— half apologetically. "Their artillery won't do much harm to us, and, I'm afraid, ours not much to them. And we'll hardly be having enough machine guns emplaced to sting them as they ought to be stung for swarming up in masses like that. But if it's only a second-class artillery show, I still think I can promise you—if only the Bulgar has the stomach for it—a livelier bit of hand-to-hand fighting than you might find in a whole summer of looking for it in France. Do you see those little winking flashes all along where the infantry are moving? Some of them are from bayonets, but most are from knives. A great man with the knife is the Bulgar. Did you ever hear that song about him they sang at a revue the British 'Tommies' had at Saloniki? It was a parody on some other song that was being sung in the halls in London, and went something like this:

"Now for it! Look at that!"

I never did hear just what it was that Boris was a knifer of, for at that juncture the two barrages—having respectively protected and harried to the best of their abilities the advancing wave of infantry down to within a hundred yards or so of the Greek trenches—"lifted" almost simultaneously on to "communications," and that lifting was the signal for the opening of the climacteric stage of the action. Without an instant's delay, a solid wave of Greeks in brown—lightly fringed in front with the figures of a few of the more active or impetuous who had outdistanced their comrades in the scramble over the top—rose up out of the earth and swept forward to meet the line of gray. The gust of their first great cheer rolled up to us above the thunder of the artillery.

"Now for it!" repeated X——, focussing down his telescope and steadying himself with his elbows. "I think you'll find the show from now on worth all the trouble of coming up to see."

I do not attempt to account for what happened now; I only record it. It may have been that the Allied artillery had wrought more havoc in that advancing wave of men than had been apparent from a distance, or it may have been that the enemy artillery had done less to the entrenched defenders than it was expected to do; at any rate, the line of gray began to break at almost the first impact of the line of brown, and the great hand-to-hand fight that X—— had promised me was transformed into a Marathon.

"As I expected," muttered my companion. "'Boris' has no stomach for a fight to-day with the man who licked him yesterday, and will lick him to-morrow and go right on licking him to the end if they'll only give him a show. The Bulgar never has stood up to the Greek, and he never will."

The Greek Staff shared a round bowl of a mountain valley, a few miles back from the front lines, with a clearing station. The equipment of the little hospital had mostly been provided by the British Red Cross, but the Venizelists had made a brave effort to furnish the staff themselves. There were two French-trained Greek surgeons, a Greek matron, Greek orderlies, and two Greek nurses. Since the attack began there had been work for a dozen of the latter, but—as it had been impossible for the women of most of the Venizelist families to get away from Old Greece—no others were available. An English nurse, who had marched in the retreat of the Serbians, and a French nurse from a Saloniki hospital had volunteered to step into the breach, and these five women were courageously trying to make up in zeal what they lacked in numbers.

"We are not enough for a double shift since the fighting began," Madame A——, the matron, had said to me the night of my arrival; "so we are accomplishing the same end by working double hours. We are working to atone for the dishonor our King has brought upon our country, just as our men are fighting to atone for it; and the harder we all work and fight the sooner it will come about."

The last thing to catch my eye as I looked back from the rim of the valley when I rode away at midnight had been the flash of a bar of light on a white uniform, as a tired figure had drooped against the flap of a hospital tent for a breath of air.

"If any one of those women has had a wink of sleep in the last three days," Captain X—— had said as we reined in to let a string of ambulances go by, "it must have been taken standing. I have been up most of the time myself, and never once have I looked across to the clearing station but I saw some sign of a nurse on the move."

Madame A—— had asked me to drop in at the nurses' mess for luncheon in case I got back from the trenches in time, and this, by dint of hard riding, I was just able to do. Three or four powerful military cars drawn up at the hospital gate indicated new arrivals, but as to who they were I had no hint until I had pushed in through the flap of the mess tent and found M. Venizelos seated on a soap-box, vis-à-vis Madame A—— at a table improvised from a couple of condensed milk cases. At the regular mess table, sitting on reversed water-buckets, were three French flying officers and a civilian whom I recognized as the private secretary of M. Venizelos. Two nurses were just rising from unfinished plates of soup in response to word that a crucial abdominal operation awaited their attendance at the theatre.

"Most of the Provisional Government has come out to pay us a visit this morning," said Madame A——, showing me to a blanket-roll seat at one end of the mess table, "and we are lunching early so that it can get back to Saloniki to take up the reins of State again. The General has carried off the Admiral and the Foreign Minister, but I have managed to keep the President for our banquet. He has made the round of the hospital and spoken to every man here—that is," she added with a catch in her voice, "to all that could hear him. We've—we've lost three men this morning just because there wasn't staff to operate quickly enough."

That was, I think, one of the strangest little "banquets" I ever sat down to. Every one travels more or less "self-contained" in the Saloniki area, and whenever a party is thrown together the joint supplies are commandeered for the common good. The mess menu was a simple one of soup, tinned salmon, rice, and cheese, but by the time M. Venizelos's hamper had yielded a box of fresh figs, a can of the honey of Hymettus, and a couple of bottles of Cretan wine, and the French officers had "anted up" cognac, some tins of flageolet for salad, and a tumbler of confiture, and the English nurse had brought out the last of her Christmas plum-cake, and I had thrown in a loaf of Italian pan-forte and a can of chocolates, the little crazy-legged camp-table had assumed a passing festal air.

A number of toasts were proposed and drunk, but no one spoke of the nearer or remoter progress of the war. M. Venizelos adverted several times to the wonder of the spring flowers as he had seen them from the road, especially the great fields of blood-red poppies, and I overheard him telling Madame A—— some apparently amusing incidents of his early life in Crete. But it was not until, the banquet over, he had settled himself in his car for the ride to Saloniki that he alluded to any of the things with which his mind must have been so engrossed all the time.

"So you thought that our troops had all the best of the enemy this morning?" he said with a grave smile as he shook my hand.

"Incomparably the best of it," I answered.

"Then perhaps you will understand why I felt so confident that the Bulgars would not have come into the war if they had known that Greece would stand by Serbia. And you will also understand why I feel so confident that our military help to the Allies will be a very real one, perhaps enough of a one even to save Greece from herself."

This was, I believe, the latest occasion on which M. Venizelos visited his troops at the front. Before another fortnight had gone by the forces of the "Protecting Powers" were moving into Old Greece, and in a month Constantine had abdicated and opened the way for the return of his former Prime Minister to Athens.

From the time of the Balkan wars of 1912-13 to the outbreak of the present one Venizelos was often referred to as "The Maker of Modern Greece." After this war he may well be known as "The Savior of Modern Greece"; and of the two achievements there can be no doubt that history must record that the one of "saving" was incomparably greater than the one of "making."

It is still too early to make it worth while to endeavor to forecast what is on the knees of the capricious war-gods of the Balkans, and there is no use in trying to deny that the Bulgar—just as long as Germany has the power and will to back him up—will take a deal of beating. But that Venizelos will be able to make the army of reunited Greece a potently contributive factor in bringing about that devoutly-to-be-wished consummation may now be taken as assured.

We have seen in a previous narrative the difficulties which the Italians encountered in conducting their campaign against Austria. As a result of German falsehood and propaganda, the Italian line was weakened and penetrated by a great German army, and the Italian lines were swept back. They finally held, however, and the strength of their resistance is indicated in the following pages.

THE ITALIANS AT BAY

G. WARD PRICE

Udine was a typically quaint and sleepy little Italian town galvanized into unnatural life and prosperity. Every one who has spent a week in Italy can put the picture of the place before his imagination in a moment: streets of dark, restful, Gothic cloisters; a broad piazza flanked by a graceful loggia; remains of medieval fortification of which the towering gate-houses still narrowed each entrance to the town; a general air of pleasant tranquillity and of a well-being that was a legacy from the more spacious days of centuries gone by. The nature of the place was that of mellow old wine, very gracious, rich with associations that brought a glow to the palate of memory, but for all that something of which one wanted only little at a time. A glimpse of Udine as she had been for centuries was delightful, to dwell there would seem like being buried alive.

To this forgotten township of the old Venetian province had come suddenly in the spring of 1913 all the bustle and congestion of the headquarters of the whole Italian Army. For the next two and a half years you could hardly find a room in Udine to sleep in; the people of the place opened large modern restaurants and cafés for the officers and soldiers who crowded its streets; big shops filled the gloom of the old arcades with an incongruous expanse of plate-glass windows; the good burgesses of Udine made money and waxed fat.

It seemed, indeed, as if the steady shower of war prosperity that had fallen upon them for two years might last until that indefinite, but to most minds far-off, day when peace should come. For it was the general opinion that in the West, at least, the war had reached a condition of tactical dead-lock. Trench warfare had petrified movement, except in laborious shifting of a few hundred yards at a time, hardly perceptible on a small-scale map. The day of sweeping advances, of sudden retirements, was over. At a reasonable distance behind that unbudging wall of trenches you were as secure from personal displacement by the war as if you were at the other end of Italy; indeed, no earlier than the beginning of this month of October some people had arrived with their families at Udine from other parts of the country to carry on trades connected with the life of the army.

I myself set foot in Udine for the first time on October 20. I was going back to the Macedonian front, where for two years I had been the official correspondent of the British Army, and I had asked the War Office to authorize me to visit on the way the British batteries which since April had been cooperating with the Italian Army on the Isonzo. General Cadorna had given them high praise in a message to the British Government after the fighting in which they had taken part in May, and I thought it would be interesting to see British and Italian troops side by side in the field for the first time.

Visitors to the Italian front used to find most convenient arrangements made to give them a rapid idea of conditions there. Lying almost entirely among mountains, the line presented unusual opportunities for survey from dominating heights, and there were many places where, at leisure and in virtual safety, one could watch the Austrian intrenchments from close range. Fast cars took you up to these vantage-points, and a number of staff-officers, speaking perfect English and knowing every detail of the front and its history, raised these visits from the level of sight-seeing excursions to opportunities for learning a great deal that was important and technical.

The very last of these journeys, which had been made by visitors of every country, took place on October 24, the day that the great Austro-German offensive began, and I remember how, as we drove along in the rain, all our talk was of the bad news of that morning—that the enemy, reinforced by a huge number of divisions brought secretly from the Russian front, and profiting by a night of rain and fog, had thrust down into the valley of the Isonzo between Plezzo and Tolmino, carried, apparently by surprise, two Italian lines across the ravine after a short and very violent bombardment, and then, pushing on, had captured Caporetto, thus cutting off the Italian troops on Monte Nero and the other mountains beyond the Isonzo, and opening a most serious gap in the very center of the Italian line.

The day was one of evil omen. We went to Gorizia, that pretty Austrian spa that was taken by the Italians last year, and has suffered from the war as much as Udine, its neighbor across the old frontier, has prospered. In the heart of the town its old castle towers up from an isolated crag, and from the battlements you can look across the valley to the Italian and Austrian lines on the slopes of San Marco opposite. Scores of parties like our own had made this visit to Gorizia Castle, and to-day the driving rain and valley mists made observation so bad that it seemed more than usually safe to show oneself above the ramparts on the side toward the enemy. Yet we had not been there three minutes—a group of two well-known American correspondents and one Italian, with an Italian officer, and myself—when an Austrian six-inch shell burst with a crash hardly ten feet from the right-hand man of our line. A black wall of flying mud towered up and blotted out the sky; three of us were thrown headlong by the force of the explosion. Only the fact that the shell had fallen deeply into the rain-softened bank of earth on top of the battlements saved the names of the last four visitors to the Italian front from being recorded on graves in Gorizia cemetery.

"I've brought people here seventy or eighty times," said the officer who was with us, "and nothing like that has ever happened before."

"We've evidently brought bad luck," said some one, and so, little though we guessed it, we had.

During the first fortnight of October it had been a remark frequently made throughout Italy that an Austrian push was probable before the real winter set in. I had heard this likelihood discussed by people at the Chamber of Deputies on my way through Rome, but without serious significance being given to it. The Austro-Swiss frontier had been closed for five weeks, always a sign that important movements of troops were going on in the enemy's country; something more unusual was that even the postal mails from Austria to Holland and Scandinavia had been suspended.

According to the talk one heard in Italy, Cadorna had already had in mind the chance of a strong autumn attack on his army when he arrested his own offensive in September after capturing by a brilliant stroke the greater part of the Bainsizza plateau beyond the Isonzo, taking thirty thousand prisoners and one hundred and fifty guns. The French and British general staffs, it was said, had asked Cadorna whether he meant to go on with his offensive, for which they had contributed contingents of guns. Cadorna's reply had been that he had strong Austrian forces against him, of which he knew the total, but that he also believed large reserves of unknown quantity were available for use against him, owing to the collapse of the Russian Army. In these circumstances he preferred to consolidate and prepare rather than to continue to challenge forces that could not be exactly estimated.

Both the increase of enemy strength on the Italian front and the paralyzing uncertainty under which the Allies labored, were directly due to the debacle of the Russian Army during the summer. The means by which commanders-in-chief arrive at the indispensable knowledge of what forces they have against them is through a highly organized intelligence department, working in close cooperation with the similar departments of the other Allied armies.

Each of these departments, by interrogating prisoners and reading papers found on enemy dead, by collating the reports of the air service, by minutely sifting the enemy press, arrives at a fairly accurate knowledge of the enemy's order of battle on the front of its own army. So essential is this system to the successful carrying-on of operations that raids are often specially organized on the enemy trenches with the sole object of capturing prisoners who may be able to give information that will clear up some point about which there is uncertainty. All the knowledge of the enemy's dispositions thus collected by each of the Allied armies is open to all of them; it is exchanged and compared and collated, so that they finally arrive at a fairly complete knowledge of the distribution of the enemy's forces in each one of the theaters of war.

Now, when the Russian Army went to pieces in the summer, its intelligence department collapsed with the rest. The Russian Army has taken virtually no prisoners for a long time, and consequently the facts about what troops the Austrians and Germans have on that front have not been ascertainable. It was known that the enemy used to have about one hundred and thirty divisions there, but no one could tell whether they still remained or whether they had been brought away to be held in reserve for some sudden operation on another front.

In this way it came about that the sudden attack by an unexpectedly large Austro-German force upon the Isonzo line took the Italians by surprise, with the result that they lost in three days not only all they had won in two and a half years of hard fighting, by sacrifices and sufferings and labors beyond human estimation, but also the larger part of that rich north-eastern department of their country which was for centuries the metropolitan province of the great Venetian republic.

On October 22 we learned at Italian headquarters that ten German divisions, about one hundred and twenty thousand men, had arrived behind the enemy front on the Isonzo and were concentrated in reserve round Laibach. This was the first time in the whole war that German troops had met the Italians on this front. The number of new Austrian divisions was reported to be even greater. Many new batteries of heavy caliber had also arrived and were registering their ranges; indeed, when the attack actually came, it was found that the number of fresh guns was even greater than had been thought, for some of them did not reveal their position by registering, but, taking their ranges from guns earlier in position, fired not a round until they joined in that terrific first bombardment with which the attack opened on the morning of October 24.

Most serious was the situation, but even yet no one grasped how bad the reality was going to be. It was generally accepted that all ground beyond the Isonzo would have to be abandoned, but it seemed beyond all doubt that the Italians would be able to make good their defense along the steep ridge that forms the western side of the Isonzo valley. As you looked from those heights across the river, it was like looking from the wall of a medieval castle; you dominated everything, and behind you were great Italian guns ready to fill the gorge of the Isonzo and the slopes beyond with a barrier of bursting steel.

But one of those combinations that have often helped the Germans in this war helped them to the success that seemed impossible. It was made up of the secrecy with which they had been able to complete their preparations, of the luck of surprise and bad weather, and above all of the fatal failure in their duty of certain detachments of the Italian forces.

One of the successes of this year's German offensive was the creation in the heart of an efficient and gallant army of this canker of disaffection by propaganda that has been as energetic and as dangerous to our cause as any of the enemy's operations in the field. In every Allied country it has been active; among the English it is at work corrupting labor, preying on the nerves of the overstrained worker, and whispering any subtle lie that will sap his will and undermine his spirit. In France one fractional part of the widespread organization that carries on this treacherous work is being exposed by the revelations in the Bolo case. In Italy the Germans cunningly twisted fanatics, both socialist and clerical, into agents for forwarding their work, and they had flooded the country with money to corrupt the army which they had not been able to beat in the field. The individual soldiers of every country, including above all the Central empires themselves, are dead-weary of the war, but the enemy alone has had the cunning and the baseness deliberately to exploit this feeling to his profit, working through the agency of bought traitors and hired spies. And so the Austro-Germans had managed to imbue a limited part of the Italian Army with the distorted idea that the quickest way to regain the longed-for comforts of peace was to refuse to fight and thus open the way for a rapid Austrian victory.

When this ferment of disloyalty had done its work, the Germans were ready to attack the particular sector of the line held by the troops that it had most affected. These were on the left wing of the Italian Second Army, which held the front of the Isonzo from Plezzo down to Tolmino, and it was on that point that the enemy directed his first thrust.

The news of the taking of Caporetto on the morning of October 24 had about as startling an effect at Italian headquarters as would be produced on the British front if it were suddenly announced that the Germans were in Ypres. Not only was Caporetto a town on the Upper Isonzo which the Italians had seized by dashing forward across the frontier the very morning that war was declared, but it also stood at the head of a most important strategical valley leading back into the mountains on which the Italian main line lay, and from the town lead several easy roads that follow various routes into the plain beyond. Already the enemy was pressing in force along those roads. The Italians had, indeed, fallen back to reserve positions, but were the enemy to win through—as he did within two days—he would be on the flank and almost in the rear of the whole Italian Army of a million men.

Just how the Germans progressed so fast that by noon on October 24 they had a machine-gun posted on the square in Caporetto still remains, eight days later, incompletely explained. All that is really known is this: at 2 a.m. they started a very violent bombardment. When the shelling suddenly stopped after only two hours, the Italians regarded the interruption merely as a lull, for the artillery preparation for an infantry attack in force usually lasts much longer. With the valley hidden by darkness, mist, and rain, and seeing more dimly than usual through the mica of their gas-masks, the Italians knew nothing of the German infantry's advance up the valley from the Santa Lucia bridgehead, south of Tolmino, until the enemy had actually reached their wire. In this way the Plec line of defense across that reach of the Isonzo known as the Conca di Plezzo, a line specially designed to check an offensive from Santa Lucia, was captured by surprise, and then German troops poured down into the river gorge from Mrzli on its eastern side, until the valley was full of the enemy, and Monte Nero and the other Italian outpost positions on the heights beyond the Isonzo were completely surrounded.

The valley being in their possession, the Germans wasted no time. Pushing northward along the river, one detachment occupied Idersko and Caporetto; another proceeded to assault the height of Starijok, just above Caporetto; yet another strong force made a frontal attack on the ridge of Zagradan, which runs like a wall along the Italian side of the river, and after fierce fighting took Luico, one of the pivots of the defenses upon it. Elsewhere he had attacked at the same time with less definite result. Mount Globocak was seized by surprise. It was an Italian big-gun position, and orders were given for it to be retaken at any cost. So a distinguished brigade of bersaglieri was sent up to counter-attack, and drove the Germans from the captured guns down the slopes of Globocak again. North of Caporetto, too, the angle of the Italian line at Zaga had been assailed, but had resisted, and across the river on the Bainsizza plateau the most violent fighting of all took place, as a result of which the Italian line was withdrawn from Kal, and the heavy guns and equipment were sent back across the Isonzo, though the Italian counter-attacks on the Bainsizza were carried out with such dash that they captured several hundred Austrian prisoners.

Now the enemy's plan stood out in all its formidable strength and strategy. He had opened a gap in the Italian front; through this gap he was pouring overwhelming forces. Already the rest of the Italian Second Army and the Third Army on the Carso to the south of it were outflanked. If the whole of that great force was not to have its line of communications cut and be surrounded, it must be immediately and rapidly withdrawn for a great distance. An immense sacrifice of Italian territory was imperative if the Italian Army was to be saved from a trap by the side of which the fall of Metz was the capture of an outpost. During the afternoon of October 25 the general order of retreat was given.

I went up again to visit the British batteries which were with the Third Army on the afternoon of the twenty-fifth, and from one of their observatories watched the heavy shelling. The Austrians were using huge seventeen-inch howitzers, and the explosions of their gigantic shells, each weighing a ton, was like a small eruption. A solid block of piebald smoke as big as a cathedral sprang into the air and it was a minute or more before the last of it had drifted away.

And as the sun was setting I went down to Monfalcone, to a place which could not be mentioned then, but which was at the same time probably the oddest and the most romantic point of the world's fighting-line. Monfalcone was for the Austrians a sort of combination of Birkenhead and Bournemouth. There were important ship-building yards there, and it had besides popularity as a seaside place. In the shipyard the Austrians had left an eighteen-thousand-ton liner, of which the hull was complete and the decks built in.

To reach the ship you passed through a yard that was a rusty monument to the futility of war. There were all the tools of constructive labor just as they had been dropped when this nightmare of destructive passion burst upon the world; weather-reddened traveling cranes rusted to the tracks on which they will never move again; trucks overturned, a lathe smashed by a shell that had torn a wide gap in the roof above. Here, where the air used to tremble all day long with the clang of giant hammers, there was now silence and desertion, and the offices from which great ships were controlled on their voyages to far-off seas had become the barracks of Italian artillery-men.

There was a big wooden staircase that the Italians had built leading up to the various decks of the great liner, and, once on board, you could walk out to the forward bridge of the ship where from a sort of conning-tower you looked out at the Austrian trenches less than a mile away without the possibility of being seen. An odd observation post, neither asea nor ashore, and to make the confusion of elements more complete, the gunners whose guns barked continually from just behind it were sailors of the Italian Navy, dressed not in blue, but in military gray-green.

Triest, the coveted city, lay ten miles away in full view, and each night the Italians saw its windows answer with flashes of dull gold the last rays of the sun setting behind Italy. As you looked from Monfalcone across the dreamy blue of the empty gulf between, the town lay like a stone image, lifeless except for the white smoke curling gently from a single tall chimney into the quiet evening air. Much nearer along the coast was the Castle of Duina standing on an abrupt cliff. It belongs to the Grand Duchess of Thurn and Taxis, who used to gather parties of poets, painters, and writers there to stay in what was like a legendary palace looking down from its high headland upon the sunlit, sail-flecked Adriatic, stretching away into the shining distance.

It was from that last fair glimpse of Triest that you turned back to the grave realities of situation. On the next morning, the twenty-sixth, the Italian supreme command announced that the Bainsizza plateau was being evacuated. It had been won with great losses and gallantry in August, and the Italians had laboriously equipped it with roads and military establishments to create a firm taking-off place for the next attack upon the crest of Mount Gabriele, which was expected to drive the Austrians back for five miles up the Vippaco valley, on the way to Laibach, one of the back-doors to Triest.

The same day came the news of the fall of the Italian Government, which had been attacked during the fortnight by a strange combination of the advanced wing of the pro-war party who considered that the ministry was not displaying enough firmness in its conduct of the campaign, with the pacifist socialist party who denounced the Government for infringing the constitutional rights of the people in the interests of militarism. A feeling of malaise was in the air. All the elements of success were present in the Italian Army except the most important of all, the psychological element.

By this time motor-lorries had already begun to pour back through Udine, and in the streets the Signal Corps were taking down the telegraph-wires. You saw little parties of father, mother, and children suddenly emerge from house or shop, each with hand-luggage. If you looked closely you generally saw that the woman was crying.

On the twenty-sixth there were frequent attempts to reach Udine by German flyers who were new to the ground. It was the first time that the Italian Air Corps had had to deal with a German attempt to contest their supremacy and they came well out of the trial. Ten enemy machines were brought down during the day, two individual Italian airmen accounting for three each. When the enemy machines were sighted heading for Udine the jarring scream of a siren gave the alarm, and the police cleared the streets.

Saturday, October 27, was the day of general exodus.

I left Udine early on Saturday morning, in the car of the British general commanding our artillery contingent on the Italian front, to go up to the batteries and see how they got on in the retreat. We crawled out toward the front along roads blocked with rearward-moving traffic for which there was no organization, and after lunching at the general's headquarters at Gradisca, I went on to Rubbia, just across the Isonzo, to the south of Gorizia, where was the group headquarters of the batteries. Already the supply service of the Third Army were pouring in a black mass along the road, screened at the side and overhead by rushmats from the observation of the enemy. Voices and hammering under the long wooden bridge across the Isonzo at Rubbia were signs that the Italian engineers were putting in position charges of explosive to blow it up when as much material as possible had been brought over. Some of our batteries had already been withdrawn to rearward positions not far from group headquarters and were firing as fast as the guns could be reloaded. The others were still in their old emplacements a mile or so farther forward, being shelled terrifically by the Austrian twelve-inch batteries, but having extraordinary luck. They were using up as much of their ammunition as they could, because it was becoming clearer every moment that the Italian transport service was not going to be able to supply the lorries to move the shells, which were big enough for fifty of them to make a full lorry-load.

A major from one of the batteries came into group headquarters while I was in the mess. He was dark under the eyes after a couple of sleepless nights, for his men had been working hard all round the clock to get the ammunition back from the forward dumps, labor that afterward proved wasted, as there were no lorries forthcoming to carry it farther on. Sixty twelve-inch shells and one aeroplane bomb a yard away from one of his four guns was the afternoon's experience of his battery, and only one man wounded made up the casualty-list for the same period.

"And I'm going to have a damn good dinner to-night whatever happens," he announced. "Goodness knows when we shall eat or sleep again. So the fowls and the rabbits we had in the battery are being killed this afternoon."

There were Austrian shells falling on the hill by group headquarters, but none fell on that dense-packed road along which military traffic of every kind and shape crawled and stuck and crawled on again. The tension grew greater at our headquarters. The guns needed tractors to move them, and motor-lorries were required to carry the battery stores. For the English artillery contingent had no transport of its own, the arrangement having been that this should be supplied by the Italians. The French artillery contingent with the Italian Army, on the other hand, was independent in this respect.

The organization with regard to the transport of guns is different in the Italian and the British armies. The British system is that every gun shall have its motor or horse-haulage permanently assigned to it, so that it is always mobile at a moment's notice. In the Italian army the mechanical transport service provides haulage for all units when required, and as it is only in extraordinarily exceptional circumstances that every single thing in the army needs moving at once, they are able to effect considerable economies over the British method, which constantly keeps large numbers of lorries and tractors and cars, together with their drivers and mechanics, idle, since the units to which they are attached are not at the moment in need of transport.

By the time it was dark on Saturday evening the likelihood of all the British guns getting away seemed doubtful, and the Italian artillery colonel who supervised their employment as corps artillery came to our group headquarters to say that preparations must be made for blowing the last of them up, and that in any case each tractor must tow more than one gun and come back for others directly it had got its first tows behind the Isonzo.

And now the darkening landscape suddenly began to spring out into brilliant points of light, as everywhere behind the Italian front, supply-depots, military stores, and vast collections of wooden sheds were set in a blaze. Gorizia was the site of a special conflagration, and the enemy gun-fire was steadily increasing, till sometimes the barrage rose to a single prolonged roar, and you could not have got a knife edge between the bursts.

By 7.30 p.m. six of our guns were across the river and the rest were now firing like field artillery, with no other batteries between them and the enemy. They kept up this protection of the retreat of the infantry so long, in fact, that the last round of all, at about 10 p.m., was fired just before the gun was hitched to the tractor, and there was yet another gun that had its breech mechanism smashed for fear it might have to be left behind.

The bright moon hung in a pale-green sky, looking down on a dozen roads each crawling like a black snake with the close press of retreating troops. As I was making my way back to Gradisca the whole firmament leaped into sudden brilliance and every feature in every face among the throngs around me on the road stood out for several seconds under a ghastly light. Then followed from behind Monte Michele, a deep, rolling roar. It was the first of the explosions of the great abandoned stores of gun-ammunition behind the front. From then till dawn the night sky was continually breaking into a glare like that of gigantic sunset, and the crash of destroyed artillery ammunition shook the ground. The less brilliant, but steadier, glow of burning stores and sheds and houses was constantly multiplied, and the flash of every new explosion revealed fresh masses of black smoke rising in sharp outline against the lurid horizon. It was an apocalyptic spectacle; nothing short of a volcanic eruption could produce those tremendous effects of infernal illumination. Millions of pounds' worth of material, all the fruits of two and a half years of labor, were burned and blasted out of existence in a few hours.

The difficulty that complicated the Italian evacuation of their war-zone was the fact that every hour the need for speed became more urgent, if utter disaster was to be averted. A unit would be given twelve hours to get to the point on the railway where it was to entrain and then an hour later its time-limit would be reduced to two hours. A headquarters might be told that a sufficient supply of motor-lorries would be available to evacuate all its material and that it had better begin getting rid of chairs and tables and its superfluous stuff at once, but no sooner had these less important stores gone than word would come that no more transport was available and that all the immensely valuable stores and reserves of ammunition that still remained, must be abandoned, as no lorries could be found for them.

Moving a great army is an affair of time-tables. There is room for only a certain amount of men and material on the roads and railways at one time, and every man and every wagon above that maximum becomes a factor of confusion and retards the movement of the whole mass to a dangerous degree. The sudden retreat of an army is often reduced to chaos, first, because a thoroughly worked-out plan of general retirement exists but rarely in the strong-boxes of any general staff, and secondly, because in the absence of a time-table drawn up in detail and strictly enforced, the elementary principle of self-preservation leads every unit of the army to put itself on the road as quickly as it can get transportation. This is not to say that confusion is an invariable indication of personal panic; but it is very natural, and even very proper, that every battery commander, the director of every military store and depot, and the leader of every body of troops which is not definitely ordered to remain, should have the individual determination that his particular command shall not fall into the hands of the enemy. The artillery officer firmly resolves that he will save his guns at all costs; the heads of supply departments are in charge of valuable stores which their army needs for its very existence and which would be of great aid to the enemy if captured, and the troop-leader naturally argues that it would be futile to allow his men to be cut off when a general retreat has already been ordered. So if the organization of withdrawal is left to the discretion of the people involved in it, as it has to be when the whole thing has not been deliberately arranged beforehand, confusion is almost inevitable.

Moreover, the enemy always seems to be advancing much faster than he really is. Under the discouragement that every army feels in falling back, it is easy to credit the pursuer with exaggerated powers of rapid motion; the defeated soldier forgets that the miles are just as long and weary for his adversary trudging painfully after him as they are for himself. Rumor, too, spreads wildly among tired and disheartened men. Enemy cavalry, enemy armored motor-cars, hurrying ahead to cut him off—that idea haunts the mind of each man in an enforced retirement. A further complication is caused when, as was the case in the Italian withdrawal, the civilian population is also desperately anxious to be gone before the arrival of the enemy. The news of the forthcoming evacuation of territory spreads backward with rapidity, and the roads along the route of the retreating army fill at once with unregulated, disorderly swarms of frightened civilians and their household baggage, hastily stowed on slow-moving dilapidated carts that are likely to break down at narrow points of the way and block whole miles of military traffic for hours at a time. The Italian Army had to endure a great deal of that kind of complication. Theoretically, of course, a general could throw back cavalry and mounted police along the line of his retreat and forbid any civilian traffic whatever under pain of military penalties; but it is very difficult to use such measures against your own countrymen threatened with invasion, specially when the whole aim and object of your war is to free men of your own race from foreign domination. And not only does the sentimental reason of saving fellow-citizens from the yoke of an invader forbid this course, but also considerations of common humanity. In the old wars, when the danger-area of fighting was restricted to the places where opposing troops actually came into contact, there was no particular danger for the civilian inhabitants remaining in invaded territory; though their property might suffer from the enemy's requisitions, their lives were likely to be safe. But wars of this modern character spread destruction broadcast over a whole region. A rear-guard action will involve a rain of shells that may smash to pieces any village on the line of retreat; gas may be used, creeping into the refuges where the non-combatant population has taken shelter, and choking them there like vermin in a hole. War is no longer a civilly organized affair of pitched battles; it is a wild fury of destruction, raging across the whole country-side like a typhoon.

If the English batteries on the Italian front had brought with them to Italy their full organization of transport, they could have saved all their ammunition and stores, their ordnance workshops and supplies. As it was, they had been incorporated in the Italian Army as corps artillery on the Italian basis; they had to take their chance of getting transport along with every one else, and consequently of all their equipment they could save only the guns themselves, which after all was what chiefly mattered.

Discipline is a camouflage of numbers. A thousand men marching past in column of fours does not make upon the mind the same impression of multitude as the sight of half that number in a disordered rabble. Regularity and compactness reduce the appearance of mass; and you receive a profounder suggestion of size from a comparatively small pile of natural rocks than you do from the geometrical pyramids. In the same way an army whose formations are suddenly relaxed seems to swell enormously in numbers. You can drive through a region where a million men are stationed under regular military organization and get no idea of congestion, but if those men are suddenly dissolved from a closely knit body into a crowd of individual persons, the same country-side seems hardly large enough to hold them all.

So, as with that little party of Englishmen I started on the retreat in the early morning hours of October 28, we seemed to be engulfed in a constantly broadening flood of human beings. We were in a train, the men in open trucks, miserable enough under the cold, streaming rain, the officers crowded into a closed van with the baggage. When we started in the dark we had the train to ourselves, but as I awoke three hours later from an uneasy sleep and looked out of the van, the rest of the train already swarmed with Italian soldiers who had clambered upon it as it crept along at a snail's pace. And when dawn came we saw ahead of us a long vista of trains stretching out of sight, while behind stood another queue of them, whistling impatiently like human beings at a ticket office; sometimes one of them would back a little and make the others behind it back too, all screeching furiously with their whistles exactly as if they were trying to shout, "Where are you coming to?"

Along the railway, and on the roads at both sides of it, and across the fields beyond the roads, moved at the same time a crawling mass of people, all going in the same direction, all at about the same pace, without stopping, without talking to one another, every one of them just plodding slowly, wearily, persistently rearward. As you watched them you knew that each man had in his mind just one idea, to keep on moving like that until he knew that he was safe. There was no panic or fighting during the retreat except at isolated times and places; the situation was just this, that for the unique and imposed will that sways an army there had been substituted a multitude of individual wills all striving independently for the same end of self-preservation.

These dark, sluggish streams of men and vehicles and beasts crept tortuously over the country-side like the channels of a delta trickling to the sea. Here and there little eddies of stragglers had been thrown out to each side. It is a curious thing, which I have noticed under similar conditions before, that each person or little group of persons in this mass of human beings seemed almost unaware of the presence of the rest. You would see a family party of peasants gathered round their ox cart and making a meal of bread and raw red wine without so much as a glance at the motley thousands streaming by at their elbows; a soldier would strip off his wet clothes on the road's edge to change them for some that he had looted from a wayside store with no apparent perception of the women trudging past; nor did they seem to notice him. The niceties of convention are quickly dulled by fatigue, and it is only the easefulness of modern life that makes the coarser little realities of human nature seem shocking.

Among the trains that stretched out of sight along the line there were some trucks stacked with bundles of military mackintoshes, woolen helmets, shirts, thick socks. Some inquisitive soldier discovered these and disinterred a complete outfit for himself. A few minutes later he was a changed figure, with clean clothing in place of his own muddy, rain-soaked things, and a stiff blue mackintosh and sou'wester hat over all. The transfiguration attracted envious attention, and he was besieged with questions. Soon those trucks with their piles of white packages looked like giant sugar-basins swarming with wasps, and all around were throngs jostling one another for the next place on the heap. It was all quite good-humored; they were all laughing, waving their arms, calling to friends on the trucks to throw them a shirt or a waterproof, and when these things came flying down to them they turned away with the satisfied smile of children. Nothing puts human beings in such thoroughly good temper as to get something for nothing.

In this way the whole track soon became a litter of old clothes, which the retiring soldiers trampled into the mud. Amid all this chaos one kept on meeting utterly incongruous figures, for with all the world road-worn, shabby, and dirty, to be clean and well-dressed is to be grotesque. Amid this multitude of haggard, unwashed, unshaven, dead-beat males, I noticed two Italian ladies treading delicately over the rough ballast of the railway-track. They had naturally brought with them in their flight the most valuable of their possessions, which were of a kind to be most conveniently carried on their persons. Against this gray background of mud and rubbish and a disbanded army their two figures glittered with a brilliance that would have been conspicuous in the rue de la Paix. Heavy sable furs and muffs almost bowed their shoulders; each finger had two or three rings that flashed in the light; round their necks were gold chains hung with pendants, and yet, instead of the air of self-satisfied ostentation that might well have gone with a display so lavish, there were only two pathetically little, frightened, perplexed faces, and an uncertain gait that did not promise much further progress along that ankle-wrenching railway-line.

By this time I had left the train, which had taken thirty hours to cover fifteen miles, and was walking ahead along the track. There was always the chance that something might happen to the two bridges farther on over the Tagliamento, and I wanted to be on the same side of the river as the telegraph office when that occurred.

These bridges were the feature that dominated the whole movement of retirement. In military terms, they constituted a defile upon its route. Everything had to converge upon one of those three narrow passages, and until they were crossed there was no security for the Italian Army.

Rear-guard actions were, indeed, fought at intermediate places such as the line of the Torre, west of Udine, where General Petiti di Roreto made a stand with six brigades, the valley of the Judrio, the heights above Cormons. But such efforts could do no more than delay the enemy's advance; the respite that the Italian Army so urgently needed to pull itself together, to reassemble its units, redistribute its artillery, and, in short, gather into one hand again the scattered threads of control, could be found only behind the Tagliamento River, forty miles back from the old front line.

Fortunately from Saturday night through Sunday night, the first period of the retreat of the fighting troops as distinct from the rearward services of the army, it poured torrentially with rain, and this, while increasing the hardships endured by the men, contributed in two ways to their salvation; for one thing it swelled the swift and now bridgeless Isonzo, which the enemy had to cross, brimful, and turned the Tagliamento, usually a trickle of water in an untidy stony bed across which a man can wade, into a broad deep flood; it, furthermore, kept the Austrian and German aeroplanes from following up to sweep with bomb and machine-gun the tightly packed road where they could have massacred victims by the hundred and might have turned the retreat into a hopeless rout.

Though the men exposed in open trucks or sludging along the muddy roads and swampy fields had cursed the rain bitterly, its value to our side became conspicuously plain when Monday morning broke bright with autumn sunshine.

It was about ten o'clock on that morning when I reached the village of Latisana, where was the southernmost bridge across the Tagliamento. The streets of the little town were simply chock-a-block with troops which were pouring into it from converging roads. Two or three Italian officers, splashed to the eyes with mud and hoarse with shouting, had organized some control at this point, or otherwise nothing would have moved at all. Pushing soldiers this way and that, seizing horses' heads, straining their voices against the din of clattering motors, they held up each stream of traffic in turn for a few minutes and passed the other through.

Conspicuous in his khaki among this spate of Italian gray, stood an English soldier contentedly munching dry brown bread. The motor-bicycle at his side indicated him as a despatch-rider belonging to one of the batteries. It would have been hard to say whether machine or man was the more travel-stained. The cycle's front wheel was badly bent, evidently by some collision; the soldier's hand was bound with a dirty rag, and his face clotted with the blood of a congealed scratch, the result of having been pushed off the road by a motor-lorry in the dark and falling head-long down a stone embankment. Yet about both mount and man there was still an air of efficiency and unimpaired fundamental soundness that was encouraging, and the mud-plastered figure saluted the English officer at my side with a flick of the wrist that would have passed on the parade-ground at Wellington Barracks. Two guns of his battery, he reported, were three or four miles back down the road; the men were dead-beat, but the worst was that they had had nothing to eat for thirty-six hours, owing to the tractor that had their rations on board catching fire and burning them; they had picked up scraps of bread that other troops had dropped, and some of them had tried and appreciated cutlets from a dead mule; they needed food to restore their strength for they had been working hard without sleep for two days and nights. It had been forty-eight hours of continuous hauling on those heavy guns, which were constantly getting edged off the road by other traffic, and which had to be unhitched every time the tractor stopped because it was so overloaded that it would not start with the full weight of its tow. So the officer had sent him on ahead to scout for food, and he had just found a sosistenza where they had given him a sack of bread to take back.

"You all right yourself?" asked my officer-companion.

"Quite all right, sir, thank you," he answered, and slinging the bulging sack across his shoulders, the despatch-rider straddled his battered bicycle and set off on a sinuous path through the wedged traffic, with his bent front-wheel writhing like a tortured snake.

This news of the existence of a sosistenza was good hearing. I myself had not the least idea of how to get to Padua, the nearest place from which I could hope to send a telegram, except by walking there; and Padua was sixty miles along the railway-line. Two days' walking, two brown loaves the gift of the Italian officer in charge of the bread-depot, and a stick of chocolate; it was a prospect of no allurement. I stepped into place in the long trail of refugees and started, however. It needed no more than two hours of stumbling over sleepers and crunching on the rough stone ballast of the track to make of me as tired and dull-witted a hobo as the rest. We all walked in single file, keeping as far as possible to a strip of soft mud at the side of the line where the going was easier, and one's whole mind had become before long entirely concentrated on nothing more than the increasing soreness of two tired feet and the gradual development of a blister on a big toe. From Portogruaro onward, however, my own personal luck changed, and by getting one lift after another I reached Padua the same night.

Gradually the throng at the Latisana bridge increased, and eventually no less than eleven of the British guns attached to the Italian army were drawn up at the side of the road waiting their turn to cross. The English colonel who commanded the group to which they belonged had arrived and was using the funnel of the bridge to collect his scattered units. The men refreshed with the bread that they had received from the Italian food-depot, were resting by the side of the road; an Italian artillery colonel, under whose command the guns had been when on the Third Army front as corps artillery, was on the bridge trying to hold up the onpressing, unbroken string of heterogeneous traffic long enough for the English guns to be edged into the procession. Then suddenly one of these things happened to which an army in retreat is peculiarly liable. How it started no one seems to know. One theory is that Austrian soldiers dressed in Italian uniforms had been hurried on ahead by the enemy to mingle with the retreat and spread such panics. What actually happened was that several men galloped up all at once on horseback shouting, "The Austrians are here." Immediately the crowd, hitherto patiently waiting its turn to cross the bridge, made one simultaneous push toward its opening. Beyond the river there was the whole country-side to scatter over; on this side they could expect no other fate than to be caught helplessly in a trap. It was like a stampede in a burning theater; the desperate eagerness of every person in the crowd to get on the bridge stopped almost any one from getting there. Carts and people at the edge of the road were shoved down the embankment by the weight of the dense mass surging along its center. And then to add to the terror of the moment there was heard above the shouts and oaths of the struggling mob a low, foreboding hum, the characteristic drone of Austrian aeroplanes. It is hard to see what could have come of the situation but complete and bloody disaster if it had not been for the decided action of some Italian officers. By main force they thrust into the middle of the entrance to the bridge and checked the panic with sheer personal determination. The sound of their authoritative voices brought back the sense of discipline that had momentarily gone. Under their orders the pushing throng sorted itself into some order. A jibing mule was summarily shot to clear the road, and so in a few minutes, despite the constant approach of the low-flying enemy aircraft, a way was cleared for the English guns to cross the bridge. They were scarcely over when the first Austrian machine, swooping down, dropped bombs and opened fire with its machine-gun on the tight-packed road. The attack did not do much damage, though one British Red Cross car was filled as full of holes as a pepper-pot; but the experience showed how much worse the retreat would have been had not the heavy rain of the week-end kept the Austrian airmen in their hangars.

So the retiring army reached the Tagliamento, and completed the first stage of its retreat. Once behind that barrier the Italians could be sure of a certain breathing space, but to secure its protection was the most difficult part of their rearward movement. To the constant convergence which the lack of more than three bridges rendered necessary must be attributed much of the confusion of the retirement and the abandonment of the military equipment that was still to the east of the Tagliamento when the pressure of the enemy finally compelled their destruction.

The Germans fully realized the formidable obstacle to the retreat of the Italians which this rain-swollen river constituted, and they made a determined effort to secure for themselves a passage across its upper course while the Second and Third Armies to the south were not yet behind the stream. There is a bridge a few miles west of the town of Gemona which was not being used by the retreating army because of its comparatively flimsy construction. The Tagliamento, then very high, was, like many mountain streams, subject to very rapid rises and falls. Therefore, part of the enemy advance-guard, which was following up the Italian retirement was pushed on ahead to try to obtain control of this bridge at Gemona, for use at any rate when the waters had sunk a little. This German detachment forced its way across the bridge with considerable courage, some of them being swept away by the swift stream pouring over it, but on the other bank they were immediately faced with stout resistance by the Italian rear-guard, and with their backs to the river virtually all the enemy who had crossed the Tagliamento were killed or captured.

The gallant and skilful conduct of the rear-guard of the Italian army is, indeed, the brightest part of the gloomy story of the retreat.

The cavalry, specially, played a distinguished part in covering the retirement. Charging machine-guns with the lance, and holding commanding positions until they were virtually cut off, these regiments had very heavy losses. A retreat where circumstances make it impossible to get the whole of the army away imposes upon the rear-guard a call for special self-sacrifice, since the moment never comes, when, the whole of the main body being safely past, it can break off the combat and itself retire, its duty done. In the withdrawal of the armies that were along the front in the Cadore and Carnic Alps, occasions of this kind occurred several times during the week throughout which the retreat lasted, when rear-guard detachments were completely surrounded. At Lorenzago a force in this position succeeded in cutting its way back to join the main body again; west of Gemona, however, the remnants of the Thirty-sixth Division were so thoroughly engulfed by the advancing Austro-German forces that, having used up all their ammunition, they were obliged to surrender. And so, gradually, not without moments of discouragement almost amounting to despair, the Italian armies, which ten days before had been fighting on Austrian territory with every prospect of carrying still further a series of victories that had lasted two years and a half, found themselves on the defensive far back of their own borders, awaiting the attack of a triumphant and advancing foe. It had been a terrible trial for them and for the nation at their back. Almost in one night, dreams of imperial expansion, cherished with an enthusiasm that gave them an air of virtual reality, faded into a remoteness beyond reckoning. The war that had been from the first gloriously offensive, was suddenly transformed into an outnumbered struggle against invaders who had already seized half of one of the richest provinces of Italy. Yet, though numbed by the shock and stricken to the heart by the realization of her disaster, Italy reacted well. There was no talk of yielding to be heard, only anxious discussion of the best means of organizing the further resistance that would so soon be necessary.

For though the great majority of the Italian army had succeeded for the moment in escaping from the grasp of the Austro-Germans, the enemy was steadfastly pursuing. Encouraged by a victory that must have more than realized his most ambitious hopes, reinforced by captured guns and material, he would wait only long enough to get sufficient strength into position before hurling the whole of his weight once more against the Italian line.

To meet this second shock on the Tagliamento was not possible. The river itself quickly became, as the rain stopped and the waters fell, too easily traversable an obstacle to be worth fortifying. The line which it would have imposed upon the Italian army was, moreover, too long to be held in the depth desirable for resistance to the attack of superior numbers. So the Tagliamento was occupied as an intermediate position only long enough to shield the further retreat of the army and its transport behind the broader and deeper stream of the Piave.

Here at the time of writing the Italian forces are in position and the enemy's advanced detachments have begun to register ranges and destroy possible observation posts across the river with such artillery as they have so far had the time to bring up. Whether the Piave line and the rest of the Italian front to the westward, which has had to be modified in conformation with the general movement of retreat, can be held indefinitely, will probably be a question of heavy guns. If the enemy can bring up his larger artillery before reinforcements of the same character arrive from France and England, a further retreat from north and east to another river line may well be necessary. Fortunately the winter rains that have set in make for delay in the arrival of such cumbrous war-engines as the Austrian seventeen-inch mortars, and it may be that persistent mud and rain will compel the Austrians to be satisfied with holding the considerable tract of territory that they have won.

But all preparations are being made to face the conceivable eventuality of another retirement. The most serious consequence that this would entail would be the abandonment of Venice and the necessity of bringing that inestimable city within close range of the destruction of war. Even at this early stage, therefore, while the danger to Venice is as yet not urgent, the Italian Government is doing its best to surround her with the protection of such neutrality as the conventions of war, for what they are worth, secure to undefended and unoccupied towns. No person in uniform is allowed to enter the place and the civilian population is being encouraged to leave by free railway transport and subventions to support them until they can settle elsewhere. Even in such tragic hours Venice keeps up her old tradition of light-heartedness. The cafés round the great piazza are full in the evenings with a cheerful crowd. Moreover, to go into St. Mark's is to enter a sort of neolithic grotto; the pillars, set about with sand-bags, have the girth of the arcades of a Babylonian temple; bulging poultices of sacks protect each fresco; as a building it reminds one of a German student padded for a duel. The Doge's Palace, too, is more hidden with scaffolding than it could have been when it was being built; each of those delicate columns of different design is set around with a stout palisade of timber balks. Venice, indeed, looks like a drawing-room with the dust-sheets on the furniture and the chandeliers in bags, and to complete the parallel, the family is going away before one's eyes.

Sad days for Italy, days unimaginable a month ago. There must, indeed, be virtue in the Allies' cause since such ordeals as these still leave our courage high.

The bottling up of the Harbor of Zeebrugge and the attempted closing of the Harbor of Ostend formed what was probably the most brilliant single naval exploit of the war. These daring and successful attempts are described in the narrative following.

BOTTLING UP ZEEBRUGGE AND OSTEND

THE OFFICIAL NARRATIVE

Those who recall High Wood upon the Somme—and they must be many, as it was after the battles of 1916—may easily figure to themselves the decks of H.M.S. Vindictive as she lies to-day, a stark, black profile, against the sea haze of the harbor amid the stripped, trim shapes of the fighting ships which throng these waters. That wilderness of debris, that litter of the used and broken tools of war, lavish ruin and that prodigal evidence of death and battle, are as obvious and plentiful here as there. The ruined tank nosing at the stout tree which stopped it has its parallel in the flame-thrower hut at the port wing of Vindictive's bridge, its iron sides freckled with rents from machine-gun bullets and shell-splinters; the tall white cross which commemorates the martyrdom of the Londoners is sister to the dingy, pierced White Ensign which floated over the fight of the Zeebrugge Mole.

Looking aft from the chaos of her wrecked bridge, one sees, snug against their wharf, the heroic bourgeois shapes of the two Liverpool ferry-boats (their captains' quarters are still labelled "Ladies Only") Iris and Daffodil, which shared with Vindictive the honors and ardors of the fight. The epic of their achievement shapes itself in the light of that view across the scarred and littered decks, in that environment of gray water and great still ships.

Their objectives were the canal of Zeebrugge and the entrance to the harbor of Ostend—theirs, and those of five other veteran and obsolete cruisers and a mosquito fleet of destroyers, motor-launches and coastal motor-boats. Three of the cruisers, Intrepid, Iphigenia and Thetis, each duly packed with concrete and with mines attached to her bottom for the purpose of sinking her, Merrimac-fashion, in the neck of the canal, were aimed at Zeebrugge; two others, similarly prepared, were directed at Ostend. The function of Vindictive, with her ferry-boats, was to attack the great half-moon Mole which guards the Zeebrugge Canal, land bluejackets and marines upon it, destroy what stores, guns, and Germans she could find, and generally create a diversion while the block-ships ran in and sank themselves in their appointed place. Vice Admiral Keyes, in the destroyer Warwick, commanded the operation.

There had been two previous attempts at the attack, capable of being pushed home if weather and other conditions had served. The night of the 22nd offered nearly all the required conditions, and at some fifteen miles off Zeebrugge the ships took up their formation for the attack. Vindictive, which had been towing Iris and Daffodil, cast them off to follow under their own steam; Intrepid, Iphigenia, and Thetis slowed down to give the first three time to get alongside the Mole; Sirius and Brilliant shifted their course for Ostend; and the great swarm of destroyers and motor craft sowed themselves abroad upon their multifarious particular duties. The night was overcast and there was a drift of haze; down the coast a great searchlight swung its beams to and fro; there was a small wind and a short sea.

From Vindictive's bridge, as she headed in towards the Mole with her faithful ferry-boats at her heels, there was scarcely a glimmer of light to be seen shorewards. Ahead of her, as she drove through the water, rolled the smoke-screen, her cloak of invisibility, wrapped about her by the small craft. This was a device of Wing-Commander Brock, R.N.A.S., "without which," acknowledges the Admiral in Command, "the operation could not have been conducted." The north-east wind moved the volume of it shoreward ahead of the ships; beyond it, the distant town and its defenders were unsuspicious; and it was not till Vindictive, with her bluejackets and marines standing ready for the landing, was close upon the Mole that the wind lulled and came away again from the south-west, sweeping back the smoke-screen and laying her bare to the eyes that looked seaward.

There was a moment immediately afterwards when it seemed to those in the ships as if the dim coast and the hidden harbor exploded into light. A star shell soared aloft, then a score of star shells; the wavering beams of the searchlights swung round and settled to a glare; the wildfire of gun flashes leaped against the sky; strings of luminous green beads shot aloft, hung and sank; and the darkness of the night was supplanted by the nightmare daylight of battle fires. Guns and machine-guns along the Mole and batteries ashore woke to life, and it was in a gale of shelling that Vindictive laid her nose against the thirty-foot high concrete side of the Mole, let go an anchor, and signed to Daffodil to shove her stern in. Iris went ahead and endeavored to get alongside likewise.

The fire, from the account of everybody concerned, was intense. While ships plunged and rolled beside the Mole in an unexpected send of sea, Vindictive with her greater draught jarring against the foundation of the Mole with every plunge, they were swept diagonally by machine-gun fire from both ends of the Mole and by heavy batteries ashore. Commander A.F.B. Carpenter (now Captain) conned Vindictive from her open bridge till her stern was laid in, when he took up his position in the flame-thrower hut on the port side. It is to this hut that reference has already been made; it is marvellous that any occupant of it should have survived a minute, so riddled and shattered is it. Officers of Iris, which was in trouble ahead of Vindictive, describe Captain Carpenter as "handling her like a picket-boat."

Vindictive was fitted along the port side with a high false deck, whence ran the eighteen brows, or gangways, by which the storming and demolition parties were to land. The men were gathered in readiness on the main and lower decks, while Colonel Elliot, who was to lead the Marines, waited on the false deck just abaft the bridge, and Captain H.C. Halahan, who commanded the bluejackets, was amidships. The gangways were lowered, and scraped and rebounded upon the high parapet of the Mole as Vindictive rolled; and the word for the assault had not yet been given when both leaders were killed, Colonel Elliot by a shell and Captain Halahan by the machine-gun fire which swept the decks. The same shell that killed Colonel Elliot also did fearful execution in the forward Stokes Mortar Battery.

"The men were magnificent." Every officer bears the same testimony. The mere landing on the Mole was a perilous business; it involved a passage across the crashing, splintering gangways, a drop over the parapet into the field of fire of the German machine-guns which swept its length, and a further drop of some sixteen feet to the surface of the Mole itself. Many were killed and more were wounded as they crowded up to the gangways; but nothing hindered the orderly and speedy landing by every gangway.

Lieutenant H.T.C. Walker had his arm carried away by a shell on the upper deck and lay in the darkness while the storming parties trod him under. He was recognized and dragged aside by the Commander. He raised his remaining arm in greeting, "Good luck to you," he called, as the rest of the stormers hastened by; "good luck."

The lower deck was a shambles as the Commander made the rounds of his ship; yet those wounded and dying raised themselves to cheer as he made his tour. The crew of the howitzer which was mounted forward had all been killed; a second crew was destroyed likewise; and even then a third crew was taking over the gun. In the stern cabin a firework expert, who had never been to sea before—one of Captain Brock's employees—was steadily firing great illuminating rockets out of a scuttle to show up the lighthouse on the end of the Mole to the block ships and their escort.

The Daffodil, after aiding to berth Vindictive, should have proceeded to land her own men, but now Commander Carpenter ordered her to remain as she was, with her bows against Vindictive's quarter, pressing the latter ship into the Mole. Normally, Daffodil's boilers develop eighty pounds' pressure of steam per inch; but now, for this particular task, Artificer Engineer Button, in charge of them maintained a hundred and sixty pounds for the whole period that she was holding Vindictive to the Mole. Her casualties, owing to her position during the fight, were small—one man killed and eight wounded, among them her Commander, Lieutenant H. Campbell, who was struck in the right eye by a shell splinter.

Iris had troubles of her own. Her first attempts to make fast to the Mole ahead of Vindictive failed, as her grapnels were not large enough to span the parapet. Two officers. Lieutenant Commander Bradford and Lieutenant Hawkins, climbed ashore and sat astride the parapet trying to make the grapnels fast till each was killed and fell down between the ship and the wall. Commander Valentine Gibbs had both legs shot away and died next morning. Lieutenant Spencer, B.N.R., though wounded, conned the ship and Lieutenant Henderson, R.N., came up from aft and took command.

Iris was obliged at last to change her position and fall in astern of Vindictive, and suffered very heavily from the fire. A single big shell plunged through the upper deck and burst below at a point where fifty-six marines were waiting the order to go to the gang-ways. Forty-nine were killed and the remaining seven wounded. Another shell in the ward-room, which was serving as sick bay, killed four officers and twenty-six men. Her total casualties were eight officers and sixty-nine men killed and three officers and a hundred and two men wounded.

The storming and demolition parties upon the Mole met with no resistance from the Germans, other than the intense and unremitting fire. The geography of the great Mole, with its railway line and its many buildings, hangars, and store-sheds, was already well known, and the demolition parties moved to their appointed work in perfect order. One after another the building burst into flame or split and crumpled as the dynamite went off.

A bombing party, working up towards the Mole extension in search of the enemy, destroyed several machine-gun emplacements, but not a single prisoner rewarded them. It appears that upon the approach of the ships, and with the opening of the fire, the enemy simply retired and contented themselves with bringing machine-guns to the shore end of the Mole. And while they worked and destroyed, the covering party below the parapet could see in the harbor, by the light of the German star shells, the shapes of the block ships stealing in and out of their own smoke and making for the mouth of the canal.

Thetis came first, steaming into a tornado of shell from the great batteries ashore. All her crew, save a remnant who remained to steam her in and sink her, had already been taken off by the ubiquitous motor launches, but the remnant spared hands enough to keep her four guns going. It was hers to show the road to Intrepid and Iphigenia, who followed.

She cleared the string of armed barges which defends the channel from the tip of the Mole, but had the ill-fortune to foul one of her propellers upon the net defence which flanks it on the shore side. The propeller gathered in the net and rendered her practically unmanageable; the shore batteries found her and pounded her unremittingly; she bumped into a bank, edged off, and found herself in the channel again, still some hundreds of yards from the mouth of the canal, in a practically sinking condition. As she lay she signalled invaluable directions to the others, and here Commander R.S. Sneyd, D.S.O., accordingly blew the charges and sank her. A motor launch, under Lieutenant H. Littleton, R.N.V.R., raced alongside and took off her crew. Her losses were five killed and five wounded.

Intrepid, smoking like a volcano and with all her guns blazing, followed; her motor launch had failed to get alongside outside the harbor, and she had men enough for anything. Straight into the canal she steered, her smoke blowing back from her into Iphigenia's eyes, so that the latter, blinded and going a little wild, rammed a dredger with a barge moored beside it, which lay at the western arm of the canal. She got clear though, and entered the canal pushing the barge before her. It was then that a shell hit the steam connections of her whistle, and the escape of steam which followed drove off some of the smoke and let her see what she was doing.

Lieutenant Stuart Bonham-Carter, commanding the Intrepid, placed the nose of his ship neatly on the mud of the western bank, ordered his crew away, and blew up his ship by the switches in the chart-room. Four dull bumps was all that could be heard; and immediately afterwards there arrived on deck the engineer, who had been in the engine-room during the explosion and reported that all was as it should be.

Lieutenant E.W. Billyard-Leake, commanding Iphigenia, beached her according to arrangement on the eastern side, blew her up, saw her drop nicely across the canal, and left her with her engines still going to hold her in position till she should have bedded well down on the bottom. According to latest reports from air observation, the two old ships with their holds full of concrete are lying across the canal in a V position; and it is probable that the work they set out to do has been accomplished and that the canal is effectively blocked.

A motor launch, under Lieutenant P.T. Deane, R.N.V.R., had followed them in to bring away the crews, and waited further up the canal towards the mouth against the western bank. Lieutenant Bonham-Carter, having sent away his boats, was reduced to a Carley float, an apparatus like an exaggerated lifebuoy with a floor of grating. Upon contact with the water it ignited a calcium flare, and he was adrift in the uncanny illumination with a German machine-gun a few hundred yards away giving him its undivided attention.

What saved him was possibly the fact that the defunct Intrepid was still emitting huge clouds of smoke, which it had been worth nobody's while to turn off. He managed to catch a rope as the motor launch started, and was towed for a while till he was observed and taken on board. Another officer jumped ashore and ran along the bank to the launch. A bullet from the machine-gun stung him as he ran, and when he arrived, charging down the bank out of the dark, he was received by a number of the launch's crew who attacked him with a hammer.

The whole harbor was alive with small craft. As the motor launch cleared the canal, and came forth to the incessant geysers thrown up by the shells, rescuers and rescued had a view of yet another phase of the attack. The shore end of the Mole consists of a jetty, and here an old submarine, commanded by Lieutenant R.D. Sandford, R.N., loaded with explosives, was run into the piles and touched off, her crew getting away in a boat to where the usual launch awaited them.

Officers describe the explosion as the greatest they ever witnessed—a huge roaring spout of flame that tore the jetty in half and left a gap of over 100 feet. The claim of another launch to have sunk a torpedo-boat alongside the jetty is supported by many observers, including officers of the Vindictive, who had seen her mast and funnel across the Mole and noticed them disappear.

Where every moment had its deed and every deed its hero, a recital of acts of valor becomes a mere catalogue. "The men were magnificent," say the officers; the men's opinion of their leaders expresses itself in the manner in which they followed them, in their cheers, in their demeanor to-day while they tidy up their battered ships, setting aside the inevitable souvenirs, from the bullet-torn engines to great chunks of Zeebrugge Mole dragged down and still hanging in the fenders of the Vindictive. The motor launch from the canal cleared the end of the Mole and there beheld, trim and ready, the shape of the Warwick, with the great silk flag presented to the Admiral by the officers of his old ship, the Centurion. They stood up on the crowded decks of the little craft and cheered it again and again.

While the Warwick took them on board, they saw Vindictive, towed loose from the Mole by Daffodil, turn and make for home—a great black shape, with funnels gapped and leaning out of the true, flying a vast streamer of flame as her stokers worked her up—her, the almost wreck—to a final display of seventeen knots. Her forward funnel was a sieve; her decks were a dazzle of sparks; but she brought back intact the horseshoe nailed to it, which Sir Roger Keyes had presented to her commander.

Meantime the destroyers North Star, Phœbe, and Warwick, which guarded the Vindictive from action by enemy destroyers while she lay beside the Mole, had their share in the battle. North Star, losing her way in the smoke, emerged to the light of the star-shells, and was sunk. The German communiqué, which states that only a few members of the crew could be saved by them, is in this detail of an unusual accuracy, for the Phœbe came up under a heavy fire in time to rescue nearly all. Throughout the operations monitors and the siege guns in Flanders, manned by the Royal Marine Artillery, heavily bombarded the enemy's batteries.

The wind that blew back the smoke-screen at Zeebrugge served us even worse off Ostend, where that and nothing else prevented the success of an operation ably directed by Commodore Hubert Lynes, C.M.G. The coastal motor boats had lit the approaches and the ends of the piers with calcium flares and made a smoke-cloud which effectually hid the fact from the enemy. Sirius and Brilliant were already past the Stroom Bank buoy when the wind changed, revealing the arrangements to the enemy, who extinguished the flares with gunfire.

The Sirius was already in a sinking condition when at length the two ships, having failed to find the entrance, grounded, and were forced therefore to sink themselves at a point about four hundred yards east of the piers, and their crews were taken off by motor launches.

The difficulty of the operation is to be gauged from the fact that from Zeebrugge to Ostend the enemy batteries number not less than 120 heavy guns, which can concentrate on retiring ships, during daylight, up to a distance of about sixteen miles. This imposes as a condition of success that the operation must be carried out at night, and not late in the night. It must take place at high water, with the wind from the right quarter, and with a calm sea for the small craft. The operation cannot be rehearsed beforehand, since the essence of it is secrecy, and though one might have to wait a long time to realize all the essential conditions of wind and weather, secrecy wears badly when large numbers of men are brought together in readiness for the attack.

The Sirius lies in the surf some two thousand yards east of the entrance to Ostend Harbor, which she failed so gallantly to block; and when, in the early hours of yesterday morning, the Vindictive groped her way through the smoke-screen and headed for the entrance, it was as though the old fighting-ship awoke and looked on. A coastal motor-boat had visited her and hung a flare in her slack and rusty rigging; and that eye of unsteady fire, paling in the blaze of the star-shells or reddening through the drift of the smoke, watched the whole great enterprise, from the moment when it hung in doubt to its ultimate triumphant success.

The planning and execution of that success had been entrusted by the Vice-Admiral, Sir Roger Keyes, to Commodore Hubert Lynes, C.M.G., who directed the previous attempt to block the harbor with Sirius and Brilliant. Upon that occasion, a combination of unforeseen, and unforeseeable, conditions had fought against him; upon this, the main problem was to secure the effect of a surprise attack upon an enemy who was clearly, from his ascertained dispositions, expecting him. Sirius and Brilliant had been baffled by the displacement of the Stroom Bank buoy, which marks the channel to the harbor entrance, but since then aerial reconnaissance had established that the Germans had removed the buoy altogether and that there were now no guiding marks of any kind. They had also cut gaps in the piers as a precaution against a landing; and, further, when towards midnight on Thursday the ships moved from their anchorage, it was known that some nine German destroyers were out and at large upon the coast. The solution of the problem is best indicated by the chronicle of the event.

It was a night that promised well for the enterprise—nearly windless, and what little breeze stirred came from a point or so west of north; a sky of lead-blue, faintly star-dotted, and no moon; a still sea for the small craft, the motor-launches and the coastal motor-boats, whose work is done close in shore. From the destroyer which served the Commodore for flagship, the remainder of the force was visible only as swift silhouettes of blackness, destroyers bulking like cruisers in the darkness, motor-launches like destroyers, and coastal motor-boats showing themselves as racing hillocks of foam. From Dunkirk, a sudden and brief flurry of gunfire announced that German aeroplanes were about—they were actually on their way to visit Calais; and over the invisible coast of Flanders the summer-lightning of the restless artillery rose and fell monotonously.

"There's Vindictive!" The muffled seamen and marines standing by the torpedo-tubes and the guns turned at that name to gaze at the great black ship, seen mistily through the streaming smoke from the destroyer's funnels, plodding silently to her goal and her end. Photographs have made familiar that high-sided profile and the tall funnels, with their Zeebrugge scars, always with a background of the pier at Dover against which she lay to be fitted for her last task; now there was added to her the environment of the night and the sea and the greatness and tragedy of her mission.

She receded into the night astern as the destroyer raced on to lay the light buoy that was to be her guide, and those on board saw her no more. She passed thence into the hands of the small craft, whose mission it was to guide her, light her, and hide her in the clouds of the smoke-screen.

There was no preliminary bombardment of the harbor and the batteries as before the previous attempt; that was to be the first element in the surprise. A time-table had been laid down for every stage of the operation; and the staff work beforehand had even included precise orders for the laying of the smoke barrage, with plans calculated for every direction of wind. The monitors, anchored in their firing-positions far to seaward, awaited their signal; the great siege batteries of the Royal Marine Artillery in Flanders—among the largest guns that have ever been placed on land-mountings—stood by likewise to neutralize the big German artillery along the coast; and the airmen who were to collaborate with an aerial bombardment of the town waited somewhere in the darkness overhead. The destroyers patrolled to seaward of the small craft.

The Vindictive, always at that solemn gait of hers, found the flagship's light-buoy and bore up for where a coastal motor-boat, commanded by Lieutenant William R. Slayter, R.N., was waiting by a calcium flare upon the old position of the Stroom Bank buoy. Four minutes before she arrived there, and fifteen minutes only before she was due at the harbor mouth, the signal for the guns to open was given. Two motor-boats dashed in towards the ends of the high wooden piers and torpedoed them. There was a machine-gun on the end of the western pier, and that vanished in the roar and the leap of flame and debris which called to the guns. Over the town a flame suddenly appeared high in air, and sank slowly earthwards—the signal that the aeroplanes had seen and understood; and almost coincident with their first bombs came the first shells whooping up from the monitors at sea. The surprise part of the attack was sprung.

The surprise, despite the German's watchfulness, seems to have been complete. Up till the moment when the torpedoes of the motor-boats exploded, there had not been a shot from the land—only occasional routine star-shells. The motor-launches were doing their work magnificently. These pocket-warships, manned by officers and men of the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve, are specialists at smoke-production; they built to either hand of the Vindictive's course the likeness of a dense sea-mist driving landward with the wind. The star-shells paled and were lost as they sank in it; the beams of the searchlights seemed to break off short upon its front. It blinded the observers of the great batteries when suddenly, upon the warning of the explosions, the guns roared into action.

There was a while of tremendous uproar. The coast about Ostend is ponderously equipped with batteries, each with its name known and identified: Tirpitz, Hindenburg, Deutschland, Cecilia, and the rest; they register from six inches up to monsters of fifteen-inch naval pieces in land-turrets, and the Royal Marine Artillery fights a war-long duel with them. These now opened fire into the smoke and over it at the monitors; the Marines and the monitors replied; and, meanwhile, the aeroplanes were bombing methodically and the anti-craft guns were searching the skies for them, Star-shells spouted up and floated down, lighting the smoke banks with spreading green fires; and those strings of luminous green balls, which airmen call "flaming onions," soared up up to lose themselves in the clouds. Through all this stridency and blaze of conflict, the old Vindictive, still unhurrying, was walking the lighted waters towards the entrance.

It was then that those on the destroyers became aware that what had seemed to be merely smoke was wet and cold, that the rigging was beginning to drip, that there were no longer stars—a sea-fog had come on.

The destroyers had to turn on their lights and use their sirens to keep in touch with each other; the air attack was suspended, and Vindictive, with some distance yet to go, found herself in gross darkness.

There were motor-boats to either side of her, escorting her to the entrance, and these were supplied with what are called Dover flares—enormous lights capable of illuminating square miles of sea at once. A "Very" pistol was fired as a signal to light these; but the fog and the smoke together were too dense for even the flares. Vindictive then put her helm over and started to cruise to find the entrance. Twice in her wanderings she must have passed across it, and at her third turn, upon reaching the position at which she had first lost her way, there came a rift in the mist, and she saw the entrance clear, the piers to either side and the opening dead ahead. The inevitable motor-boat dashed up, raced on into the opening under a heavy and momentarily growing fire, and planted a flare on the water between the piers. Vindictive steamed over it and on. She was in.

The guns found her at once. She was hit every few seconds after she entered, her scarred hull broken afresh in a score of places and her decks and upper works swept. The machine-gun on the end of the western pier had been put out of action by the motor-boat's torpedo, but from other machine-guns at the inshore ends of the pier, from a position on the front, and from machine-guns apparently firing over the eastern pier, there converged upon her a hail of lead. The after-control was demolished by a shell which killed all its occupants. Upper and lower bridges and chart-room were swept by bullets, and Commander Godsal, R.N., ordered his officers to go with him to the conning-tower.

They observed through the observation slit in the steel wall of the conning-tower that the eastern pier was breached some two hundred yards from its seaward end, as though at some time a ship had been in collision with it. They saw the front of the town silhouetted again and again in the light of the guns that blazed at them; the night was a patchwork of fire and darkness. Immediately after passing the breach in the pier. Commander Godsal left the conning-tower and went out on deck, the better to watch the ship's movements; he chose his position, and called in through the slit of the conning-tower his order to starboard the helm. The Vindictive responded; she laid her battered nose to the eastern pier and prepared to swing her 320 feet of length across the channel.

It was at that moment that a shell from the shore batteries struck the conning-tower. Lieutenant Sir John Alleyne and Lieutenant V.A.C. Crutchley, R.N., were still within; Commander Godsal was close to the tower outside. Lieutenant Alleyne was stunned by the shock; Lieutenant Crutchley shouted through the slit to the Commander, and, receiving no answer, rang the port engine full speed astern to help in swinging the ship. By this time she was lying at an angle of about forty degrees to the pier, and seemed to be hard and fast, so that it was impossible to bring her further round.

After working the engines for some minutes to no effect, Lieutenant Crutchley gave the order to clear the engine-room and abandon ship, according to the programme previously laid down. Engineer Lieutenant-Commander Wm. A. Bury, who was the last to leave the engine-room, blew the main charges by the switch installed aft; Lieutenant Crutchley blew the auxiliary charges in the forward six-inch magazine from the conning-tower. Those on board felt the old ship shrug as the explosive tore the bottom plates and the bulk-heads from her; she sank about six feet and lay upon the bottom of the channel. Her work was done.

It is to be presumed that Commander Godsal was killed by the shell which struck the conning-tower. Lieutenant Crutchley, searching the ship before he left her, failed to find his body, or that of Sub-Lieutenant MacLachlan, in that wilderness of splintered wood and shattered steel. In the previous attempt to block the port, Commander Godsal had commanded Brilliant, and, together with all the officers of that ship and of Sirius, had volunteered at once for a further operation.

Most of the casualties were incurred while the ship was being abandoned. The men behaved with just that cheery discipline and courage which distinguished them in the Zeebrugge raid.

Always according to programme, the recall rockets for the small craft were fired from the flagship at 2.30 a.m. The great red rockets whizzed up to lose themselves in the fog; they cannot have been visible half a mile away; but the work was done, and one by one the launches and motor-boats commenced to appear from the fog, stopped their engines alongside the destroyers and exchanged news with them. There were wounded men to be transferred and dead men to be reported—their names called briefly across the water from the little swaying deck to the crowded rail above. But no one had seen a single enemy craft; the nine German destroyers who were out and free to fight had chosen the discreeter part.

It is not claimed by the officers who carried out the operation that Ostend Harbor is completely blocked; but its purpose—to embarrass the enemy and make the harbor impracticable to any but small craft and dredging operations difficult—has been fully accomplished.

Too little was heard during the war of the work of the American submarines, but they performed most efficient and useful service. A sketch of the life aboard one of these little vessels follows.

WITH THE AMERICAN SUBMARINES

HENRY B. BESTON

A London day of soft and smoky skies, darkened every now and then by capricious and intrusive little showers, was drawing to a close in a twilight of gold and gray. Our table stood in a bay of plate-glass windows overlooking the Embankment close by Cleopatra's Needle. We watched the little double-decked tram-cars gliding by, the opposing, interthreading streams of pedestrians, and a fleet of coal barges coming up the river, solemn as a cloud.

Behind us lay, splendid and somewhat theatric, the mottled marble, stiff white napery, and bright silver of a fashionable dining-hall. Only a few guests were at hand. At our little table sat the captain of a submarine who was then in London for a few days on richly merited leave, a distinguished young officer of the "mother ship" accompanying our underwater craft, and myself. It is impossible to be long with submarine folk without realizing that they are a people apart, differing from the rest of the naval personnel even as their vessels differ. A man must have something individual to his character to volunteer for the service, and every officer is a volunteer. An extraordinary power of quick decision, a certain keen, resolute look, a certain carriage; submarine folk are such men as all of us like to have by our side in any great trial or crisis of our life.

Guests began to come by twos and threes—pretty girls in shimmering dresses, young army officers with wound-stripes and clumsy limps. A faint murmur of conversation rose, faint and continuous as the murmur of a distant stream.

Because I requested him, the captain told me of the crossing of the submarines. It was the epic of an heroic journey.

"After each boat had been examined in detail, we began to fill them with supplies for the voyage. The crew spent days manœuvring cases of condensed milk, cans of butter, meat, and chocolate, down the hatchways—food which the boat swallowed up as if she had been a kind of steel stomach. Until we had it all neatly and tightly stowed away, the Z looked like a corner grocery store. Then, early one December morning, we pulled out of the harbor. It wasn't very cold, merely raw and damp, and it was misty dark. I remember looking at the winter stars riding high just over the meridian. The port behind us was still and dead, but a handful of navy-folk had come to one of the wharves to see us off. Yes, there was something of a stir—you know, the kind of stir that's made when boats go to sea: shouted orders, the plash of dropped cables, vagrant noises. It didn't take a great time to get under way; we were ready, waiting for the word to go. The flotilla—mother-ship, tugs and all—was out to sea long before the dawn. You would have liked the picture: the immense stretch of the grayish, winter-stricken sea, the little covey of submarines running awash, the gray mother-ship going ahead, as casually as an excursion steamer, into the featureless dawn.

"The weather was wonderful for two days,—a touch of Indian summer on December's ocean; then, on the night of the third day, we ran into a blow, the worst I ever saw in my life. A storm—oh, boy!"

He paused for an instant. One could see memories living in the fine, resolute eyes. The broken noises of the restaurant, which had seemingly died away while he spoke, crept back again to one's ears. A waiter dropped a clanging fork—

"A storm. Never remember anything like it. A perfect terror. Everybody realized that any attempt to keep together would be hopeless. And night was coming on. One by one the submarines disappeared into that fury of wind and driving water, the mother-ship, because she was the largest vessel in the flotilla, being the last we saw. We snatched her last signal out of the teeth of the gale, and then she was gone, swallowed up in the storm. So we were alone.

"We got through the night somehow or other. The next morning the ocean was a dirty brown-gray, and knots and wisps of cloud were tearing by close over the water. Every once in a while a great hollow-bellied wave would come rolling out of the hullabaloo and break thundering over us. On all the boats the lookout on the bridge had to be lashed in place, and every once in a while a couple of tons of water would come tumbling past him. Nobody at the job stayed dry for more than three minutes; a bathing-suit would have been more to the point than oilers.

"Shaken, you ask? No, not very bad: a few assorted bruises and a wrenched thumb; though poor Jonesy on the Z-3 had a wave knock him up against the rail and smash in a couple of ribs. But no being sick for him; he kept to his feet and carried on in spite of the pain, in spite of being in a boat which registered a roll of seventy degrees. I used to watch the old hooker rolling under me. You've never been on a submarine when she's rolling,—talk about rolling—oh, boy! We all say seventy degrees, because that's as far as our instruments register. There were times when I almost thought she was on her way to make a complete revolution. You can imagine what it was like inside. To begin with, the oily air was none too sweet, because every time we opened a hatch we shipped enough water to make the old hooker look like a start at a swimming tank; and then she was lurching so continuously and violently that to move six feet was an expedition. The men were wonderful—wonderful! Each man at his allotted task, and—what's that English word?—carrying on. Our little cook couldn't do a thing with the stove, might as well have tried to cook on a miniature earthquake; but he saw that all of us had something to eat—doing his bit, game as could be."

He paused again. The Embankment was fading away in the dark. A waiter appeared, and drew down the thick, light-proof curtains.

"Yes, the men were wonderful—wonderful. And there wasn't very much sickness. Let's see, how far had I got?—Since it was impossible to make any headway, we lay to for forty-eight hours. The deck began to go the second morning, some of the plates being ripped right off. And blow—well, as I told you in the beginning, I never saw anything like it. The disk of the sea was just one great ragged mass of foam being hurled through space by a wind screaming past with the voice and force of a million express trains.

"Perhaps you are wondering why we didn't submerge. We simply couldn't use up our electricity. It takes oil and running on the surface to create the electric power, and we had a long, long journey ahead. Then ice began to form on the superstructure, and we had to get out a crew to chop it off. It was something of a job; there wasn't much to hang on to, and the waves were still breaking over us. But we freed her of the danger, and she went on—

"We used to wonder where the other boys were, in the midst of all the racket. One ship was drifting toward the New England coast, her compass smashed to flinders; others had run for Bermuda, others were still at sea.

"Then we had three days of good easterly wind. By jingo, but the good weather was great! Were we glad to have it?—oh, boy! We had just got things shipshape again when we had another blow, but this second one was by no means as bad as the first. And after that we had another spell of decent weather. The crew used to start the phonograph and keep it going all day.

"The weather was so good that I decided to keep right on to the harbor which was to be our base over here. I had enough oil, plenty of water; the only possible danger was a shortage of provisions. So I put us all on a ration, arranging to have the last grand meal on Christmas day. Can you imagine Christmas on a little storm-bumped submarine some hundred miles off the coast? A day or two more and we ran calmly into—shall we say, 'deleted' harbor?

"Hungry, dirty; oh, so dirty! We hadn't had any sort of bath or wash for about three weeks; we all were green-looking from having been cooped up so long, and our unshaven grease-streaked faces would have upset a dinosaur. The authorities were wonderfully kind, and looked after us and our men in the very best style. I thought we could never stop eating, and a real sleep—oh, boy!"

"Did you fly the flag as you came in?" I asked.

"You bet we did!" answered the captain, his keen, handsome face lighting at the memory. "You see," he continued in a practical spirit, "they would probably have pumped us full of holes if we hadn't."

And that is the way the American submarines crossed the Atlantic to do their share for the Great Cause.

I got to the port of the submarines just as an uncertain and rainy afternoon had finally decided to turn into a wild and disagreeable night. Short, drenching showers of rain fell, one after the other, like the strokes of a lash; a wind came up out of the sea, and one could hear the thunder of surf on the headlands. The mother-ship lay moored in a wild, desolate, and indescribably romantic bay; she floated in a sheltered pool, a very oasis of modernity, a marvelous creature of another world and another time. There was just light enough for me to see that her lines were those of a giant yacht. Then a curtain of rain beat hissing down on the sea, and the ship and the vague darkening landscape disappeared—disappeared as if they had melted away in the shower. Presently the bulk of the vessel appeared again. At once we drew alongside, and from that moment on, I was the guest of the vessel, recipient of a hospitality and courtesy for which I here make grateful acknowledgment to my friends and hosts.

The mother-ship of the submarines was a combination of flagship, supply-station, repair-shop, and hotel. The officers of the submarines had rooms aboard her, which they occupied when off patrol, and the crews off duty slung their hammocks 'tween decks. The boat was pretty well crowded, having more submarines to look after than she had been built to care for; but thanks to the skill of her officers, everything was going as smoothly as could be. The vessel had, so to speak, a submarine atmosphere. Everybody aboard lived, worked, and would have died for the submarine. They believed in the submarine, believed in it with an enthusiasm which rested on pillars of practical fact.

The chief of staff was the youngest captain in our navy; a man of hard energy and keen insight; one to whom our submarine service owes a very genuine debt. His officers were specialists: the surgeon of the vessel had been for years engaged in studying the hygiene of submarines, and was constantly working to free the atmosphere of the vessels from deleterious gases and to improve the living conditions of the crews. I remember listening one night to a history of the submarine, told by one of the officers of the staff; and for the first time in my life I came to appreciate at its full value the heroism of the men who risked their lives in the first cranky, clumsy, uncertain little vessels, and the imagination and the faith of the men who believed in the type. Ten years ago, a descent in a sub was an adventure to be prefaced by tears and making of wills; to-day submarines are chasing submarines hundreds of miles at sea, are crossing the ocean, and have grown from a tube of steel not much larger than a lifeboat, to underwater cruisers which carry six-inch guns.

Said an officer to me, "The future of the submarine? Why, sir, the submarine is the only war vessel that's going to have a future!"

On the night of my arrival, once dinner was over, I went on deck and looked down through the rain at the submarines moored alongside. They lay close by, one beside the other, in a pool of radiance cast by a number of electric lights hanging over each open hatchway. Beyond this pool lay the rain and the dark; within it, their sides awash in the clear green water of the bay, their gray bridges and rust-stained superstructures shining in the rain, lay the strange, bulging, crocodilian shapes of steel. There was something unearthly, something not of this world or time, in the picture; I might have been looking at invaders of the sleeping earth. The wind swept past in great booming salvoes; rain fell in sloping, liquid rods through the brilliancy of electric lamps burning with a steadiness that had something in it strange, incomprehensible, and out of place in the motion of the storm.

And then a hand appeared on the topmost rung of the nearer ladder, and a bulky sailor, a very human sailor in very human dungarees, poked his head out of the aperture, surveyed the inhospitable night, and disappeared.

"He's on Branch's boat. They're going out to-night," said the officer who was guiding me about.

"To-night? How on earth will he ever find his way to the open sea?"

"Knows the bay like a book. However, if the weather gets any worse, I doubt if the captain will let him go. Branch will be wild if they don't let him out. Somebody has just reported wreckage off the coast, so there must be a Hun round."

"But aren't our subs sometimes mistaken for Germans?"

"Oh, yes," was the calm answer.

I thought of that ominous phrase I had noted in the British records,—"failed to report,"—and I remembered the stolid British captain who had said to me, speaking of submarines, "Sometimes nobody knows just what happened. Out there in the deep water, whatever happens, happens in a hurry."

My guide and I went below to the officers' corridor. Now and then, through the quiet, a mandolin or guitar could be heard far off twanging some sentimental island ditty; and beneath these sweeter sounds lay a monotonous mechanical humming.

"What's that sound?" I asked.

"That's the Filipino mess-boys having a little festino in their quarters. The humming? Oh, that's the mother-ship's dynamos charging the batteries of Branch's boat. Saves running on the surface."

My guide knocked at a door. Within his tidy little room, the captain who was to go out on patrol was packing the personal belongings he needed on the trip.

"Hello!" he cried cheerily when he saw us; "come on in. I'm only doing a little packing up. What's it like outside?"

"Raining same as ever, but I don't think it's blowing up any harder."

"Hooray!" cried the young captain with heartfelt sincerity; "then I'll get out to-night. You know the captain told me that if it got any worse, he'd hold me till to-morrow morning. I told him I'd rather go out to-night. Perfect cinch once you get to the mouth of the bay; all you have to do is submerge and take it easy. What do you think of the news? Smithie thinks he saw a Hun yesterday. Got anything good to read? Somebody's pinched that magazine I was reading. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen—that ought to be enough handkerchiefs. Hello, there goes the juice!"

The humming of the dynamo was dying away slowly, fading with an effect of lengthening distance. The guitar orchestra, as if to celebrate its deliverance, burst into a triumphant rendering of Sousa's "Stars and Stripes."

My guide and I waited till after midnight to watch the going of Branch's Z-5. Branch and his second, stuffed into black oilskins down whose gleaming surface ran beaded drops of rain, stood on the bridge; a number of sailors were busy doing various things along the deck. The electric lights shone in all their calm unearthly brilliance. Then slowly, very slowly, the Z-5 began to gather headway, the clear water seemed to flow past her green sides, and she rode out of the pool of light into the darkness waiting close at hand.

"Good-bye! Good luck!" we cried.

A vagrant shower came roaring down into the shining pool.

"Good-bye!" cried voices through the night.

Three minutes later all trace of the Z-5 had disappeared in the dark.

Captain Bill of the Z-3 was out on patrol. His vessel was running submerged. The air within—they had but recently dived—was new and sweet; and that raw cold which eats into submerged submarines had not begun to take the joy out of life. It was the third day out; the time, five o'clock in the afternoon. The outer world, however, did not penetrate into the submarine. Night or day, on the surface or submerged, only one time, a kind of motionless electric high noon, existed within those concave walls of gleaming cream-white enamel.

Those of the crew not on watch were taking it easy. Like unto their officers, submarine sailors are an unusual lot. They are real sailors, or machinist sailors—boys for whose quality the navy has a flattering, picturesque, and quite unprintable adjective. A submarine man, mind you, works harder than perhaps any other man of his grade in the navy, because the vessel in which he lives is nothing but a tremendously intricate machine.

In one of the compartments the phonograph, the eternal, ubiquitous phonograph of the navy, was bawling its raucous rags and mechano-nasal songs, and in the pauses between records, one could just hear the low hum of the distant dynamos. A little group in blue dungarees held a conversation in a corner; a petty officer, blue cap tilted back on his head, was at work on a letter; the cook, whose genial art was customarily under an interdict while the vessel was running submerged, was reading an ancient paper from his own home town.

Captain Bill sat in a retired nook, if a submarine can possibly be said to have a retired nook, with a chart spread open on his knees. The night before, he had picked up a wireless message saying that a German had been seen at sundown in a certain spot on the edge of his patrol. So Captain Bill had planned to run submerged to the spot in question, and then pop up suddenly in the hope of potting the Hun. Some fifteen minutes before sundown, therefore, the Z-3 arrived at the place where the Fritz had been observed.

"I wish I knew just where the bird was," said an intent voice; "I'd drop a can right on his neck."

These sentiments were not those of anybody aboard the Z-3. An American destroyer had also come to the spot looking for the German, and the gentle thought recorded above was that of her captain. It was just sundown; a level train of splendor burned on the ruffled waters to the west; a light, cheerful breeze was blowing. The destroyer, ready for anything, was hurrying along at a smart clip.

"This is the place all right, all right," said the navigator of the destroyer. "Come to think of it, that chap's been reported from here twice."

Keen eyes swept the shining uneasy plain.

Meanwhile, some seventy feet below, the Z-3 manœuvred, killing time. The phonograph had been hushed, and every man was ready at his post. The prospect of a go with the enemy had brought with it a keen thrill of anticipation. Now, a submarine crew is a well-trained machine. There are no shouted orders. If a submarine captain wants to send his boat under quickly, he simply touches the button of a Klaxon; the horn gives a demoniac yell throughout the ship, and each man does what he ought to do at once. Such a performance is called a "crash dive."

"I'd like to see him come up so near that we could ram him," said the captain, gazing almost directly into the sun. "Find out what she's making."

The engineer lieutenant stooped to a voice-tube that almost swallowed up his face, and yelled a question to the engine-room. An answer came, quite unheard by the others.

"Twenty-four, sir," said the engineer lieutenant.

"Get her up to twenty-six."

The engineer cried again through the voice-tube. The wake of the vessel roared like a mill-race, the white foam tumbling rosily in the setting sun.

Seventy feet below, Captain Bill was arranging the last little details with the second in command.

"In about five minutes we'll come up and take a look-see [stick up the periscope], and if we see the bird, and we're in a good position to send him a fish [torpedo], we'll let him have one. If there is something there, and we're not in a good position, we'll manœuvre till we get into one, and then let him have it. If there isn't anything to be seen, we'll go under again and take another look-see in half an hour. Reilly has his instructions." (Reilly was chief of the torpedo-room.)

"Something round here must have got it in the neck recently," said the destroyer captain, breaking a silence which had hung over the bridge. "Didn't you think that wreckage a couple of miles back looked pretty fresh? Wonder if the boy we're after had anything to do with it. Keep an eye on that sun-streak."

An order was given in the Z-3. It was followed instantly by a kind of commotion—sailors opened valves, compressed air ran down pipes, the ratchets of the wheel clattered noisily. On the moon-faced depth-gauge, with its shining brazen rim, the recording arrow fled swiftly, counter clockwise, from seventy to twenty, to fifteen feet. Captain Bill stood crouching at the periscope, and when it broke the surface, a greenish light poured down it and focused in his eyes. He gazed keenly for a few seconds, and then reached for the horizontal wheel which turns the periscope round the horizon. He turned—gazed, jumped back, and pushed the button for a crash dive.

"She was almost on top of me," he explained afterwards, "coming like hell! I had to choose between being rammed or depth-bombed."

There was another swift commotion, another opening and closing of valves, and the arrow on the depth-gauge leaped forward. Captain Bill was sending her down as far as he could, as fast as he dared. Fifty feet, seventy feet—ninety feet. Hoping to throw the destroyer off, the Z-3 doubled on her track. A hundred feet.

Crash! Depth-charge number one.

According to Captain Bill, who is good at similes, it was as if a giant, wading along through the sea, had given the boat a vast and violent kick, and then, leaning down, had shaken her as a terrier shakes a rat. The Z-3 rocked, lay on her side, and fell through the water. A number of lights went out. Men picked themselves out of corners, one with the blood streaming down his face from a bad gash over his eye. Many of them told later of "seeing stars" when the vibration of the depth-charge traveled through the hull and their own bodies; some averred that "white light" seemed to shoot out of the Z-3's walls. Each man stood at his post waiting for the next charge.

Crash! A second depth-charge. To everyone's relief, it was less violent than the first. A few more lights went out. Meanwhile the Z-3 continued to sink and was rapidly nearing the danger-point. Having escaped the first two depth-charges, Captain Bill hastened to bring the boat up to a higher level. Then, to make things cheerful, it was discovered that the Z-3 showed absolutely no inclination to obey her controls.

"At first," said Captain Bill, "I thought that the first depth-bomb must have jammed all the external machinery; then I decided that our measures to rise had not yet overcome the impetus of our forced descent. Meanwhile the old hooker was heading for the bottom of the Irish Sea, though I'd blown out every bit of water in her tanks. Had to—fifty feet more, and she would have crushed in like an egg-shell under the wheel of a touring-car. But she kept on going down. The distance of the third, fourth, and fifth depth-bombs, however, put cheer in our hearts. Then, presently, she began to rise; the old girl came up like an elevator in a New York business block. I knew that the minute I came to the surface those destroyer brutes would try to fill me full of holes, so I had a man with a flag ready to jump on deck the minute we emerged. He was pretty damn spry about it, too. I took another look through the periscope, and saw that the destroyer lay about two miles away, and as I looked she came for me again. Meanwhile, my signal-man was hauling himself out of the hatchway as if his legs were in boiling water."

"We've got her!" cried somebody aboard the destroyer, in a deep American voice full of the exultation of battle. The lean rifles swung, lowered. "Point one, lower." They were about to hear "Fire!" when the Stars and Stripes and sundry other signals burst from the deck of the misused Z-3.

"Well, what do you think of that!" said the gunner. "If it ain't one of our own gang. Say, we must have given it to 'em hard."

"We'll go over and see who it is," said the captain of the destroyer. "The signals are O.K., but it may be a dodge of the Huns. Ask 'em who they are."

In obedience to the order, a sailor on the destroyer's bridge wigwagged the message.

"Z-3," answered one of the dungaree-clad figures on the submarine's deck.

Captain Bill came up himself, as the destroyer drew alongside, to see his would-be assassin. There was no resentment in his heart. The adventure was only part of the day's work. The destroyer neared; her bow overlooked them. The two captains looked at each other. The dialogue was laconic.

"Hello, Bill," said the destroyer captain. "All right?"

"Sure," answered Captain Bill, to one who had been his friend and classmate.

"Ta-ta, then," said he of the destroyer; and the lean vessel swept away in the twilight.

Captain Bill decided to stay on the surface for a while. Then he went below to look over things. The cook, standing over some unlovely slop which marked the end of a half a dozen eggs broken by the concussion, was giving his opinion on destroyers. The cook was a child of Brooklyn, and could talk. The opinion was not a nice opinion.

"Give it to 'em, cooko," said one of the crew, patting the orator affectionately on the shoulder. "We're with you."

And Captain Bill laughed to himself.

The breakfast-hour was drawing to its end, and the very last straggler sat alone at the ward-room table. Presently an officer of the mother-ship, passing through, called to the lingering group of submarine officers.

"The X-4 is coming up the bay, and the X-12 has been reported from signal station."

The news was received with a little hum of friendly interest. "Wonder what Ned will have to say for himself this time." "Must have struck pretty good weather." "Bet you John has been looking for another chance at that Hun of his."

The talk drifted away into other channels. A little time passed. Then suddenly a door opened, and, one after the other, entered the three officers of the first home-coming submarine. They were clad in various ancient uniforms which might have been worn by an apprentice lad in a garage: old gray flannel shirts, and stout grease-stained shoes; several days had passed since their faces had felt a razor, and all were a little pale from their cruise. But the liveliest of keen eyes burned in each resolute young face, eyes smiling and glad.

A friendly hullabaloo broke forth. Chairs scraped, one fell with a crash.

"Hello, boys!"

"Hi, Ned!"

"For the love of Pete, Joe, shave off those whiskers of yours; they make you look like Trotzky."

"See any Germans?"

"What's the news?"

"What's doing?"

"Hi, Manuelo"—this to a Filipino mess-boy who stood looking on with impassive curiosity—"serve three more breakfasts."

"Anything go for you?"

"Well, if here isn't our old Bump!"

The crowd gathered round Captain Ned, who had established contact (this is a military term quite out of place in a work on the navy) with the eagerly sought, horribly elusive German.

"Go on, Ned, give us an earful. What time did you say it was?"

"About 5 a.m." answered the captain. He stood leaning against a door, and the fine head, the pallor, the touch of fatigue, all made a very striking and appealing picture. "Say about eight minutes after five. I'd just come up to take a look-see, and saw him just about two miles away, on the surface, and moving right along. So I went under to get into a good position, came up again, and let him have one. Well, he saw it just as it was almost on him, swung her round, and dived like a ton of lead."

The audience listened in silent sympathy. One could see the disappointment on the captain's face.

"Where was he?"

"About so-and-so."

"That's the jinx that got after the convoy sure as you live."

The speaker had had his own adventures with the Germans. A month or so before, he had shoved up his periscope and spotted a Fritz on the surface in full noonday. The watchful Fritz, however, had been lucky enough to see the enemy almost at once, and had dived. The American followed suit. The eyeless submarine manœuvred about, some eighty feet under, the German evidently "making his getaway," the American hoping to be lucky enough to pick up Fritz's trail, and get a shot at him when he rose again to the top. And while the two blind ships manœuvred there in the dark of the abyss, the keel of the fleeing German had actually, by a curious chance, scraped along the top of the American vessel and carried away the wireless aerials!

All were silent for a few seconds, thinking over the affair. It was not difficult to read the thought in every mind, the thought of getting at the Germans. The characteristic aggressiveness of the American mind, heritage of a people compelled to subdue a vast, wild continent, is a wonderful military attribute. The idea of our navy is, "Get after 'em, keep after 'em, stay after 'em, don't give 'em an instant of security or rest." And none have this fighting spirit deeper in their hearts than our gallant boys of the submarine patrol.

"That's all," said Captain Ned. "I'm going to have a wash-up." He lifted a grease-stained hand to his cheek, rubbed his unshaven beard, and grinned. "Any letters?"

"Whole bag of stuff. Smithie put it on your desk."

Captain Ned wandered off. Presently, the door opened again, and three more veterans of the patrol cruised in, also in ancient uniforms. There were more cheers; more friendly cries. It was unanimously decided that the "Trotzky" of the first lot had better take a back seat, since the second in command of the newcomers was "a perfect ringer for Rasputin."

"See anything?"

"Nothing much. There's a bit of wreckage just off shore. Saw a British patrol boat early Tuesday morning. I was on the surface, lying between her and the sunrise; she was hidden by a low-lying swirl of fog; she saw us first. When we saw her, I made signals, and over she came. Guess what the old bird wanted—wanted to know if I'd seen a torpedo he'd fired at me! An old scout with white whiskers; one of those retired captains, I suppose, who has gone back on the job. He admitted he had received the Admiralty notes about us, but thought we acted suspicious. Did you ever hear of such nerve?"

When the war was young, I served on land with messieurs les poilus. I have seen the contests of aviators, also trench-raids and the fighting for Verdun. Since then I have seen the war at sea. To my mind, if there is one service of this war which more than any other requires those qualities of endurance, skill, and courage whose blend the fighting men call—Elizabethanly, but oh, so truly—"guts," it is the submarine patrol.

France took tender care of her wounded heroes, and the following narrative gives a number of touching incidents observed by one who visited several of the French hospitals and received stories and experiences from the wounded soldiers.

WOUNDED HEROES OF FRANCE

ABBÉ FELIX KLEIN

The descriptions which are to follow belong to history already ancient; to the end of 1917 and the beginning of 1918. So rapid is the march of events with us now!

The soldier wounded during the first months of the War came to us overflowing with enthusiasm, eager to express himself. His mind was full of picturesque and varied impressions and he asked for nothing better than to tell about them. Willingly he described the emotions and spirit of the moment of departure; his curiosity in the presence of the unknown, the shock of the first contact with the enemy, the dizzy joy of initial successes. He confessed the amazement and pain of the first checks and the headlong retreat which followed them. He spoke of the famous Joffre's "ordre du jour" when, in the battle of the Marne, the men were told to take the offensive. They stopped the enemy. They pursued him. They experienced the intoxication of a victory that gave back to France her old prestige and felt with certainty, although at first confusedly, that their battle was a decisive event in human history.

To this brilliant and epic beginning succeeded a long and sombre tragedy, to this Iliad worthy of a Homer an Inferno worthy of a Dante. So we cannot wonder that the wounded of 1918 differed from those of 1914, and that their faces, like the face of the Florentine poet returning from hell, reflected the terrible things through which they had passed. The suffering of years, the eternal waiting for a decision of arms that did not come, the increasing horror of confronting weapons unknown in the early months—heavy artillery, gas, liquid fire, aëroplane attacks—left their mark upon our soldiers.

Dante imagines the terrible things he recounts. Our soldiers have seen them face to face. New Year after New Year has come and gone, and found them living underground, in constant danger of unseen and unavoidable forms of death, huddled together in damp, dark holes, exposed to rain and snow and shell fire. Rarely was there fighting—as we used to understand the term—but daily death took its toll, and ill and wounded were evacuated to the rear.

Ardor they certainly retained for the assault, and heroism for confronting sheets of fire, or clouds of asphyxiating gas; but in the scientific operation which the modern battle has become, most things that are purely personal are more to be dreaded than desired, a fiery temper counts for much less than coolness, discipline, mastery of self, the spirit of abnegation and self-sacrifice. And when the battle was won, that is to say, when they had taken, not a town with a resounding name, but the ruins of a village, a treeless forest, a dismantled fort, a hill thirty metres high, the survivors still had a task before them which had lost none of its roughness or austerity. They had to organize the new position in haste, dig other shelters, undergo bombardments and reject counter-attacks, all the more violent because the enemy, supported in the rear by positions prepared in advance, was more furious than ever after defeat. Thus it continued—until now, even now, when under the irresistible pressure of the French, the English and the Americans, the German wall is crumbling. At last it will be broken, and the victorious flood of the armies of democracy will pass through. Then our invaded provinces and the sacred soil of Belgium will be freed; then the conditions of just and honorable peace among all the nations of the earth may be dictated on the banks of the Rhine—or farther, if necessary.

But to support, while we waited, the monotonous trench-life to accomplish the rapid nocturnal raids or the formidable exploits of the great days and weeks of offensive, required more than that brilliant quality of our fathers, the furia francese that was the synonym of overwhelming courage and the ardor which commands victory. Patience to wait, resignation to accept, tenacity to prolong efforts, deliberate and indomitable will to overcome trials, within and without and to press on to the distant goal of final victory were above all things necessary.

These qualities, summed up in one expression: "To the end!" so profoundly different from those which hitherto have passed as characteristic of our race, were the ones most noticeable in our combatant of the fourth year of the War. Youthful enthusiasm was no more; each man numbered the dangers run, each man took clear account of those to come.

Only austere love of duty can sustain a man at such a height. A schoolmaster-sergeant of Lyon, Philippe Gonnard, voices it to a friend inclined to pity him: he was ill enough to get his freedom, but wished, nevertheless, to keep at his post until he was killed: "I intend to stay at the front.... Patriotism for me is a passion. Does that mean that I am happy here far from all I love? You do not think that and I have often said I am not, in prose and verse. But from now until peace, no man of heart can be happy. If I came back, I should be still less happy, because instead of being dissatisfied with my lot, I should be dissatisfied with myself."

More or less consciously, this was the rock bottom of the character of the soldier of France after three and a half years of war: "Will always on the stretch, anguish conquered, melancholy transformed into nobility of soul—as long as literature does not portray these essential traits of the soldier," says one of our best author-combatants, "all it creates will only be artificial and bear no relation to reality."

"No matter, it is for France!" says the wounded soldier to the comrades bending over him, and if it is during an attack he tells them not to stop, not to carry him away "because it is no longer worth while," but to continue without him the noble work for which he is offering his life. Let a chaplain bring him divine help in time and he will die more than resigned, joyous and radiant in the faith of his childhood, bewailing his sins and kissing the crucifix like the French of the Middle Ages. How many times, in the horrible frame of modern war, have words been uttered, scenes enacted, agonies suffered which echoed the most sublime passages of the Chanson de Roland!

But, thank God, among those who fall without being killed outright, the minority are mortally wounded. Most of them are destined to get well or at least to survive: they know it, and are glad. As soon as they regain consciousness after the shock, the first idea is: "Am I really not dead?" To be wounded does not disconcert them at all. "We are here for that!" said, the other day, one of my young friends of the class 1915, who by exception has been preserved until now. The alternative, in this present War, is not to come out of it wounded, or unwounded, but wounded or dead: to escape death is all that one can reasonably ask. Men who have only been wounded once, are more and more scarce, some have returned to the front four or five times. We had at the hospital a year ago an American sergeant of the Foreign Legion, engaged at Orleans in August, 1914, who having fought in Champagne, on the Somme and in Alsace, had received three wounds, the last at the end of 1915, at Belloy-en-Santerre, when a German bomb had badly damaged his left thigh: "the last" up to that time, for he had to go back under fire and will in all probability receive a fourth wound.

Those slightly wounded have not much merit, it must be confessed, in being resigned or even joyful. After a rapid dressing at the first station they will rest several days at the hospital at the front, and then get leave of convalescence which they will pass with their families. A wound for them, who can bear a little suffering, means an unexpected holiday and supplementary permission. They are only sorry if they are hit stupidly, out of action or at the beginning of a well-prepared attack, and prevented from going on with it. Let us leave them to their good luck, and stay longer with the severely wounded, those, for instance, who have a leg or arm broken, a fractured jaw, vertebra or ribs bruised, or are deprived of one of their senses—blind, deaf, paralyzed. We unhesitatingly acknowledge that these three last categories of wounded feel their misery profoundly, and need time to get used to it. Those, happily much more numerous, who have only temporarily or permanently lost the use of one of their limbs, generally consider themselves very fortunate. "I have the good wound!" they affect to say, meaning that the War is over for them. So at least they express themselves, not at all wishing to be admired, and trying as it were, to minimize their courage in bearing their trial.

But aside from this paradoxical attitude, they frequently speak and act in the most simple, touching way! It is common to hear one say to the stretcher-bearer who comes to fetch him: "Take my comrade here first; he is much more wounded than I; I can wait...." And that when it means lying on the ground under the bombardment, thirsty, feverish, feeling his strength ebb with his blood. Before any one comes back to get him, often he will try again, if he has a sound arm left, to fire his rifle or his machine-gun once more. Glory surrounds the epic incident of the trench where the only unwounded soldier, seeing the enemy arrive, cried out as if in delirium: "Arise, ye dead!" and the dying really rose, and succeeded, some of them, in firing once more before they fell again, and the assailants fled. A more recent and simpler deed is also worth recording.

Returning from a bombardment of the enemy's factories in broad daylight, a French machine conducted by two men was attacked by several aviators. The observer, hit by a ball in the chest, dropped down into the carlingue. The pilot seeing this prepared to turn back. But hearing his machine-gun firing again, he concluded that the observer was not seriously hurt. As soon as he landed in France: "Well, what about that wound?" he asked. No answer. He bent down and saw that his companion was dead. Even in his agony he had continued to protect his comrade.

In the beginning of the War the wounded stayed a long, a very long time without being rescued, at the place where they fell, or in the shelter to which they had been able to crawl. Our stretcher-bearers of the American Ambulance found, after the battle of the Marne, many who had lain for days and nights in shell holes, at the foot of trees, in ruined barns or churches! One may guess what the mortality might be! Today, happily, it is no longer so. The field of action is more restricted and the aid is better organized.

If transportation, however, is less retarded than three years ago, it is still painful and rather dangerous. Even when a special passage has been dug before the attack for the evacuation of the wounded, all jolts are not avoided in this dark and narrow way; but in going through the ordinary passage-ways, dangerous and unseen obstacles are often encountered—crumbling earth, perhaps, or convoys going in the opposite direction. If they heeded the wounded soldier, the stretcher-bearers would go on open ground. This he frequently does, if he is at all able to get on without aid; once hit he thinks himself invulnerable—a singular illusion which has brought about many catastrophes. At the first dressing-station and at the front hospital, relief begins. In ordinary times, this will be quite complete, and the wounded will not be carried to the rear until they are really able to stand the journey. But while the battle is on, they must go in the greatest haste: the worst cases are thoroughly cared for; the badly hurt who can be moved receive the attention which enables them to depart speedily; the slight cases have to be content with summary consideration. Here one sees the devotion of the nurses and the resignation of the sufferers, and better than resignation: the noble effort not to moan, the murmured prayer, the forgetfulness of self, eagerness to ask news of the fight. Among the falsities of a book a thousand times too vaunted (falsities due not so much to the lie direct as to the constant dwelling on odious details, and the suppression of admirable facts), nothing is farther from the truth than the picture of a hospital at the front where one hears and sees only blaspheming and rebellious men. With most of the wounded who have spoken to me about it in our hospital, and who certainly had the right to bear witness, we proclaim loudly that if the French army had been such as the work in question paints it in this passage and in many others, the War would have ended long ago, and history would never have known the names of the Marne, nor the Yser, nor Verdun, nor the Chemin-des-Dames.

A true picture of an Ambulance at the front, overflowing with wounded the evening of a battle, I find in these lines by an eyewitness: "Some moderate complaints among the crowded stretchers: one asks for a drink, one wants relief for pain, a bed, a dressing, to be quickly attended. But let some story be told in the group, some incident come out like a trumpet-call, all faces brighten, the men lift themselves a little, the mirage of glory gives them heart again. I commemorate with piety the anonymous example of a little Zouave, doubled over on himself, holding his bullet-pierced abdomen in both hands, whom I heard gently asked: 'Well, little one, how goes it?' Oh, very well, mon Lieutenant, our company has passed the road from B—— to the south; we had gotten there when I was knocked out. It's all right; we are smashing them!"

I, personally, received such answers from wounded who came to us from the Chemin-des-Dames, or from the fort of Malmaison. When I asked for news, my mind preoccupied with their individual sufferings, their first thought was to tell me of the victory. The ordinary French phrase for "How are you? Comment ça va-t-il?" (literally: How goes it?) may apply to an event or to a person. This being so, it is never of himself that the newly-wounded soldier thinks, but of what is interesting to everybody—the common success. I went to welcome a patient brought in October 26th and asked: "You came tonight?"

"Yes, Father."

"Not too tired by the journey?"

"No, not too much."

"What wound?"

"Jaw pierced by a bullet, arm broken, wound in the thigh."

"How goes it?"

"Very well! The wounded who came to the hospital at the front were delighted, we had gotten everything we were trying for!"

"You were in the attack?"

"Unfortunately no, I was wounded the day before."

"In the bombardment?"

"Yes, while we were filling up the trenches to make a way for the tanks toward the fort of Malmaison."

"That must have been pretty constant thundering?"

"Yes, but very soon we did not think of it. In the little bombardments you hear the shells coming and try to get to shelter, but, in those great days, when it is going on all the time, you can no longer distinguish anything, it is a continual noise, a kind of huge snoring. Then you are quite calm."

These are a few illustrations, a few rays of light, such as one still gets sometimes. I do not know if they will become more frequent with the new evolution of the War. They have been rare, and never followed by long expansiveness. Our wounded soldier of the fourth year of the War did not like to speak of what he had done nor of what he had seen. What may be the reasons for his silence? In seeking to interpret them we penetrate a little into the psychology of this taciturn man.

First, his impressions of the War are no longer fresh and now he would have some difficulty in analyzing them. It is as with ourselves in a new country: at first we have a thousand things to describe in our letters; after that nothing strikes us any longer. This passage to a sort of unconsciousness is the easier for the soldier as he plays a more impersonal part in the War; a simple cell in a great organism, a simple wheel in an enormous machine, quite beyond his comprehension in its learned complication. Catastrophes happen to him but no adventures: he may be wounded, he may be killed, nothing else. This is no material for fine stories.

A deeper reason for the silence of the witness, or rather the actor, in the great drama of the War, is a very just realization of the impossibility of conveying any idea of it to those who have never been there. It is so very different from anything they know; so out of proportion to the normal life of human beings.

To these intellectual motives may be added one of feeling. The wounded soldier does not like to speak of the War because he does not like to think of it: there are too many horrors; he has had to bear too many privations, too much suffering. As soon as he finds himself out of it, he tries to turn his mind away from it as much as possible, and to shake off the impression of it, as the sick man in the morning shakes off his fevered nightmare. Later on, doubtless, when his memories have lost their keen edge, they may attract him again. All he asks for the moment is to forget. One thing especially afflicts his heart and tightens his lips: it is the thought of the comrades he has lost.

Such are the reasons why the later wounded, differing from those at the beginning of the War, shut themselves up in a silence full of gravity.

In spite of this, however, you would have a false idea of the military hospital if you thought of it as a place of mournful desolation. Doubtless our earlier patients regained their spirits more quickly, having no years of suffering behind them. But the quiet and serious resignation which reigns in the hospital of to-day does not exclude a certain sweetness; the wounded man appreciates the intelligent and devoted care lavished upon him, he congratulates himself and thanks God for having escaped from mortal peril, for not having fallen to the bottom of the abyss, for remounting now the slope at the summit of which he has a glimpse of the recovery of his strength and activity. If his wound leaves no serious traces, he rejoices to live again as he did before; if it has deprived him of the use of his limbs or of some necessary organ, he consoles himself by the thought that the War is over for him and that soon he will take his place at home. His infirmities, which perhaps will weigh more heavily upon him later, he feels less here, where they are the normal thing and where it is the exception to appear intact.

It is a rest for him not to hear the voice of the cannon. And he likes the moral peace with which the wise kindness of the doctors, the devotion of the nurses, the friendship of the chaplain, surround him; he especially enjoys the many letters he receives from his family, and those which he slowly writes himself, or dictates to an amiable neighbor. Often he has friends and relatives in the neighborhood who come to see him, but what he likes best of all is the visit from his family, his mother, father, wife, his young children.

Another joy in the life of our wounded is the announcement and then the presentation of his decoration. Once, however, I saw the Cross of Honor received with no sign of satisfaction at all, but that was because it came too late, and its recipient, one of my friends, a brave officer, was about to receive another recompense in heaven. It was very affecting to see the decoration laid on that already gasping breast, without any consciousness on the part of the poor hero. His mother and wife, at least, before they buried him, could take the glorious emblem to hand down as heirloom and as instruction to his three little ones. It is a noble idea of the French Government, to give the decorations of soldiers killed by the enemy to their families—their widows, their orphans, or, if they are not married, to their old parents. During these years filled with emotion, few spectacles have impressed me so deeply as the ceremony of "taking arms" in the court of honor of the Invalides, when in this historic monument, built by Louis XIV. and now the tomb of Napoleon, a General of the Third Republic gave the emblem of the brave to women and children dressed in mourning, at the same time as to rough soldiers newly healed of their wounds and ready to return to the front.

Return to the front!... This is the almost invariable ending of the history of our wounded soldier of the fourth year of the War. Return to the front! Never will the heroism required for the acceptance of such a duty be sufficiently admired! After three years of fatigue, privations, of unheard-of dangers, after one or several wounds which brought him within an inch of death, this man who has for long months felt the sweetness, the care, the calm of a comfortable hospital; has had a taste of the charms of family life once more; has little by little turned his thought away from the horrors of war, now he is sent back, to the depot, from which he knows that before long he will be called again to the front! And he submits, resigns himself: what do I say? Often impatient of inaction, of the little rules which annoy his independent temper, he asks to go in advance of the call, to rejoin as a volunteer and without further delay his comrades of Champagne, Lorraine, Flanders or Picardy. He reenters his regiment as the traveler reenters his own country, and his only sadness is to find that during his absence so many old comrades have fallen, so many newcomers have filled the gaps. But the welcome of the survivors warms his heart.

Although it is night—for only at night do they go into the trenches—the sky is ploughed with illuminating fireworks, with projections and projectiles, of various kinds which bursting sow quick flashes of light, and a death often as prompt. In a maze of narrow and complicated paths our friend advances without knowing where and feeling his way: nearer and nearer he approaches to enemies whose sleepless hate growls menacingly below his feet in the ground, around him on the earth, above him in the sky filled with sinister gleams. He goes his way without enthusiasm, but without hesitation, without boasting, but without fear, knowing by long experience what peril he runs, but offering himself calmly to his formidable destiny, ready to answer: "Present!" if God and his country demand his life.

What hero in all the centuries of history attains to the grandeur of our hero? Who ever defended, in a war so terrible, a cause so important to the future of the world? Who has striven so hard, suffered so much, so often passed through death? To prove himself equal to his high mission, he has had to rid himself of all egoism, renounce lucre and vain honors, sacrifice family joys; many times he has known the worst extremes of weariness, thirst, hunger and cold; he equals and surpasses in austerity the severest of monks; he practices an obedience and humility that monasteries and Thebaîdes know nothing of, constantly ready to expose himself, as soon as he receives the order, to a terrible and invisible death. No one ever more completely obeyed the counsels of Christ: "If you will be perfect, leave your father and mother, your wife, forsake your possessions, renounce yourself, take up your cross and follow Me."

Those among these brave men who have faith, are conscious of such supernatural life and their letters—admirable collections have been published—reflect a light of authentic saintliness. The others, too, without knowing it, walk in the footsteps of Christ; at the moment of supreme sacrifice He will enlighten them with the brightness of His grace and will admit them, like their believing brothers, into the heaven promised to those who suffer for righteousness. Humanity which has never known horrors like those it is enduring now, has also never shown such moral grandeur, and it is not astonishing that in face of such great crimes and such great virtues, our soul should pause, breathless, incapable of expressing the excess of its emotion.

I cannot speak to the great American public about our wounded, without saying how much we appreciate the fact that it has followed them, with admirable solicitude, all the length of their hard Calvary. Its stretcher-bearers have helped us rescue them at the front, its ambulances have carried them to our hospitals, where they have found its doctors, its nurses to tend their wounds, its offerings of all kinds to assure their material well-being and their moral comfort. And in after-care it has not been less solicitous: teaching the blind, reeducating the maimed and giving them the costly apparatus which take the place of their lost limbs. When they could not survive, despite efforts of science and devotion, it contributed toward assuring the future of their widows and orphans.

America to-day gives us even her blood; she has from the first given us her gold, given her heart!

The great series of battles, known in general as the Battle of Picardy, formed a prelude to the final acts of the war. A stirring account of these battles is given in the narrative which follows.

THE BATTLE OF PICARDY

J.B.W. GARDINER

On March 21st, 1918, Germany opened the great engagement which will probably prove to be the decisive battle of the war. This designation has already, but not altogether correctly, been given to the Battle of the Marne. The Marne did decide that the Germans were not to capture Paris in their first great rush through Belgium and France. It did not only halt the German advance, but threw it back behind the Aisne, thus preventing Germany from winning the war in 1914. But it did not defeat the German army decisively. Nor did it make an ultimate German victory impossible. It left the German army still in the field, its strength practically unimpaired, still capable of strong defense, still with great striking power in attack. It made possible for the future a decisive Allied victory, but it did not achieve it. The German defeat at Verdun, indeed, did more harm to the German army, lessened to a greater extent its power of defense and its strength to attack than did the Marne, because through the French defense and counter-efforts, the German army lost nearly half a million men. But the battle now raging, which for convenience of reference is called the Battle of Picardy (although it embraces Picardy, Artois, and Flanders), will do more than did either the Marne or Verdun. It will place irrevocably and unmistakably upon Germany the laurel of victory or the thorny crown of defeat. It is, therefore, the decisive battle of the war. It is the final struggle of the civilized world against the domination of the beast. It is Germany's final effort, and, in order that this may be appreciated, it is necessary only to recount the conditions which impelled Germany to take the offensive at this time.

The developments in Russia, so entirely favorable to Germany, led many to believe that, having attained so completely their eastern ambitions, the German leaders would rest content with what they had, and, strengthening their lines in the west through reinforcements drawn from the Russian front, remain on the defensive on the western front until a peace could be arranged. With the German talons firmly fixed in the throat of Ukraine; with Poland, Courland, and Lithuania practically annexed, there was a certain element of reason in this contention. It was entirely conceivable that with such strength in the west, Germany could set in motion the machinery of a peace propaganda, and obtain a peace conference which would enable her to work out a programme of concessions in the west for concessions in the east—a peace by compromise which would answer present needs while furnishing all future requirements in case she decided to provoke another war. Thus Germany would end the war with a victory just as truly as if she had won it on the field of battle, and without the terrific loss in man power that an offensive on the western front would entail.

In constructing this theory, however, certain essentials were ignored. German voraciousness can never be satisfied. It is a bottomless pit which can be filled only by pouring into it the world. When there is nothing more to be had, Germany would perforce rest content. The possession of Russia only whetted her appetite for France and Belgium and the life of England. Moreover, the Allies, having now learned Germany, and having acquired a sense of their own safety and of the future peace of the world, had no thought of permitting Germany to remain in possession of western Russia, of Serbia, and of Rumania, and thereby not only perpetuating but actually aggravating the condition out of which grew the present war. They had, therefore, notified Germany that they would lay down arms only when she was willing to disgorge what she and her allies had swallowed, and had rectified their frontiers in accordance with President Wilson's fourteen conditions and with Lloyd George's statement on the same subject.

In other words, Germany was to be permitted to emerge from the war with a profit only through military victory; she would have to defend her conquests. This negatived the idea of a peace through negotiation.

Having absorbed the fundamental fact that the Allies proposed to continue the fight to the end, what then was Germany's position? I am not one of those who cherish the fatuous delusion that this is a war in which the German people are not equally involved with their government. At the same time, it is undeniable that there existed in both the German and the Austrian empires a considerable internal pressure, induced by hunger and by privations (but not by any moral or ethical considerations), to bring the war to a close. The cupboards of Russia were neither so full nor so readily available as had been anticipated. Suffering was general, and, with the scarcity not only of food but of wool and of cotton, made the prospect of going through another winter of war a gloomy contemplation. In Austria the situation was worse than in Germany. The letter of the Austrian Emperor to his brother-in-law, Prince Sixtus of Bourbon-Parma, which the French Government published in April, gives sufficient indication of the Austrian need for peace. It shows also that Germany must have had doubt of the loyalty of her ally, and German knowledge that conditions had come to such a pass in Austria that a separate peace would be more welcome to Austria than no peace at all, regardless of the sacrifices which had to be made to obtain it. How long Austria could be held Germany did not know, but it was evident that she was not to be trusted too far. Austria is as unscrupulous, as hypocritical as is Germany, and Germany knows it. And while there may be honor among thieves, there is also suspicion.

But, aside from internal and political considerations, the military situation itself was one which demanded immediate action or none at all. It is an elemental military fact that a war cannot be won by defensive action alone. Defeat may be averted by such means; but victory cannot be achieved. Germany, with the exception of a single incident south of Cambrai, had been on the defensive since the close of the battle of Verdun early in the summer of 1916. The necessity for offensive action at some time was therefore absolute if Germany was to win. But there were many considerations which made that time the present. Germany could not afford to wait.

The middle of March found Germany at the height of her man power. Never before since the outbreak of war had the opportunity been presented for the concentration on the western front of practically her entire effective strength in both men and guns. For this, of course, Russia was responsible. The divisions which were holding the Russian lines had been carefully picked over, and from men thus selected new divisions were formed and old ones filled up. All were sent to France as rapidly as possible, the movement occupying the time from September, 1917, to March of this year. Similarly, all available artillery was concentrated in the west, the eastern front being practically denuded. Germany then was in immediate danger of being diverted by activities of the Allies in other fields.

The Allies on the other hand were by no means at their full strength. America, who stepped into the war just in time to take Russia's place, still remained impotent, unable to place in Europe numbers in any way commensurate with the situation. But America was gathering impetus as she went. And while she was a negligible force in 1917—except in the matters of food and money—and would probably be a negligible force in 1918 subject to the same exception, in 1919 she was almost certain to turn the tide strongly against the Central Powers. Even in 1918 there could be expected a steady though small stream of men across the ocean, who being fresh, eager, and unwearied, might cause trouble. Germany then had the one chance to win, and that chance demanded that she strike with all her power before America reached the field. To delay meant not a drawn game but certain defeat. For if Germany is ever confronted in Europe with the full strength of America in men and in the machinery of war, she will be crushed.

Finally, the situation in Russia boded ill for Germany. Great rejoicing has taken place in Berlin and in Vienna over peace with Russia. But it is a peace which has not altered Germany's inability to keep faith with any Power. Her persistent worship of materialism and force has created a situation in Russia not at all to Germany's liking. Once the Russian border was absolutely undefended and the way to Petrograd and Moscow wide open, Germany could not resist the temptation to march on in continued aggression, regardless of treaty or promises or peace or morality. And Russia has furnished strong evidence that she is not at all complacent under such aggression.

The Russians are in a stage of transition, and are, therefore, unstable, mentally unsettled. They are completely dissatisfied at Germany's interpretation of the peace terms. They see themselves being starved that Germany may fatten on their granaries. They are reaching the point where organized resistance is the only answer of which the situation is capable. Steps have already been taken to form a new national army, to offer organized resistance to further encroachments. There are also large elements which have never accepted the unconditional surrender and which never will. At any moment in this land of instability, the fires which have been kindled by German bad faith and duplicity may break into a conflagration. There is no danger at the present time—there is danger that before the year is out public dissatisfaction and unrest may crystallize and Germany be faced with the most colossal guerilla war the world has seen; and while warfare of this kind cannot defeat Germany, it can neutralize many divisions of German troops and pin them down to the eastern front while the Allies make the finishing stroke in the west. This situation, out of which anything can grow, made it strongly advisable that Germany should act before the crystallization should take place.

Realizing that she could not wait without serious danger to herself, Germany mustered all her resources in the west for the great blow she was to deliver. The problem which confronted the German General Staff was to destroy one of the two great armies, that of France or that of England. Both could not be handled together. Germany did not have the strength. The attack had to be delivered against one or the other. Which should it be?

An attack against the French had certain advantages. The French army was unmistakably the weaker of the two. In the early days of the war, while the British army was being formed, it was the French who had to stand the brunt of the fighting. At Verdun it was the French who from February to July beat back the German assaults along the Meuse time after time in the most tremendous duel of the war. In the Battle of the Somme it was the French who fought their way forward south of the river to the outskirts of Péronne and Chaulnes. The French losses had, therefore, been very much greater than the British. As the populations of France and of the United Kingdom are about the same, the French people had, therefore, suffered much more than had the British, and were correspondingly less able to stand such a blow as Germany was able to deliver.

But there was one great disadvantage in attacking France. The blow could not be delivered against the front from St. Mihiel to the Swiss frontiers. This front is vulnerable only where the Vosges Mountains are broken by the great gaps at Belfort, Epinal, and Nancy; and these gaps are easy to defend and well backed up in rear by great bases of supply excellently served by many radiating railroad lines. It could not be delivered at Verdun, because France had not only retaken all the ground of military value which had been lost; but Verdun had become to France a religion, a fanaticism. To France it was a symbol of French love of country, of French patriotism. Verdun meant France. Germany, therefore, had no desire to test this fortified area again. This left only the Champagne line between the Argonne Forest and Rheims.

If Germany had attacked this front, the British army, the stronger of her enemies, would soon have struck, and whether Germany so elected or not, she would nevertheless be running two major operations at the same time—one offensive in Champagne, the other defensive in Picardy or in Flanders. Again, suppose her army did bend the French line back, as it undoubtedly would, how far back would it have to go in order for Germany to reach a complete military decision? There would indeed be no such decision in sight, almost regardless of the depth of penetration. The lines might have to be rectified; Verdun might have to be abandoned; the Vosges frontier line might have to be drawn in. But even so the French and British armies would both be intact; both biding their time when, with full force of their own and a million or more American troops, Germany could be beaten. In short, an attack against the French at any point, while promising new gains in territory, promised nothing in the way of a decision, and, be it remembered, this is Germany's last effort; it must reach either victory or defeat. The Battle of Picardy must and will produce a definite, positive result. It cannot end in indecision.

An attack against the British offered none of the disadvantages which attended an attack against the French. The British were stronger it is true. But this army, unlike that of the French, was trained for but one thing—trench warfare. If Germany could restore war in the open—a war of movement—this strength might be offset by a wider experience. In attacking the British, the French could be held in check by defensive tactics with not a great deal of difficulty; as in such operations the terrain was greatly in Germany's favor. To take a hurried glimpse of the French positions, we find them in the valley of the Ailette north of the Chemin des Dames facing the high slopes of the plateau on which is found Laon. In the Champagne they are facing a high rolling country, studded with good artillery positions and points of observation. In the Vosges, their problem is identical with that of the Germans—forcing the gaps in a barrier otherwise impassable. There would be then a minimum of danger from the French while Germany was engaged on the British front. Moreover, behind the British line was, first, Amiens, through which passed the great railroad systems from Calais, Boulogne, and Abbeville, binding together the British north of the Somme to the French in the south. With Amiens in German hands this connection would be badly ruptured. And farther on still was the sea, which, if Germany could reach it, would physically separate the great Allied army into two armies, without connection, each of which could be dealt with separately. And unlike an advance through Champagne, the farther the Germans pushed through, the closer the Allies came to total disaster and defeat. Germany, therefore, selected the British front for attack and took up the task of destroying the British army.

The German plan of campaign was simple in its essence, although involving great numbers of men and an inconceivable mass of material. It was to strike the main blow along the Oise on the front between St. Quentin and La Fère, while a subsidiary attack was to be simultaneously delivered on the northern side of the Cambrai salient between Cambrai and Arras. This subsidiary attack was designed to break the salient and destroy the danger of a flank attack against the movement to the south. In the main attack, delivered with 15,000 men to the mile of front, it was intended to break the connection between the British and the French along the Oise, push a great wedge through at the point of rupture, and then roll the British line back to the north, leaving the French to be taken care of later. Failing in this (and Germany had taken into account the possibility of failure), the British were to be forced back through Amiens to the sea, and the split in the armies accomplished by interposing between the parts a section of the seacoast. This operation would automatically flank the positions held by the British at Arras, force the British to fall back from Vimy Ridge, and from Lens toward St. Pol, and, as they retreated, to uncover the Ypres salient and the positions held in the high ground to the east and south of Ypres—that is, the Messines and the Passchendaele ridges.

After a brief but very intense bombardment the German infantry went forward on March 21, 1918. They were favored by a heavy mist which concealed their movements until they were within fifty yards of the British trenches, between La Fère and St. Quentin. By sheer weight of numbers these trenches were overrun and the German infantry poured through the gap. The line to the north was at once affected by the break in the southern line, and taken in flank, was also forced to fall back. But a few hours after the attack was launched, the entire fifty miles of line north of La Fère was ablaze and the British were in retreat. In this attack the Germans threw in on the first day 80 divisions—about one million men—nearly 20,000 men to the mile—a heavier concentration of men than had ever been used in an attack since the war began. Against this number the British, in the opening attack could oppose only 5,000 men to the mile. It is not surprising in view of this disparity in numbers that the British were completely overwhelmed. In spite of the rapidity of the initial German advance and the strength of the German attack, the hoped-for rupture of the Allied line at the Oise did not occur. The British and French, though retreating steadily, kept in close touch and preserved intact the continuity of their line.

As the British section of the line withdrew, the French, in order to preserve this continuity, were necessarily affected. The French extreme left withdrew behind the Oise to throw this defensive screen before the German attack, gradually extending their left as the British retreat continued, passed Noyons and Pont l'Eveque. As the Allies in their retreat approached the Somme River, the German progress became slower, the efforts were labored. From this point indeed, the huge battle took on something of the nature of the battle of Verdun. It became a fight for limited objectives. Each village offered resistance and became the object of an independent battle. The German advance, however, though slow was not the less persistent and steady.

With the crossing of the Somme and the Somme-Aisne Canal on the front between Peronne and Noyons, the battle was automatically divided into two well defined areas by the east and west course of the Somme between Peronne and Amiens. In the southern area, the Allied line was held by both British and French in about equal proportions. But the French were not yet in great force. The Germans, having passed both the Somme and the Canal, fought their way westward step by step, in total disregard of losses, until the line of the Avre River was reached. Here the French, who held the line from the Luce River south and then east, made a position stand, and a series of pitched battles occurred for the river crossing. The first of these to fall was Montdidier at the head waters of the Avre. This enabled the German army to reach westward of the river and spread out after crossing to flank the defenses to the north. Gradually the left bank of the river was cleared as far north as Moreuil. Here the high ground on the left bank between Moreuil and the mouth of the Luce enabled the French to beat off all German attacks for several days. Finally, however, both Moreuil and Morisel were taken and later the village of Cassel, the Avre being thus cleared of the Allied troops as far north as the mouth of the Luce. From Cassel to the Somme, however, the German forces found themselves in serious difficulties. About Hangard, particularly, the fighting was exceptionally heavy; but after changing hands several times, the Germans were finally thrown across to the southern bank of the Luce and there held in place. From Hangard north to the Somme the result was the same. After struggling for days against the troops on the high plateau of which Villers-Bretonneux is the centre, the Germans were brought to a standstill in their attempts to approach Amiens by way of the Avre-Somme angle.

In the battlefield north of the Somme, the British retired slowly until they were safely behind the Ancre River, which figured so prominently in the battle of the Somme in 1916. Taking Albert, an important British base, the Germans tried desperately to push beyond and reach the railroad which runs along the lower Ancre from Amiens to Albert. Failing in this, they struck heavily in the angle between the Somme and the Ancre in order to flank the line north of Albert from the high ground north-east of Corbie. Here also they met with defeat, so that from Beaumont-Hamel southward the Allied line became stationary.

At this point in the battle the Germans found themselves in this situation: from Montdidier westward the French lines were firmly established first along a series of small but well defined heights as far as Noyons and thence along the southern bank of the Oise as far as the lower forest of Coucy. This side of the wedge was firmly fixed and capable of great resistance. Moreover, to expend time and men in an attack on this front would mean a serious departure from the German plan, as success here would mean an advance toward Paris instead of toward the sea. And at this stage of the war, peace cannot be obtained by the capture of any city, even the French capital. The price of peace is the destruction of an army, either that of the British or that of the French. This can be accomplished only through reaching the sea at some central point such as Abbeville at the mouth of the Somme.

Therefore, the German problem had of necessity to find its solution north of Montdidier—between that town and Albert. There is not much doubt that by concentrating sufficient artillery and by the expenditure of sufficient men, the German leaders would be able to push their way farther westward, even beyond Amiens. But as the wedge deepened it would gradually draw down to a point so that the ultimate situation would be that the German lines would form an acute angle, the vortex of which would be on the Somme at or west of Amiens, one side passing through Albert, or possibly through the village of Bucquoy, the other through Montdidier. Such a formation would mean positive disaster. It would be worth a quarter of a million men to the Allies to strike both north and south across the base of this angle and snuff it out. It would mean to Germany the loss of a mass of artillery and tens of thousands of men. And the Allies would not be slow to see this opportunity and strike. The German High Command, therefore, did not dare to take the chance with matters as they then were.

In order that the German army might continue its march to the sea then, it was necessary that the line north of the Somme should advance, synchronizing its movement with the point of the wedge along the river. Thus only would the wedge be sufficiently wide to avoid disaster. But the entire northern wing of the British army was guarded by Vimy Ridge and the heights of Notre Dame de Lorette. It was impossible that the advance could be made, leaving these positions directly on the flank. The combination of these two heights forms a huge semicircle concave toward the south. The British batteries posted on these heights could continue to rake the German advancing troops in flank and rear with most destructive effect. Therefore, after the fighting in the south came to a halt, the Germans undertook to open the way by forcing these two positions. Using seven divisions—about 90,000 men—the Germans attacked on a front not exceeding ten miles from Arleux to Fampoux on the Scarpe. The attack continued for two days, but was an absolute failure. The German advance had to be made down the slopes of one hill, across a stretch of flat, open valley, and up the sides of another. Down in the valley were the British outpost positions which were overwhelmed and driven in. But in attempting to cross the valley floor the Germans literally withered under machine gun and rifle fire. At the end of two days' fighting, during which the greater part of these divisions were cut to pieces, the attack had to be abandoned. The fighting then from Lens southward to the Avre came to an end with the Germans completely halted. The first definite stage of the decisive battle of the war was thus concluded.

But the Germans were by no means ready to acknowledge defeat. The Lens-Arras sector had to be cleared up. The attack from the south, crystallizing about Bucquoy, and from the east both having broken down, there remained but to attack from the north. Utilizing to the utmost the advantages of the great railroad system which parallels this front, connecting in a single chain all of their great advance bases, the Germans effected a heavy concentration at Lille, and, using about twenty divisions (which were afterward increased to thirty), struck the British line between Givenchy—just north of La Bassée—and Warneton on the Lys River. The initial successes were considerable. The Germans penetrated to a maximum depth of more than four miles in the centre, although on both right and left the line held fast. North of Armentières, however, the British line gave ground, which enabled the Germans to pocket this city and to capture it on the second day of the attack. On the succeeding days, the British centre continued to give way until the edge of the Forest of Nieppe was reached. The German position at this point in the attack became practically untenable. The northern side of this wedge was lined with heights from which the British artillery was pouring a devastating plunging fire. These heights, beginning farther east, began with the famous Messines-Wytschaete Ridge and extended due west through Kemmel to Cassel. Moreover, in falling back the British pivoted on Messines, which left this strong bastion from which to strike out against the very heart of the salient. Accordingly, to remove this danger the German leaders swung the attack north against the Messines Ridge. After days of fighting in which Bailleul was taken and the foot of the Kemmel series of hills was reached, the Messines Ridge was taken in reverse and the British line was withdrawn until it passed over the ridge just north of Wytschaete. Still pressing on the north, the Germans attacked the Kemmel position, but the British, now reinforced by the French, threw the attacks back as rapidly as they formed. Failing here and at the centre in Nieppe Forest, still another attack was delivered, this time against the southern side of the wedge from Givenchy to St. Venant. The first two days of this fighting was also disastrous to the Germans who were entirely unable to dent the British positions. In brief, the Germans were then enclosed in a huge semicircle about fifteen miles in diameter. All parts of the area enclosed were subject to artillery fire from three sides and the Germans were striking first on one side then on the other in frantic efforts to break the Allies' grip—and giving no indication of sufficient power to succeed.

The objects of the German effort in the north were several. Primarily it was intended as a means of breaking the defenses of Arras and of Lens by cutting in behind the heights of Notre Dame de Lorette and Vimy Ridge. Again it was intended to take Hazebrouck, Bethune, St. Pol, Aire, and St. Omer, through which the distribution of supplies and men landing at Calais is effected. Finally it was intended to take from the British the high ground in Flanders, uncover Ypres, and open the way to the coast. But for many reasons, now that the Allies had caught their breath for a moment, so to speak, the advantage appeared to have passed from German hands. The element of surprise, so essential to success even in trench warfare, was no longer possible. The gradual retirements of the British around Ypres were not costly nor did they "open a way" to the channel ports as the Germans hoped. The Germans had fixed the points of attack—and these were the only possible points: southern Flanders and from the Avre to the Scarpe. Germany had already used in the offense 130 divisions out of 204; and of these 50 had been in action twice—while the British had been heavily engaged from the outset, the French have had but few divisions in action. There was, therefore, apparently much greater reserve strength behind the Allies' battle line than Germany could possibly muster. And it is reserve strength which must ultimately decide the issue.

Germany has taken the great plunge—the concentration and utilization of her entire resources in man power in a final effort to win. It is Germany's last bid for victory before the peace propaganda is launched. Germany must win or go down to defeat. But Germany cannot stop. She must go on and on regardless of cost. She has expended literally hundreds of thousands of men, not for territorial conquest as the German press has pointed out and emphasized, but to destroy the British army. What figment of pretense is left if the battle remains indecisive? None the less, for the Allies as well the situation is serious though not critical. The crisis of the Great War is truly at hand. None can doubt the outcome who has any belief in honor and justice among civilized nations.

For many months prior to the end of the war Bulgaria had sought an opportunity to make peace. The people were wearied with fighting and it was plain to them that a German victory was hopeless. Finally a complete collapse occurred, King Ferdinand fled, and Bulgaria surrendered, as is described in the following pages.

BULGARIA QUITS

LOTHROP STODDARD

Bulgaria's withdrawal from the Teutonic block and her frank capitulation to the Allies is easily the most dramatic episode of the World War. Almost overnight the massive bridge of "Mitteleuropa" has crumbled at its central span, leaving exhausted Turkey foredoomed to speedy surrender and laying distracted Austria open to the combined assaults of Allied arms and domestic revolution. So stupendous are the possibilities flowing from the Allies' September offensive in Macedonia that we are almost tempted to believe that the age of miracles is come again.

Yet in such hours we should clarify our vision by insistent remembrance of Clausewitz's famous saying that war is but the extension of politics. For brilliant as was the Franco-Serbian escalade of mid-September, storming successive mountain walls as though they were mere trench lines and shearing through war-hardened Bulgarian divisions like a knife through rotten cheese, there was more than fighting involved. For the last year and even longer a combination of circumstances had been weaning Bulgaria from her former solidarity with the Central powers, and this disruptive process, proceeding with special rapidity during the last few months, had been steadily sapping the morale of the Bulgarian people and the war-spirit of the Bulgarian soldiery. From the broader point of view, therefore, the Allies' Macedonian offensive must be deemed not merely a skilful military operation, but even more a well-timed garnering of fruits ripe for the plucking. In such masterly combinations of strategy and politics lies the secret of decisive victory.

The accurate gaging by Allied statesmanship of Bulgaria's political evolution is specially noteworthy because that evolution was both complicated and obscure. In fact, its roots reach down to the fundamental aspirations of the Bulgarian people. Bulgaria's present volte-face is no chance product of panic, but a logical step in her national policy. Its consequences thus promise to be not ephemeral, but lasting. An understanding of the factors that brought about the existing situation is therefore worth careful study.

The Bulgarians have often been called the Prussians of the Balkans, and in this characterization there is a large measure of truth. A hard-working, tenacious folk, capable of great patience, docile to iron discipline, and appreciative of governmental efficiency, the material progress made by the Bulgarians during their forty years of independence is as striking in its way as the similar progress of the German people. Unfortunately, the Bulgarians resemble the Prussians not only in their virtues, but in their most unlovely qualities as well. There are the same tactlessness, brutality, overweening ambition, and cynical indifference to the means by which those ambitions are to be attained. This has shown itself clearly throughout Bulgarian history. When Bulgaria gained her independence of Turkey in 1878 she started with a perfectly legitimate ambition, the attainment of Bulgarian race-unity through the annexation of those Bulgar-inhabited portions of Macedonia that remained under Turkish rule. For this the Bulgarian people toiled and taxed themselves without stint. For this they built up a military machine relatively the most formidable on earth.

But that was by no means the whole story. Race-unity may have been the goal for which the simple Bulgarian peasant drilled and delved. His leaders had more grandiose projects in view. This was specially true of the Bulgarian monarch, Ferdinand of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, a man of great political sagacity, but of a cynical unscrupulousness rivaling Machiavelli's "Prince." Ferdinand's dream was a great Bulgarian empire embracing the entire Balkan Peninsula, with its seat at Constantinople and his exalted self occupying the imperial throne. This implied both the expulsion of the Turks from Europe and the subjugation of the other Christian Balkan peoples. In the Balkan War of 1912 Bulgaria's hour seemed to have struck, but Ferdinand for once overplayed his hand, and Bulgaria's Balkan rivals beat her on the battle-field and forced her to the humiliating Peace of Bukharest in 1913.

The Peace of Bukharest was not a constructive settlement. It was an attempt on the part of embittered enemies to punish Bulgaria's ambitions and keep her permanently down. The result was most unfortunate. Playing upon their balked desire for race-unity, Ferdinand bound his subjects to his wider imperialistic designs. Raging under their humiliations and their failure to redeem their Macedonian brethren, the Bulgarians declared themselves ready to league with the devil if they might thereby tear up the Bukharest parchment and revenge themselves upon their enemies.

The opportunity was not long in coming. The Pan-German devil was already preparing his stroke for world dominion, and when the blow fell in 1914, Bulgaria's alinement was almost a foregone conclusion. The military losses in the recent Balkan Wars had of course so weakened her that cautious diplomatic jockeying was a preliminary necessity, but when Russia had succumbed to Hindenburg's hammer-strokes in the summer of 1915 and the Germanic hosts menaced Serbia in the autumn, Bulgaria threw off the mask, struck Serbia from the rear, and joined the Teutonic powers. Thus did the "Berlin-Bagdad" dream grow into solid fact, and Mitteleuropa became a hard reality.

There can be no question that when Bulgaria entered the war on the Teutonic side in the autumn of 1915 she did so with the hearty assent of the vast majority of her people. The Germans had promised Bulgaria those things which Bulgarians most desired. A Teutonic alliance offered Bulgaria immediate possession of Serbian Macedonia, where lived the bulk of the Bulgarian element still outside Bulgaria's political frontiers, together with the practical destruction of the Serbian arch-enemy. The Teutonic alliance likewise offered prospects of reclaiming the Bulgarian populations of Greek Macedonia and of the southern Dobrudja, annexed by Rumania, in 1913, should Greece and Rumania, both notoriously pro-Ally, strike in on the Entente side. Lastly, the German Government agreed to use its good offices with its ally, Turkey, to obtain for Bulgaria a Turkish cession of the Demotika district of Thrace west of the Maritza River, thereby giving Bulgaria direct railroad communication with Dedeagatch, her one practicable outlet on the Ægean Sea. All these things presently came to pass. Serbia lay crushed, and Serbian Macedonia was under Bulgarian control before the close of 1915. Turkey soon yielded Demotika. In the spring of 1916 the quarrel between the Greek King Constantine and the Entente powers permitted Bulgaria to occupy the coveted Drama-Serres-Kavala districts of Greek Macedonia, while that same autumn Rumania's intervention on the Allied side resulted in her speedy defeat, with Bulgarian troops overrunning the whole Dobrudja as far as the Danube mouth, and Bulgarian regiments triumphantly parading through the streets of Bukharest. Small wonder that up to the close of 1916 Bulgaria remained a loyal member of Mitteleuropa, thoroughly contented with her bargain.

The year 1917, however, saw the beginning of that estrangement from Germany which has finally caused Bulgaria's abandonment of the Teutonic cause. The first rift in the lute was the Russian Revolution. This event was a great shock to Ferdinand and the Sofia politicians. When Bulgaria had joined Germany in the autumn of 1915 her political leaders had divined the fact that Russia's war spirit was broken by the crushing defeats inflicted upon her by the Germans and that she would ultimately retire from the war. But Sofia had looked forward to a Russian retirement under imperial auspices and thereafter to a Russo-German rapprochement in which Bulgaria should be the connecting-link, extracting a profitable brokerage by playing off one against the other in Balkan affairs. The idea was subtle, yet not without reason when we remember that it was toward this very state of things that the last czarist governments of Stürmer and Golytzin were feeling their way. However, Bulgarian expectations were completely dashed by the credo of Revolutionary Russia, which renounced imperialism and eschewed all those near-Eastern ambitions which had been the watchword of the old régime. Now, Bulgaria did not like the new situation. For though Russia was definitely out of the Balkans, Germany and Austria were emphatically not, and their weight was too heavy to be borne pleasantly even by their friends. It was one thing for Bulgaria to be the connecting link of Mitteleuropa, with mighty Russia always potentially present to redress the balance. It was quite another matter to be just the link. That this was to be Bulgaria's future rôle in Mitteleuropa, Germany's new attitude made increasingly plain. The progressive disintegration of Russia through 1917 riveted Teutonic domination on the Balkans and even offered alternative routes to the East. This meant that Germany no longer needed to show Bulgaria special consideration, and what that fact implied to Teutonic minds was quickly shown by the series of bitter disillusionments that Bulgaria had to experience.

The first shock came regarding the Dobrudja. When the Teuton-Bulgar armies had swept the Rumanians out of the Dobrudja at the close of 1916, Bulgaria had expected to acquire the entire peninsula. But Germany soon showed that she had other ideas on the matter. The Dobrudja not only controlled the mouth of the Danube, but also contained the port terminus of the main railroad trunk-line from Central Europe to the Black Sea. These things Germany had no intention of placing in Bulgarian hands. Accordingly, Bulgaria was given only the southern Dobrudja, the rest of the peninsula being held "in common." And when in the spring of 1918 Russia's final collapse forced Rumania to make peace with the Central powers, it was to them, and not to Bulgaria, that Rumania ceded the Dobrudja prize. Of course Germany temporized, and extended the Dobrudja "condominium" until the final peace settlement, but Bulgaria could see with half an eye that her hopes in this quarter would never be realized.

A second shock was presently administered by Turkey. In return for Bulgaria's extension of territory in the southern Dobrudja, Turkey demanded compensation by Bulgaria's retrocession of the Demotika district of Thrace. This district, it will be remembered, was vital to Bulgaria's railway communications with her Ægean seaboard. Bulgaria therefore angrily rejected the proposal, Turkey as vehemently insisted, and by the beginning of 1918 a very pretty quarrel was on between the two allies, culminating in at least one bloody mix-up between Turkish and Bulgarian troops. In these circumstances Bulgaria appealed to Germany, but was deeply chagrined to receive from the Wilhelmstrasse a Delphic utterance which might have been interpreted as an indorsement of Turkish claims. The reason for this was that Germany was then overrunning the Ukraine preparatory to the occupation of Transcaucasia and the penetration of the middle East. For such far-flung projects zealous Turkish cooperation was a prime necessity. Accordingly, Turkey had to be favored in every possible way. As for Bulgaria, she must not embarrass Germany in her march to world dominion.

A third shock was in store. Ever since the spring of 1916 Bulgaria had occupied the Drama-Serres-Kavala districts of Greek Macedonia. In 1916, Greece was clinging to an ambiguous neutrality, but a year later the Entente powers deposed King Constantine, and Greece ranged herself squarely on the Allied side, with a declaration of war against Bulgaria as one of the first consequences. Thereupon Bulgaria urged Germany to allow her definitely to annex the occupied districts and to promise her Saloniki when victory should crown the Teuton-Bulgar arms. But here again Bulgaria discovered that Germany had other fish to fry. Ex-King Constantine and the Greek royalists might yet be very useful to Berlin. Therefore they must not be alienated by giving Bulgaria territories which would render every Greek an irreconcilable foe to Mitteleuropa. Also Saloniki, the great Ægean outlet of central Europe was far too valuable a prize to be committed exclusively to Bulgarian hands. But Saloniki could be reached from central Europe only across Macedonia. Therefore in the final Balkan settlement there must be reserves regarding Bulgaria's control of the Macedonian railroad system. For that matter, this might have to be applied to Bulgaria's own railroad system, since it was the trunk-line from central Europe to the East.

So reasoned the suave German diplomats. The effect upon Bulgarian sensibilities can be imagined. How far removed was this drab reality from roseate dreams of imperial Bulgaria dominating the entire Balkans and treating with Teutonic partners as a respected equal! The grim truth was this: Bulgaria's promised gains were being whittled away according to the shifting exigencies of German policy. Was anything certain for the future? No. Because German interests came first, and the junior colleagues must "do their part." Here once more appeared the Nemesis of Prussian Realpolitik, that sinister heresy the crowning demerit of which is that it is not even "real," since it reposes on short-sighted egoism and disregards those moral "imponderables," good faith, fair-dealing, etc., which weigh most heavily in the end. Having turned the neutral world into enemies, Realpolitik was now ready to turn Germany's allies into neutrals.

Thus by the opening months of 1918 Bulgaria was no longer a contented member of central Europe. Most of her political leaders were profoundly disillusioned, and uncertain as to the future. Of course these political matters were still somewhat veiled from the masses. But meanwhile the Bulgarian peasant had been undergoing a little educative process of his own. German diplomats might ask Bulgaria to make sacrifices. The Bulgarian peasant could answer roundly that this was already the case. For Bulgaria was suffering—suffering in every fiber of her being. When she entered the European struggle in 1915, Bulgaria was still weak from two bloody wars. True, the Bulgarian conscripts had marched gladly enough once more, because they were told that it was a matter of a single short campaign, ending in a speedy peace. But two long years had now passed, and Bulgaria's manhood still stood mobilized in distant Macedonia, while at home the fields went fallow, and the scanty harvests, reaped by women and children, had to be shared with the German. Everywhere there was increasing want, sometimes semi-starvation. Bulgaria, like Russia, was proving that a primitive agricultural people may make a fine campaign, but cannot wage prolonged modern war.

All this discontent, both above and below, presently focused itself in the parliamentary situation. The opposition groups in the Bulgarian Sobranje steadily gained strength until on June 17, 1918, Premier Radoslavov was forced to resign. Radoslavov had been in power since 1913. He had been the architect of the Teuton-Bulgar alliance and was known to be a firm believer in the Mitteleuropa idea. His successor, Malinov, naturally gave lip-service to the same program, but his past leaning had been toward Russia, and he had never displayed marked enthusiasm for the Teutons.

Of course this change of ministry did not mean that Bulgaria was then ready to make a separate peace with the Entente Allies. Every Bulgarian knew that such an act would mean the abandonment of Bulgaria's whole imperialistic dream and the immediate relinquishment of supremely prized Macedonia. But it did mean that Bulgaria was discontented with her present situation and that she was resolved to take a more independent stand toward her Teutonic allies even though Germany was in the full flush of her great Western offensive and dreaming of a speedy entry into Paris.

But just a month after Malinov's accession came the dramatic shift of fortune in the West. The German offensive broke down, and the Allies began their astounding succession of victories. Instantly the Balkan situation altered. Bulgaria knew that the spring offensive had been Germany's supreme bid for victory. To fill the ranks for the rush on Paris and the channel ports the last German veterans had been withdrawn from the East. Gone were those field-gray divisions which had stiffened the Macedonian front and kept down popular discontent by garrisoning Bulgarian towns. The peasant voice was at last free to speak, and it spoke in no uncertain terms for an end of the war. Agrarian disturbances increased in frequency. Peace demonstrations occurred in Sofia. In fact, some of these demonstrations were tinged with revolutionary red. Bolshevism, that wild revolt against the whole existing order to-day manifest in every quarter of the globe, had not passed Bulgaria by. Of course there was the army, but the army itself was not immune. By early July, Bulgarian deserters and prisoners taken on the Macedonian front were telling the Allied intelligence officers strange tales—tales of midnight soldiers' meetings at which "delegates" were chosen in true Russian fashion, and which Bulgarian regimental officers found it wisest to ignore. Such was the situation in early summer. By the first days of autumn Bulgaria was cracking from end to end. It was in mid-September that General Franchet d'Espérey, the Allied commander, ordered the Macedonian offensive. Small wonder that within a fortnight Bulgaria had surrendered and retired from the war.

The consequences of Bulgaria's capitulation should be both momentous and far-reaching. In the first place, Turkey's doom is sealed. Cut off from direct communication with the Teutonic powers save by the Black Sea water-route and staggering under her Palestine defeats, Turkey is now menaced at her very heart. By the terms of the recent armistice Bulgaria has agreed to allow the Allies free passage across her territory, including the full use of her railways. This means that the Allies can move through Bulgaria upon Turkish Thrace, the sole land bastion protecting Constantinople. Turkey's military situation is thus hopeless, and it is not impossible that before these lines appear in print Turkey will have followed Bulgaria's example and will have thrown up the sponge.

A second possibility is the liberation of Rumania. The "peace" imposed upon Rumania by the Central powers last spring was one of the most shameless acts of international brigandage in the annals of modern history, and though dire necessity compelled Rumania to sign, it was plain that she would submit to her new slavery only so long as the Teutonic pistol was held to her head. This pistol took the form of a Teutonic army of ten divisions camped upon her soil. But to-day Rumania is thrilling to the great news, and when Allied bayonets begin flashing south of the Danube these heliographs of liberty will light a flame of revolt which second-rate German divisions will be unable to stamp out. With the ground burning under their feet the Teutons will probably evacuate Rumania with only the most perfunctory resistance to the advancing Allies.

And southern Russia is in much the same case. To-day it is bowed beneath the Teuton yoke, yet the Teutonic corps of occupation are mere islets lost in its vast immensity and ruling more by prestige than by physical power. But German prestige is crumbling fast, and when Turkey's surrender opens the Black Sea to the Allied fleets, southern Russia, like Rumania, should be in a blaze. From the Ukraine to the Caucasus the land is already seething with disaffection. The Don Cossacks have never been subdued. Will the Germans dare to hold their thin communication lines till the guns of Entente warships are thundering off Odessa and Batum?

Lastly, there is Austria-Hungary. Bulgaria's capitulation opens the way for the liberation of Serbia and an Allied push to the Austrian border on the middle Danube. Beyond lie whole provinces full of mutinous Jugoslavs and Rumanians. For that matter, all the non-German and non-Magyar peoples of the Dual Empire are in a state of suppressed revolt, held down by armies largely composed of their disaffected brethren. Perhaps the Balkan winter may delay the Allied advance, perhaps Germany may find enough troops to stifle Austrian disaffection, but the condition of the Hapsburg realm is at best a desperate one, full of explosive possibilities.

These are the major consequences which seem likely to flow from Bulgaria's surrender. There remains the question of the future attitude of Bulgaria herself. Will she remain a passive spectator of these momentous happenings, or will she, striking in on the Allies' side, do her share toward bringing them to pass? The latter eventuality is more than possible. The Bulgarians, from czar to peasant lad, are realists, not given to vain sacrifices. They see that Germany's game is up and that her Balkan grip is broken forever. They have also been bitterly disillusioned about Mitteleuropa, and must to-day realize that under Mitteleuropa whatever Balkan territories might have been colored "Bulgarian" upon the map, they themselves would have been virtually serfs of a Germany whose idea of empire was the outworn concept of a master race lording it over submissive slaves. With their eyes thus opened, the Bulgarians are in a position to appreciate the Allies' profession of faith with its program of freedom for the smallest peoples and fair-dealing even toward the foe. Imperialistic dreams must of course be banished forever. But solicitude for race-brethren outside Bulgaria's present frontiers is a sentiment which the Allies recognize as wholly legitimate and which they are pledged to satisfy either by permitting annexation to the homeland or, where this is impossible owing to superior claims of intervening races, by assuring the unredeemed Bulgars full cultural liberty. The Allies' hope is a Balkan confederation in which its varied races may pull together in common interest and mutual respect instead of rending one another in vain dreams of barren empire achieved through blood and iron. Is it too much to hope that so level-headed a people as the Bulgarians will come to realize that in such a Balkan settlement their lasting interests will be far safer than in a Balkans precariously dominated by a Bulgarian minority holding down a majority of sullen and vengeful race enemies?

The most picturesque army raised during the great war was that formed by large numbers of Czecho-Slovaks, formerly prisoners of war in Russia and deserters from the Austrian armies. This force fought its way through Russia and Siberia, opposed by the Bolsheviks who had promised them safe conduct to France. A description of these famous fighters is contained in the following pages.

THE FIGHTING CZECHO-SLOVAKS

MAYNARD OWEN WILLIAMS

The Czecho-Slovak Expeditionary Force is one of the most romantic armies of the ages and an important step toward world democracy and idealism. I learned to know the Czechs in a journey across Siberia on one of their trains. They furnished me a bed when beds were scarce, transportation when transportation was scarcer, and shoes when shoes were necessary. I have never seen a real Czech that I could not endorse.

Last March there were two ways to travel in Russia. If one was an American—relief worker, correspondent, Y.M.C.A. man—one could get a private car. Many Americans rode that way for a trifling cost and without inconvenience. And it was in such cars that some of Russia's severest critics traveled. The other way was intimate travel with the common herd. I started thus. It was at Irtishevo, a junction point near the lower Volga, that I changed. In a crowded station in the Russian disorder, I suddenly found myself looking into the eyes of a spirited, smiling young officer, who had evidently learned that I was an American journalist and who was explaining to me in three languages that there was no way out of my riding to Vladivostok with his military train. He wore a red and white ribbon. His alert bearing and enthusiasm marked him in the numbers of nondescript soldiers who were still traveling in the Russian chaos of last spring. I was about to protest mildly in French when three of his fellow soldiers of fortune seized my baggage, carried it around a countless number of trains and stowed it away in a compartment from which another officer, warned of our arrival just in time, was removing his personal effects. He may have stood up all night. Anyway, I was a quite willing captive on one of the forty odd trains of the Czecho-Slovaks which had started to cross Russia and Siberia to fight for their liberty in France.

My friend was of medium height, well knit, deep chested, smart in bearing. The red and white ribbon on his cap was the badge of the Czechs. Before I had left them at Vladivostok five weeks later I could have picked a Czech out from any crowd by his air of determination backed by an enthusiastic good cheer which everywhere won its way from Austrian prisoner to warmhearted Russian peasant woman. All that night I heard them singing in that splendid, low, group chorus of theirs along the entire line of the train.

I found these finely disciplined fellows next morning sitting in the doorways of their freight cars. Some were playing on violins they had whittled out in the prison camps. The future of their cross country jaunt to the Pacific worried them not at all. They had fought their way out of the Ukraine, where German elements had tried to stop them. As former citizens of the Central Powers, they were quite happy in the chance to fight again for what their ancestors of five centuries before had stood. Bolsheviks there were among them. But a Czech Bolshevik differs from a Russian in that he shaves and thinks before he acts. Never have I seen more sharp salutes or stricter discipline, and these men were in Russia where discipline was a curiosity. A Czech is so anxious to accomplish that he is willing to discipline himself. When a Czech marches, he marches irresistibly. In theory, he may be a Socialist. In action, he is a patriot.

I found my place on the expedition as teacher of English to a group of Czech officers and members of the National Assembly. My class wanted English in order to be able to understand President Wilson's speeches as they traveled across the United States, for they rank the President with their own national leader, Masaryk. The Czech is literate in several languages, and if he wants another he gives a week-end to it. In my class were university graduates, artisans, engineers and musicians. The Czech is a natural-born good mixer.

When our train would reach a town, these young men of action won friends wherever they went. Milk woman and bread seller all along the Trans-Siberian liked them, for they pay spot cash, deal honorably and don't know what ruffianism means.

The miracle accomplished by the Czechs is the result of discipline and courage rather than strategy. Their rise to power was on their own initiative. They could have stayed passive as have so many times their number among the prisoners from other parts of Austria. But their stand for freedom from the Austrian yoke is uncompromising. They started out determined to fight for France and victory. The great bulk of the remaining Austrian prisoners are completely satisfied if only they can keep away from war. The Czechs are passionate in their burning patriotism. The Austrian prisoners in Russia who still feel a certain degree of loyalty to Austria are passive in their sentiment. Most of them shrink from enforced military service—either back in Austria or in a German-Austrian prisoner offensive on the spot in Siberia.

This Czechish heart centre of virile independence acted as a powerful magnet wherever their bands moved. All through Russia and Siberia, there are refugee groups from Poland, Lithuania, Courland and the Riga District. These people have no love for the Germans who drove them from their homes nor for the Junkers of their own communities who handed their lands over to the Germans rather than have them divided by the Bolsheviks. Germany is finding that there is a difference between saving landed proprietors from hostile peasants and workingmen and the huge task of enslaving these same peasants under the Prussian yoke. Hundreds of these elements in Russia's great refugee population wanted to enter the Czech expedition, but these fighters were compelled to keep their army small, compact and homogeneous. Transportation was insufficient. Even Czech artisans were refused a place in the trains unless they could pass rigid examinations. The willingness of other forces to unite with the Czechs may well be counted on when the call for them comes in Siberia and Russia.

The General Staff train on which I rode carried, in addition to the cars for officers and men, a hall for the National Assembly meetings, a complete printing outfit, a photographic dark-room, with full equipment for still and motion pictures, a bakery, kitchens and a laundry. It was on this moving train, all parts of which were connected by telephone with the car of the commanding officer, that the plans for a New Bohemia were being worked out. A daily four-page newspaper was published on the General Staff train. It gave the ideals of the expedition, the current news translated into Czechish, lessons in French for the use of the forces on landing in France, and quotations from Professor Masaryk. About four thousand copies of this paper were printed every day and distributed not only among the Czechs but among many of the Austrian war prisoners, who were thus informed of the ambitious plans these fighting independents saw before them. Their trains showed their versatility and love for decoration and home-making. Not only were they clean, but hundreds of the cars were decorated with life-size drawings, and with quaint designs in evergreens. To enable the men to find their friends, a roster of the occupants of the car was printed on the red flanks of their freight wagons. On the roofs, model aeroplanes and wind-mills spun in the breeze. A Czech train reminded me of a picnic, and, aside from the earnestness, it was.

For some travelers, the Trans-Siberian trip is monotonous. It was not for the Czechs. They read and studied. They were always busy—even before their clashes with the Bolsheviks began to take up some time. The Y.M.C.A. had secretaries with some of the trains and sent supplies of literature and games. The Bohemians are the champion gymnasts of the world and athletic contests were arranged at every station, until at the call of a bugle the train would pull out, picking up sweating, happy men as it gathered speed.

At the larger stations we spent sometimes hours, sometimes days. That gave a chance for the Czechs to mix with the Russian people. It gave the people an awakening sense of acquaintance with this happy race, who, while going from war to war around the world, were distributing the words of President Wilson to prove the sanity of their cause and the folly of the Russian collapse. The President's speeches were widely read and much appreciated. But these enthusiastic, friendly Czech soldiers were the living examples of the President's rather abstruse lessons of democracy. President Wilson might seem a political Messiah, but the Czechs were the John the Baptists who made the initial impression upon the Russian and Siberian peasants.

An Austrian prisoner at a Siberian station shouted one day so all could hear: "What is this freedom that you talk about?"

Immediately a thick-chested Czech strode forward.

"It is the one thing that makes a man a man," he replied. "It is the thing that links men together without weakening them individually. It is the thing that will wipe out tyranny, because a free man won't stand a tyrant."

As he talked to the slow-minded Russians and the slouching Austrian, this ruddy-cheeked Czech exemplified the advantages he preached. There was no slouch in his body, or character. The power that had gathered together a group which had been dispersed all over Russia and welded it into a fighting unit was not only passionate desire for freedom and willingness to fight for it, but the power of self-discipline which made both possible.

The Czech army was gay without license. In Irkutsk, during the Easter holidays, it ate ice-cream sandwiches or went up in tiny Ferris wheels in the true spirit of the reveler at a dry-town carnival. In Omsk one night it stood silent for hours, listening to the art of a Czech violinist playing for the wounded in the Red Cross car. It paraded the streets with a smile and an air of pride. It is boyish, open-hearted, lovable. It makes friends. Neat in dress, erect in bearing, enthusiastic in outlook—the Czechs win the Russian masses. There is the spirit of the Crusaders in these fighters, a spirit of personal and national cleanliness. Liberty to them is not a thing to wave a flag over but to die for, if necessary. They are too sincere to be dramatic.

Having come out of Armenia, with its remnant race of human wrecks, and after months of the demoralizing fatalism and moral laxity of the Russian, I was astounded by the miracle of stability of the tiny Czech force in establishing an economic frontier between the Germanophile sections of Russia and freedom-loving Siberia. Not only is this force the key to the military problem of opposing Germany in Siberia. But from the standpoint of sympathetic friendship between confused Russia and America, the Czecho-Slovaks offer the most helpful force in establishing confidence and turning into fact the good will which America bears to Russian citizenry.

They can best tell their own story. Lieutenant B—— of my English class was typical.

"When war was declared, I was in Switzerland," he told me. "Late in July I climbed to the heights overlooking Austria. I could throw a stone over into that land of oppression. That very day, when I went down into the Swiss village, I heard that the Austrian mobilization had been ordered. I could not believe that war would come. I returned to the land I hated and in two days I had joined my class. We were to fight Russia. This was unthinkable. Better to mutiny against our German and Magyar officers than murder our brother Slavs.

"And so it was that the word was secretly passed through whole regiments of our men to desert to the Russians. The opportunity came when we faced Brusiloff's army. The Russians knew and were ready to receive us. We walked over in companies, with banners flying and bands playing and men falling before the shots that rang out behind us. We hoped to turn and fight against our oppressors. And for a while some of us did. But one by one those of us who had entered the Russian ranks were removed and sent to prison camps, whence we were scattered among the homes and factories of Russia. My own band of companies was soon thoroughly broken up and dispersed from Turkestan and the Caucasus to Tobolsk and Irkutsk. As German influences strengthened at the Russian court we were sent to worse and worse positions, malarial and barren territories. But we prospered in spite of all that was done to oppress us.

"For a while I managed a cotton factory in Turkestan and later I went to open some mines further in the country. But all the while we kept in touch with one another and day by day we waited for the time when we could strike for liberty and Bohemia. Professor Masaryk was to give the signal for the blow for liberty.

"Then came the Russian Revolution. With the Czar, the German influences at Court were overthrown. We left our farm work and our shop benches. We poured out of the dark mines and united in Czech battalions to fight in the armies of Kerensky. At Zborov, we pierced six enemy lines but were forced to retreat because the other fighters failed to advance as fast as we. Then came the long wait for the time when Russia should find herself, as she is still trying to do. The Slav is not a coward once his mind is trained. There is hope for his ultimate recovery. The power of Czardom was enforced ignorance, and this made possible the infamous treaty of Brest-Litovsk. But we saw that there was no hope for a mere handful of us to hold the Russian front, and to attempt this would be to antagonize the Russian people. So we applied for permission to leave Russia and go to France.

"Everyone said that it could not be done. It meant going almost round the world. But we were determined and soon we had gained the support of the French Government and the permission of the Bolshevik leaders, who were glad enough to get us out of the country. They feared we would start a counter-revolution. But here we are in Siberia and the hardest part of our journey is over. Two weeks more should find us in Vladivostok and from there we can go very quickly to France, where thousands of our fellows are already fighting for the cause of liberty."

Captain H—— was in Omsk. Behind him, as I talked with him, was a card index file showing the occupation and residence of forty thousand Czech artisans resident in Siberia. Typewriters clicked in the bright office and outside a Czech wagon arrived with a ton of meat en route to the cold storage cellar which he had built in the outskirts of Omsk.

"I arrived here alone and with only a few rubles," said Captain H——. "But I heard that some day my fellows would come through on their way to France. So I began organizing our resources. Many of our men have made much money as prisoners in Russia. They were generous. Men began to flock in and we took off their Austrian uniforms and put them into Russian uniforms—the uniform of our expeditionary force. Fighting men were listed and trained. Artisans we merely listed, and there are forty thousand names classified by occupation and residence in those files. In three weeks we have taken in 610 Czech prisoners and sent them out in the uniform of the expeditionary force to France. Every shoe and belt and uniform is utilized and nothing is wasted except the hated Austrian uniform, which is in most cases worn to shreds anyway. We have established friendly relations with the people. Theoretically we are not supposed to be doing this. Theoretically, we are not securing food. But actually we are getting enough and to spare. Ten trains a week get several days' supplies here. Only in disorganized Russia could such things be. But we have to pay the secret agents of the local Soviet sixty-five rubles for meat. Its market price is thirty-five."

In my note-book, I cannot find the names of a dozen leaders of the Czech expedition. In a sense, there were no leaders. The outstanding fact in the Czech army is the democracy of it. The leaders are men who have been trained, but they owe their position to popular choice. Yet there is no foolish idea that military decisions can be made by a committee of soldiers. The Czech sacrifices personal ambition to his cause and that is why his cause is worth fighting for. The Russian cause, a thing of chaos, is losing force every day. I might almost say that the Czechs, in Siberia, were led by Professor Masaryk, in America, through the influence of his words in the daily paper. As prominent a figure among the Czechs as any one man in the expedition is Kenneth Miller of New York, director of the Y.M.C.A., and held on a high pedestal in the affection of 10,000 men. He has had much to do with the moving of the Czech trains in all their complicated travel arrangements.

The democracy of the Czech army and the ease with which it made friends continually surprise me. The officer who induced me to join them was a mere lieutenant, yet he never consulted anyone about taking me in. Was I not an American? Each day some officer was told off to arrange matters with the station masters. They moved their trains without bluff or bluster. Sometimes the Soviets hindered them in order to get what guns and supplies they could. But not till weeks after they started did any Soviet have the temerity to try to stop or disarm the men. The Russian masses were quickly won to friendship for the Czechs and the only force that tried to interfere was the Bolshevik battalions who acted under orders from distant points, where the man who gave the order enjoyed comparative safety. The way that their control of Siberia through an attempt to disarm them came about is as romantic as any feature of their story.

The presence of forty thousand well-disciplined Czech soldiers whose loyalty to the cause of freedom was stronger than that of the rapidly changing Russian proletariat made it seem desirable to the Bolshevik authorities to rid the country of men so willing to fight and so little subject to the extreme socialistic doctrines then rife in Russia. Both Lenine and Trotzky by agreement with Professor Masaryk furnished these men with passes for leaving the country and in spite of the chaotic condition of transportation ample rolling stock, amounting to about sixty trains of forty freight cars each, was placed at their disposal or secured by the Czechs through their own efforts. Arrangements had already been made with representatives of the French Government so that plenty of money was provided for provisioning, equipping and transporting a minimum of forty thousand men over about six thousand miles.

Before these trains had gone far one local Soviet after another had insisted on their leaving behind the armored motor cars, aeroplanes, machine-guns and other military equipment which had been allotted to them by the Russian Government during the Kerensky offensive. By the time Penza—one day's run west of the Volga—was reached, after machine-guns had been mounted on the engines in fighting their way through the Germanized Ukrainian districts, the arms of each train had been reduced to 140 rifles and ammunition. But the Czechs knew enough about Russian conditions to realize the necessity for at least one gun to a man and when the Bolsheviki, early in June, started to disarm them, guns and rifles appeared from secret hiding places, to the extreme consternation of the disarmers.

The reason for their being in the district of the Urals is one part of the romance of their adventurous life. Out across Siberia, near the Manchurian frontier, during April and May, the Cossack General Semenoff was operating. He had closed to traffic the Trans-Siberian line by way of Harbin, so that the first twelve thousand Czechs had had to use the single track Amur Railway line to the north by way of Khabarovsk. By May 4 an international proletariat army thoroughly mercenary in character and numbering possibly three thousand men, largely Austrian prisoners of war, was enlisted to repulse Semenoff from the region of the railway junction at Karuimskaya. Obviously since it was known that the Czechs were financed by France and that France favored intervention in Siberia it was indiscreet to allow thousands of Czech soldiers whose bravery was unquestioned to pass within fourteen miles of the army under the command of Semenoff. Fictitious floods on the Amur and some well-founded stories of the poor condition of the single track Amur line were conjured up by the Siberian Soviets as a reason for temporarily preventing the Czechs from proceeding to France. The only real service performed by Semenoff's provocative army of mercenaries and Chinese and Japanese irregulars, was the indirect one of detaining the Czechs in Siberia, a service on which the Cossack leader never figured. There is no question but that to get to France was the sincere desire of the Czechs and there was no suggestion that their forces could be or desired to be used in Siberia. Having left the Austrian army rather than fire on their brother Slavs the Czechs could scarcely be expected to have much enthusiasm for fighting Russians over an ill-defined intervention program through thousands of miles of Siberia. Chafing under the enforced delay, these soldiers insisted that they be allowed to proceed to France. This seemed out of the question to the Bolsheviki whose only alternative was to disarm them. The Czechs who had carefully avoided any aggression upon Russians until then, immediately set up a stout resistance, quickly overcoming their would-be captors and thus almost miraculously putting the small force which had then probably reached one hundred thousand men in control of thousands of miles of railway reaching from Novo Nikolayevsk to Tcheliabinsk and thence along the two branches leading to Ekaterinburg and Zlatoust. This virtually established an economic boundary between Siberia and Russia along the line of the Urals, since the unsettled condition of the country makes the railway the only practicable line of communication.

The control of the railways was easily secured. At each of the important stations Czech trains held the sidings. Due to the delay the trains which should have been en route to France piled up at the stations, and even in European Russia at Samara, Simbirsk and Suizran, a sufficient number of Czechs held the station points to make their capture by Bolsheviki forces a difficult matter. The Czechs made no attempt to seize the towns located some distance from the stations or any other territory. They wanted only to make secure their railroad travel. The high prices which they paid for their necessarily large supplies of provisions and the fact that they paid cash while the Bolshevik forces and Soviets often requisitioned food supplies, likewise their good cheer and personal magnetism, won for them the friendship of the peasant and artisan classes in many of the villages so that when the clash came only such Bolshevik forces as were definitely put to the task of disarming them were actually hostile. The easy-going and friendly Russian peasant, supine under the violent political changes, is a traditional friend and an unwilling enemy. This characteristic, which the Allied Governments have harshly criticized, may be counted upon to work to the advantage of the Allies under any fair scheme for economic aid and peaceful penetration which does not give grounds upon which active German propaganda could construct open hostility.

One may well wonder why the hundreds of thousands of Austrian war prisoners in Siberia have not blown up tunnels, destroyed tracks and otherwise tried to stop the Czech expedition. It may be that the Austrians secretly admired these men and were too tired of war to take the initiative in Siberia.

The seizure of Vladivostok by the Czechs was characteristic. From their arrival, they attracted the attention and admiration of the people, many of whom were planning an anti-Bolshevik demonstration. Every ship commander in the harbor had his men ready for landing parties in case of trouble. But there was no disorder on the day of the demonstration and not till a month later did a Bolshevik disturbance give the Czechs a chance to free an anti-Bolshevik city from its oppressors. Japanese, Chinese, English or Americans from the war-ships could have done it. But when the Czechs did it, a Slavic, Russian-speaking people gained control of a city that gladly welcomed their intervention. The same idea explains their marvelous success in Russia. Having braved death rather than fight Russians, the Czechs can now fight oppressive Russian elements without having their motives misunderstood or their plans opposed.

Siberia has afforded an interesting race study ever since the Teuton prisoners began to arrive. From the very first, German and Austrian prisoners mated with the sturdy peasant women of Siberia and settled to a happy and unhampered life in the undeveloped lands of the great plains. Some of the women had husbands at the front, but nichevo never means "never mind" to a greater extent than it does in Russian marital affairs. A man's a man for a' that, and there was little trouble until the two parents of different nationality and language discussed which language the children should be taught. German and Russian produce the same tow-headed stock. With the downfall of the Russian army the Russian husband sometimes returned and though quite willing to assume responsibility for the new offspring, insisted on asking the Austrian substitute at his bed and board to leave. As often as not the Austrian left. There were always a better farm and frau to be had elsewhere, and some Russian women are tiresome anyway.

When conditions are like this in Siberia, why should an Austrian return to a hungry country to fight a heroic enemy? A happy home in Siberia, which some other man has founded, or starvation in Austria? No wonder the Austrians in Siberia are a mercenary and unpatriotic lot. I saw many in the Bolshevik army. Most of those I talked with were under arms for the sake of the 200 rubles per month, equipment and food they were paid by the Bolsheviks, without, as they told me, planning to run any unnecessary chances of losing their lives in actual fighting against the Czechs or any other enemy of the Bolsheviks for that amount of money, if they could avoid it; not a very difficult matter.

Allied military support of the Czechs in Siberia is not Japanese intervention, and sentiment in Russia and Siberia against intervention to-day is now what it was six months ago. If the Bolsheviki do not represent the people of Russia, the only way the Russian people can develop confidence in themselves, and strength, is to throw off the Bolsheviki. The Archangel and Siberian regions have started such moves.

Siberia seems ready to welcome the Czechs, and if the Allied forces in Siberia keep themselves sufficiently in the background, Siberia will probably welcome the friends of the Czechs. The Allies have failed in Russia in the past because they have trusted upon material equipment rather than upon education of the people in the ideals of our cause. A certain amount of military intervention is necessary in Siberia if we are to protect the Czechs and protect the supplies which an economic mission would furnish. The danger lies in taking the control of that military intervention out of the hands of the Czechs. If my observation among all classes in Siberia counts for anything, the day the non-Slavic forces of the Allies, especially the Japanese, whom the Russians despise, move ahead of the Czechs who have already the confidence of the Russians as no Allied army could, that day the Allied army will encounter difficulties. This may spell tragedy for the cause of democracy.

In general the Volga divides Siberia, the home of the freedom-seeking exile, from Russia, in which for years German ideas have been encouraged to the exclusion of French and English. Whole sections of Russia and Siberia will starve this winter. If we follow the Czechs into Siberia with economic aid, repairing and consolidating the railroad lines behind them, installing modern methods of distribution we can then say to the stricken people—"Some of you are starving, but this is in spite of all the aid we can give." But across the Volga in Russia the people will say to Germany—"We are starving because you took our food, because you forced disorganization which has ruined us." Spring will allow the intelligent Russian peasant to compare such Americanism with the blight of Prussianism. Never fear that the object lesson will be in vain!

Can the Czechs become an actual nucleus for the forces of freedom in Russia and Siberia? They already are. The extent of their influence in Siberia, in the region of the Don and in the heart of the Central Powers themselves, is only limited by the support they receive from the Allies and the restraint of the latter in independent action. The fate of history may depend on the working out of the Czecho-Slovak miracle—a plain gift of fortune to the cause of freedom.

The spirit which animated the American soldiers in France was a revelation to the Allies, although it was precisely the spirit which Americans at home knew would inspire them when they reached the actual fighting line. Some instances of this spirit, and of experiences on the American firing line, are told in the following pages.

SIX DAYS ON THE AMERICAN FIRING LINE

CORPORAL H.J. BURBACH

"We have arrived!"

The French Army officer, who, skilled through years of actual artillery service on the French fronts, had been my instructor through weeks of training, and my guide up to the Front, stood still and spoke most casually, as if our destination had been a Chicago restaurant.

"Yes, sir." I tried to be as casual, but could not disguise the excitement that filled me. "Shall—the guns—" and I stopped, startled at the tone of my own voice. It sounded as if it were coming from some person a dozen feet away. And as I stood there a sense of elation, that was possibly partly fear, swept over me. I looked about me, toward the direction of the French officer who had spoken, toward the fellows of my battery who had accompanied me up to the Front. I say toward their direction, for I could not see my comrades—the fog that had come over the land at sunset was too heavy to allow one to see an arm's length.

The officer snickered.

"Is this all that there is to it? Are we really on the firing line?" I asked aloud. "Why, it's as quiet here as the Michigan woods!"

The officer laughed again.

"At this minute, yes," he said; then, "Wait here, I will be back directly, and no noise!"

He went off through the fog, and I have never experienced such a feeling of loneliness as swept over me at that minute—loneliness, and I really believe disappointment,—for I had imagined the firing line to be a place of constant terror.

"Gee, this is what we've been training for all these months!" I heard one of the fellows say. "Well, all I've got to say is it won't be so quiet over on the Boches' land when we get started," and they all laughed.

It is absolutely impossible to describe the sensations that come over a fellow when he realizes that he is going under fire. I think that you pass through various stages that include every sensation in life. You are frightened, you are glad to get into the fight. You are anxious to begin—you wish you had a few weeks' longer training to become a better shot.

I am not sure how long we stood there waiting for the return of the French officer who was tutoring us for our baptism of fire, but suddenly he was at my side.

"The battery is to be over there," he pointed through the night, "and we will set up a signal station right here. The first thing to do is to dig in the telephone wires, for headquarters reports that there is considerable rifle fire about here in the daytime. Order a detachment of men to help you!"

"Yes, sir," and I went quickly back toward where I knew the men were waiting, happy to think that there was work to be done at once. I gave the orders that had been handed to me, and in about twenty minutes we were turning over the earth. While we were working others were just as busy, for our battery was being placed in position, and some fifty feet behind the battery the others of the signal service detachment, of which I was a member, were setting up a receiving station. As I helped in the digging of that small trench for telephone wires my heart sang, and I lived again the months that I had served in order that I might be fit for the service I was performing that minute.

It might be well, before going further into this narrative, to say that the fellows who had accompanied me were the first American troops to take charge of a sector of the French line, a sector which some day will be moved into the heart of Germany and make old friend Hun wish that there was a way for him to change his nationality and viewpoint.

The training camp where we had prepared for the front after our arrival in France had been purchased by the United States from the French, and had been in use since the beginning of the war for the purpose of putting the high spots on the training of men belonging to both the heavy and light artillery. It was a spacious place; we had comfortable quarters and lots of good food. I had been on the Mexican border, so that sound of the heavy guns that were being used for training purposes did not annoy me, though to about ninety per cent. of the rest of the fellows this was a new sound, and orders were issued that cotton was to be put in the ears.

Except for the return fire, we might have been at the front, for the camp was an exact duplication of conditions under fire. Our equipment was largely French, and the officers who tutored us in modern warfare were all French—and as fine a bunch of fellows as ever lived.

One of the exciting incidents of the Camp was the day that news arrived that the American government had purchased a small village just beyond the Camp (France is honeycombed with small villages,—it is almost impossible to walk a mile without passing through a village) and that it was to be used as a target for the American boys.

We practiced in turn, a battery going out for a few hours' work, and then returning. Both light and heavy Artillery used the village as a target, and it was not long before there was only a heap of rubbish to tell where there had once been houses.

One of the things that the American fellows felt proud of was the fact that they were constantly being praised by their French instructors because of their very superior marksmanship. Several men told me that the American troopers learned in two weeks' time as much of the craftsmanship of war as the French learned in three months. As the story was on themselves, I guess it must be true.

We worked hard in camp, but the fellows liked it. We had good food, lots of fresh vegetables, and meat. It is a fact that the closer you get to the firing line the better care you get. There was plenty of recreation through the Y.M.C.A. activities, but we did not have many furloughs. Remember that at the time I am writing of, the American boys were new in France. One of the reasons for the lack of furloughs was that in many of the towns near the great camps that were set apart for the Americans the merchants had decided that it was harvest time, and prices had gone very high. General Pershing himself ordered that no member of the American force should buy anything in these towns until the matter of prices was adjusted, and this was speedily done.

I had been in the training camp about a month, making a special study of telephone work as carried on between the front-line trenches and outposts regimental headquarters, and the various gun batteries of the regiment. At the end of that time I was detached from my regular battery and assigned as Signal Sergeant to work with another battery proceeding immediately to the American sector of the Front. We did not travel forward in gradual stages as is the usual custom of approaching the firing line for the first time, but made the journey as quickly as possible, in motor trucks—a never-to-be-forgotten journey. Our destination was a village between five and ten miles from the Front, where we were to be billeted, and where the American troops would spend their time while not actively in the trenches. We got there in the afternoon, and a batch of the men were detached to make the place clean and perfectly sanitary. It needed their work. The village had been used by the French soldiers for some time, and there had been no time or opportunity for repair work. With the coming of the Americans it was different. Cleanliness is a strictly enforced rule with the fellows of our fighting force, and from a standpoint of sanitation we are literally introducing soap, water and whitewash into France.

Later that afternoon, when it was growing dusk, came the orders to go forward—and at nightfall I found myself walking beside the French officer across rough ground, a very occasional dull boom telling us that there was an enemy before us—but all other sounds seemed natural.

As I said before, it is impossible to accurately describe the sensations that come over a fellow when he discovers that he is on the firing line, and I welcomed the work to which I was so quickly assigned, and which we rapidly accomplished. I marveled at the precision with which I had gone to work that first night on the front, but everyone had their work to do, and did it so quickly and coolly that we had no time to think of personal feelings.

The first day on the firing line was very interesting. The battery kept up a constant fire, getting range from the map which is issued daily—as well as the given ranges, targets, etc. (which arrived over the field telephone). That night we stood ready to do any work required, but no orders came through, and I had my first experience in sleeping in a gun pit.

Our food, by the way, was brought up daily from the headquarters at the village and was prepared in rolling field kitchens.

As an example of the care that the fellows are getting, I might say that we were given bread and milk, fruit, excellent coffee, eggs, or possibly hash, and, of course, bread for breakfast; a heavy meal of soup, steak or some roast meat, potatoes and vegetables, coffee and sweets, came next, with a meal of canned foods for supper. All of it well cooked and mighty tasty. Believe me, Uncle Sam was taking mighty fine care of his soldier boys!

The following day started as the first, but in the middle of the afternoon the telephone system of our sector was demolished by rifle and it was impossible to get into communication with either the headquarters or the trenches.

"That stops work for today!" the officer told me. "No more gun fire till we get it fixed."

I can remember asking anxiously what we could do.

"Nothing just this minute," he laughed at my eagerness, "but tonight you and I will crawl out on our bellies and find that broken wire. Then we will fix it, and unless they find us with a shell we'll crawl back."

The prospect was exciting, and I waited anxiously for night. Then, armed with the necessary tools, we started to crawl along the trench containing the wires. We had no light, we could not stand upright. We went about a half mile, feeling every inch of wire for the break, and then suddenly I ran my hand along the wire that suddenly came to a point. We had found the break.

"I've got it," I called in my best whisper, but before I could receive a reply there was a noise from the German trenches.

"Star shell, star shell," my French companion called excitedly.

Suddenly the shell burst above us, and it was more brilliant than day. Frightened! Say, that light is so great and the knowledge that if the Germans spot you you're a goner, makes you just lie there and forget to breathe! It does not take many seconds for a star shell to die away to a glow, but in those seconds you go right through life and back to the present. When the light was gone I lay there fairly panting for breath.

"We'll have to work quickly," came the inspiring voice at my elbow, and we did. We had not finished work before a new star shell was sent up.

The repair work did not take many minutes, and we started back again. We were halted several times by star shells, and after the second or third time I began to reassure myself by saying that the Germans did not know I was out there, that they had nothing against me individually. Afterwards I heard one of the officers say that they were probably suspicious because of the sudden cessation of the gun fire that afternoon, and were looking for a raiding party to cross no-man's-land.

During the time that I was at the front, it was the custom for men to spend six days at the front, then go back to the village in which they were billeted—always well beyond the firing line—and there rest for about two weeks. By the end of my third day I had become quite acclimated to the noise. One afternoon a scouting aeroplane must have reported some fancied movement of troops in a village two or three miles back of us, for the Germans started a heavy barrage which went singing over our heads. The shells went high, but just the same they made everyone uncomfortable for a few minutes. Fellows that have been on the line, however, will tell you that you don't mind the noise of shell fire—for you figure it out that the bullet that hits you is the bullet you never hear—and while that doesn't seem a very comfortable thought, you soon forget to think of danger.

Perhaps the most exciting incident, and at the same time the one that sent more terror to our hearts than any other, occurred late one afternoon. It was foggy, though fog always hung over our battery—in fact, the climate of the front that has been assigned to our troops is notorious for its winter fogginess. Orders had been sent out to shift the position of our gun, and as the afternoon wore away—and the thick smoke-like pall that hung over us made it impossible to recognize the fellow standing next to you when he was half a dozen feet away—it was decided that there was no use to wait till night, but that we could shift the gun at once.

All the crowd started to work, the new gun pit was ready, and the signal station was all moved. It was just as we got the gun into the position and were straightening it into position that a faint breeze came stealing down from the mountains. In a minute the breeze was stronger, and we could see a hundred yards away. In another minute we could see three times that distance, and at the end of the third minute we could see clear up into the heavens—and there was a German plane flying straight for us.

Did you ever stand waiting for death? I suppose not—but that was what happened to our gun crews. The plane swooped low and seemed to hang right over us. We waited, hardly daring to breathe. I saw the perspiration running from one fellow's face, and guess it was running down mine. I know that I had a most pressing desire to run—anywhere, so long as I was moving. As I was looking down I glanced at my wrist watch about every thirty seconds and lived minutes between each glance. No one spoke—it was as if we had suddenly been turned to wood. Then after fifteen minutes of observation the Hun plane circled away from us—and we had lived several lifetimes in that short time.

It was the fog that got me—and sent me back to the United States. Two years before, coming home from drill at the armory (I was then a member of the National Guard) I fell asleep on the train and contracted a severe cold. The cold never seemed to leave me, and now, after a week of fog, after sleeping in a gun pit, I grew hoarse and developed a nasty cough. I was not really sick when I left the firing line after my six days and returned to the billet, but I felt pretty miserable. I can remember being glad when, after a several miles' walk back of the lines, we found the army trucks ready to carry us to the village where we were quartered.

I spent four days in the billet receiving further instruction from my French officer, and then after ten days I started back to the training camp, where I was to help in the instruction of the fellows of my division who had not as yet been under fire. By the time I reached the camp I was what might be termed all in, down and out. I went to the hospital, and when I was able I was moved in an ambulance to a U.S. Army Base hospital far removed from the firing line. I was at the base hospital a month, and spent most of the time in the sunshine trying to get rid of the heavy bronchial condition that had fastened itself to me. The hospital was full—but not with Americans. I was surrounded by fellows from all the allied nations, and had the chance to talk with them. They're a great lot, and anybody who has any doubt about whether we are going to win this war needs only a few minutes' conversation with some of the chaps that have been over there for years. You bet we're going to win—there isn't a thought of anything else but victory.

At the end of my month at the base hospital it was decided that I was not fit for the firing line. Uncle Sam is mighty good to his fellows—he does not believe in placing them under unnecessary risks, and when the doctors said that my bronchial condition was practically chronic, and the life on the firing line would only aggravate it, I got my orders to go home and take up service in a climate where there was less chance of my becoming a liability and where there was just as much work for me to do as in France, though of a different nature.

It was a disappointment, but I'm glad to think that I had those six days on the firing line, and proud to think that I was with the first batch of Americans to see service in the fight against autocracy.

That portion of France in which the American army did its most active fighting is a country filled with historic and romantic associations. It is also a country of great scenic beauty. The following article describes graphically the general aspect of this portion of France.

AN AMERICAN BATTLEFIELD

RAOUL BLANCHARD

Terrific battles, ushering in the dawn of victories which will ensure the freedom of the world, were fought in July and August, 1918, between the Marne and Vesle rivers, from Château-Thierry to Soissons and Fismes. In this soul-stirring struggle the young American troops played a large part, and played it with heroism and success. It has occurred to us, therefore, that the American people will be glad to become acquainted with the battlefield made glorious by their sons, with the soil which will some day be a consecrated goal of pilgrimage for the entire nation.

This field of death, bristling with ruins still smouldering, was formerly, and will soon be once more, a beautiful stretch of country. Here we are in the heart of the Ile de France, and the countryside displays all the gracious charm of a typical French landscape. With its undulating plateaus, pleasant vales, broad green valleys, forests and greensward, châteaux and villas, small towns, and dear old villages thronged with souvenirs of the past, the district between the Marne and the Aisne was peculiarly representative of France—the France of the Merovingians and Capets as well as of the twentieth century.

There is no manufacturing and little commercial activity; but a skillful, varied, and persistent culture of the soil, with special attention to those most exacting of crops, the vine and vegetables, which are successfully raised only by dint of hard labor, and to the production of vast quantities of sugar-beets and cereals.

The villages, built of the beautiful stone of the district, have, one and all, an air of dignity and prosperity which gives animation to the landscape. The very names are among the most pleasant to the ear, and often among the most illustrious in the language. Our great men of letters, La Fontaine and Racine, Pope Urban II, who preached the First Crusade, and other statesmen and princes, all born in the province, had already made it a genuinely historic spot; and the memory of the battles fought by Napoleon at Château-Thierry and Soissons, against the invaders of 1814, has not yet faded. When they turned the enemy back from Paris, the Americans were fighting in the most truly French of all the districts of France, and their gallantry has imparted to it a new charm, a more resplendent glory.

But this attractive region does not exhibit everywhere the same features. The topography of the Ile de France is so varied that one can distinguish several families, or groups, of landscapes between the Marne and the Vesle. Let us follow them, in the order followed by the different stages of the battle.

The southern portion is the most elevated and most picturesque; it includes the shores of the Marne, from Epernay to Château-Thierry, as well as the hills and valleys to the eastward, grouped about the Ardre River in the district called the Tardenois. In the centre the battlefield embraces plateaus studded with low hills, half hidden by broad patches of forest, and cut by deep, narrow valleys—those of the Ourcq and its affluents; whence the region is known as the district of the Ourq, or the Orxois. Lastly, to the north this undulating ground gives place to a practically level plateau, a vast table-land of cultivated fields, through which flow the deep ravines of the Aisne, the Vesle, and their affluents. This is the Soissonnais.

From the Tardenois to the Soissonnais by way of the Orxois, let us follow in the wake of the French and American armies, in their decisively victorious advance.

On emerging from the plains of Champagne, at Epernay, the Marne flows through the plateaus of the Ile de France as far as Paris, and the country along its banks changes its aspect. Instead of the wide valley which seems one with the immense bare plain, the stream, breaking out a path for itself through the solid mass of the plateau, has cut a gash from 500 to 2000 metres in width, which turns and winds in graceful and ever-changing curves. Thus, although its general course is from east to west, the trend of the walls of the valley constantly changes and bears toward every point of the compass in turn. Moreover, these walls, intersected by the ravines and valleys of numerous tributary streams, are cut up into capes, bastions, and deep hollows. Finally, the cliff from whose summit the plateau overlooks the valley, and whose average height is about 150 metres, at times rises steeply from the lowland, and again is broken up into terraces following the different strata of which it is composed. Thus, although the topographical elements are simple enough, they lend themselves to an ever-changing combination of forms, which gives to the landscape its great charm, and at the same time offers some formidable advantages of various kinds from a military standpoint.

The bright green ribbon of the Marne winds along the valley bottom. The placid stream, about a hundred metres wide and broken here and there by islets, wanders from one bank to the other, lined by poplars and willows. On either side of its limpid waters are broad fields, whose delicate greenery frames the sparkling line of the river, which forms a by no means impassable obstacle. In the days just preceding the German offensive of July 15, American patrols constantly crossed between Château-Thierry and Mézy, and picked up prisoners and information on the northern bank. In like manner, during that offensive the attacking German troops were able without great losses to cross the Marne and attack the defenders on the southern bank. To be sure, the Allied air-men made their life a burden by keeping up an incessant bombardment of the bridges, large and small.

But the real obstacle which this valley offers is found in the slopes which dominate it, and it was there that the fiercest fighting took place until the day when the French and Americans, having thrown the enemy back across the river, scaled the cliffs of the right bank on his heels and dislodged him therefrom. In this neighborhood there were two sectors of terrific fighting—that of Châtillon-Dormans upstream, and that of Château-Thierry below.

Going upstream, the valley is quite wide: from Monvoisin to Dormans, by Château-Thierry, it measures two kilometres almost everywhere. The high cliff which overlooks it on the north, cut by a multitude of narrow valleys coming down from the table-land of the Tardenois, forms a series of buttresses which make excellent defensive positions. On the sharpest, which is a genuine peninsula overhanging the main valley, sits the village of Châtillon, formerly crowned by a haughty feudal castle, on whose ruins was erected a statue of Pope Urban II, who long ago had trouble with the German emperors. The slopes below are hard to climb, because of their steepness and the network of tilled fields. Here we are at the heart of the vine-growing district, and these banks of the Marne contribute largely to the production of the famous champagne. The vines extend, on long rows of poles, to the very summit of the cliffs, especially on the right bank, which has a better exposure to the sun; they are often connected by strands of wire, on which straw mats are placed to protect the vines from the cold in winter.

On a lower level, nearer the stream, are magnificent orchards: the cherry tree joins with the vine to impart to those slopes an aspect of rustic opulence. Huddled white villages, with tawny-hued pointed roofs, follow one another in regular succession on the rolling ground. Their names have lately won a terrible celebrity: Binson, Vandières, Vincelles, Tréloup. Sandstone quarries burrow into the summit of the cliffs and furnish shelters for the defenders. Finally, there are strips of forest along the slopes wherever the exposure is thought poorly suited for crops. All these features unite to form a cheerful, animated, lovely landscape; but at the same time a conglomeration of obstacles which the Allied troops were able to overcome only after fierce fighting.

Below the little town of Dormans, the valley narrows temporarily: from Tréloup to Brasles it is frequently less than 500 metres in width. The cliff, although steep as before, is less cut up, and the patches of forest are large. At the mouths of the smaller affluent valleys, the villages rear their church-towers on the hillsides, overlooking the lowest vineyards and orchards; on this right bank are Jaulgonne, Chartèves, and Mont Saint-Père, all taken by the Allies late in July, and Fossoy, where the Americans successfully repulsed the German attack of July 15.

But now the valley widens once more as it enters the broad basin of Château-Thierry. It is a beautiful spot, and at the same time, of great military value. The little town long ago forgot its rôle of fortress, but has been brutally reminded of it by the violence of the battles that have been fought in its neighborhood. In the foreground is the wide expanse of fields in the valley bottom; then a suburb of the town enclosed between two arms of the Marne. Across the river, scaling the slopes of a hill crowned by the ruins of a castle, the town rises, terrace-like, at the mouth of a narrow valley. The position can be carried by frontal attack only on the heels of a defeated foe, as Napoleon carried it in 1814, and Franchet d'Esperey just a hundred years later. But in 1918 the Americans had to take Château-Thierry in flank, and in order to force their way into the town, had to fight the bloody battles of Vaux, Bouresches, and Etrepilly, which carried them to the north of the town and hastened its evacuation.

What is the nature of the terrain above those steep cliffs which enclose the valley of the Marne? Does it become more favorable to military operations than the deep depression through which the river flows? Not by any means. The surface of the table-land is broken by so many ravines and narrow valleys which descend steeply to the Marne, that it is cut into a multitude of ridges and hillocks amid which it is no longer possible to recognize the original horizontal aspect of the plateau.

On the other hand, the strata which lie on the surface—loam, sandstone, and clayey sand—make a heavy, impermeable soil, quite infertile, in which it is hard to raise anything, and which is largely given over to woods. Thus, freedom of movement is impeded by deep ravines, ridges running in all directions, and more or less dense forests; an offensive is difficult, and the defensive easy. This is true in the immediate neighborhood of Château-Thierry, where the ravines of Vaux, Brasles, Chartèves, Jaulgonne, and Tréloup, and the valley of the Surmelin, slash the plateau on either side of the Marne into fragments—into forest-topped hillocks which are genuine fortresses, where the struggle was terrific and where the Allies were able to advance only one step at a time: on Hill 204, west of Château-Thierry, in the Bois de Mont St-Père, the forest of Fèze above Jaulgonne, and especially on the spur of the forest of Riz; and south of the Marne, at the broad, wooded bastion of Saint-Agnan and at La Chapelle-Monthodon, where the fighting was so intense from the 15th to the 20th of July.

This strip of broken table-land becomes broader again farther upstream, above Dormans and Châtillon-sur-Marne. In that direction the plateau of the Ile de France ascends until it is more than 260 metres above the stream. Erosion has been even more active there, and in that part of the Tardenois the plateau is dissected into narrow strips separated by deep valleys, broad and moist, the largest of which is the valley of the Ardre. In the valley bottoms the streams are bordered by bands of tillage land; above, on the lower slopes, amid the vineyards and orchards which monopolize all the favorable exposures, is a multitude of small villages, some of which have become famous—Ste. Euphraise, Bligny, and Ville-en-Tardenois, whose rustic dwellings of uncut rubble, arranged amphitheatre-wise, sheltered some 500 inhabitants. Higher up, on the uneven surface of the plateau, are scattered villages built on limestone foundations—tiny fortresses, like Rumigny and Champlat, the scene of hard-fought battles. Almost the entire surface is covered with forests of pine and oak and birch. These are the woods of Le Roi, Courton, Pourcy, and Reims, where hand-to-hand fighting went on for more than a fortnight, British, Italians, and French succeeding at first in checking the enemy and then in forcing him back, in those titanic combats. They were, in reality, genuine mountain battles; for the hills reach a height of 265 metres, above the level of the plateau, while the valleys are at least 100 metres deep; and the difficulties of the uneven surface were greatly increased by the obstacles offered by forests, vineyards, streams, and the villages, closely packed with stone houses, which could easily be transformed into fortifications.

A deep, broad, swampy valley, traversed by an unfordable stream; surmounted by steep slopes bristling with vineyards, orchards, villages, and diversified by quarries; above, an entanglement of low hills, ravines, and valleys, under a mantle of forest—such was the theatre of operations in which the Americans won their first great victory. A more difficult terrain could not be desired, or one better adapted to test the valor of the victorious troops.

But when they had made themselves masters of this battlefield, the Allies were by no means at the end of their labors; and the difficulties of the ground to be traversed were still serious in the central portion of the theatre of operations—the Orxois.

The Orxois is a plateau extending north of the Marne to the Soissonnais, at a mean height of 160 metres. But it is very far from being uniform. Let us study the nature of its soil, and the relief, that we may comprehend its aspects more thoroughly. The substratum of the plateau of the Orxois is the layer of rock called "hard limestone" 30 to 40 metres in thickness, so much of which is used for building material in the towns and villages. This layer is almost horizontal, and if there were nothing superimposed upon it, the plateau would be a practically level platform. But above the hard limestone are successive layers of a far different character—layers of sand, of Beauchamp sandstone, mingled with marl, making a moist, impermeable, infertile soil; then another layer of limestone, softer and more clayey than that below. Finally, this upper limestone is covered, especially toward the east, with thin layers of marl, clay and, lastly, Fontainebleau sand, which are connected with the strata of the Tardenois. Thus, to a depth of 100 metres, we find a succession of diversified strata, hard and soft, dry and moist, which impart great variety to the landscape.

The valleys which intersect this conglomeration run from east to west, toward the deep depression hollowed out by the Savières and the Lower Ourcq. From north to south, we can count three—the Upper Ourcq, by Fère-en-Tardenois and La Ferté Milon, the Ru d'Alland, and the Clignon. Very wide where they pass through the upper strata, these valleys grow abruptly narrower and deeper when they reach the level of the hard limestone, where they are little more than deep and narrow ditches. Between these furrows, the marl, sand, and softer limestones form ridges, now steep, now rising more gently, the sandy soil bearing woods, the limestones cultivated fields.

Thus the whole plateau of the Orxois is a series of elevations and depressions, running from east to west, which form just so many obstacles to an advance from south to north like that of the Allies. Luckily they approached this locality at the same time from the west, which enabled them to outflank the obstacles simultaneously with their approach from the south.

North of Château-Thierry, three or four kilometres from the Marne, the plateau is less diversified. The only obstacle is the valley of the Clignon, which deepens rapidly toward the west. Above it, at the summit of the limestone cliff, the plateau forms a species of promontories on which are built villages—Torcy, Belleau, Bouresches. The American troops had held their positions there during the last part of June, and it was there that the heroic marines halted the enemy in his march upon Paris. And again, it was there that they assumed the offensive on July 18, to outflank Château-Thierry from the north. On that day they carried the ridges of Torcy and Belleau; on the 19th they pressed beyond Bouresches; and on the 20th they forced their way into Etrepilly and Château-Thierry.

Immediately beyond, the terrain is not so difficult. The Clignon valley becomes less rugged and gradually blends with the plateau. Toward Bézu-St.-Germain and Epieds lies a comparatively open plain with extensive stretches of fallow land. In this more open region the progress was more rapid; on July 22 the American troops took possession of Epieds, twelve kilometres from Bouresches, their starting point.

But the difficulties are more serious farther to the north, along the hills which form the southern boundary of the valley of the Ourcq. Although the depression made by the Ru d'Alland, being broad and level, is not a considerable obstacle, it is not the same beyond. The relief map shows a line of heights running from west to east, and rising higher and higher in that direction. From these heights a multitude of valleys descend to the Ourcq, from south to north, cutting the crest into hills separated by depressions. Thus the terrain is broken up in every direction and well adapted to meet an attack from the west as well as one from the south.

It was necessary to deal with all these obstacles one by one. Starting from the west, the French had to carry successively these lines of crests and depressions with their fortified villages: ridge of Monnes, July 19; ravine of Neuilly-St-Front the same evening; the hill of Latilly and its wood the 20th; La Croix and Grisolles the 21st, with their thickets and dense plantations of osiers. On the 23d the Allied troops took Rocourt and the wood of Le Chatelet; on the 24th the deep ravine of Brécy; and, finally, on the 25th, French and Americans together attacked the hill of the forest of Fère, which is 228 metres high, completely covered with woods, cut by ravines, and flanked by fortified villages. On the 27th the whole position was taken, and the Allies were on the verge of the deep valley of the Ourcq, which they were next to cross.

This line was a by no means inconsiderable obstacle. Imagine, if you please, a deep depression, twisting and turning in all directions, and from 200 to 400 metres wide, extending at least as far as Fère-en-Tardenois. It is bounded on either side by cliffs of hard limestone, 30 to 40 metres high, in which innumerable caves are scooped—the so-called boves, which are used as dwellings, with doors and windows flush with the face of the cliff. These boves are invaluable defensive positions, out of reach of bullets and shells. The valley bottom is wet and swampy, with dense clumps of poplars mingled with alder-bushes. There are numerous villages at the foot of the cliffs,—Rozet-St.-Albain, Brény, Armentières,—or on the slopes above, like Noroy. A frontal attack on such a position would have been too costly. The Allies turned the line of the Ourcq from the north. They crossed the river in force in the upper part of its course, where it has not yet attacked the stratum of hard limestone, and where the valley is wider, and the sides are less steep. Nevertheless they encountered terrible difficulties.

North of the Ourcq, indeed, the last heights of the Orxois form another chain of hills, from four to six kilometres wide—the last obstacle before we come to the plateau of the Soissonnais. These hills are of the greatest possible diversity of shape and vary in height from 200 metres at the western extremity to 230 at the eastern. Their bases consist largely of sandstone and Fontainebleau sand, with clumps of forest scattered here and there; higher up is the softer limestone, the land being entirely cleared and covered with crops. Here and there we find the remains of the former covering of clay and Fontainebleau sand—wooded ridges which expand toward the east into the wood of Seringes, the forest of Nesle, and Meunière wood. These hills, the last as we travel northward, where they command the whole of the Soissonnais, have therefore the greatest strategic value, particularly the positions of Hartennes, Plessier-Huleu, and Seringes.

Luckily these formidable defensive positions were approached from the west, astride the ridges. Starting from the forest of Retz, the French crossed the Savières with a rush, and in a single bound reached Noroy-sur-Ourcq and Villers-Hélon, which lie along one of the ridges, surrounded by orchards. On July 19 they had advanced three kilometres to the east; the strong line of the Ourcq was outflanked. On the 20th they were at Parcy-Tigny and Rozet-St.-Albain, pushing forward over the broken ground planted with sugar-beets and cereals, enlivened in spots by small clumps of trees perched on the sandstone hillocks. Thus they drew near to the heart of the position—the ridges of Plessier and of Hartennes. There the resistance was much more violent; but after three days of hard fighting, the French entered Plessier and approached the village of Oulchy-la-Ville, surrounded by picturesque heaps of sandstone blocks mingled with pines and birches. On the 25th, in the evening, they were in occupation of Oulchy-le-Château, which lies in a charming vale running down to the Ourcq. The line of the Ourcq, as to that portion where the river, flowing between high cliffs, constitutes a real obstacle, was in the Allies' hands.

It remained to complete the victory by the conquest of the eastern sector of the hills; and this again was no easy task. The French and Americans had now to approach that strong defensive position from the south. On the 28th they entered Fère-en-Tardenois; the Americans crossed the Ourcq, taking Sergy, which changed hands nine times. On July 31, after more titanic battles, they wrested Seringes from the foe. On August 1 there was a general advance all along the line, and the Allies carried the whole line of hilltops, from Plessier-Huleu to Meunière wood.

This was the end: the horizon expanded. From the heights conquered in fourteen days of fighting the Allies went down to the plateau of the Soissonnais; soon they would reach the Vesle and join hands with the troops who had retaken Soissons. Among the numberless heroes of this second battle of the Marne, they who stormed the heights of the Orxois and either outflanked or crossed the valley of the Ourcq were the bravest of the brave and are entitled to the largest share of our gratitude. The third act of the battle was played upon a terrain quite different from those preceding it. The relief is considerably simplified. The great plateau of the Ile de France, which is buried, as it were, under the accumulations of recent deposits, where erosion has worn gaps in the ridges of the Orxois, and hollowed out the deep ravines of the Tardenois, is reduced here to the substratum of hard limestone, almost entirely free from superimposed layers. So that, instead of being an uneven, swampy district, the Soissonnais is a dry level table-land, where the streams flow underground through the layers of limestone. A fertile district, too, for the surface is covered with a thin coating of loam, in which sugar-beets and cereals vie with one another in profusion of growth.

However, the plateau is intersected by occasional valleys, generally broad and deep. The two most considerable are those of the Vesle and the Aisne which come together above Soissons, at Condé, and isolate the famous Chemin-des-Dames to the north. Two tributaries, Ambleny brook and the Crise, flowing down to the Aisne, subdivide the southern portion of the Soissonnais, where the battle was fought. With respect to the plateau, these valleys are little worlds apart. Below the hard limestone, they have hollowed out a path through very soft rocks, sands, and clays; in these the streams have inevitably made large inroads, sapping the limestone cliffs which overhang them. Thus the valley bottoms are abnormally wide—from two to three kilometres near Soissons. The presence of the clayey soils makes them very moist, and we find there fields of beets and grain side by side with extensive tracts of grassland. On the lower slopes are many small fields given over to the less hardy products—beans, orchards, and sometimes grape-vines. Here are most of the villages, at the level where the water-courses, seeping through the limestone of the plateau, reappear in the shape of springs, on the impervious stratum. For the most part the villages lie along the hillsides, surrounded by trees, embellished by châteaux and parks. They are well-built and attractive, boasting churches of graceful architecture, thanks to the lovely decorative stone taken from the quarries in the limestone cliffs above, which are called boves, or croutes. A fascinating, fertile country, diversified and pleasant to the eye, before the war it might well have been taken as a sample of rural opulence.

Plateau and valleys, then, differ materially—the one monotonous and easy of access; the other, no less charming than varied, but presenting great difficulties of passage in the face of opposition. There is not a village on the plateau: only a few large farms and scattered sugar-beet refineries. In the valleys and on the slopes there are everywhere houses, châteaux, parks, orchards, and grottoes. The slender church-tower barely rises to the level of the plateau, as if to watch for the approach of an enemy. The conditions then were quite simple: on the plateau it was possible to gain many kilometres in a single rush; but in the valleys a fierce resistance was to be expected.

The French and American attack in the Soissonnais was fortunate in its starting-point. In the course of the hard-fought battles between June 15 and July 15, the French had retaken the entire valley of Ambleny-Cœuvres, and had gained a footing on the plateau to the eastward, which stretches as far as the outskirts of Soissons. To the south they had completely cleared the verge of the forest of Retz, from which they were thus able to debouch into the plain.

The first onrush was magnificent. Starting at ten minutes to five in the morning, the Allies were within sight of Soissons at ten o'clock, having overrun the whole plateau on a front of some ten kilometres. Rarely has a more successful attack been seen in this war. It was even said that on this first day some French and Americans got as far as the suburbs of Soissons. But the danger for the Germans was too great, and they brought all their reserves thither. Moreover, they had the valley of the Crise to support their defense.

This valley is the widest and deepest of all those which eat into the plateau of the Soissonnais from the south. The very considerable depression is more than 100 metres below the surface of the plateau, which it cuts in two, effectively shutting off all progress from west to east; for on the south a narrow isthmus, that of Vierzy, barely separates it from the ravine of the Savières; and on the southeast it reaches to the foot of the wooded hills of Hartennes. Clinging to the sides of the valley and of the ravines which open into it, numerous villages—Vauxbuin, Berzy-le-Sec, Villemontoire, Buzancy—are the more difficult to capture because the artillery can hardly see them, as they lie close against the hillside. It was on the Crise, in the latter part of May, that a handful of Frenchmen held up the German avalanche from the Chemin-des-Dames.

The Germans paid us back in July. Sheltered in the ravines and windings of the valley, their artillery, being almost invisible, had nothing to disturb its aim. The villages, the orchards, the grottoes, crammed with machine-guns, were so many fortresses; the whole valley was a veritable hell. There were incessant counter-attacks, which the Allies, on the bare plateau, entirely devoid of cover, could repel only with the greatest difficulty. They pushed forward step by step, and by fits and starts. On the 19th our troops were hard put to it to hold the ground they had taken the day before; on the 20th they barely began to nibble at the ravines, at Ploisy and L'Echelle. On the 21st the Americans took Berzy-le-Sec, and the French were astride the lower waters of the Crise; on the 23d they went down into the ravine of Buzancy. But not until the 25th did they gain possession of the promontory of Villemontoire; and only on the 29th did a Scottish division, after three days of forward fighting, carry Buzancy. This last success, to be sure, was decisive, for it uncovered the upper valley of the Crise. And so, on August 2, the enemy gave way; that day the Allies crossed the valley along its entire length, and advanced across the eastern side of the plateau as far as the Vesle. On the same day they entered Soissons—at last. The ancient capital of the French kings, the city which formerly disputed the claim of Paris to be called the metropolis, is now no more than a mass of ruins. For four long years the war has laid its heavy hand upon her; and it is no new thing for her, since she had played an important military rôle in 1814, 1815, and 1870. She owes it to her fine location, in the heart of a broad valley, where the roads from south and east meet. Let us hope that her martyrdom will soon come to an end.

Here ended the second battle of the Marne. The Allies have regained possession of the whole plateau which extends from the Marne to the Vesle and the Aisne. They have established themselves in the valleys of those great rivers, from Soissons to Braisne, Bazoches, and Fismes—even to Rheims. They find there formidable obstacles to be overcome: a broad, moist, sometimes swampy bottom; facing them the cliff of the Chemin-des-Dames and the plateau of the Vesle, with its cap of limestone, and its numerous windings lined with villages and grottoes. Except in case of a surprise or a voluntary retirement, it will be a hard job to carry these positions. But sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. The results already achieved are fine enough to justify us in declaring ourselves satisfied.

The work done in their début, by the American troops in conjunction with our own, was magnificent. They fought against victorious soldiers sure of success, and whipped them. They were engaged on a difficult terrain. In the south they were obliged to cross a broad river and wide valleys, to scale cliffs bristling with defensive positions. In the center they were confronted by a confused entanglement of broken ground, hills and ravines, woods and open fields, bisected by a deep valley half-concealed by trees. In the north they became acquainted with the snare formed by plateaus falling abruptly away into the wolf-trap of ravines, where the enemy, lying in ambush, refused to give ground. The Americans triumphed over all these obstacles, and deserve to be reckoned the peers of the best soldiers in the world. On the other hand, fighting as they have fought in these countrysides, so typically French in their simplicity and grandeur, and seeing all their charms foully outraged, our attractive villages destroyed, our churches—graceful masterpieces, in almost every case, of the Middle Ages—desecrated and shattered, they have come to understand France better; they have had a share in her misfortunes and in her hopes.

Throughout the war Germans persisted in the assumption that by nightly raids from bombing machines and Zeppelins they could spread terror among the Allies and weaken their morale. They did succeed in killing a large number of defenseless men and women, but this was the only result of these attacks. A vivid account of these night raids is given in the narrative following.

NIGHT RAIDS FROM THE AIR

MARY HELEN FEE

When the first offensive began to the north of us, we, who were stationed in the American Canteen at E——, not more than fifteen miles from Rheims, were thrilled by the sight of the thousands of automobile trucks, which like a mighty river flowed ceaselessly by our canteen carrying French troops up to the English front; and we grew sad when we beheld ambulance convoys hurrying in the same direction.

We could not be oblivious to certain signs which pointed to renewed activity in our sector. The American ambulance boys predicted with the emphasis and at the same time with the vagueness born of surmise instead of exact knowledge, that we should "see something doing" in a few weeks.

What chiefly excited our curiosity, however, was the scarcity of German airplanes. Although the days were clear and fine for observing, only occasionally did the barking of guns call us outside to behold a little white, shimmering object skipping defiantly through extremest blue while tufts of woolly cloud broke far below it, serving only to aid us in detecting the almost invisible plane. One came over one night just about sunset, and called us and our dinner guests from the beginning of a meal. Another paid us an early morning call. Then for nearly three weeks we enjoyed undisturbed rest at night. Not once did the "alerte" send us shivering to damp cellars; not once did we hear the deep "boom" followed by a savage jar and rattle which differentiates the falling bomb or torpedo from the cannon. We said, fatuously, that we believed all the airplanes were engaged up on the English front, and that at last our mastery of the air must be firmly established.

It was on a Monday that the news of the second offensive reached us. Trains from Paris were delayed and the Paris papers did not arrive, but the ambulance men told us there was a German offensive from Rheims to Soissons. Next day the canteen was crowded with permissionaires hastily recalled from leave and hurrying to join their regiments at the front. Most of them had passed through, ten to two days before, in the subdued good humor with which the poilu hails his bath, disinfecting, clean clothes, and relative security of body while on a ten days' leave. They were going back to face death, mutilation, and an experience which drives many men mad. There was no undue hilarity about them, but a quiet determination which has been reflected in the stand made by the armies. Here and there a weakling had tried to escape thought in drink, but the percentage of that sort was very small.

On Tuesday more news drifted in, and that night I did not fully undress on going to bed. So strongly can the sense of optimism be grown from little habit that a respite of three weeks from bombing attacks had almost (though not quite) convinced me there would never be any more. I may explain that I was serving as canteen accountant, and occupied a tiny three-room apartment across the street from the canteen, between it and the railway station, and I took my meals at one of the two Red Cross houses maintained in E——.

When a town is bombed, the Germans have various objectives, principally the railway stations, troop barracks, canteens, munition dumps, food stores, and hospitals. As a rule, when private homes are destroyed, it is because they happen to be close to these points of attack. Torpedoes are too expensive to be wasted in chance destruction.

In towns in the war zone, great precaution is taken to prevent even a thin line or dot of light from showing at night. Only the railroad shows its signal lights, and these are put out at the first alarm, while all moving trains come to a standstill and extinguish what lights they carry. The lamps in passenger coaches are always put out when the train enters the war zone. So the bombing aviator has a rather difficult task in getting his bombs exactly where he wants them. The bomb must be released about a thousand feet in advance of the object aimed at, and the plane must pass over and reverse its course before a second bomb can be thrown at the same target. The course of a plane can be followed by tracing its bombs.

My position during a bombing raid was most unenviable. A torpedo cast at the railway station and going a bit too far was likely to land on the two-story brick house in which I was lodged. One cast at the canteen, and falling short, was likely to do the same.

It is fashionable among the workers in France to affect great indifference to danger. I am free to confess that I am not a particularly courageous woman. My imagination is active, and on nights when we expect a bombing raid I always go through a period of misery before going to bed. I would not for anything leave the war zone, but I have always a lively vision of coming out of slumber to the accompaniment of fearful noise and the crashing of the building atop, and then my coward imagination paints pictures of lying torn and anguished under settling weights of being burned alive while disabled and unable to extricate myself. Oddly enough, all my terrors vanish with the falling of the first bomb. I cannot remember being in what the English call a "blue funk" while a raid is going on, though many a time I have been in one beforehand.

Tuesday night some subtle instinct warned that trouble might come. In accordance with a natural forethought I slipped into a suit of underwear and woollen stockings under my nightdress. I must have been asleep in three minutes after my head touched the pillow, for I was dead tired.

I wakened with the sense that I had heard a gun, and, with one stockinged foot thrust out of bed, wondered sleepily whether it was the first, second or third of the alerte, or whether indeed I had not wakened from a dream of a gun. Probably it was the last gun of the alerte, for the next sound was the thunderous roar of a bomb which clearly had landed close by (it got a railway shed and a freight car on the tracks behind me). The terrific noise and the shock to our building, which rattled as if it were coming down, considerably accelerated my movements. I snapped on the electric torch which always lay, together with my cap and slippers, beside the bed, slipped a skirt over my nightdress and my great-coat atop, and got into the cap and slippers in record time. But by the time I had crossed the flagged passage and wrestled with the lock of the "grande porte" there was no getting out of the house. The canteen, directly across the street, lay in utter darkness, lights out, doors locked. There was no hope of using it as a short cut to the abris, or shelter, on the other side, while to try to go around it was almost certain death. The sky was ablaze with breaking shells from our seventy-fives; shrapnel was falling like hail in the streets, while the steady "pup-pup" of machine-guns—both our own and the bombing planes'—advised all who could to remain under shelter. The noise of our guns and of the bombs was like a small inferno.

I stayed it out—about twenty minutes—alone in that dark flagged hallway, and it was lonesome. When the shrapnel and machine-gun fire let up sufficiently to make it safe, I crept along under the shelter of the eaves to the door of a courtyard next door where I knew one of our cooks lived. She had invited me a few days before, to refuge there instead of trying to get over the abris, because, she said, the whole upper lofts were full of hay, and it had been demonstrated that bombs will not penetrate to any depth in hay. But the door was locked, and though I beat upon it with my electric torch, nobody heard me. I finally took advantage of a lull in the firing, when the Germans went back to their own lines for more ammunition, to get over the abris.

There one of the women on night duty at the canteen told me that the directrice and everybody else not on night duty, had gone up to the evacuation hospital about ten o'clock, in response to a call for aid from the French authorities.

In E—— there were half a dozen large hospitals. The wounded, chiefly English, were coming in faster than the hospital corps could handle them. They needed our help, not only in registering the men—very few of whom understood any French—but in feeding and giving water.

I got to the hospital the next day and worked steadily till eight thirty. Then an ambulance driver gave me a lift as far as the canteen, and I managed to get a cold supper at our mess.

I was hardly in my office before I heard a knock at the door, which, as I was alone in the house, I always locked at night as soon as I entered. In response to my "Who's there?" a voice, guided by my English, replied, "I am an English officer." I threw open the door without a second's hesitation. A young officer, weary, white-faced, stood there, beginning to apologize as he saw my uniform and white veil. He was simply "done," he said—and he looked it. He had found every hotel was full, and, seeing a few gleams of light behind the shutters, he had knocked in the hope of finding shelter for the night. I knew that the woman at the canteen who would go off duty at midnight was scheduled to go immediately to the hospital to work until seven in the morning and that I could occupy her bed after I came back from the hospital, and I offered my apartment to the officer for the night. He was most grateful, and I rushed over to the canteen to get him a pitcher of hot water and a cup of chocolate. But there I found a group of French officers, who said they had neither sleep nor rest for three days and nights, pleading for some place to lie down. As there was a comfortable leather couch in my office, besides a wide soft couch over which I had laid my steamer rug, and, in addition, an exceedingly soft double bed in my room which I thought the tired Englishman ought to be willing to share with an equally tired man, I proffered my hospitality, which was gratefully accepted. I piloted them across to the office, and returned to the canteen, hoping to find an American ambulance boy who would run me over to the hospital.

I sighted a group of the familiar uniforms, and was heading for it when, bang! went a falling bomb, without any warning alerte. The next instant all lights were out, and the French soldiers were swarming through the door. As all the other women in the canteen had set duties to perform—putting out fires, locking up money and food—and I, not being on duty, had none, I stationed myself at the door, calling out to the soldiers where they would find shelter. Being transients, they did not know where to find refuge. But long before the canteen was empty, the machine-gun bullets were sweeping the street and the shrapnel was raining down. Two American boys came up in the darkness, and one said in the quietest tone of authority, "Get between us, lady!" They backed me up against the side of the canteen, close under the shelter of the eaves, and stood one on each side of me. I had no trench-helmet, so one of them took his sheepskin driving coat, folded it, and put it over his head and mine. As soon as a lull in the firing permitted, we ran across the street to the abris. The Germans went back several times for more ammunition and continued the bombing for nearly two hours.

One of our workers, who was at the hospital, told me that her first impulse was to run for an abris as we would do at the canteen, but when she looked about her and saw everybody composedly going on with duty, she gathered herself together and did the same—"Although," she added, "my teeth just rattled at first." Some of the wounded were terrified and begged not to be left; and that called out the mother instinct in the women, so that they forgot to be afraid.

The Germans swept the hospital with their machine guns and did their best to bomb it, but fortunately made no hits. It was finally necessary to put out all lights and to cease work. It was a most trying ordeal, because the buildings were of pine, close together, and a direct hit probably would have started a fire which would have burned the wounded as they lay.

About half past one I went up to our mess and crawled into an empty bed. The next morning when I awakened it was to the sound of distant cannon. This meant that the battle was drawing nearer.

An especially hard day kept me on the strain from 8 a.m. to 7 p.m. and when I returned to the mess I found no dinner and no servants. Our directrice, anticipating evacuation, had dismissed them. Only a little Belgian refugee, a sort of "slavey," hung on, because she had no other place to go. Tired out, I managed to make an omelet and a cup of tea, and to fry some griddle cakes to replace the bread which was conspicuous by its absence. Then I stationed myself in front of the canteen hoping to flag a passing ambulance. An American driver stopped his car, and a Frenchman, who was beside him on the front seat, jumped down to help me up. This man had a bandage around his throat, and when I asked him if he was wounded, he made a hissing sound in reply. The American driver explained that he could not speak because he had a bullet through his windpipe. There were six badly wounded men on the stretchers inside, but we heard not a sound from them.

I shall not soon forget that night I had steeled myself to meet horrors, and knew that I must not let them affect me. Yet in spite of terrible wounds, there was little sound of suffering. The place was wonderfully quiet.

When I got inside of the receiving room, a group of our women who had been at work all afternoon were still moving about, white and hollow-eyed with fatigue. A French doctor asked if I could not bring some food there from the canteen. It was Thursday. Some of the men had been wounded on Tuesday, and had had no food and little water.

I found an English girl with an empty ambulance, who risked a reprimand for leaving without orders, and we flashed back to the canteen, and loaded up with twenty gallons of hot chocolate, bread, about three hundred hard boiled eggs, some kilos of chocolate, and raw eggs and sugar. We flew back to the hospital; but there was a big convoy of ambulances just in, so that we could not get up to the main buildings. We scouted around in the dark to find a place to deposit our stuff and open a temporary kitchen, and, returning to the ambulance, we came across a wounded boy who had sunk on a bench. The ambulance driver had passed him, making his way on foot, but being full-up, she was unable to give him a lift. He was wounded in the chest, was exhausted, and had no great-coat. It was absolutely necessary to get him under cover and to give him warmth and nourishment. We put our arms around him and tried to help him along, but soon it was apparent that he had not the strength to make the reception ward.

The English girl said, "You hold him up while I get a stretcher"; so I jammed myself up against the side of a building and put my arms about the boy while his weight grew heavier and heavier against me. I could not let him slip, because the roadway was narrow and a long string of ambulances, without lights, was passing. He never uttered a sound, but his arms moved convulsively. As he felt himself growing weaker, he put them around my neck, and clung to me precisely as a frightened child would. It seemed an age while I waited there, warning off ambulances that were about to shave us too closely. I could not help wondering where that boy's mother was, what she was doing, or if he had a mother. And I thought some terrible thoughts about war and some wicked ones about Germans.

The girl came with her stretcher at last, and we got the boy on it. Then we went about setting up our feeding station. Hungry men limped in, bandaged mostly about the head, and how they consumed hard boiled eggs and drank hot chocolate! I left the English girl dispensing food and drink, while I took to the badly wounded a mixture of beaten egg, hot milk and sugar. Here and there men asked for a piece of chocolate or bread, but most of the wounded wanted only the liquid food. They would say with their awful English cockney accent, "Ah! that's good!" or "Prime stuff!" or "Could you spare a little more, sister?" In spite of dreadful wounds, they were full of pluck.

For the next two hours I gave water and egg mixture to all sorts and conditions of men—English, French, Canadians, Moroccans, Senegalese. The doctor asked if I knew enough to administer morphine hypodermics, and I regretfully admitted that I did not, while I registered a vow to learn. Then some American Red Cross men appeared, and some English doctors. Before midnight three or four long Red Cross trains had been filled with wounded, and sent out. Yet at that hour more than five hundred wounded men still lay on their stretchers on the grass outside. And all the while, as I worked, I thought of how, as soon as the moon came up, we should hear the familiar roar and rattle of the bombs, and of how the shrapnel and machine gun bullets would rain down on those upturned faces.

But, grace to heaven, the Germans did not come that night! At midnight I went into Ward 4, where some of the worst wounded had been placed. Stretchers had been laid on top of the beds and flat on the floor on both sides of the central aisle, till one could hardly move. Most of the wounded seemed to sleep. Only here and there one begged for water, and these men were usually wounded in the abdomen where not even water could be given. We could moisten their lips and wipe off the hot feverish faces, and that was all.

By one o'clock it was evident that the most of what could be done had been done. Another section of our women had arrived with more food, and I went out to the covered way between the receiving room and the operating room, to steal a ride home on the driver's seat of some departing ambulance. An English boy, who had been gassed, asked me hoarsely if I could get him a blanket, and I did so. Another man was there, on whose eyelashes and eyebrows something that looked like ice seemed to hang. I think it was an application to soothe gas-burns.

It was two o'clock before I got to bed at the mess. The English officer was still occupying my apartment. I might pass off my action in resigning it to him as philanthropy, but candor compels me to admit that I was glad of an excuse to stay at the house where there was company in case of a bombing raid.

Friday was a long, tense day. The French merchants and all the people with whom we had dealings, anticipating our withdrawal, swarmed in with accounts. When the G.A.N. (Grand Armée Nationale) sent in its request for a check (previously, I had been obliged fairly to windlass their bill out of them), I knew the French would evacuate. The Commandant sent for the Directrice, and advised her to follow French headquarters wherever it might move. He said he was evacuating all French hospitals and had turned over all evacuation hospitals to the English. No more wounded French were to be brought into E——.

All day I worked without food, and after 7.30 got supper for myself and three companions. We hoped for a night's rest, but the Germans began bombing us at dusk, and kept it up till daylight. They were after hospitals, as we knew by the fact that the dropping bombs were at a distance from us and the regular line. All night the machine-gun battle went on—our own guns at E——, warring with the sweeping planes overhead. We got so tired of going to shelter, and so accustomed to the firing, that we finally stayed in our rooms and even opened our shutters to peer out into the calm summer sky. Shells were bursting and ground signals of colored lights were streaming skyward. It was too exciting to sleep until we gave out from sheer exhaustion. I managed to get an intermittent slumber from four until seven.

As there was no breakfast at our mess, I went to the canteen for a cup of coffee, and found the place crowded. The French Commander said that our town was due to be shelled before long as we were getting in range of the German guns. We decided not to go until we had to, but to cease keeping the canteen open at night; to sell only hot coffee, chocolate, bread, cheese, eggs and apples by day—thus omitting our hot meal—and to divide our forces, one part to run the canteen, another to organize a temporary canteen on the grounds of the evacuation hospital, and still another to maintain the rolling canteen at the railway station. The streets were almost blocked with refugees. I saw one unconscious woman in a wheelbarrow being trundled by a boy. Regiments went through, going up to the front, the men's faces stern and set. The sound of the battle grew louder and louder.

That night we bundled our bedding into the Ford camion, and slept in one of the deep champagne caves. I had volunteered to go on duty at the canteen at six the next morning, and arriving there on time, found two or three hundred tired and hungry men waiting for the doors to open. The night before a great thermos marmite had been filled with boiling coffee, and we were able to begin feeding the men without delay. All day we did a tremendous business. About half past nine a German plane came over, tried to bomb us, and swept the street with a machine gun. We continued serving and pouring out coffee. The aviator killed a woman and child who were standing in a garden, and then one of our machine guns got him. The plane, a three passenger one, came tumbling down into the public square. The pilot was caught with both legs under the engine and was badly hurt, but the observer and the gunner were uninjured. An infuriated Frenchman, who had seen the killing of the woman and child, rushed up and killed the gunner as they lifted him out. I got these facts from an American staff car driver who assisted in extricating the pilot. That morning, our guns got three German planes.

At one that afternoon I left the canteen, and went home for the bath which I had missed that morning. I had just finished dressing when a German shell passed over the house, killing, as they said, twenty-seven persons.

I elected to stay over night at the hotel instead of going to the champagne cave. No sound disturbed the night except the distant thunder of the battle and the bursting of shells which were falling about a thousand yards short of the town. The Germans were trying to destroy the bridge over the Marne, to cut our communication with Rheims, but they did not have the range.

Volumes of detailed narrative could not sum up more graphically what the American Army did in France than did the summary written by General Pershing, presented in the following pages.

THE AMERICAN ARMY IN EUROPE

GENERAL JOHN J. PERSHING

With French and British armies at their maximum strength, and all efforts to dispossess the enemy from his firmly intrenched positions in Belgium and France failed, it was necessary to plan for an American force adequate to turn the scale in favor of the Allies. Taking account of the strength of the central powers at that time, the immensity of the problem which confronted us could hardly be overestimated. The first requisite being an organization that could give intelligent direction to effort, the formation of a General Staff occupied my early attention.

After a thorough consideration of allied organizations it was decided that our combat division should consist of four regiments of infantry of 3,000 men, with three battalions to a regiment and four companies of 250 men each to a battalion, and of an artillery brigade of three regiments, a machine-gun battalion, an engineer regiment, a trench-mortar battery, a signal battalion, wagon trains, and the headquarters staffs and military police. These, with medical and other units, made a total of over 28,000 men, or practically double the size of a French or German division. Each corps would normally consist of six divisions—four combat and one depot and one replacement division—and also two regiments of cavalry, and each army of from three to five corps. With four divisions fully trained, a corps could take over an American sector with, two divisions in line and two in reserve, with the depot and replacement divisions prepared to fill the gaps in the ranks.

Our purpose was to prepare an integral American force which should be able to take the offensive in every respect. Accordingly, the development of a self-reliant infantry by thorough drill in the use of the rifle and in the tactics of open warfare was always uppermost. The plan of training after arrival in France allowed a division one month for acclimatization and instruction in small units from battalions down, a second month in quiet trench sectors by battalion, and a third month after it came out of the trenches when it should be trained as a complete division in war of movement.

Very early a system of schools was outlined and started, which should have the advantage of instruction by officers direct from the front. At the great school center at Langres, one of the first to be organized, was the staff school, where the principles of general staff work, as laid down in our own organization were taught to carefully selected officers. Men in the ranks, who had shown qualities of leadership, were sent to the school of candidates for commissions. A school of the line taught younger officers the principles of leadership, tactics, and the use of the different weapons. In the artillery school, at Saumur, young officers were taught the fundamental principles of modern artillery; while at Issoudun an immense plant was built for training cadets in aviation. These and other schools, with their well-considered curriculums for training in every branch of our organization, were coordinated in a manner best to develop an efficient army out of willing and industrious young men, many of whom had not before known even the rudiments of military technique. Both Marshal Haig and General Petain placed officers and men at our disposal for instructional purposes, and we are deeply indebted for the opportunities given to profit by their veteran experience.

The eventual place the American Army should take on the western front was to a large extent influenced by the vital questions of communication and supply. The northern ports of France were crowded by the British Armies' shipping and supplies while the southern ports, though otherwise at our service, had not adequate port facilities for our purposes and these we should have to build. The already overtaxed railway system behind the active front in northern France would not be available for us as lines of supply and those leading from the southern ports of northeastern France would be unequal to our needs without much new construction. Practically all warehouses, supply depots and regulating stations must be provided by fresh constructions. While France offered us such material as she had to spare after a drain of three years enormous quantities of material had to be brought across the Atlantic.

With such a problem any temporization or lack of definiteness in making plans might cause failure even with victory within our grasp. Moreover, broad plans commensurate with our national purpose and resources would bring conviction of our power to every soldier in the front line, to the nations associated with us in the war, and to the enemy. The tonnage for material for necessary construction for the supply of an army of three and perhaps four million men would require a mammoth program of shipbuilding at home, and miles of dock construction in France, with a correspondingly large project for additional railways and for storage depots.

All these considerations led to the inevitable conclusion that if we were to handle and supply the great forces deemed essential to win the war we must utilise the southern ports of France—Bordeaux, La Pallice, St. Nazaire, and Brest—and the comparatively unused railway systems leading therefrom to the northeast. Generally speaking, then, this would contemplate the use of our forces against the enemy somewhere in that direction, but the great depots of supply must be centrally located, preferably in the area included by Tours, Bourges, and Chateauroux, so that our armies could be supplied with equal facility wherever they might be serving on the western front.

To build up such a system there were talented men in the Regular Army, but more experts were necessary than the Army could furnish. Thanks to the patriotic spirit of our people at home, there came from civil life men trained for every sort of work involved in building and managing the organization necessary to handle and transport such an army and keep it supplied. With such assistance the construction and general development of our plans have kept pace with the growth of the forces, and the Service of Supply is now able to discharge from ships and move 45,000 tons daily, besides transporting troops and material in the conduct of active operations.

As to organization, all the administrative and supply services, except the Adjutant General's, Inspector General's and Judge Advocate General's Departments which remain at general headquarters, have been transferred to the headquarters of the services of supplies at Tours under a commanding general responsible to the commander in chief for supply of the armies. The Chief Quartermaster, Chief Surgeon, Chief Signal Officer, Chief of Ordnance, Chief of Air Service, Chief of Chemical Warfare, the general purchasing agent in all that pertains to questions of procurement and supply, the Provost Marshal General in the maintenance of order in general, the Director General of Transportation in all that affects such matters, and the Chief Engineer in all matters of administration and supply, are subordinate to the Commanding General of the Service of Supply, who, assisted by a staff especially organized for the purpose, is charged with the administrative coordination of all these services.

The transportation department under the Service of Supply directs the operation, maintenance, and construction of railways, the operation of terminals, the unloading of ships, and transportation of material to warehouses or to the front. Its functions make necessary the most intimate relationship between our organization and that of the French, with the practical result that our transportation department has been able to improve materially the operations of railways generally. Constantly laboring under a shortage of rolling stock, the transportation department has nevertheless been able by efficient management to meet every emergency.

The Engineer Corps is charged with all construction, including light railways and roads. It has planned and constructed the many projects required, the most important of which are the new wharves at Bordeaux and Nantes, and the immense storage depots at La Palice, Montoir, and Gièvres, besides innumerable hospitals and barracks in various ports of France. These projects have all been carried on by phases keeping pace with our needs. The Forestry Service under the Engineer Corps has cut the greater part of the timber and railway ties required.

To meet the shortage of supplies from America, due to lack of shipping, the representatives of the different supply departments were constantly in search of available material and supplies in Europe. In order to coordinate these purchases and to prevent competition between our departments, a general purchasing agency was created early in our experience to coordinate our purchases and, if possible, induce our Allies to apply the principle among the Allied armies. While there was no authority for the general use of appropriations, this was met by grouping the purchasing representatives of the different departments under one control, charged with the duty of consolidating requisitions and purchases. Our efforts to extend the principle have been signally successful, and all purchases for the Allied armies are now on an equitable and cooperative basis. Indeed, it may be said that the work of this bureau has been thoroughly efficient and businesslike.

Our entry into the war found us with few of the auxiliaries necessary for its conduct in the modern sense. Among our most important deficiencies in material were artillery, aviation, and tanks. In order to meet our requirements as rapidly as possible, we accepted the offer of the French Government to provide us with the necessary artillery equipment of seventy-fives, one fifty-five millimeter howitzers, and one fifty-five G P F guns from their own factories for thirty divisions. The wisdom of this course is fully demonstrated by the fact that, although we soon began the manufacture of these classes of guns at home, there were no guns of the calibers mentioned manufactured in America on our front at the date the armistice was signed. The only guns of these types produced at home thus far received in France are 109 seventy-five millimeter guns.

In aviation we were in the same situation, and here again the French Government came to our aid until our own aviation program should be under way. We obtained from the French the necessary planes for training our personnel, and they have provided us with a total of 2,676 pursuit, observation, and bombing planes. The first airplanes received from home arrived in May, and altogether we have received 1,379. The first American squadron completely equipped by American production, including airplanes, crossed the German lines on August 7, 1918. As to tanks, we were also compelled to rely upon the French. Here, however, we were less fortunate, for the reason that the French production could barely meet the requirements of their own armies.

It should be fully realized that the French Government has always taken a most liberal attitude and has been most anxious to give us every possible assistance in meeting our deficiencies in these as well as in other respects. Our dependence upon France for artillery, aviation, and tanks was, of course, due to the fact that our industries had not been exclusively devoted to military production. All credit is due our own manufacturers for their efforts to meet our requirements, as at the time the armistice was signed we were able to look forward to the early supply of practically all our necessities from our own factories.

The welfare of the troops touches my responsibility as Commander in Chief to the mothers and fathers and kindred of the men who came to France in the impressionable period of youth. They could not have the privilege accorded European soldiers during their periods of leave of visiting their families and renewing their home ties. Fully realizing that the standard of conduct that should be established for them must have a permanent influence in their lives and on the character of their future citizenship, the Red Cross, the Young Men's Christian Association, Knights of Columbus, the Salvation Army, and the Jewish Welfare Board, as auxiliaries in this work, were encouraged in every possible way. The fact that our soldiers, in a land of different customs and language, have borne themselves in a manner in keeping with the cause for which they fought, is due not only to the efforts in their behalf but much more to other high ideals, their discipline, and their innate sense of self-respect. It should be recorded, however, that the members of these welfare societies have been untiring in their desire to be of real service to our officers and men. The patriotic devotion of these representative men and women has given a new significance to the Golden Rule, and we owe to them a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid.

During our periods of training in the trenches some of our divisions had engaged the enemy in local combats, the most important of which was Seicheprey by the Twenty-sixth on April 20, in the Toul sector, but none had participated in action as a unit. The First Division, which had passed through the preliminary stages of training, had gone to the trenches for its first period of instruction at the end of October and by March 21, when the German offensive in Picardy began, we had four divisions with experience in the trenches, all of which were equal to any demands of battle action. The crisis which this offensive developed was such that our occupation of an American sector must be postponed.

On March 28 I placed at the disposal of Marshal Foch, who had been agreed upon as Commander in Chief of the Allied Armies, all of our forces to be used as he might decide. At his request the first division was transferred from the Toul sector to a position in reserve at Chaumont en Vexin. As German superiority in numbers required prompt action, an agreement was reached at the Abbeville conference of the Allied premiers and commanders and myself on May 2 by which British shipping was to transport 10 American divisions to the British Army area, where they were to be trained and equipped, and additional British shipping was to be provided for as many divisions as possible for use elsewhere.

On April 26 the First Division had gone into the line in the Montdidier salient on the Picardy battle front. Tactics had been suddenly revolutionized to those of open warfare, and our men, confident of the results of their training, were eager for the test. On the morning of May 28 this division attacked the commanding German position in its front, taking with splendid dash the town of Cantigny and all other objectives, which were organized and held steadfastly against vicious counterattacks and galling artillery fire. Although local, this brilliant action had an electrical effect, as it demonstrated our fighting qualities under extreme battle conditions, and also that the enemy's troops were not altogether invincible.

The Germans' Aisne offensive, which began on May 27, had advanced rapidly toward the River Marne and Paris, and the Allies faced a crisis equally as grave as that of the Picardy offensive in March. Again every available man was placed at Marshal Foch's disposal, and the Third Division, which had just come from its preliminary training in the trenches, was hurried to the Marne. Its motorized machine-gun battalion preceded the other units and successfully held the bridgehead at the Marne, opposite Château-Thierry. The Second Division, in reserve near Montdidier, was sent by motor trucks and other available transport to check the progress of the enemy toward Paris. The Division attacked and retook the town and railroad station at Bouresches and sturdily held its ground against the enemy's best guard divisions. In the battle of Belleau Wood, which followed, our men proved their superiority and gained a strong tactical position, with far greater loss to the enemy than to ourselves. On July 1, before the Second was relieved, it captured the village of Vaux with most splendid precision.

Meanwhile our Second Corps, under Major General George W. Read, had been organized for the command of our divisions with the British, which were held back in training areas or assigned to second-line defenses. Five of the ten divisions were withdrawn from the British area in June, three to relieve divisions in Lorraine and the Vosges and two to the Paris area to join the group of American divisions which stood between the city and any farther advance of the enemy in that direction.

The great June-July troop movement from the States was well under way, and, although these troops were to be given some preliminary training before being put into action, their very presence warranted the use of all the older divisions in the confidence that we did not lack reserves. Elements of the Forty-second Division were in the line east of Rheims against the German offensive of July 15, and held their ground unflinchingly. On the right flank of this offensive four companies of the Twenty-eighth Division were in position in face of the advancing waves of the German infantry. The Third Division was holding the bank of the Marne from the bend east of the mouth of the Surmelin to the west of Mézy, opposite Château-Thierry, where a large force of German infantry sought to force a passage under support of powerful artillery concentrations and under cover of smoke screens. A single regiment of the Third wrote one of the most brilliant pages in our military annals on this occasion. It prevented the crossing at certain points on its front while, on either flank, the Germans, who had gained a footing, pressed forward. Our men, firing in three directions, met the German attacks with counterattacks at critical points and succeeded in throwing two German divisions into complete confusion, capturing 600 prisoners.

The great force of the German Château-Thierry offensive established the deep Marne salient, but the enemy was taking chances, and the vulnerability of this pocket to attack might be turned to his disadvantage. Seizing this opportunity to support my conviction, every division with any sort of training was made available for use in a counter-offensive. The place of honor in the thrust toward Soissons on July 18 was given to our First and Second Divisions in company with chosen French divisions. Without the usual brief warning of a preliminary bombardment, the massed French and American artillery, firing by the map, laid down its rolling barrage at dawn while the infantry began its charge. The tactical handling of our troops under these trying conditions was excellent throughout the action. The enemy brought up large numbers of reserves and made a stubborn defense both with machine guns and artillery, but through five days' fighting the First Division continued to advance until it had gained the heights above Soissons and captured the village of Berzy-le-Sec. The Second Division took Beau Repaire farm and Vierzy in a very rapid advance and reached a position in front of Tigny at the end of its second day. These two divisions captured 7,000 prisoners and over 100 pieces of artillery.

The Twenty-sixth Division, which, with a French division, was under command of our First Corps, acted as a pivot of the movement toward Soissons. On the 18th it took the village of Torcy while the Third Division was crossing the Marne in pursuit of the retiring enemy. The Twenty-sixth attacked again on the 21st, and the enemy withdrew past the Château-Thierry-Soissons road. The Third Division, continuing its progress, took the heights of Mont St. Père and the villages of Chartèves and Jaulgonne in the face of both machine-gun and artillery fire.

On the 24th, after the Germans had fallen back from Trugney and Epieds, our Forty-second Division, which had been brought over from the Champagne, relieved the Twenty-sixth and, fighting its way through the Forêt de Fère, overwhelmed the nest of machine guns in its path. By the 27th it had reached the Ourcq, whence the Third and Fourth Divisions were already advancing, while the French divisions with which we were cooperating were moving forward at other points.

The Third Division had made its advance into Roncheres Wood on the 29th and was relieved for rest by a brigade of the Thirty-second. The Forty-second and Thirty-second undertook the task of conquering the heights beyond Cierges, the Forty-second capturing Sergy and the Thirty-second capturing Hill 230, both American divisions joining in the pursuit of the enemy to the Vesle, and thus the operation of reducing the salient was finished. Meanwhile the Forty-second was relieved by the Fourth at Chéry-Chartreuve, and the Thirty-second by the Twenty-eighth, while the Seventy-seventh Division took up a position on the Vesle. The operations of these divisions on the Vesle were under the Third Corps, Major General Robert L. Bullard, commanding.

With the reduction of the Marne salient we could look forward to the concentration of our divisions in our own zone. In view of the forthcoming operation against the St. Mihiel salient, which had long been planned as our first offensive action on a large scale, the First Army was organized on August 10 under my personal command. While American units had held different divisional and corps sectors along the western front, there had not been up to this time, for obvious reasons, a distinct American sector; but, in view of the important parts the American forces were now to play, it was necessary to take over a permanent portion of the line. Accordingly, on August 30, the line beginning at Port sur Seille, east of the Moselle and extending to the west through St. Mihiel, thence north to a point opposite Verdun, was placed under my command. The American sector was afterwards extended across the Meuse to the western edge of the Argonne Forest, and included the Second Colonial French, which held the point of the salient, and the Seventeenth French Corps, which occupied the heights above Verdun.

The preparation for a complicated operation against the formidable defenses in front of us included the assembling of divisions and of corps and army artillery, transport, aircraft, tanks, ambulances, the location of hospitals, and the molding together of all the elements of a great modern army with its own railheads, supplied directly by our Service of Supply. The concentration for this operation, which was to be a surprise, involved the movement, mostly at night, of approximately 600,000 troops, and required for its success the most careful attention to every detail.

The French were generous in giving us assistance in corps and army artillery, with its personnel, and we were confident from the start of our superiority over the enemy in guns of all calibers. Our heavy guns were able to reach Metz and to interfere seriously with German rail movements. The French Independent Air Force was placed under my command which, together with the British bombing squadrons and our air forces, gave us the largest assembly of aviation that had ever been engaged in one operation on the western front.

From Les Eparges around the nose of the salient at St. Mihiel to the Moselle River the line was roughly 40 miles long and situated on commanding ground greatly strengthened by artificial defenses. Our First Corps (Eighty-second, Ninetieth, Fifth, and Second Divisions) under command of Major General Hunter Liggett, restrung its right on Pont-a-Mousson, with its left joining our Third Corps (the Eighty-ninth, Forty-second, and First Divisions), under Major General Joseph T. Dickman, in line to Xivray, were to swing in toward Vigneulles on the pivot of the Moselle River for the initial assault. From Xivray to Mouilly the Second Colonial French Corps was in line in the center and our Fifth Corps, under command of Major General George H. Cameron, with our Twenty-sixth Division and a French division at the western base of the salient, were to attack three difficult hills—Les Eparges, Combres, and Amaranthe. Our First Corps had in reserve the Seventy-eighth Division, our Fourth Corps the Third Division, and our First Army the Thirty-fifth and Ninety-first Divisions, with the Eightieth and Thirty-third available. It should be understood that our corps organizations are very elastic, and that we have at no time had permanent assignments of divisions to corps.

After four hours' artillery preparation, the seven American divisions in the front line advanced at 5 a.m., on September 12, assisted by a limited number of tanks manned partly by Americans and partly by the French. These divisions, accompanied by groups of wire cutters and others armed with bangalore torpedoes, went through the successive bands of barbed wire that protected the enemy's front line and support trenches, in irresistible waves on schedule time, breaking down all defense of an enemy demoralized by the great volume of our artillery fire and our sudden approach out of the fog.

Our First Corps advanced to Thiaucourt, while our Fourth Corps curved back to the southwest through Nonsard. The Second Colonial French Corps made the slight advance required of it on very difficult ground, and the Fifth Corps took its three ridges and repulsed a counterattack. A rapid march brought reserve regiments of a Division of the Fifth Corps into Vigneulles in the early morning, where it linked up with patrols of our Fourth Corps, closing the salient and forming a new line west of Thiaucourt to Vigneulles, and beyond Fresnes-en-Woevre. At the cost of only 7,000 casualties, mostly light, we had taken 16,000 prisoners and 443 guns, a great quantity of material, released the inhabitants of many villages from enemy domination, and established our lines in a position to threaten Metz. This signal success of the American First Army in its first offensive was of prime importance. The Allies found they had a formidable army to aid them, and the enemy learned finally that he had one to reckon with.

On the day after we had taken the St. Mihiel salient, much of our Corps and Army artillery which had operated at St. Mihiel, and our Divisions in reserve at other points, were already on the move toward the area back of the line between the Meuse River and the western edge of the forest of Argonne. With the exception of St. Mihiel, the old German front line from Switzerland to the east of Rheims was still intact. In the general attack all along the line, the operation assigned the American Army as the hinge of this Allied offensive was directed toward the important railroad communications of the German armies through Mézières and Sedan. The enemy must hold fast to this part of his lines or the withdrawal of his forces with four years' accumulation of plants and material would be dangerously imperiled.

The German Army had as yet shown no demoralization and, while the mass of its troops had suffered in morale, its first-class divisions and notably its machine-gun defense were exhibiting remarkable tactical efficiency as well as courage. The German General Staff was fully aware of the consequences of a success on the Meuse-Argonne line. Certain that he would do everything in his power to oppose us, the action was planned with as much secrecy as possible and was undertaken with the determination to use all our Divisions in forcing decision. We expected to draw the best German divisions to our front and to consume them while the enemy was held under grave apprehension lest our attack should break his line, which it was our firm purpose to do.

Our right flank was protected by the Meuse, while our left embraced the Argonne Forest whose ravines, hills, and elaborate defense screened by dense thickets had been generally considered impregnable. Our order of battle from right to left was the Third Corps from the Meuse to Malancourt, with the Thirty-third, Eightieth, and Fourth Divisions in line, and the Third Division as corps reserve; the Fifth Corps from Malancourt to Vauquois, with Seventy-ninth, Eighty-seventh, and Ninety-first Divisions in line, and the Thirty-second in corps reserve; and the First Corps, from Vauquois to Vienne le Chateau, with Thirty-fifth, Twenty-eighth, and Seventy-seventh Divisions in line, and the Ninety-second in corps reserve. The Army reserve consisted of the First, Twenty-ninth, and Eighty-second Divisions.

On the night of September 25 our troops quietly took the place of the French who thinly held the line in this sector which had long been inactive. In the attack which began on the 26th we drove through the barbed wire entanglements and the sea of shell craters across No Man's Land, mastering all the first-line defenses. Continuing on the 27th and 28th, against machine guns and artillery of an increasing number of enemy reserve divisions, we penetrated to a depth of from 3 to 7 miles, and took the village of Montfaucon and its commanding hill and Exermont, Gercourt, Cuisy, Septsarges, Malancourt, Ivoiry, Epinonville, Charpentry, Very, and other villages. East of the Meuse one of our Divisions, which was with the Second Colonial French Corps, captured Marcheville and Rieville, giving further protection to the flank of our main body. We had taken 10,000 prisoners, we had gained our point of forcing the battle into the open and were prepared for the enemy's reaction, which was bound to come as he had good roads and ample railroad facilities for bringing up his artillery and reserves.

In the chill rain of dark nights our engineers had to build new roads across spongy, shell-torn areas, repair broken roads beyond No Man's Land, and build bridges. Our gunners, with no thought of sleep, put their shoulders to wheels and dragropes to bring their guns through the mire in support of the infantry, now under the increasing fire of the enemy's artillery. Our attack had taken the enemy by surprise, but, quickly recovering himself, he began to fire counterattacks in strong force, supported by heavy bombardments, with large quantities of gas. From September 28 until October 4 we maintained the offensive against patches of woods defended by snipers and continuous lines of machine guns, and pushed forward our guns and transport, seizing strategical points in preparation for further attacks.

Other Divisions attached to the Allied armies were doing their part. It was the fortune of our Second Corps, composed of the Twenty-seventh and Thirtieth Divisions, which had remained with the British, to have a place of honor in cooperation with the Australian Corps on September 29 and October 1 in the assault on the Hindenburg line where the St. Quentin Canal passes through a tunnel under a ridge. The Thirtieth Division speedily broke through the main line of defense for all its objectives, while the Twenty-seventh pushed on impetuously through the main line until some of its elements reached Gouy. In the midst of the maze of trenches and shell craters and under cross fire from machine guns the other elements fought desperately against odds. In this and in later actions, from October 6 to October 19, our Second Corps captured over 6,000 prisoners and advanced over 13 miles. The spirit and aggressiveness of these Divisions have been highly praised by the British Army commander under whom they served.

On October 2 to 9 our Second and Thirty-sixth Divisions were sent to assist the French in an important attack against the old German positions before Rheims. The Second conquered the complicated defense works on their front against a persistent defense worthy of the grimmest period of trench warfare and attacked the strongly held wooded hill of Blanc Mont, which they captured in a second assault, sweeping over it with consummate dash and skill. This Division then repulsed strong counterattacks before the village and cemetery of Ste. Etienne and took the town, forcing the Germans to fall back from before Rheims and yield positions they had held since September, 1914. On October 9 the Thirty-sixth Division relieved the Second and, in its first experience under fire, withstood very severe artillery bombardment and rapidly took up the pursuit of the enemy, now retiring behind the Aisne.

The Allied progress elsewhere cheered the efforts of our men in this crucial contest as the German command threw in more and more first-class troops to stop our advance. We made steady headway in the almost impenetrable and strongly held Argonne Forest, for, despite this reinforcement, it was our Army that was doing the driving. Our aircraft was increasing in skill and numbers and forcing the issue, and our Infantry and Artillery were improving rapidly with each new experience. The replacements fresh from home were put into exhausted divisions with little time for training, but they had the advantage of serving beside men who knew their business and who had almost become veterans overnight. The enemy had taken every advantage of the terrain, which especially favored the defense, by a prodigal use of machine guns manned by highly trained veterans and by using his artillery at short ranges. In the face of such strong frontal positions we should have been unable to accomplish any progress according to previously accepted standards, but I had every confidence in our aggressive tactics and the courage of our troops.

On October 4 the attack was renewed all along our front. The Third Corps tilting to the left followed the Brieulles-Cunel road; our Fifth Corps took Gesnes while the First Corps advanced for over 2 miles along the irregular valley of the Aire River and in the wooded hills of the Argonne that bordered the river, used by the enemy with all his art and weapons of defense. This sort of fighting continued against an enemy striving to hold every foot of ground and whose very strong counterattacks challenged us at every point. On the 7th the First Corps captured Chatel-Chéhéry and continued along the river to Cornay. On the east of Meuse sector one of the two Divisions cooperating with the French captured Consenvoye and the Haumont Woods. On the 9th the Fifth Corps, in its progress up the Aire, took Fléville, and the Third Corps which had continuous fighting against odds was working its way through Brieulles and Cunel. On the 10th we had cleared the Argonne Forest of the enemy.

It was now necessary to constitute a second army, and on October 9 the immediate command of the First Army was turned over to Lieutenant General Hunter Liggett. The command of the Second Army, whose divisions occupied a sector in the Woevre, was given to Lieutenant General Robert L. Bullard, who had been commander of the First Division and then of the Third Corps. Major General Dickman was transferred to the command of the First Corps, while the Fifth Corps was placed under Major General Charles P. Summerall, who had recently commanded the First Division. Major General John L. Hines, who had gone rapidly up from regimental to division commander, was assigned to the Third Corps. These four officers had been in France from the early days of the expedition and had learned their lessons in the school of practical warfare.

Our constant pressure against the enemy brought day by day more prisoners, mostly survivors from machine-gun nests captured in fighting at close quarters. On October 18 there was very fierce fighting in the Caures Woods east of the Meuse and in the Ormont Woods. On the 14th the First Corps took St. Juvin, and the Fifth Corps, in hand-to-hand encounters, entered the formidable Kriemhilde line, where the enemy had hoped to check us indefinitely. Later the Fifth Corps penetrated further the Kriemhilde line, and the First Corps took Champigneulles and the important town of Grandpre. Our dogged offensive was wearing down the enemy, who continued desperately to throw his best troops against us, thus weakening his line in front of our Allies and making their advance less difficult.

Meanwhile we were not only able to continue the battle, but our Thirty-seventh and Ninety-first Divisions were hastily withdrawn from our front and dispatched to help the French Army in Belgium. Detraining in the neighborhood of Ypres, these Divisions advanced by rapid stages to the fighting line and were assigned to adjacent French corps. On October 31, in continuation of the Flanders offensive, they attacked and methodically broke down all enemy resistance. On November 3 the Thirty-seventh had completed its mission in dividing the enemy across the Escaut River and firmly established itself along the east bank included in the division zone of action. By a clever flanking movement troops of the Ninety-first Division captured Spitaals Bosschen, a difficult wood extending across the central part of the division sector, reached the Escaut, and penetrated into the town of Audenarde. These divisions received high commendation from their corps commanders for their dash and energy.

On the 23d the Third and Fifth Corps pushed northward to the level of Bantheville. While we continued to press forward and throw back the enemy's violent counterattacks with great loss to him, a regrouping of our forces was under way for the final assault. Evidences of loss of morale by the enemy gave our men more confidence in attack and more fortitude in enduring the fatigue of incessant effort and the hardships of very inclement weather.

With comparatively well-rested divisions, the final advance in the Meuse-Argonne front was begun on November 1. Our increased artillery force acquitted itself magnificently in support of the advance, and the enemy broke before the determined infantry, which, by its persistent fighting of the past weeks and the dash of this attack, had overcome his will to resist. The Third Corps took Aincreville, Doulcon, and Andevanne, and the Fifth Corps took Landres et St. Georges and pressed through successive lines of resistance to Bayonville and Chennery. On the 2d the First Corps joined in the movement, which now became an impetuous onslaught that could not be stayed.

On the 3d advance troops surged forward in pursuit, some by motor trucks, while the artillery pressed along the country roads close behind. The First Corps reached Authe and Châtillon-sur-Bar, the Fifth Corps, Fosse and Nouart, and the Third Corps Halles, penetrating the enemy's line to a depth of 12 miles. Our large caliber guns had advanced and were skillfully brought into position to fire upon the important lines at Montmedy, Longuyon, and Conflans. Our Third Corps crossed the Meuse on the 5th and the other corps, in the full confidence that the day was theirs, eagerly cleared the way of machine as they swept northward, maintaining complete coordination throughout. On the 6th, a division of the First Corps reached a point on the Meuse opposite Sedan, 25 miles from our line of departure. The strategical goal which was our highest hope was gained. We had cut the enemy's main line of communications, and nothing but surrender or an armistice could save his army from complete disaster.

In all 40 enemy divisions had been used against us in the Meuse-Argonne battle. Between September 26 and November 6 we took 26,059 prisoners and 468 guns on this front. Our Divisions engaged were the First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Twenty-sixth, Twenty-eighth, Twenty-ninth, Thirty-second, Thirty-third, Thirty-fifth, Thirty-seventh, Forty-second, Seventy-seventh, Seventy-eighth, Seventy-ninth, Eightieth, Eighty-second, Eighty-ninth, Ninetieth, and Ninety-first. Many of our divisions remained in line for a length of time that required nerves of steel, while others were sent in again after only a few days of rest. The First, Fifth, Twenty-sixth, Forty-second, Seventy-seventh, Eightieth, Eighty-ninth, and, Ninetieth were in the line twice. Although some of the divisions were fighting their first battle, they soon became equal to the best.

On the three days preceding November 10, the Third, the Second Colonial, and the Seventeenth French Corps fought a difficult struggle through the Meuse Hills south of Stenay and forced the enemy into the plain. Meanwhile, my plans for further use of the American forces contemplated an advance between the Meuse and the Moselle in the direction of Longwy by the First Army, while, at the same time, the Second Army should assure the offensive toward the rich iron fields of Briey. These operations were to be followed by an offensive toward Château-Salins east of the Moselle, thus isolating Metz. Accordingly, attacks on the American front had been ordered and that of the Second Army was in progress on the morning of November 11, when instructions were received that hostilities should cease at 11 o'clock a.m.

At this moment the line of the American sector, from right to left, began at Port-sur-Seille, thence across the Moselle to Vandieres and through the Woevre to Bezonvaux in the foothills of the Meuse, thence along to the foothills and through the northern edge of the Woevre forests to the Meuse at Mouzay, thence along the Meuse connecting with the French under Sedan.

Cooperation among the Allies has at all times been most cordial. A far greater effort has been put forth by the Allied armies and staffs to assist us than could have been expected. The French Government and Army have always stood ready to furnish us with supplies, equipment, and transportation and to aid us in every way. In the towns and hamlets wherever our troops have been stationed or billeted the French people have everywhere received them more as relatives and intimate friends than as soldiers of a foreign army. For these things words are quite inadequate to express our gratitude. There can be no doubt that the relations growing out of our associations here assure a permanent friendship between the two peoples. Although we have not been so intimately associated with the people of Great Britain, yet their troops and ours when thrown together have always warmly fraternized. The reception of those of our forces who have passed through England and of those who have been stationed there has always been enthusiastic. Altogether it has been deeply impressed upon us that the ties of language and blood bring the British and ourselves together completely and inseparably.

There are in Europe altogether including a regiment and some sanitary units with the Italian Army and the organizations at Murmansk, also including those en route from the States, approximately 2,053,347 men, less our losses. Of this total there are in France 1,338,169 combatant troops. Forty divisions have arrived, of which the Infantry personnel of 10 have been used as replacements, leaving 30 divisions now in France organized into three armies of three corps each.

The losses of the Americans up to November 18 are: Killed in action, 36,145; died of disease, 14,811; deaths unclassified, 2,204; wounded, 179,625; prisoners, 2,163; missing, 1,160. We have captured about 44,000 prisoners and 1,400 guns, howitzers and trench mortars.

The duties of the General Staff, as well as those of the Army and corps staffs, have been very ably performed. Especially is this true when we consider the new and difficult problems with which they have been confronted. This body of officers, both as individuals and as an organization, have, I believe, no superiors in professional ability, in efficiency, or in loyalty.

Nothing that we have in France better reflects the efficiency and devotion to duty of Americans in general than the Service of Supply whose personnel is thoroughly imbued with a patriotic desire to do its full duty. They have at all times fully appreciated their responsibility to the rest of the Army and the results produced have been most gratifying.

Our Medical Corps is especially entitled to praise for the general effectiveness of its work both in hospital and at the front. Embracing men of high professional attainments, and splendid women devoted to their calling and untiring in their efforts, this department has made a new record for medical and sanitary proficiency.

The Quartermaster Department has had difficult and various tasks, but it has more than met all demands that have been made upon it. Its management and its personnel have been exceptionally efficient and deserve every possible commendation.

As to the more technical services, the able personnel of the Ordnance Department in France has splendidly fulfilled its functions both in procurement and in forwarding the immense quantities of ordnance required. The officers and men and the young women of the Signal Corps have performed their duties with a large conception of the problem and with a devoted and patriotic spirit to which the perfection of our communications daily testify. While the Engineer Corps has been referred to in another part of this report, it should be further stated that the work has required large vision and high professional skill, and great credit is due their personnel for the high proficiency that they have constantly maintained.

Our aviators have no equals in daring or in fighting ability and have left a record of courageous deeds that will ever remain a brilliant page in the annals of our Army. While the Tank Corps has had limited opportunities its personnel has responded gallantly on every possible occasion and has shown courage of the highest order.

The Adjutant General's Department has been directed with a systematic thoroughness and excellence that surpassed any previous work of its kind. The Inspector General's Department has risen to the highest standards and throughout has ably assisted commanders in the enforcement of discipline. The able personnel of the Judge Advocate General's Department has solved with judgment and wisdom the multitude of difficult legal problems, many of them involving questions of great international importance.

It would be impossible in this brief preliminary report to do justice to the personnel of all the different branches of this organization which I shall cover in detail in a later report.

The Navy in European waters has at all times most cordially aided the Army, and it is most gratifying to report that there has never before been such perfect cooperation between these two branches of the service.

As to Americans in Europe not in the military services, it is the greatest pleasure to say that, both in official and in private life, they are intensely patriotic and loyal, and have been invariably sympathetic and helpful to the Army.

Finally, I pay the supreme tribute to our officers and soldiers of the line. When I think of their heroism, their patience under hardships, their unflinching spirit of offensive action, I am filled with emotion which I am unable to express. Their deeds are immortal, and they have earned the eternal gratitude of our country.

No one doubted the efficiency of the navy or of its capacity to carry on its operations in a way worthy of the traditions of the American Navy. What the navy did during the war, and how it did it, is summarized in the following report by its chief.

THE AMERICAN NAVY IN

EUROPE

EXTRACTS FROM REPORT OF

ADMIRAL H.T. MAYO

In conformity with instructions contained in the reference, the following preliminary statement is herewith submitted in regard to United States naval activities in Europe. This preliminary report relates to our naval activities in Great Britain, Ireland, and France, visit to the last named having been concluded on November 1, 1918. A complete and detailed report will be submitted later and upon completion of the current tour of inspection and observation.

In view of the fact that United States naval activities in Europe are chiefly matters of cooperation with the allied navies, and that the cooperation amounts practically to consolidation where effected with the British Navy, this preliminary report is arranged on that basis in several parts:

It could hardly have been foreseen to what extent United States naval activities in Europe would accumulate, and it is a fact that it has been a growth by accretion rather than by system. The resultant fact is that the supervision of the commander of United States Naval Forces in Europe is of great and varied scope and continues to increase from week to week. Despite this great extent and varied character of our naval activities in Europe (as evidenced by the list given in par. 2 above) and the fact that their growth by accretion has made a highly centralized control more or less inevitable, the results speak for themselves—all of our naval activities are cooperative in character and all of them give every evidence of performing useful and appreciated work wherever found.

Cooperation with the allied navies in general is effected by means of the Allied Naval War Council, which meets monthly or as may be deemed advisable. The membership is composed of the several naval ministers and naval chiefs of staff and of officers specifically appointed to represent them in their absence. Vice Admiral Sims is the United States naval representative. The secretariat of the council is composed of British officers and personnel, with officers of the allied navies designated for liaison duties therewith.

The Allied Naval Council has advisory functions only and has liaison with the Supreme War Council, with a view to coordinating and unifying allied naval effort, both as regards naval work only and as regards unity of action with military or land effort. Proposals made by the several allied navies are considered and definite steps recommended to be taken in the premises. As well the naval aspects of military (land) proposals are examined into and passed upon. Conversely military (land) aspects of naval activities are referred to the Supreme War Council for consideration.

The Allied Naval Council has had, in common with the Supreme War Council, until last spring the handicap of being only advisory in function. The conclusions are recommended to the several Governments for adoption, but there is no common instrumentality for carrying into effect measures which require cooperation or coordination. This state of affairs in the Supreme War Council has been remedied by the appointment of an allied commander in chief in the person of Marshal Foch.

There can be no doubt but that the Supreme War Council has met and that the Allied Naval Council continues to fill a great need as a sort of clearing house for the necessarily varied proposals of the several Governments, most of which require cooperation on the part of some other Government, and certainly it should be continued in being until a more forceful control of allied naval effort can be agreed upon and brought into effect.

The United States naval staff representative in Paris is the United States naval liaison officer with the Supreme War Council, and a member of the staff of Vice Admiral Sims is the liaison officer with the secretariat of the Allied Naval Council. The United States naval staff representative in Paris is also liaison officer at the French Ministry of Marine and is at present naval attaché as well.

The naval attaché to Italy, Capt. C.R. Train, maintains naval liaison with the Italian Ministry of Marine and keeps in touch with the United States naval activities in Italian waters.

Inasmuch as the British are predominant in naval activity, it is natural to find that a major part of our naval activities are in cooperation with them and controlled by them. In fact, the British have been in position to carry so much of the "naval load" of this war that our first and our principal efforts have been toward taking up a share of that load.

Cooperation has in many cases been carried to such an extent that the coordination necessary for efficiency has developed into practical consolidation. It is pleasing to note that while consolidation is all but a fact, our own naval forces have in every case preferred to preserve their individuality of organization and administration and, as far as feasible, of operations; and that a healthy and friendly rivalry between them and their British associates has resulted in much good to the personnel of both services.

The largest single group of naval activities wherein cooperation is effected with the British is that in Ireland, all of them being under the jurisdiction of the commander in chief, coast of Ireland, who has been and is Admiral Sir Lewis Bayly, whose cordial appreciation of the work of our forces has gone far to stimulate the personnel coming under his direction. The chief of staff, destroyer flotillas, and the officer in charge of aviation in Ireland are designated by the British Admiralty as members of the staff of Admiral Bayly.

Battleship Division Six, Rear Admiral T.S. Rodgers, is based on Berehaven, Ireland, in readiness for the protection of convoys in general and of troop convoys in particular. Arrangements are in effect for the supply of their needs as to fuel and stores. While lack of destroyers has operated to restrict their training underway, they are in good material condition and their efficiency is being maintained by utilizing all available facilities.

Submarine Detachment, Lieutenant Commanders Friedell and Grady, is based on Berehaven, Ireland, and maintains a submarine patrol off the west and south coasts of Ireland. Their service is hard; they have had a great deal of work at sea and have cheerfully met every demand made on them. Despite their relative isolation, they have maintained themselves in readiness with the aid of the submarine tender Bushnell, whose limited facilities have been utilized to the utmost. Their performances and condition of material and personnel reflect great credit on all concerned.

(a) The destroyers based on Queenstown, Capt. F.R.P. Pringle, are the original United States naval force in European waters—a distinction which is an ever-present spur to cheerful efficiency under any and all circumstances and produces results which must be a satisfaction to their superiors.

(b) Despite the fact that the requirements of supplying personnel for new destroyers has resulted in large changes in the original experienced destroyer personnel, this has been accomplished in such a manner as to maintain the operating efficiency of the force at or near its original high standard.

(c) Aside from unavoidable casualties, the force is in good operating condition. The systemization of supply and repairs developed and maintained by the destroyer tenders Melville and Dixie effect the readiness of destroyers for sea with commendable promptness and with a view to the comfort of destroyer personnel during their short stays in port.

(d) Within the last few months means have been found to systematize and supervise the training, particularly with regard to the carrying out of gunnery and torpedo exercises, which, under the press of keeping the sea, had somewhat lapsed in favor of the necessary development of escort work and of depth-charge tactics.

(e) All of the activities at Queenstown—the torpedo repair and overhaul station, the training barracks at Passage, the repair force barracks at Ballybricken House, the general supply depot at Deepwater Quay, the hospital and barracks at White Point, as well as the activities afloat—were well underway and gave an impression of purposefulness in "getting on with the war" in that particular corner of the world.

(f) On account of the restricted facilities for liberty and recreation, a special and most successful effort has been made to furnish healthful and interesting diversion in Queenstown itself by means of the Enlisted Men's Club, wholly of and for the men, which is second to none in results obtained in promoting contentment.

Subchaser Detachment Three at Queenstown, Captain A.J. Hepburn, had only recently arrived, but arrangements for their employment were well in hand, and they were expected to begin operations as soon as the means of basing them had been perfected. The need of a suitable tender was apparent, especially for the upkeep of those units whose working ground would be at some distance from the main base. The personnel gave evidence of a strong feeling of eagerness to get to work and of readiness to face the hardships that going to sea in small craft entails.

United States Naval Air Stations in Ireland, Commander F.R. McCrary, consists of seaplane stations at Whiddy Island, Queenstown (also the main supply and repair base), Wexford, and Lough Foyle, and a kite-balloon station at Berehaven. None of these stations was in operation in mid-September, except that Lough Foyle was partially so, but all were about ready to begin operations and would do so upon the receipt of the necessary planes or pilots or both, all of which were en route. A great deal of the construction has been done by our own personnel, some of the stations having been entirely done by them.

(a) Battleship Division Nine of the Atlantic Fleet, under the command of Rear Admiral Rodman, has constituted the Sixth Battle Squadron of the British Grand Fleet under Admiral Sir David Beatty for nearly a year.

(b) When this division was sent abroad it had, in common with other units of the Atlantic Fleet, suffered in efficiency from the expansion of the Navy, which required reduction in the number of officers and transfers of numbers of men to furnish trained and experienced nuclei for other vessels. Upon reporting in the Grand Fleet, it immediately took its place in the battle line on exactly the same status as other units of the Grand Fleet. The opportunities for gunnery exercises are limited but drill and adherence to standardized methods and procedure as developed in our own naval service have brought this division to a satisfactory state of efficiency, which continues to improve.

(c) It is pleasing to record that the efficiency of this unit in gunnery, engineering, and seamanship is deemed by the British commander in chief to be in no way inferior to that of the best of the British battle squadrons. In fact, it is perfectly proper to state the belief that our ships are in some respects superior to the British, and perhaps chiefly in the arrangements for the health and contentment of personnel, which have been very thoroughly examined into by the flag officers, captains, and other officers of the Grand Fleet. These ships have also been the subject of much favorable comment in regard to their capacity for self-maintenance, a matter which has been given much attention in our own Navy of late years.

(d) Service in the Grand Fleet is noteworthy by reason of the fact that the fleet is at never less than four hours' notice for going to sea, so that liberty is restricted and whatever is necessary in the way of overhaul and upkeep of machinery must always be planned with a view to assembly in case of orders to sea.

The Mine Force of the Atlantic Fleet, under the command of Rear Admiral Strauss, is an independent unit, except that the mine-laying operations are under the jurisdiction of the commander in chief of the Grand Fleet, who has to choose the time when arrangements can be carried into effect to furnish the necessary destroyer escort and heavy covering forces. The arrangements made at home prior to the departure of the mine force appear to have been well considered and thoroughly developed. The mine-laying operations themselves give an impression of efficiency which can only come from thorough preparation and complete understanding of the work. The assembly of mines in the bases has been somewhat changed by the necessity for certain alterations in the mine itself, most of which are due to difficulties inherent in the application of the operating principle of the mine. Here, as elsewhere, the cheerful readiness of officers and men to attack difficulties and to surmount all obstacles is producing results of magnitude and importance of which all too little is known even in the Navy itself.

The Cross-channel Transport Service was brought into being to render indispensable assistance to the British in ferrying United States troops across the channel from England, in whose ports over half of our troops were landed from British ships. At the time of inspection late in September four United States vessels were in service, and four more were expected in the course of a few weeks. The vessels in service were superior in capacity to British vessels engaged in the same work and combined with the efficiency of their naval personnel made them the subject of favorable remark by the British transport authorities.

Subchaser Detachment One, based on Plymouth, Captain L.A. Cotten, had been operating for some time. A very compact and efficient base was in process of completion and should, with the aid of the subchaser tender Hannibal, amply suffice for the requirements of a larger number of chasers than that now available. This base is to be expanded into a United States naval base, of which Rear Admiral Bristol will be in charge. The upkeep of chasers is effected entirely with the resources of the base; operations are initiated by the British commander in chief at Plymouth. A great deal of development work in listening devices is being carried on at and from this base. The work of the subchasers from this base has proved their usefulness up to the limit of their sea-going capacity.

(a) United States Naval Aviation in England is carried on by cooperation in two British commands.

(b) The United States Seaplane Station, Killingholme, Commander K. Whiting, is under the vice admiral commanding on the east coast of England. It has been in operation for some time and does escort of coastal convoys, escort of mine layers in the southern part of the North Sea, and some reconnaissance work in the direction of the Dutch coast.

(c) The Northern Bombing Group, Captain D.C. Hanrahan, is under the vice admiral commanding at Dover, whose jurisdiction extends to naval aviation units in northern France in the vicinity of Calais and Dunkerque. The day bombing squadrons are manned by marines; the night bombing squadrons by the Navy. There has been some delay in the acquisition of suitable night bombing planes, but their delivery will find all in readiness to go immediately to work. The British prescribe the objectives and designate the available free flying time; the operations themselves are carried out by our own personnel. The seaplane station at Dunkerque has operated successfully under the handicap of limited and difficult water area in which to take off and to land.

(d) The Assembly, Repair, and Supply Station at Eastleigh was brought into being primarily for the Northern Bombing Group because of the difficulties of transportation to and from the general aviation base at Pauillac. It also does necessary work for Killingholme and for the air stations in Ireland. This base, when visited, was in process of completion and gave every evidence of purpose and capacity to meet all requirements likely to be made of it.

Aside from the cooperation effected by the force commander with the French Ministry of Marine through the naval staff representative in Paris on matters of general policy, actual cooperation is carried on by Vice Admiral H.B. Wilson, commander United States naval forces in France, whose headquarters are maintained in Brest.

It is deemed worthy of special remark that whereas practically all cooperation with the British is effected by operating as units under British control, cooperation with the French is arranged on a basis that leaves to the United States naval forces a very large measure of initiative. This is particularly true in regard to troopships destined to French ports, which are provided with escort and routed in and out wholly from the Brest headquarters which is kept fully informed as to routes and positions of British-controlled convoys and as to locations of submarine activities and has to so adjust routes on and off the coast as to keep clear of both. Three out of eight escort units are provided by United States vessels for the coastal convoy system, which is operated by the French. Unity of purpose and sympathy of understanding have combined to make the handling of cargo convoys on and off the coast a matter of ready adjustment to the general conditions obtaining in regard to destination of cargo ships and availability of escort vessels.

At the end of the fiscal year United States naval forces in France are stated to have been escorting troops into France at the rate of 134,000 per month. Since May 1, 1918, the number of troopships and cargo-vessel convoys east and west bound have averaged more than 1 a day, and the number of ships over 200 a month. No convoy of troopships has failed to be met by destroyer escort before entering the area of submarine activity, and no passenger intrusted to the care of the United States naval forces in France has been lost.

(a) The destroyers based on Brest are controlled directly from headquarters at Brest and are at present maintained in readiness for service with the aid of the fleet repair ship Prometheus and lately also by the destroyer tender Bridgeport. Additional repair shops on shore are in process of completion.

(b) Arrangements are now in hand for the carrying out of gunnery exercises including torpedoes, the need of which has been recognised but had hitherto been deemed impracticable on account of press of work.

(c) The United States naval repair facilities here as well as elsewhere on the coast of France have to be made use of not only for the upkeep of the United States naval vessels based on the coast, but also for necessary repairs to troopships and cargo vessels, whether naval, Army, or Shipping Board, the guiding idea being to keep the ships moving.

(a) Coastal Districts in France.—The north and west coasts of France are divided into districts which correspond with the French prefectures maritimes, and the district headquarters are in every case located in the same place as those of the several prefects maritimes. These headquarters are communication and operating centers and provide naturally by arrangement as above described for full and ready cooperation with the French district activities.

(b) The principal ports have assigned to them a port officer whose function in regard to all United States ships is to expedite their "turn around," and in addition, where vessels carrying United States naval armed guards are concerned, to inspect the armed guards and adjust such matters as are beyond the capacity or authority of the armed guard commander.

(a) United States Naval Aviation in France includes all that the title implies, except the northern bombing group mentioned above, and aviation matters are immediately in the hands of Captain T.T. Craven, aid for aviation on Vice Admiral Wilson's staff.

(b) There are eight sea-plane stations, three dirigible stations, and three kite-balloon stations, all of which are operated by district commanders in cooperation with the French naval air services in the several corresponding prefectures maritimes. There is also an assembly, repair, and supply base at Pauillac for the general service of all air stations in France and a sea-plane gunnery and bombing training school at Moutchie, both of these activities being directly under the headquarters in Brest.

(c) Of the eight seaplane stations, five have been in operation for periods varying from 12 to 3 months, and the remaining 3 are now about ready to begin.

(d) Of the three dirigible stations, only that at Paimboeuf has been in operation for any length of time, and is to be used also for training and experimental work. The station at Guipavas will shortly be in operation. The station at Gujan has been delayed to let material go to other stations which it was deemed advisable to complete first.

(e) Of the three kite-balloon stations, only that at Brest is ready for operation. Test and experimental work have been carried on here since August, 1918, in connection with destroyers and yachts. The station at La Trinite is nearing completion and that at La Pallice is progressing rapidly. The utility of the station at La Trinite seems to be somewhat in doubt, as the original purposes for its establishment have undergone some change due to alterations in the methods of handling convoys, coastal as well as on and off shore.

(f) The assembly repair and supply station at Pauillac is under the command of Captain F.T. Evans, under whose forceful and able direction the station has progressed rapidly to completion and is deemed ready to undertake any and all demands that may be made on it.

(g) The training school at Moutchie, under the command of Commander R.W. Cabaniss appears to have a thorough system of instruction, founded on sound bases, and includes study and lectures, as well as ample, practical work. Endeavor is made to keep in touch with and to adopt, where deemed advisable, the best British and French methods. Some of the devices in use for training are ingeniously adapted to the simulation of the conditions obtaining while flying.

Liaison with the United States Army in France is carried on by maintaining a naval liaison officer (Commander R. Williams) at the Army general headquarters, chiefly for the purpose of rendering assistance in effecting cooperation as to the handling and routing of troopships and of cargo vessels consigned to Army account.

Trans-Atlantic Radio Station.—The erection of the trans-Atlantic radio-transmitting station at Croix d'Hins, near Bordeaux, is being done by United States naval personnel under the direction of Lieutenant Commander G.C. Sweet. The French authorities are putting in the foundations. The personnel is well taken care of and the work of construction appears to be progressing favorably. It is hoped and expected by those in charge that a four-tower unit will be ready for operation about March 1, 1919.

The 14-inch Naval Railway Battery was built and equipped by the Navy and manned by naval personnel for service in France with the United States Army. It arrived in France in July last under the command of Rear Admiral C.P. Plunkett and was ready for service during August. A part of the battery has been operating with the French against Laon and vicinity, and is understood to have rendered what the French consider very valuable service against the enemy. The entire battery is now with the First United States Army, but data as to what it has accomplished are not yet available. This test of our naval guns of late design and large caliber in long-range firing and the opportunities given to naval personnel to study and observe the artillery work on the western front are considered to be of great value to the service.

A United States Naval Pipe-line Unit has completed important service in the construction of a fuel-oil pipe line across Scotland, and is understood to have been asked for by the French to do some work of the same kind for them.

(a) There are yet to be inspected and observed the following activities, which have not so far been mentioned:

United States naval base at Cardiff, Subchaser Detachment Two, based on Corfu, Captain C.P. Nelson, United States naval air stations in Italy.

(b) It is not deemed practicable to visit the United States naval forces based at Gibraltar (Rear Admiral Niblack), nor the United States naval forces based on the Azores, because of difficulties of transportation, as is also the case in regard to the U.S.S. Olympia in northern Russia.

(a) The establishment of United States naval aviation in Europe has been one of the most difficult and involved tasks which have had to be undertaken and brought into effect. Captain H.I. Cone arrived in Europe for this work about October 1, 1917, and has continued in charge of it ever since. He maintained headquarters in Paris until about August 1, 1918, when he removed to London and was designated as aid for aviation on staff of the commander of United States naval forces in Europe.

(b) There were arrangements to be made with the French and the British as to locations for stations that would be best adapted for cooperation. There were further arrangements to be made as to the procurement of sites or the taking over of the stations already in operation or in process of construction. The Navy Department had also to be communicated with, largely by cable, as to design, quantities, and shipments of material, which upon receipt had to be allocated with a view to completing certain stations as soon as possible while not delaying the progress of the general scheme any more than could be helped.

(c) Delays and mistakes in the shipment of aviation material probably caused more trouble than any other one thing, for when material once arrives in a European port it has been, and still is, a very difficult matter to arrange for coastwise transportation.

(d) Taking into consideration the necessary scope of the project, the difficulties inherent in providing for establishments on foreign soil, and the delays which the magnitude of the undertakings caused in the production and shipment of material (and personnel) from the United States, the state of progress is considered highly creditable to Captain Cone and to his assistants.

(a) It was satisfactory to note that in practically all cases—whether our own naval facilities provided reading, writing, and amusement facilities for the personnel or not—the Y.M.C.A. was in evidence. Their arrangements were, in many places, all that could be expected in the way of cheerful and comfortable quarters; and, in those places where the facilities were not so good, inquiry usually revealed the fact that a suitable building was either under way or soon would be.

(b) In at least one place the Knights of Columbus were found established in a commodious building with all in readiness to duplicate the character of the work generally associated with Y.M.C.A. activities.

(c) All assistance of this character, from whatever source, has been gladly taken advantage of by the officers in charge, and is much used and appreciated by the men.

It is deemed worthy of note that the arrangements and facilities for caring for the sick and injured Navy personnel are almost more than ample. In many of the naval-base hospitals the majority of the patients are, consequently, of other services—both the United States and the allied. The provisions of the United States Navy in this respect are so complete in their facilities and so efficient in their readiness as to excite the admiration of all the foreign services, military as well as naval.

As has already been said at the beginning of this report, cooperation with the British and the French had been the chief method of work for the United States naval forces in European waters. That cooperation has been effected with such cordial appreciation and the few minor difficulties have yielded so readily to sympathetic understanding that all zeal displayed was in the common interest of "winning the war" that there is and can be nothing but reciprocal praise for each other's efforts, which will be of lasting benefit in future when the present compelling community of interest is no longer operative. The United States and the allies know each other better individually and collectively and are and will continue to be the greater and better friends for the experience that has come out of the cordial cooperation and coordination required by the common interest in this war.

There is ample evidence on every hand, from the north of Scotland to the shores of the Mediterranean, that officers and men of the naval service, regular and reserve alike and together, have "turned to" on the work in hand, inspired by the guiding idea of doing all in their power, however humble the task, of "helping to win the war." Officers whose preference is for duty at sea, men who came over with a view to doing battle with the enemy, one and all, have done and are doing the work that comes to hand, even to the digging of ditches, with a will and with a cheery readiness for more of the same kind, for anything that will help to "get on with the war," that is an inspiration to all who work with them and of vast satisfaction to those over them who will know what their preferences in the matter of war employment are. They are a credit to the service and to their country.

Furthermore, this large body of men, which occupies the position of the advance guard of the Navy, as a whole have so conducted themselves as to earn the highly favorable comment of the citizens in whose country they found themselves and whose guests they are in some measure. It is believed that it may well be said that the men on duty in Europe, far away from home ties and influences, will return to their own country unharmed by the temptations and pitfalls which their relatives and friends may have feared. They are a fine, upstanding lot of men, and their adaptability and efficiency have been so apparent as to fully warrant the oft-made statement that the men of the United States Navy, which includes the Marine Corps, can do anything, anywhere, and at any time.

On May 31, 1918, the President Lincoln was returning to America from a voyage to France, and was in line formation with the U.S.S. Susquehanna, the U.S.S. Antigone, and the U.S.S. Ryndam, the latter being on the left flank of the formation and about 800 yards from the President Lincoln. The weather was pleasant, the sun shining brightly, with a choppy sea. The ships were about 500 miles from the coast of France and had passed through what was considered to be the most dangerous part of the war zone. At about 9 a.m. a terrific explosion occurred on the port side of the ship about 120 feet from the bow and immediately afterwards another explosion occurred on the port side about 120 feet from the stern of the ship, these explosions being immediately identified as coming from torpedoes fired by a German submarine.

It was found that the ship was struck by three torpedoes, which had been fired as one salvo from the submarine, two of the torpedoes striking practically together near the bow of the ship and the third striking near the stern. The wake of the torpedoes had been sighted by the officers and lookouts on watch, but the torpedoes were so close to the ship as to make it impossible to avoid them; and it was also found that the submarine at the time of firing was only about 800 yards from the President Lincoln.

There were at the time 715 persons on board, including about 30 officers and men of the Army. Some of these were sick and two soldiers were totally paralyzed.

The alarm was immediately sounded and everyone went to his proper station which had been designated at previous drills. There was not the slightest confusion and the crew and passengers waited for and acted on orders from the commanding officer with a coolness which was truly inspiring.

Inspections were made below decks and it was found that the ship was rapidly filling with water, both forward and aft, and that there was little likelihood that she would remain afloat. The boats were lowered and the life rafts were placed in the water and about 15 minutes after the ship was struck all hands except the guns' crews were ordered to abandon the ship.

It had been previously planned that in order to avoid the losses which have occurred in such instances by filling the boats at the davits before lowering them, that only one officer and five men would get into the boats before lowering and that everyone else would get into the water and get on the life rafts and then be picked up by the boats, this being entirely feasible, as everyone was provided with an efficient life-saving jacket. One exception was made to this plan, however, in that one boat was filled with the sick before being lowered and it was in this boat that the paralyzed soldiers were saved without difficulty.

The guns' crews were held at their stations hoping for an opportunity to fire on the submarine should it appear before the ship sank, and orders were given to the guns' crews to begin firing, hoping that this might prevent further attack. All the ship's company except the guns' crews and necessary officers were at that time in the boats and on the rafts near the ship, and when the guns' crews began firing the people in the boats set up a cheer to show that they were not downhearted. The guns' crews only left their guns when ordered by the commanding officer just before the ship sank. The guns in the bow kept up firing until after the water was entirely over the main deck of the after half of the ship.

The state of discipline which existed and the coolness of the men is well illustrated by what occurred when the boats were being lowered and were about half way from their davits to the water. At this particular time, there appeared some possibility of the ship not sinking immediately, and the commanding officer gave the order to stop lowering the boats. This order could not be understood, however, owing to the noise caused by escaping steam from the safety valves of the boilers which had been lifted to prevent explosion, but by motion of the hand from the commanding officer the crews stopped lowering the boats and held them in mid-air for a few minutes until at a further motion of the hand the boats were dropped into the water.

Immediately after the ship sank the boats pulled among the rafts and were loaded with men to their full capacity and the work of collecting the rafts and tying them together to prevent drifting apart and being lost was begun.

While this work was under way and about half an hour after the ship sank, a large German submarine emerged and came among the boats and rafts, searching for the commanding officer and some of the senior officers whom they desired to take prisoners. The submarine commander was able to identify only one officer, Lieutenant E.V.M. Isaacs, whom he took on board and carried away. The submarine remained in the vicinity of the boats for about two hours and returned again in the afternoon, hoping apparently for an opportunity of attacking some of the other ships which had been in company with the President Lincoln but which had, in accordance with standard instructions, steamed as rapidly as possible from the scene of attack.

By dark the boats and rafts had been collected and secured together, there being about 500 men in the boats and about 200 on the rafts. Lighted lanterns were hoisted in the boats and flare-up lights and Coston signal lights were burned every few minutes, the necessary detail of men being made to carry out this work during the night.

The boats had been provided with water and food, but none was used during the day, as the quantity was necessarily limited and it might be a period of several days before a rescue could be effected.

The ship's wireless plant had been put out of commission by the force of the explosion, and although the ship's operator had sent the radio distress signals, yet it was known that the nearest destroyers were 250 miles away, protecting another convoy and it was possible that military necessity might prevent their being detached to come to our rescue.

At about 11 p.m. a white light flashing in the blackness of the night—it was very dark—was sighted, and very shortly it was found that the destroyer Warrington had arrived for our rescue and about an hour afterwards the destroyer Smith also arrived. The transfer of the men from the boats and rafts to the destroyers was effected as quickly as possible and the destroyers remained in the vicinity until after daylight the following morning, when a further search was made for survivors who might have drifted in a boat or on a raft, but none were found, and at about 6 a.m. the return trip to France was begun.

The performance of Lieutenant Commander Kenyon, commanding the U.S. destroyer Warrington, and Lieutenant Commander Klein, of the U.S. destroyer Smith deserves great commendation, as they located our position in the middle of the night, after having run a distance of about 250 miles, during which time the boats and rafts of the President Lincoln had drifted 15 miles from the position reported by radio, and it had been necessary for the commanding officers of these destroyers to make an estimate of the probable drift of the boats during that time. The only thing they had to base their estimate on was the force and direction of the wind. The discovery of the boats was not accidental, as the course steered was the result of mature deliberation and estimate of the situation.

Of the 715 men present all told on board, it was found after the muster that 3 officers and 23 men were lost with the ship and that 1 officer, Lieutenant Isaacs, above mentioned, had been taken prisoner. The three officers were Passed Assistant Surgeon L.C. Whiteside, ship's medical officer; Paymaster Andrew Mowat, ship's supply officer; and Assistant Paymaster J.D. Johnston, United States Naval Reserve Force.

The loss of these officers was peculiarly regrettable, as they could have escaped. Both Dr. Whiteside and Paymaster Mowat had seen the men under their charge leave the ship, the doctor having attended to placing the sick in the boat provided for the purpose, and they then remained in the ship for some unexplainable reason, as testified by witnesses who last saw them, and apparently these two excellent officers were taken down with the ship. Paymaster Johnston got on a raft alongside the ship, but in some way was caught by the ship as she went under, as C.M. Hippard, ship's cook, third class, United States Navy, states that he was on the raft with Paymaster Johnston and that they were both drawn under the water, but when he came to the surface, Paymaster Johnston could no longer be seen.

Of the 23 men who were lost, the following 7 men were engaged in work below decks in the forward end of the ship, and they were either killed by the force of the explosion of the two torpedoes which struck in that vicinity, or were drowned by the inrush of the water.

H.A. Himelwright, storekeeper, second class, United States Navy; F.W. Wilson, jr., yeoman, second class, United States Naval Reserve Force; B. Zanetti, coxswain, United States Navy; A.S. Egbert, seaman, second class, National Naval Volunteer; G.B. Hoffman, seaman, United States Navy; J.A. Jenkins, seaman, second class, United States Navy; F.A. Hedglin, seaman, second class, United States Navy.

The remaining 16 men were apparently caught on the raft alongside the ship and went down, this being probably caused by the current of water which was rushing into the big hole in the ship's side, as the men were on rafts which were in this vicinity.

Although the German submarine commander made no offers of assistance of any kind, yet otherwise his conduct for the ship's company in the boat was all that could be expected. We naturally had some apprehension as to whether or not he would open fire on the boats and rafts, I thought he might probably do this, as an attempt to make me and other officers disclose their identity. This possibility was evidently in the minds of the men of the crew also, because at one time I noticed some one on the submarine walk to the muzzle of one of the guns, apparently with the intention of preparing it for action. This was evidently observed by some of the men in my boat, and I heard the remark, "Good night, here comes the fireworks." The spirit which actuated the remark of this kind, under such circumstances, could be none other than that of cool courage and bravery.

There were many instances where a man showed more interest in the safety of another than he did for himself. When loading the boats from the rafts one man would hold back and insist that another be allowed to enter the boat. There was a striking case of this kind when about dark I noticed that Chief Master-at-Arms Rogers, who was rather an old man, and been in the Navy for years, was on a raft, and I sent a boat to take him from the raft, but he objected considerably to this, stating that he was quite all right, although as a matter of fact he was very cold and cramped from his long hours on the raft.

Fortunately, the splendid type of life raft known as the Balsa raft, as it was made of balsa wood, had been furnished the ship, and these resulted in saving a great many men who might otherwise have been lost, due to exhaustion in the water.

The conduct of the men during this time of grave danger was thrilling and inspiring, as a large percentage of them were young boys, who had only been in the Navy for a period of a few months. This is another example of the innate courage and bravery of the young manhood of America.

The Germans, hard pressed by the Americans and French in the Meuse-Argonne, and by the British in Flanders, at last saw the futility of further resistance, and asked for an armistice, on November 11. The terms of this armistice, dictated by the Allies, were as follows:

ARMISTICE TERMS SIGNED BY GERMANY

One—Cessation of operations by land and in the air six hours after the signature of the armistice.

Two—Immediate evacuation of invaded countries: Belgium, France, Alsace-Lorraine, Luxemburg, so ordered as to be completed within fourteen days from the signature of the armistice. German troops which have not left the above-mentioned territories within the period fixed will become prisoners of war. Occupation by the allied and United States forces jointly will keep pace with evacuation in these areas. All movements of evacuation and occupation will be regulated in accordance with a note annexed to the stated terms.

Three—Repatriation beginning at once to be completed within fifteen days of all the inhabitants of the countries above enumerated (including hostages, persons under trial or convicted).

Four—Surrender in good condition by the German armies of the following war material: Five thousand guns (2,500 heavy, and 2,500 field), 25,000 machine guns, 3,000 minenwerfer, 1,700 airplanes (fighters, bombers—firstly, all of the D 7's and all the night bombing machines). The above to be delivered in situ to the allied and United States troops in accordance with the detailed conditions laid down in the note (annexure No. 1) drawn up at the moment of the signing of the armistice.

Five—Evacuation by the German armies of the countries on the left bank of the Rhine. The countries on the left bank of the Rhine shall be administered by the local troops of occupation. The occupation of these territories will be carried out by allied and United States garrisons holding the principal crossings of the Rhine (Mayence, Coblenz, Cologne), together with the bridgeheads at these points of a thirty-kilometer radius on the right bank and by garrisons similarly holding the strategic points of the regions. A neutral zone shall be reserved on the right bank of the Rhine between the stream and a line drawn parallel to the bridgeheads and to the stream and at a distance of ten kilometers, from the frontier of Holland up to the frontier of Switzerland. The evacuation by the enemy of the Rhinelands (left and right bank) shall be so ordered as to be completed within a further period of sixteen days, in all, thirty-one days after the signing of the armistice. All the movements of evacuation or occupation are regulated by the note (annexure No. 1) drawn up at the moment of the signing of the armistice.

Six—In all territories evacuated by the enemy there shall be no evacuation of inhabitants; no damage or harm shall be done to the persons or property of the inhabitants. No person shall be persecuted for offenses of participation in war measures prior to the signing of the armistice. No destruction of any kind shall be committed. Military establishments of all kinds shall be delivered intact, as well as military stores of food, munitions, and equipment, not removed during the time fixed for evacuation. Stores of food of all kinds for the civil population, cattle, &c., shall be left in situ. Industrial establishments shall not be impaired in any way and their personnel shall not be removed.

Seven—Roads and means of communication of every kind, railroads, waterways, main roads, bridges, telegraphs, telephones, shall be in no manner impaired. All civil and military personnel at present employed on them shall remain. Five thousand locomotives and 150,000 wagons in good working order, with all necessary spare parts and fittings, shall be delivered to the associated powers within the period fixed in annexure No. 2, and total of which shall not exceed thirty-one days. There shall likewise be delivered 5,000 motor lorries (camion automobiles) in good order, within the period of thirty-six days. The railways of Alsace-Lorraine shall be handed over within the period of thirty-one days, together with pre-war personnel and material. Further, the material necessary for the working of railways in the countries on the left bank of the Rhine shall be left in situ. All stores of coal and material for the upkeep of permanent ways, signals, and repair shops shall be left in situ. These stores shall be maintained by Germany in so far as concerns the working of the railroads in the countries on the left bank of the Rhine. All barges taken from the Allies shall be restored to them. The note, annexure No. 2, regulates the details of these measures.

Eight—The German command shall be responsible for revealing within the period of forty-eight hours after the signing of the armistice all mines or delayed action fuses on territory evacuated by the German troops and shall assist in their discovery and destruction. It also shall reveal all destructive measures that may have been taken (such as poisoning or polluting of springs and wells, &c.). All under penalty of reprisals.

Nine—The right of requisition shall be exercised by the allied and United States armies in all occupied territories, subject to regulation of accounts with those whom it may concern. The upkeep of the troops of occupation in the Rhineland (excluding Alsace-Lorraine) shall be charged to the German Government.

Ten—The immediate repatriation without reciprocity, according to detailed conditions which shall be fixed, of all allied and United States prisoners of war, including persons under trial or convicted. The allied powers and the United States shall be able to dispose of them as they wish. This condition annuls the previous conventions on the subject of the exchange of prisoners of war, including the one of July, 1918, in course of ratification. However, the repatriation of German prisoners of war interned in Holland and in Switzerland shall continue as before. The repatriation of German prisoners of war shall be regulated at the conclusion of the preliminaries of peace.

Eleven—Sick and wounded who cannot be removed from evacuated territory will be cared for by German personnel, who will be left on the spot with the medical material required.

Twelve—All German troops at present in the territories which before belonged to Austria-Hungary, Rumania, Turkey, shall withdraw immediately within the frontiers of Germany as they existed on August First, Nineteen Fourteen. All German troops at present in the territories which before the war belonged to Russia shall likewise withdraw within the frontiers of Germany, defined as above, as soon as the Allies, taking into account the internal situation of these territories, shall decide that the time for this has come.

Thirteen—Evacuation by German troops to begin at once, and all German instructors, prisoners, and civilians as well as military agents now on the territory of Russia (as defined before 1914) to be recalled.

Fourteen—German troops to cease at once all requisitions and seizures and any other undertaking with a view to obtaining supplies intended for Germany in Rumania and Russia (as defined on August 1, 1914).

Fifteen—Renunciation of the treaties of Bucharest and Brest-Litovsk and of the supplementary treaties.

Sixteen—The Allies shall have free access to the territories evacuated by the Germans on their eastern frontier, either through Danzig, or by the Vistula, in order to convey supplies to the populations of those territories and for the purpose of maintaining order.

Seventeen—Evacuation by all German forces operating in East Africa within a period to be fixed by the Allies.

Eighteen—Repatriation, without reciprocity, within a maximum period of one month in accordance with detailed conditions hereafter to be fixed of all interned civilians, including hostages (persons?) under trial or convicted, belonging to the allied or associated powers other than those enumerated in Article Three.

Nineteen—The following financial conditions are required: Reparation for damage done. While such armistice lasts no public securities shall be removed by the enemy which can serve as a pledge to the Allies for the recovery or reparation for war losses. Immediate restitution of the cash deposit in the national bank of Belgium, and in general immediate return of all documents, specie, stocks, shares, paper money, together with plant for the issue thereof, touching public or private interests in the invaded countries. Restitution of the Russian and Rumanian gold yielded to Germany or taken by that power. This gold to be delivered in trust to the Allies until the signature of peace.

Twenty—Immediate cessation of all hostilities at sea and definite information to be given as to the location and movements of all German ships. Notification to be given to neutrals that freedom of navigation in all territorial waters is given to the naval and mercantile marines of the allied and associated powers, all questions of neutrality being waived.

Twenty-one—All naval and mercantile marine prisoners of the allied and associated powers in German hands to be returned without reciprocity.

Twenty-two—Surrender to the Allies and United States of all submarines (including submarine cruisers and all mine-laying submarines) now existing, with their complete armament and equipment, in ports which shall be specified by the Allies and United States. Those which cannot take the sea shall be disarmed of the personnel and material and shall remain under the supervision of the Allies and the United States. The submarines which are ready for the sea shall be prepared to leave the German ports as soon as orders shall be received by wireless for their voyage to the port designated for their delivery, and the remainder at the earliest possible moment. The conditions of this article shall be carried into effect within the period of fourteen days after the signing of the armistice.

Twenty-three—German surface warships which shall be designated by the Allies and the United States shall be immediately disarmed and thereafter interned in neutral ports or in default of them in allied ports to be designated by the Allies and the United States. They will there remain under the supervision of the Allies and of the United States, only caretakers being left on board. The following warships are designated by the Allies: Six battle cruisers, ten battleships, eight light cruisers (including two mine layers), fifty destroyers of the most modern types. All other surface warships (including river craft) are to be concentrated in German naval bases to be designated by the Allies and the United States and are to be completely disarmed and classed under the supervision of the Allies and the United States. The military armament of all ships of the auxiliary fleet shall be put on shore. All vessels designated to be interned shall be ready to leave the German ports seven days after the signing of the armistice. Directions for the voyage will be given by wireless.

Twenty-four—The Allies and the United States of America shall have the right to sweep up all mine fields and obstructions laid by Germany outside German territorial waters, and the positions of these are to be indicated.

Twenty-five—Freedom of access to and from the Baltic to be given to the naval and mercantile marines of the allied and associated powers. To secure this the Allies and the United States of America shall be empowered to occupy all German forts, fortifications, batteries, and defense works of all kinds in all the entrances from the Cattegat into the Baltic, and to sweep up all mines and obstructions within and without German territorial waters, without any question of neutrality being raised, and the positions of all such mines and obstructions are to be indicated.

Twenty-six—The existing blockade conditions set up by the allied and associated powers are to remain unchanged, and all German merchant ships found at sea are to remain liable to capture. The Allies and the United States should give consideration to the provisioning of Germany during the armistice to the extent recognized as necessary.

Twenty-seven—All naval aircraft are to be concentrated and immobilized in German bases to be specified by the Allies and the United States of America.

Twenty-eight—In evacuating the Belgian coast and ports Germany shall abandon in situ and in fact all port and river navigation material, all merchant ships, tugs, lighters, all naval aeronautic apparatus, material and supplies, and all arms, apparatus, and supplies of every kind.

Twenty-nine—All Black Sea ports are to be evacuated by Germany; all Russian war vessels of all descriptions seized by Germany in the Black Sea are to be handed over to the Allies and the United States of America; all neutral merchant vessels seized are to be released; all warlike and other materials of all kinds seized in those ports are to be returned and German materials as specified in Clause Twenty-eight are to be abandoned.

Thirty—All merchant vessels in German hands belonging to the allied and associated powers are to be restored in ports to be specified by the Allies and the United States of America without reciprocity.

Thirty-one—No destruction of ships or of materials to be permitted before evacuation, surrender, or restoration.

Thirty-two—The German Government will notify the neutral Governments of the world, and particularly the Governments of Norway, Sweden, Denmark, and Holland, that all restrictions placed on the trading of their vessels with the allied and associated countries, whether by the German Government or by private German interests, and whether in return for specific concessions, such as the export of shipbuilding materials, or not, are immediately canceled.

Thirty-three—No transfers of German merchant shipping of any description to any neutral flag are to take place after signature of the armistice.

Thirty-four—The duration of the armistice is to be thirty days, with option to extend. During this period if its clauses are not carried into execution the armistice may be denounced by one of the contracting parties, which must give warning forty-eight hours in advance. It is understood that the execution of Articles 3 and 18 shall not warrant the denunciation of the armistice on the ground of insufficient execution within a period fixed, except in the case of bad faith in carrying them into execution. In order to assure the execution of this convention under the best conditions, the principle of a permanent international armistice commission is admitted. This commission will act under the authority of the allied military and naval Commanders in Chief.

Thirty-five—This armistice to be accepted or refused by Germany within seventy-two hours of notification.

This armistice has been signed the Eleventh of November, Nineteen Eighteen, at 5 o'clock a.m. French time.

The chief concern of President Wilson, and the controlling reason for his trip abroad to attend the Peace Conference, was the formation of a League of Nations to insure perpetual peace. After months of deliberation the covenant of the League of Nations was prepared and made public. The text of this covenant follows.

COVENANT OF THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS

Preamble—In order to promote international cooperation and to secure international peace and security by the acceptance of obligations not to resort to war, by the prescription of open, just, and honorable relations between nations, by the firm establishment of the understandings of international law as the actual rule of conduct among Governments, and by the maintenance of justice and a scrupulous respect for all treaty obligations in the dealings of organized peoples with one another, the Powers signatory to this covenant adopt this Constitution of the League of Nations:

Article I.—The action of the high contracting parties under the terms of this covenant shall be effected through the instrumentality of a meeting of a body of delegates representing the high contracting parties, of meetings at more frequent intervals of an Executive Council, and of a permanent international secretariat to be established at the seat of the League.

Art. II.—Meetings of the body of delegates shall be held at stated intervals and from time to time, as occasion may require, for the purpose of dealing with matters within the sphere of action of the League. Meetings of the body of delegates shall be held at the seat of the league, or at such other places as may be found convenient, and shall consist of representatives of the high contracting parties. Each of the high contracting parties shall have one vote, but may have not more than three representatives.

Art. III.—The Executive Council shall consist of representatives of the United States of America, the British Empire, France, Italy, and Japan, together with representatives of four other States, members of the League. The selection of these four States shall be made by the body of delegates on such principles and in such manner as they think fit. Pending the appointment of these representatives of the other States, representatives of —— shall be members of the Executive Council.

Meetings of the Council shall be held from time to time as occasion may require, and at least once a year, at whatever place may be decided on, or, failing any such decision, at the seat of the League, and any matter within the sphere of action of the League or affecting the peace of the world may be dealt with at such meetings.

Invitations shall be sent to any Power to attend a meeting of the council at which such matters directly affecting its interests are to be discussed, and no decision taken at any meeting will be binding on such Powers unless so invited.

Art. IV.—All matters of procedure at meetings of the body of delegates or the Executive Council, including the appointment of committees to investigate particular matters, shall be regulated by the body of delegates or the Executive Council, and may be decided by a majority of the States represented at the meeting.

The first meeting of the body of delegates and of the Executive Council shall be summoned by the President of the United States of America.

Art. V.—The permanent secretariat of the League shall be established at——, which shall constitute the seat of the League. The secretariat shall comprise such secretaries and staff as may be required, under the general direction and control of a Secretary General of the League, who shall be chosen by the Executive Council. The secretariat shall be appointed by the Secretary General subject to confirmation by the Executive Council.

The Secretary General shall act in that capacity at all meetings of the body of delegates or of the Executive Council.

The expenses of the secretariat shall be borne by the States members of the League, in accordance with the apportionment of the expenses of the International Bureau of the Universal Postal Union.

Art. VI.—Representatives of the high contracting parties and officials of the League, when engaged in the business of the League, shall enjoy diplomatic privileges and immunities, and the buildings occupied by the League or its officials, or by representatives attending its meetings, shall enjoy the benefits of extra-territoriality.

Art. VII.—Admission to the League of States, not signatories to the covenant and not named in the protocol hereto as States to be invited to adhere to the covenant, requires the assent of not less than two-thirds of the States represented in the body of delegates, and shall be limited to fully self-governing countries, including dominions and colonies.

No State shall be admitted to the League unless it is able to give effective guarantees of its sincere intention to observe its international obligations and unless it shall conform to such principles as may be prescribed by the League in regard to its naval and military forces and armaments.

Art. VIII.—The high contracting parties recognize the principle that the maintenance of peace will require the reduction of national armaments to the lowest point consistent with national safety, and the enforcement by common action of international obligations, having special regard to the geographical situation and circumstances of each State, and the Executive Council shall formulate plans for effecting such reduction. The Executive Council shall also determine for the consideration and action of the several Governments what military equipment and armament is fair and reasonable in proportion to the scale of forces laid down in the program of disarmament; and these limits, when adopted, shall not be exceeded without the permission of the Executive Council.

The high contracting parties agree that the manufacture by private enterprise of munitions and implements of war lends itself to grave objections, and direct the Executive Council to advise how the evil effects attendant upon such manufacture can be prevented, due regard being had to the necessities of those countries which are not able to manufacture for themselves the munitions and implements of war necessary for their safety.

The high contracting parties undertake in no way to conceal from each other the condition of such of their industries as are capable of being adapted to warlike purposes or the scale of their armaments, and agree that there shall be full and frank interchange of information as to their military and naval programs.

Art. IX.—A permanent commission shall be constituted to advise the League on the execution of the provisions of Article VIII. and on military and naval questions generally.

Art. X.—The high contracting parties shall undertake to respect and preserve as against external aggression the territorial integrity and existing political independence of all States members of the League. In case of any such aggression or in case of any threat or danger of such aggression the Executive Council shall advise upon the means by which the obligation shall be fulfilled.

Art. XI.—Any war or threat of war, whether immediately affecting any of the high contracting parties or not, is hereby declared a matter of concern to the League, and the high contracting parties reserve the right to take any action that may be deemed wise and effectual to safeguard the peace of nations.

It is hereby also declared and agreed to be the friendly right of each of the high contracting parties to draw the attention of the body of delegates or of the Executive Council to any circumstance affecting international intercourse which threatens to disturb international peace or good understanding between nations upon which peace depends.

Art. XII.—The high contracting parties agree that should disputes arise between them which cannot be adjusted by the ordinary processes of diplomacy they will in no case resort to war without previously submitting the questions and matters involved either to arbitration or to inquiry by the Executive Council, and until three months after the award by the arbitrators or a recommendation by the Executive Council, and that they will not even then resort to war as against a member of the League which complies with the award of the arbitrators or the recommendation of the Executive Council.

In any case under this article the award of the arbitrators shall be made within a reasonable time, and the recommendation of the Executive Council shall be made within six months after the submission of the dispute.

Art. XIII.—The high contracting parties agree that whenever any dispute or difficulty shall arise between them, which they recognize to be suitable for submission to arbitration and which cannot be satisfactorily settled by diplomacy, they will submit the whole matter to arbitration. For this purpose the court of arbitration to which the case is referred shall be the court agreed on by the parties or stipulated in any convention existing between them. The high contracting parties agree that they will carry out in full good faith any award that may be rendered. In the event of any failure to carry out the award the Executive Council shall propose what steps can best be taken to give effect thereto.

Art. XIV.—The Executive Council shall formulate plans for the establishment of a permanent court of international justice, and this court shall, when established, be competent to hear and determine any matter which the parties recognize as suitable for submission to it for arbitration under the foregoing article.

Art. XV.—If there should arise between States, members of the League, any dispute likely to lead to rupture, which is not submitted to arbitration as above, the high contracting parties agree that they will refer the matter to the Executive Council; either party to the dispute may give notice of the existence of the dispute to the Secretary General who will make all necessary arrangements for a full investigation and consideration thereof. For this purpose the parties agree to communicate to the Secretary General as promptly as possible statements of their case, all the relevant facts and papers, and the Executive Council may forthwith direct the publication thereof.

Where the efforts of the council lead to the settlement of the dispute, a statement shall be published, indicating the nature of the dispute and the terms of settlement, together with such explanations as may be appropriate. If the dispute has not been settled, a report by the council shall be published, setting forth with all necessary facts and explanations the recommendation which the council think just and proper for the settlement of the dispute. If the report is unanimously agreed to by the members of the council, other than the parties to the dispute, the high contracting parties agree that they will not go to war with any party which complies with the recommendations, and that if any party shall refuse so to comply the council shall propose measures necessary to give effect to the recommendations. If no such unanimous report can be made it shall be the duty of the majority and the privilege of the minority to issue statements, indicating what they believe to be the facts, and containing the reasons which they consider to be just and proper.

The Executive Council may in any case under this article refer the dispute to the body of delegates. The dispute shall be so referred at the request of either party to the dispute, provided that such request must be made within fourteen days after the submission of the dispute. In a case referred to the body of delegates, all the provisions of this article, and of Article XII., relating to the action and powers of the Executive Council, shall apply to the action and powers of the body of delegates.

Art. XVI.—Should any of the high contracting parties break or disregard its covenants under Article XII. it shall thereby ipso facto be deemed to have committed an act of war against all the other members of the League, which hereby undertakes immediately to subject it to the severance of all trade or financial relations, the prohibition of all intercourse between their nationals and the nationals of the covenant-breaking State and the prevention of all financial, commercial, or personal intercourse between the nationals of the covenant-breaking State and the nationals of any other State, whether a member of the League or not.

It shall be the duty of the Executive Council in such case to recommend what effective military or naval force the members of the League shall severally contribute to the armed forces to be used to protect the covenants of the League.

The high contracting parties agree, further, that they will mutually support one another in the financial and economic measures which may be taken under this article in order to minimize the loss and inconvenience resulting from the above measures, and that they will mutually support one another in resisting any special measures aimed at one of their number by the covenant-breaking State and that they will afford passage through their territory to the forces of any of the high contracting parties who are cooperating to protect the covenants of the League.

Art. XVII.—In the event of dispute between one State member of the League and another State which is not a member of the League, or between States not members of the League, the high contracting parties agree that the State or States, not members of the League, shall be invited to accept the obligations of membership in the League for the purposes of such dispute, upon such conditions as the Executive Council may deem just, and upon acceptance of any such invitation, the above provisions shall be applied with such modifications as may be deemed necessary by the League.

Upon such invitation being given the Executive Council shall immediately institute an inquiry into the circumstances and merits of the dispute and recommend such action as may seem best and most effectual in the circumstances.

In the event of a power so invited refusing to accept the obligations of membership in the League for the purposes of the League, which in the case of a State member of the League would constitute a breach of Article XII., the provisions of Article XVI. shall be applicable as against the State taking such action.

If both parties to the dispute, when so invited, refuse to accept the obligations of membership in the League for the purpose of such dispute, the Executive Council may take such action and make such recommendations as will prevent hostilities and will result in the settlement of the dispute.

Art. XVIII.—The high contracting parties agree that the League shall be intrusted with general supervision of the trade in arms and ammunition with the countries in which the control of this traffic is necessary in the common interest.

Art. XIX.—To those colonies and territories which, as a consequence of the late war, have ceased to be under the sovereignty of the States which formerly governed them and which are inhabited by peoples not yet able to stand by themselves under the strenuous conditions of the modern world, there should be applied the principle that the well-being and development of such peoples form a sacred trust of civilization and that securities for the performance of this trust should be embodied in the constitution of the League.

The best method of giving practical effect to this principle is that the tutelage of such peoples should be intrusted to advanced nations, who by reason of their resources, their experience, or their geographical position, can best undertake this responsibility, and that this tutelage should be exercised by them as mandatories on behalf of the League.

The character of the mandate must differ according to the stage of the development of the people, the geographical situation of the territory, its economic conditions and other similar circumstances.

Certain communities, formerly belonging to the Turkish Empire, have reached a stage of development where their existence as independent nations can be provisionally recognized, subject to the rendering of administrative advice and assistance by a mandatory power until such time as they are able to stand alone. The wishes of these communities must be a principal consideration in the selection of the mandatory power.

Other peoples, especially those of Central Africa, are at such a stage that the mandatory must be responsible for the administration of the territory, subject to conditions which will guarantee freedom of conscience or religion, subject only to the maintenance of public order and morals, the prohibition of abuses such as the slave trade, the arms traffic, and the liquor traffic, and the prevention of the establishment of fortifications or military and naval bases and of military training of the natives for other than police purposes and the defense of territory, and will also secure equal opportunities for the trade and commerce of other members of the League.

There are territories, such as Southwest Africa and certain of the South Pacific Isles, which, owing to the sparseness of the population, or their small size, or their remoteness from the centers of civilization, or their geographical contiguity to the mandatory State and other circumstances, can be best administered under the laws of the mandatory States as integral portions thereof, subject to the safeguards above mentioned in the interests of the indigenous population.

In every case of mandate, the mandatory State shall render to the League an annual report in reference to the territory committed to its charge.

The degree of authority, control, or administration, to be exercised by the mandatory State, shall, if not previously agreed upon by the high contracting parties in each case, be explicitly defined by the Executive Council in a special act or charter.

The high contracting parties further agree to establish at the seat of the League a mandatory commission to receive and examine the annual reports of the mandatory powers, and to assist the League in insuring the observance of the terms of all mandates.

Art. XX.—The high contracting parties will endeavor to secure and maintain fair and humane conditions of labor for men, women, and children, both in their own countries and in all countries to which their commercial and industrial relations extend; and to that end agree to establish as part of the organization of the League a permanent bureau of labor.

Art. XXI.—The high contracting parties agree that provision shall be made through the instrumentality of the League to secure and maintain freedom of transit and equitable treatment for the commerce of all States members of the League, having in mind, among other things, special arrangements with regard to the necessities of the regions devastated during the war of 1914-1918.

Art. XXII.—The high contracting parties agree to place under the control of the League all international bureaus already established by general treaties, if the parties to such treaties consent. Furthermore, they agree that all such international bureaus to be constituted in future shall be placed under control of the League.

Art. XXIII.—The high contracting parties agree that every treaty or international engagement entered into hereafter by any State member of the League shall be forthwith registered with the Secretary General and as soon as possible published by him, and that no such treaty or international engagement shall be binding until so registered.

Art. XXIV.—It shall be the right of the body of delegates from time to time to advise the reconsideration by States members of the League of treaties which have become inapplicable and of international conditions of which the continuance may endanger the peace of the world.

Art. XXV.—The high contracting parties severally agree that the present covenant is accepted as abrogating all obligations inter se which are inconsistent with the terms thereof, and solemnly engage that they will not hereafter enter into any engagements inconsistent with the terms thereof. In case any of the Powers signatory hereto or subsequently admitted to the League shall, before becoming a party to this covenant, have undertaken any obligations which are inconsistent with the terms of this covenant, it shall be the duty of such Power to take immediate steps to procure its release from such obligations.

Art. XXVI.—Amendments to this covenant will take effect when ratified by the States whose representatives compose the Executive Council and by three-fourths of the States whose representatives compose the body of delegates.

OFFICIAL SUMMARY OF THE TREATY OF PEACE

GERMANY

The preamble names as parties of the one part the United States, the British Empire, France, Italy, and Japan, described as the Five Allied and Associated Powers, and Belgium, Bolivia, Brazil, China, Cuba, Ecuador, Greece, Guatemala, Haiti, the Hedjaz, Honduras, Liberia, Nicaragua, Panama, Peru, Poland, Portugal, Roumania, Serbia, Siam, Czecho-Slovakia, and Uruguay, who with the five above are described as the allied and associated powers, and on the other part, Germany.

It states that: bearing in mind that on the request of the then Imperial German Government an armistice was granted on November 11, 1918, by the principal allied and associated powers in order that a treaty of peace might be concluded with her, and whereas the allied and associated powers, being equally desirous that the war in which they were successively involved directly or indirectly and which originated in the declaration of war by Austria-Hungary on July 28, 1914, against Serbia, the declaration of war by Germany against Russia on August 1, 1914, and against France on August 3, 1914, and in the invasion of Belgium, should be replaced by a firm, just, and durable peace, the plenipotentiaries, (having communicated their full powers found in good and due form) have agreed as follows:

From the coming into force of the present treaty the state of war will terminate. From the moment and subject to the provisions of this treaty, official relations with Germany, and with each of the German States, will be resumed by the allied and associated Powers.

SECTION I

LEAGUE OF NATIONS

The covenant of the League of Nations constitutes Section I of the peace treaty, which places upon the League many specific, in addition to its general, duties. It may question Germany at any time for a violation of a neutralized zone east of the Rhine as a threat against the world's peace. It will appoint three of the five members of the Sarre Commission, oversee its rêgime, and carry out the plebiscite. It will appoint the High Commissioner of Danzig, guarantee the independence of the free city, and arrange for treaties between Danzig and Germany and Poland. It will work out the mandatory system to be applied to the former German colonies, and act as a final court in part of the plebiscites of the Belgian-German frontier, and in disputes as to the Kiel Canal, and decide certain of the economic and financial problems. An International Conference on Labor is to be held in October under its direction, and another on the international control of ports, waterways, and railways is foreshadowed.

MEMBERSHIP

The members of the League will be the signatories of the covenant and other States invited to accede who must lodge a declaration of accession without reservation within two months. A new State, dominion, or colony may be admitted, provided its admission is agreed to by two-thirds of the assembly. A State may withdraw upon giving two years' notice, if it has fulfilled all its international obligations.

SECRETARIAT

A permanent secretariat will be established at the seat of the League, which will be at Geneva.

ASSEMBLY

The Assembly will consist of representatives of the members of the League, and will meet at stated intervals. Voting will be by States. Each member will have one vote and not more than three representatives.

COUNCIL

The Council will consist of representatives of the Five Great Allied Powers, together with representatives of four members selected by the Assembly from time to time; it may co-opt additional States and will meet at least once a year.

Members not represented will be invited to send a representative when questions affecting their interests are discussed. Voting will be by States. Each State will have one vote and not more than one representative. A decision taken by the Assembly and Council must be unanimous except in regard to procedure and in certain cases specified in the covenant and in the treaty, where decisions will be by a majority.

ARMAMENTS

The Council will formulate plans for a reduction of armaments for consideration and adoption. These plans will be revised every ten years. Once they are adopted, no member must exceed the armaments fixed without the concurrence of the Council. All members will exchange full information as to armaments and programs, and a permanent commission will advise the Council on military and naval questions.

PREVENTING OF WAR

Upon any war, or threat of war, the Council will meet to consider what common action shall be taken. Members are pledged to submit matters of dispute to arbitration or inquiry and not to resort to war until three months after the award. Members agree to carry out an arbitral award and not to go to war with any party to the dispute which complies with it. If a member fails to carry out the award, the Council will propose the necessary measures. The Council will formulate plans for the establishment of a permanent court of international justice to determine international disputes or to give advisory opinions. Members who do not submit their case to arbitration must accept the jurisdiction of the Assembly. If the Council, less the parties to the dispute, is unanimously agreed upon the rights of it, the members agree that they will not go to war with any party to the dispute which complies with its recommendations. In this case, a recommendation, by the Assembly, concurred in by all its members represented on the Council and a simple majority of the rest, less the parties to the dispute, will have the force of a unanimous recommendation by the Council. In either case, if the necessary agreement cannot be secured, the members reserve the right to take such [action?] as may be necessary for the maintenance of right and justice. Members resorting to war in disregard of the covenant will immediately be debarred from all intercourse with other members. The Council will in such cases consider what military or naval action can be taken by the League collectively for the protection of the covenants and will afford facilities to members cooperating in this enterprise.

VALIDITY OF TREATIES

All treaties or international engagements concluded after the institution of the League will be registered with the secretariat and published. The Assembly may from time to time advise members to reconsider treaties which have become inapplicable or involve danger to peace.

The covenant abrogates all obligations between members inconsistent with its terms, but nothing in it shall affect the validity of international engagements such as treaties of arbitration or regional understandings like the Monroe Doctrine for securing the maintenance of peace.

THE MANDATORY SYSTEM

The tutelage of nations not yet able to stand by themselves will be intrusted to advanced nations who are best fitted to undertake it. The covenant recognizes three different stages of development requiring different kinds of mandatories:

(a) Communities like those belonging to the Turkish Empire, which can be provisionally recognized as independent, subject to advice and assistance from mandatary in whose selection they would be allowed a voice.

(b) Communities like those of Central Africa, to be administered by the mandatary under conditions generally approved by the members of the League, where equal opportunities for trade will be allowed to all members; certain abuses, such as trade in slaves, arms, and liquor will be prohibited, and the construction of military and naval bases and the introduction of compulsory military training will be disallowed.

(c) Other communities, such as Southwest Africa and the South Pacific Islands, but administered under the laws of the mandatary as integral portions of its territory. In every case the mandatary will render an annual report, and the degree of its authority will be defined.

GENERAL INTERNATIONAL PROVISIONS

Subject to and in accordance with the provisions of international convention, existing or hereafter to be agreed upon, the members of the League will in general endeavor, through the international organization established by the Labor Convention, to secure and maintain fair conditions of labor for men, women and children in their own countries and other countries, and undertake to secure just treatment of the native inhabitants of territories under their control; they will entrust the League with the general supervision over the execution of agreements for the suppression of traffic in women and children, &c.; and the control of the trade in arms and ammunition with countries in which control is necessary; they will make provision for freedom of communication and transit and equitable treatment for commerce of all members of the League, with special reference to the necessities of regions devastated during the war; and they will endeavor to take steps for international prevention and control of disease. International bureaus and commissions already established will be placed under the League, as well as those to be established in the future.

AMENDMENTS TO THE COVENANT

Amendments to the covenant will take effect when ratified by the Council and by a majority of the Assembly.

SECTION II

BOUNDARIES OF GERMANY

Germany cedes to France Alsace-Lorraine, 5,600 square miles to the southwest, and to Belgium two small districts between Luxemburg and Holland, totaling 382 square miles. She also cedes to Poland the southeastern tip of Silesia beyond and including Oppeln, most of Posen, and West Prussia, 27,686 square miles, East Prussia being isolated from the main body by a part of Poland. She loses sovereignty over the northeastern tip of East Prussia, 40 square miles north of the river Memel, and the internationalized areas about Danzig, 729 square miles, and the Basin of the Sarre, 738 square miles, between the western border of the Rhenish Palatinate of Bavaria and the southeast corner of Luxemburg. The Danzig area consists of the V between the Nogat and Vistula Rivers made a W by the addition of a similar V on the west, including the city of Danzig. The southeastern third of East Prussia and the area between East Prussia and the Vistula north of latitude 53 degrees 3 minutes is to have its nationality determined by popular vote, 5,785 square miles, as is to be the case in part of Schleswig, 2,787 square miles.

SECTION III

BELGIUM

Germany is to consent to the abrogation of the treaties of 1839, by which Belgium was established as a neutral State, and to agree in advance to any convention with which the allied and associated Powers may determine to replace them. She is to recognize the full sovereignty of Belgium over the contested territory of Moresnet and over part of Prussian Moresnet, and to renounce in favor of Belgium all rights over the circles of Eupen and Malmedy, the inhabitants of which are to be entitled within six months to protest against this change of sovereignty either in whole or in part, the final decision to be reserved to the League of Nations. A commission is to settle the details of the frontier, and various regulations for change of nationality are laid down.

LUXEMBURG

Germany renounces her various treaties and conventions with the Grand Duchy of Luxemburg, recognizes that it ceased to be a part of the German Zollverein from January first, last, renounces all right of exploitation of the railroads, adheres to the abrogation of its neutrality, and accepts in advance any international agreement as to it reached by the allied and associated powers.

LEFT BANK OF THE RHINE

As provided in the military clauses, Germany will not maintain any fortifications or armed forces less than fifty kilometers to the east of the Rhine, hold any manœuvres, nor maintain any works to facilitate mobilization. In case of violation, "she shall be regarded as committing a hostile act against the Powers who sign the present treaty and as intending to disturb the peace of the world." "By virtue of the present treaty, Germany shall be bound to respond to any request for an explanation which the Council of the League of Nations may think it necessary to address to her."

ALSACE-LORRAINE

After recognition of the moral obligation to repair the wrong done in 1871 by Germany to France and the people of Alsace-Lorraine, the territories ceded to Germany by the Treaty of Frankfort are restored to France with their frontiers as before 1871, to date from the signing of the armistice, and to be free of all public debts.

Citizenship is regulated by detailed provisions distinguishing those who are immediately restored to full French citizenship, those who have to make formal applications therefor, and those for whom naturalization is open after three years. The last named class includes German residents in Alsace-Lorraine, as distinguished from those who acquire the position of Alsace-Lorrainers as defined in the treaty. All public property and all private property of German ex-sovereigns passes to France without payment or credit. France is substituted for Germany as regards ownership of the railroads and rights over concessions of tramways. The Rhine bridges pass to France with the obligation for their upkeep.

For five years manufactured products of Alsace-Lorraine will be admitted to Germany free of duty to a total amount not exceeding in any year the average of the three years preceding the war and textile materials may be imported from Germany to Alsace-Lorraine and re-exported free of duty. Contracts for electric power from the right bank must be continued for ten years. For seven years, with possible extension to ten, the ports of Kehl and Strassbourg shall be administered as a single unit by a French administrator appointed and supervised by the Central Rhine Commission. Property rights will be safeguarded in both ports and equality of treatment as respects traffic assured the nationals, vessels, and goods of every country.

Contracts between Alsace-Lorraine and Germany are maintained save for France's right to annul on grounds of public interest. Judgments of courts hold in certain classes of cases while in others a judicial exequatur is first required. Political condemnations during the war are null and void and the obligation to repay war fines is established as in other parts of allied territory.

Various clauses adjust the general provisions of the treaty to the special conditions of Alsace-Lorraine, certain matters of execution being left to conventions to be made between France and Germany.

THE SARRE

In compensation for the destruction of coal mines in Northern France and as payment on account of reparation, Germany cedes to France full ownership of the coal mines of the Sarre Basin with their subsidiaries, accessories and facilities. Their value will be estimated by the Separation Commission and credited against that account. The French rights will be governed by German law in force at the armistice excepting war legislation, France replacing the present owners, whom Germany undertakes to indemnify. France will continue to furnish the present proportion of coal for local needs and contribute in just proportion to local taxes. The basin extends from the frontier of Lorraine as re-annexed to France north as far as St. Wendel including on the west the valley of the Sarre as far as Sarre Holzbach and on the east the town of Homburg.

In order to secure the rights and welfare of the population and guarantee to France entire freedom in working the mines the territory will be governed by a commission appointed by the League of Nations and consisting of five members, one French, one a native inhabitant of the Sarre, and three representing three different countries other than France and Germany. The League will appoint a member of the Commission as Chairman to act as executive of the Commission. The Commission will have all powers of government formerly belonging to the German Empire, Prussia and Bavaria, will administer the railroads and other public services and have full power to interpret the treaty clauses. The local courts will continue, but subject to the Commission. Existing German legislation will remain the basis of the law, but the Commission may make modification after consulting a local representative assembly which it will organize. It will have the taxing power but for local purposes only. New taxes must be approved by this assembly. Labor legislation will consider the wishes of the local labor organizations and the labor program of the League. French and other labor may be freely utilized, the former being free to belong to French unions. All rights acquired as to pensions and social insurance will be maintained by Germany and the Sarre Commission.

There will be no military service but only a local gendarmerie to preserve order. The people will preserve their local assemblies, religious liberties, schools, and language, but may vote only for local assemblies. They will keep their present nationality except so far as individuals may change it. Those wishing to leave will have every facility with respect to their property. The territory will form part of the French customs system, with no export tax on coal and metallurgical products going to Germany nor on German products entering the basin and for five years no import duties on products of the basin going to Germany or German products coming into the basin. For local consumption French money may circulate without restriction.

After fifteen years a plebiscite will be held by communes to ascertain the desires of the population as to continuance of the existing régime under the League of Nations, union with France or union with Germany. The right to vote will belong to all inhabitants over twenty resident therein at the signature. Taking into account the opinions thus expressed the League will decide the ultimate sovereignty. In any portion restored to Germany the German Government must buy out the French mines at an appraised valuation. If the price is not paid within six months thereafter this portion passes finally to France. If Germany buys back the mines the League will determine how much of the coal shall be annually sold to France.

SECTION IV

GERMAN AUSTRIA

"Germany recognizes the total independence of German Austria in the boundaries traced."

CZECHO-SLOVAKIA

Germany recognizes the entire independence of the Czecho-Slovak State, including the autonomous territory of the Ruthenians south of the Carpathians, and accepts the frontiers of this State as to be determined, which in the case of the German frontier shall follow the frontier of Bohemia in 1914. The usual stipulations as to acquisition and change of nationality follow.

POLAND

Germany cedes to Poland the greater part of Upper Silesia, Posen and the province of West Prussia on the left bank of the Vistula. A Field Boundary Commission of seven, five representing the allied and associated powers and one each representing Poland and Germany, shall be constituted within fifteen days of the peace to delimit this boundary. Such special provisions as are necessary to protect racial, linguistic or religious minorities and to protect freedom of transit and equitable treatment of commerce of other nations shall be laid down in a subsequent treaty between the principal allied and associated powers and Poland.

EAST PRUSSIA

The southern and the eastern frontier of East Prussia as touching Poland is to be fixed by plebiscites, the first in the regency of Allenstein between the southern frontier of East Prussia and the northern frontier, or Regierungsbezirk Allenstein from where it meets the boundary between East and West Prussia to its junction with the boundary between the circles of Oletsko and Angersburg, thence the northern boundary of Oletsko to its junction with the present frontier, and the second in the area comprising the circles of Stuhm and Rosenberg and the parts of the circles of Marienburg and Marienwerder east of the Vistula.

In each case German troops and authorities will move out within fifteen days of the peace, and the territories be placed under an international commission of five members appointed by the principal allied and associated powers, with the particular duty of arranging for a free, fair and secret vote. The commission will report the results of the plebiscites to the powers with a recommendation for the boundary, and will terminate its work as soon as the boundary has been laid down and the new authorities set up.

The principal allied and associated powers will draw up regulations assuring East Prussia full and equitable access to and use of the Vistula. A subsequent convention, of which the terms will be fixed by the principal allied and associated powers, will be entered into between Poland, Germany and Danzig, to assure suitable railroad communication across German territory on the right bank of the Vistula between Poland and Danzig, while Poland shall grant free passage from East Prussia to Germany.

The northeastern corner of East Prussia about Memel is to be ceded by Germany to the associated powers, the former agreeing to accept the settlement made, especially as regards the nationality of the inhabitants.

DANZIG

Danzig and the district immediately about it is to be constituted into the "free city of Danzig" under the guarantee of the League of Nations. A high commissioner appointed by the League and President of Danzig shall draw up a constitution in agreement with the duly appointed representatives of the city, and shall deal in the first instance with all differences arising between the city and Poland. The actual boundaries of the city shall be delimited by a commission appointed within six months from the peace and to include three representatives chosen by the allied and associated powers, and one each by Germany and Poland.

A convention, the terms of which shall be fixed by the principal allied and associated powers, shall be concluded between Poland and Danzig, which shall include Danzig within the Polish customs frontiers, though a free area in the port; insure to Poland the free use of all the city's waterways, docks and other port facilities, the control and administration of the Vistula and the whole through railway system within the city, and postal, telegraphic and telephonic communication between Poland and Danzig; provide against discrimination against Poles within the city, and place its foreign relations and the diplomatic protection of its citizens abroad in charge of Poland.

DENMARK

The frontier between Germany and Denmark will be fixed by the self-determination of the population. Ten days from the peace German troops and authorities shall evacuate the region north of the line running from the mouth of the Schlei, south of Kappel, Schleswig, and Friedrichstadt along the Eider to the North Sea south of Tonning; the Workmen's and Soldiers' Councils shall be dissolved, and the territory administered by an international commission of five, of whom Norway and Sweden shall be invited to name two.

The commission shall insure a free and secret vote in three zones. That between the German-Danish frontier and a line running south of the Island of Alsen, north of Flensburg, and south of Tondern to the North Sea, north of the Island of Sylt, will vote as a unit within three weeks after the evacuation. Within five weeks after this vote the second zone, whose southern boundary runs from the North Sea south of the Island of Fehr to the Baltic south of Sygum, will vote by communes. Two weeks after that vote the third zone running to the limit of evacuation will also vote by communes. The international commission will then draw a new frontier on the basis of these plebiscites and with due regard for geographical and economic conditions. Germany will renounce all sovereignty over territories north of this line in favor of the Associated Governments, who will hand them over to Denmark.

HELIGOLAND

The fortifications, military establishments, and harbors of the Islands of Heligoland and Dune are to be destroyed under the supervision of the Allies by German labor and at Germany's expense. They may not be reconstructed, nor any similar fortifications built in the future.

RUSSIA

Germany agrees to respect as permanent and inalienable the independency of all territories which were part of the former Russian Empire, to accept the abrogation of the Brest-Litovsk and other treaties entered into with the Maximalist Government of Russia, to recognize the full force of all treaties entered into by the allied and associated powers with States which were a part of the former Russian Empire, and to recognize the frontiers as determined thereon. The allied and associated powers formally reserve the right of Russia to obtain restitution and reparation on the principles of the present treaty.

SECTION V

GERMAN RIGHTS OUTSIDE EUROPE

Outside Europe, Germany renounces all rights, titles, and privileges as to her own or her allies' territories to all the allied and associated powers, and undertakes to accept whatever measures are taken by the five allied powers in relation thereto.

COLONIES AND OVERSEAS POSSESSIONS

Germany renounces in favor of the allied and associated powers her overseas possessions with all rights and titles therein. All movable and immovable property belonging to the German Empire, or to any German State, shall pass to the Government exercising authority therein. These Governments may make whatever provisions seem suitable for the repatriation of German nationals and as to the conditions on which German subjects of European origin shall reside, hold property, or carry on business. Germany undertakes to pay reparation for damage suffered by French nationals in the Cameroons or its frontier zone through the acts of German civil and military authorities and of individual Germans from the 1st of January, 1900, to the 1st of August, 1914. Germany renounces all rights under the convention of the 4th of November, 1911, and the 29th of September, 1912, and undertakes to pay to France in accordance with an estimate presented and approved by the Repatriation Commission all deposits, credits, advances, &c., thereby secured. Germany undertakes to accept and observe any provisions by the allied and associated powers as to the trade in arms and spirits in Africa as well as to the General Act of Berlin of 1885 and the General Act of Brussels of 1890. Diplomatic protection to inhabitants of former German colonies is to be given by the Governments exercising authority.

CHINA

Germany renounces in favor of China all privileges and indemnities resulting from the Boxer Protocol of 1901, and all buildings, wharves, barracks for munitions of warships, wireless plants, and other public property except diplomatic or consular establishments in the German concessions of Tientsin and Hankow and in other Chinese territory except Kiao-Chau and agrees to return to China at her own expense all the astronomical instruments seized in 1900 and 1901. China will, however, take no measures for disposal of German property in the legation quarter at Peking without the consent of the Powers signatory to the Boxer Protocol.

Germany accepts the abrogation of the concessions at Hankow and Tientsin, China agreeing to open them to international use. Germany renounces all claims against China or any allied and associated Government for the internment or repatriation of her citizens in China and for the seizure or liquidation of German interests there since August 14, 1917. She renounces in favor of Great Britain her State property in the British concession at Canton and of France and China jointly of the property of the German school in the French concession at Shanghai.

SIAM

Germany recognizes that all agreements between herself and Siam, including the right of extra-territoriality, ceased July 22, 1917. All German public property, except consular and diplomatic premises, passes without compensation to Siam, German private property to be dealt with in accordance with the economic clauses. Germany waives all claims against Siam for the seizure and condemnation of her ships, liquidation of her property, or internment of her nationals.

LIBERIA

Germany renounces all rights under the international arrangements of 1911 and 1912 regarding Liberia, more particularly the right to nominate a receiver of the customs, and disinterests herself in any further negotiations for the rehabilitation of Liberia. She regards as abrogated all commercial treaties and agreements between herself and Liberia and recognizes Liberia's right to determine the status and condition of the re-establishment of Germans in Liberia.

MOROCCO

Germany renounces all her rights, titles, and privileges under the Act of Algeciras and the Franco-German agreements of 1909 and 1911, and under all treaties and arrangements with the Sherifian Empire. She undertakes not to intervene in any negotiations as to Morocco between France and other Powers, accepts all the consequences of the French protectorate and renounces the capitulations; the Sherifian Government shall have complete liberty of action in regard to German nationals, and all German protected persons shall be subject to the common law. All movable and immovable German property, including mining rights, may be sold at public auction, the proceeds to be paid to the Sherifian Government and deducted from the reparation account. Germany is also required to relinquish her interests in the State Bank of Morocco. All Moroccan goods entering Germany shall have the same privilege as French goods.

EGYPT

Germany recognizes the British Protectorate over Egypt declared on December 18, 1914, and renounces as from August 4, 1914, the capitulation and all the treaties, agreements, etc., concluded by her with Egypt. She undertakes not to intervene in any negotiations about Egypt between Great Britain and other Powers. There are provisions for jurisdiction over German nationals and property and for German consent to any changes which may be made in relation to the Commission of Public Debt. Germany consents to the transfer to Great Britain of the powers given to the late Sultan of Turkey for securing the free navigation of the Suez Canal. Arrangements for property belonging to German nationals in Egypt are made similar to those in the case of Morocco and other countries. Anglo-Egyptian goods entering Germany shall enjoy the same treatment as British goods.

TURKEY AND BULGARIA

Germany accepts all arrangements which the Allied and Associated Powers made with Turkey and Bulgaria with reference to any rights, privileges or interests claimed in those countries by Germany or her nationals and not dealt with elsewhere.

SHANTUNG

Germany cedes to Japan all rights, titles, and privileges, notably as to Kiao-Chau, and the railroads, mines, and cables acquired by her treaty with China of March 6, 1897, by and other agreements as to Shantung. All German rights to the railroad from Tsing-tao to Tsinan-fu, including all facilities and mining rights and rights of exploitation, pass equally to Japan, and the cables from Tsing-tao to Shanghai and Che-foo, the cables free of all charges. All German State property, movable and immovable, in Kiao-Chau is acquired by Japan free of all charges.

SECTION VI

MILITARY, NAVAL AND AIR

In order to render possible the initiation of a general limitation of the armaments of all nations, Germany undertakes directly to observe the military, naval, and air clauses which follow.

MILITARY FORCES

The demobilization of the German Army must take place within two months of the peace. Its strength may not exceed 100,000, including 4,000 officers, with not over seven divisions of infantry and three of cavalry, and to be devoted exclusively to maintenance of internal order and control of frontiers. Divisions may not be grouped under more than two army corps headquarters staffs. The great German General Staff is abolished. The army administrative service, consisting of civilian personnel not included in the number of effectives, is reduced to one-tenth the total in the 1913 budget. Employees of the German States, such as customs officers, first guards, and coast guards, may not exceed the number in 1913. Gendarmes and local police may be increased only in accordance with the growth of population. None of these may be assembled for military training.

ARMAMENTS

All establishments for the manufacturing, preparation, storage, or design of arms and munitions of war, except those specifically excepted, must be closed within three months of the peace, and their personnel dismissed. The exact amount of armament and munitions allowed Germany is laid down in detail tables, all in excess to be surrendered or rendered useless. The manufacture or importation of asphyxiating, poisonous, or other gases and all analogous liquids is forbidden as well as the importation of arms, munitions, and war materials. Germany may not manufacture such materials for foreign governments.

CONSCRIPTION

Conscription is abolished in Germany. The enlisted personnel must be maintained by voluntary enlistments for terms of twelve consecutive years, the number of discharges before the expiration of that term not in any year to exceed 5 per cent of the total effectives. Officers remaining in the service must agree to serve to the age of 45 years, and newly appointed officers must agree to serve actively for twenty-five years.

No military schools except those absolutely indispensable for the units allowed shall exist in Germany two months after the peace. No associations such as societies of discharged soldiers, shooting or touring clubs, educational establishments or universities may occupy themselves with military matters. All measures of mobilization are forbidden.

FORTRESSES

All fortified works, fortresses, and field works situated in German territory within a zone of fifty kilometers east of the Rhine will be dismantled within three months. The construction of any new fortifications there is forbidden. The fortified works on the southern and eastern frontiers, however, may remain.

CONTROL

Interallied commissions of control will see to the execution of the provisions for which a time limit is set, the maximum named being three months. They may establish headquarters at the German seat of Government and go to any part of Germany desired. Germany must give them complete facilities, pay their expenses, and also the expenses of execution of the treaty, including the labor and material necessary in demolition, destruction or surrender of war equipment.

NAVAL

The German navy must be demobilized within a period of two months after the peace. She will be allowed 6 small battleships, 6 light cruisers, 12 destroyers, 12 torpedo boats, and no submarines, either military or commercial, with a personnel of 15,000 men, including officers, and no reserve force of any character. Conscription is abolished, only voluntary service being permitted, with a minimum period of 25 years service for officers and 12 for men. No member of the German mercantile marine will be permitted any naval training.

All German vessels of war in foreign ports and the German high sea fleet interned at Scapa Flow will be surrendered, the final disposition of these ships to be decided upon by the allied and associated powers. Germany must surrender 42 modern destroyers, 50 modern torpedo boats, and all submarines, with their salvage vessels. All war vessels under construction, including submarines, must be broken up. War vessels not otherwise provided for are to be placed in reserve, or used for commercial purposes. Replacement of ships except those lost can take place only at the end of 20 years for battleships and 15 years for destroyers. The largest armored ship Germany will be permitted will be 10,000 tons.

Germany is required to sweep up the mines in the North Sea and the Baltic Sea, as decided upon by the Allies. All German fortifications in the Baltic, defending the passages through the belts, must be demolished. Other coast defenses are permitted, but the number and caliber of the guns must not be increased.

WIRELESS

During a period of three months after the peace German high power wireless stations at Nauen, Hanover, and Berlin will not be permitted to send any messages except for commercial purposes, and under supervision of the allied and associated Governments, nor may any more be constructed.

CABLES

Germany renounces all title to specified cables, the value of such as were privately owned being credited to her against reparation indebtedness.

Germany will be allowed to repair German submarine cables which have been cut but are not being utilized by the allied powers, and also portions of cables which, after having been cut, have been removed, or are at any rate not being utilized by any one of the allied and associated powers. In such cases the cables, or portions of cables, removed or utilized remain the property of the allied and associated powers, and accordingly fourteen cables or parts of cables are specified which will not be restored to Germany.

AIR

The armed forces of Germany must not include any military or naval air forces except for not over 100 unarmed seaplanes to be retained till October 1 to search for submarine mines. No dirigible shall be kept. The entire air personnel is to be demobilized within two months, except for 1,000 officers and men retained till October. No aviation grounds or dirigible sheds are to be allowed within 150 kilometers of the Rhine, or the eastern or southern frontiers, existing installations within these limits to be destroyed. The manufacture of aircraft and parts of aircraft is forbidden for six months. All military and naval aeronautical material under a most exhaustive definition must be surrendered within three months, except for the 100 seaplanes already specified.

PRISONERS OF WAR

The repatriation of German prisoners and interned civilians is to be carried out without delay and at Germany's expense by a commission composed of representatives of the Allies and Germany. Those under sentence for offenses against discipline are to be repatriated without regard to the completion of their sentences. Until Germany has surrendered persons guilty of offenses against the laws and customs of war, the Allies have the right to retain selected German officers. The Allies may deal at their own discretion with German nationals who do not desire to be repatriated, all repatriation being conditional on the immediate release of any allied subjects still in Germany. Germany is to accord facilities to commissions of inquiry in collecting information in regard to missing prisoners of war and of imposing penalties on German officials who have concealed allied nationals. Germany is to restore all property belonging to allied prisoners. There is to be a reciprocal exchange of information as to dead prisoners and their graves.

GRAVES

Both parties will respect and maintain the graves of soldiers and sailors buried on their territories, agree to recognize and assist any commission charged by any allied or associate Government with identifying, registering, maintaining or erecting suitable monuments over the graves, and to afford to each other all facilities for the repatriation of the remains of their soldiers.

SECTION VII

RESPONSIBILITIES

"The allied and associated powers publicly arraign William II. of Hohenzollern, formerly German Emperor, not for an offense against criminal law, but for a supreme offense against international morality and the sanctity of treaties."

The ex-Emperor's surrender is to be requested of Holland and a special tribunal set up, composed of one judge from each of the five great powers, with full guarantees of the right of defense. It is to be guided "by the highest motives of international policy with a view of vindicating the solemn obligations of international undertakings and the validity of international morality," and will fix the punishment it feels should be imposed.

Persons accused of having committed acts in violation of the laws and customs of war are to be tried and punished by military tribunals under military law. If the charges affect nationals of only one State, they will be tried before a tribunal of that State; if they affect nationals of several States, they will be tried before joint tribunals of the States concerned. Germany shall hand over to the associated Governments, either jointly or severally, all persons so accused and all documents and information necessary to insure full knowledge of the incriminating acts, the discovery of the offenders, and the just appreciation of the responsibility. The Judge [garbled in cabling] will be entitled to name his own counsel.

SECTION VIII

REPARATION AND RESTITUTION

"The allied and associated Governments affirm, and Germany accepts, the responsibility of herself and her allies, for causing all the loss and damage to which the allied and associated Governments and their nationals have been subjected as a consequence of the war imposed upon them by the aggression of Germany and her allies."

The total obligation of Germany to pay as defined in the category of damages is to be determined and notified to her after a fair hearing, and not later than May 1, 1921, by an interallied Reparation Commission.

At the same time a schedule of payments to discharge the obligation within thirty years shall be presented. These payments are subject to postponement in certain contingencies. Germany irrevocably recognizes the full authority of this commission, agrees to supply it with all the necessary information and to pass legislation to effectuate its findings. She further agrees to restore to the Allies cash and certain articles which can be identified.

As an immediate step toward restoration Germany shall pay within two years one thousand million pounds sterling in either gold, goods, ships, or other specific forms of payment.

This sum being included in, and not additional to, the first thousand million bond issue referred to below, with the understanding that certain expenses, such as those of the armies of occupation and payments for food and raw materials, may be deducted at the discretion of the Allies.

Germany further binds herself to repay all sums borrowed by Belgium from her allies as a result of Germany's violation of the treaty of 1839 up to November 11, 1918, and for this purpose will issue at once and hand over to the Reparation Commission 5 per cent gold bonds falling due in 1926.

While the allied and associated Governments recognize that the resources of Germany are not adequate, after taking into account permanent diminution of such resources which will result from other treaty claims, to make complete reparation for all such loss and damage, they require her to make compensation for all damage caused to civilians under seven main categories:

(a) Damages by personal injury to civilians caused by acts of war, directly or indirectly, including bombardments from the air.

(b) Damages caused to civilians, including exposure at sea, resulting from acts of cruelty ordered by the enemy, and to civilians in the occupied territories.

(c) Damages caused by maltreatment of prisoners.

(d) Damages to the Allied peoples represented by pensions and separation allowances, capitalized at the signature of this treaty.

(e) Damages to property other than naval or military materials.

(f) Damages to civilians by being forced to labor.

(g) Damages in the form of levies or fines imposed by the enemy.

In periodically estimating Germany's capacity to pay, the Reparation Commission shall examine the German system of taxation, first to the end that the sums for reparation which Germany is required to pay shall become a charge upon all her revenues prior to that for the service or discharge of any domestic loan; and secondly, so as to satisfy itself that in general the German scheme of taxation is fully as heavy proportionately as that of any of the powers represented on the commission.

The measures which the allied and associated powers shall have the right to take, in case of voluntary default by Germany, and which Germany agrees not to regard as acts of war, may include economic and financial prohibitions and reprisals and in general such other measures as the respective Governments may determine to be necessary in the circumstances.

The commission shall consist of one representative each of the United States, Great Britain, France, Italy, and Belgium, a representative of Serbia or Japan taking the place of the Belgian representative, when the interests of either country are particularly affected, with all other allied powers entitled, when their claims are under consideration, to the right of representation without voting power. It shall permit Germany to give evidence regarding her capacity to pay, and shall assure her a just opportunity to be heard. It shall make its permanent headquarters at Paris, establish its own procedure and personnel; have general control of the whole reparation problem; and become the exclusive agency of the Allies for receiving, holding, selling, and distributing reparation payments. Majority vote shall prevail, except that unanimity is required on questions involving the sovereignty of any of the Allies, the cancellation of all or part of Germany's obligations, the time and manner of selling, distributing, and negotiating bonds issued by Germany, any postponement between 1921 and 1926 of annual payments beyond 1930 and any postponement after 1926 for a period of more than three years of the application of a different method of measuring damage than in a similar former case, and the interpretation of provisions. Withdrawal from representation is permitted on twelve months' notice.

The Commission may require Germany to give from time to time by way of guarantee, issues of bonds or other obligations to cover such claims as are not otherwise satisfied. In this connection and on account of the total amount of claims, bond issues are presently to be required of Germany in acknowledgment of its debt as follows: 20,000,000,000 marks gold, payable not later than May 1, 1921, without interest; 40,000,000,000 marks gold bearing 2-1/2 per cent interest between 1921 and 1926, and thereafter 5 per cent, with a 1 per cent sinking fund payment beginning 1926; and an undertaking to deliver 40,000,000,000 marks gold bonds bearing interest at 5 per cent, under terms to be fixed by the Commission.

Interest on Germany's debt will be 5 per cent unless otherwise determined by the Commission in the future, and payments that are not made in gold may "be accepted by the Commission in the form of properties, commodities, businesses, rights, concessions, &c." Certificates of beneficial interest, representing either bonds or goods delivered by Germany, may be issued by the Commission to the interested powers, no power being entitled, however, to have its certificates divided into more than five pieces. As bonds are distributed and pass from the control of the Commission, an amount of Germany's debt equivalent to their par value is to be considered as liquidated.

SHIPPING

The German Government recognizes the right of the Allies to the replacement, ton for ton and class for class, of all merchant ships and fishing boats lost or damaged owing to the war, and agrees to cede to the Allies all German merchant ships of 1,600 tons gross and upward; one-half of her ships between 1,600 and 1,000 tons gross, and one-quarter of her steam trawlers and other fishing boats. These ships are to be delivered within two months to the Separation Committee, together with documents of title evidencing the transfer of the ships free from encumbrance.

"As an additional part of reparation," the German Government further agrees to build merchant ships for the account of the Allies to the amount of not exceeding 200,000 tons gross annually during the next five years.

All ships used for inland navigation taken by Germany from the Allies are to be restored within two months, the amount of loss not covered by such restitution to be made up by the cession of the German river fleet up to 20 per cent thereof.

DYESTUFFS AND CHEMICAL DRUGS

In order to effect payment by deliveries in kind, Germany is required, for a limited number of years, varying in the case of each, to deliver coal, coal-tar products, dyestuffs and chemical drugs, in specific amounts to the Reparations Commission. The Commission may so modify the conditions of delivery as not to interfere unduly with Germany's industrial requirements. The deliveries of coal are based largely upon the principle of making good diminutions in the production of the allied countries resulting from the war.

Germany accords option to the commission on dyestuffs and chemical drugs, including quinine, up to 50 per cent of the total stock in Germany at the time the treaty comes into force, and similar option during each six months to the end of 1924 up to 25 per cent of the previous six months' output.

DEVASTATED AREAS

Germany undertakes to devote her economic resources directly to the physical restoration of the invaded areas. The Reparations Commission is authorized to require Germany to replace the destroyed articles by the delivery of animals, machinery, &c., existing in Germany, and to manufacture materials required for reconstruction purposes; all with due consideration for Germany's essential domestic requirements.

Germany is to deliver annually for ten years to France coal equivalent to the difference between the annual pre-war output of Nord and Pas de Calais mines and the annual production during the above ten-year period. Germany further gives options over ten years for delivery of 7,000,000 tons of coal per year to France in addition to the above, of 8,000,000 tons to Belgium and of an amount rising from 4,500,000 tons in 1919 to 1920 to 8,500,000 in 1923 to 1924 to Italy at prices to be fixed as prescribed in the treaty. Coke may be taken in place of coal in the ratio of three tons to four. Provision is also made for delivery to France over three years of benzol, coal tar, and of ammonia. The Commission has powers to postpone or annul the above deliveries should they interfere unduly with the industrial requirements of Germany.

Germany is to restore within six months the Koran of the Caliph Othman, formerly at Medina, to the King of the Hedjaz, and the skull of the Sultan Okwawa, formerly in German East Africa, to his Britannic Majesty's Government.

The German Government is also to restore to the French Government certain papers taken by the German authorities in 1870, belonging then to M. Reuher, and to restore the French flags taken during the war of 1870 and 1871.

As reparation for the destruction of the Library of Louvain Germany is to hand over manuscripts, early printed books, prints, &c., to the equivalent of those destroyed.

In addition to the above Germany is to hand over to Belgium wings, now in Berlin, belonging to the altar piece of "The Adoration of the Lamb," by Hubert and Jan van Eyck, the center of which is now in the Church of St. Bavon at Ghent, and the wings, now in Berlin and Munich, of the altar piece of "The Last Supper," by Dirk Bouts, the center of which belongs to the Church of St. Peter at Louvain.

FINANCE

Powers to which German territory is ceded will assume a certain portion of the German pre-war debt, the amount to be fixed by the Reparations Commission on the basis of the ratio between the revenue and of the ceded territory and Germany's total revenues for the three years preceding the war. In view, however, of the special circumstances under which Alsace-Lorraine was separated from France in 1871, when Germany refused to accept any part of the French public debt, France will not assume any part of Germany's pre-war debt there, nor will Poland share in certain German debts incurred for the oppression of Poland. If the value of the German public property in ceded territory exceeds the amount of debt assumed, the States to which property is ceded will give credit on reparation for the excess, with the exception of Alsace-Lorraine. Mandatory powers will not assume any German debts or give any credit for German Government property. Germany renounces all right of representation on, or control of, State banks, commissions, or other similar international financial and economic organizations.

Germany is required to pay the total cost of the armies of occupation from the date of the armistice as long as they are maintained in German territory, this cost to be a first charge on her resources. The cost of reparation is the next charge, after making such provisions for payments for imports as the Allies may deem necessary.

Germany is to deliver to the allied and associated powers all sums deposited in Germany by Turkey and Austria-Hungary in connection with the financial support extended by her to them during the war, and to transfer to the Allies all claims against Austria-Hungary, Bulgaria, or Turkey in connection with agreements made during the war. Germany confirms the renunciation of the Treaties of Bucharest and Brest-Litovsk.

On the request of the Reparations Commission, Germany will expropriate any rights or interests of her nationals in public utilities in ceded territories or those administered by mandatories, and in Turkey, China, Russia, Austria-Hungary, and Bulgaria, and transfer them to the Reparations Commission, which will credit her with their value. Germany guarantees to repay to Brazil the fund arising from the sale of Sao Paulo coffee which she refused to allow Brazil to withdraw from Germany.

SECTION IX

OPIUM

The contracting powers agree, whether or not they have signed and ratified the opium convention of January 23, 1912, or signed the special protocol opened at The Hague in accordance with resolutions adopted by the third opium conference in 1914, to bring the said convention into force by enacting within twelve months of the peace the necessary legislation.

RELIGIOUS MISSIONS

The allied and associated powers agree the properties of religious missions in territories belonging or ceded to them shall continue in their work under the control of the powers, Germany renouncing all claims in their behalf.

SECTION X—ECONOMIC CLAUSES

CUSTOMS

For a period of six months Germany shall impose no tariff duties higher than the lowest in force in 1914, and for certain agricultural products, wines, vegetable oils, artificial silk, and washed or scoured wool this restriction obtains for two and a half years more. For five years, unless further extended by the League of Nations, Germany must give most favored nation treatment to the allied and associated powers. She shall impose no customs tariff for five years on goods originating in Alsace-Lorraine, and for three years on goods originating in former German territory ceded to Poland with the right of observation of a similar exception for Luxemburg.

SHIPPING

Ships of the allied and associated powers shall for five years and thereafter under condition of reciprocity, unless the League of Nations otherwise decides, enjoy the same rights in German ports as German vessels, and have most favored nation treatment in fishing, coasting trade, and towage even in territorial waters. Ships of a country having no seacoast may be registered at some one place within its territory.

UNFAIR COMPETITION

Germany undertakes to give the trade of the allied and associated powers adequate safeguards against unfair competition, and in particular to suppress the use of false wrappings and markings, and on condition of reciprocity to respect the laws and judicial decisions of allied and associated States in respect of regional appellations of wines and spirits.

TREATMENT OF NATIONALS

Germany shall impose no exceptional taxes or restriction upon the nationals of allied and associated States for a period of five years and, unless the League of Nations acts, for an additional five years German nationality shall not continue to attach to a person who has become a national of an allied or associated State.

MULTILATERAL CONVENTIONS

Some forty multilateral conventions are renewed between Germany and the allied and associated powers, but special conditions are attached to Germany's readmission to several. As to postal and telegraphic conventions Germany must not refuse to make reciprocal agreements with the new States. She must agree as respects the radio-telegraphic convention to provisional rules to be communicated to her, and adhere to the new convention when formulated. In the North Sea fisheries and North Sea liquor traffic convention, rights of inspection and police over associated fishing boats shall be exercised for at least five years only by vessels of these powers. As to the international railway union she shall adhere to the new convention when formulated. China, as to the Chinese customs tariff arrangement of 1905 regarding Whangpoo, and the Boxer indemnity of 1901; France, Portugal, and Rumania, as to The Hague Convention of 1903, relating to civil procedure, and Great Britain and the United States as to Article III. or the Samoan Treaty of 1899, are relieved of all obligations toward Germany.

BILATERAL TREATIES

Each allied and associated State may renew any treaty with Germany in so far as consistent with the peace treaty by giving notice within six months. Treaties entered into by Germany since August 1, 1914, with other enemy States, and before or since that date with Rumania, Russia, and governments representing parts of Russia are abrogated, and concessions granted under pressure by Russia to German subjects are annulled. The allied and associated States are to enjoy most favored nation treatment under treaties entered into by Germany and other enemy States before August 1, 1914, and under treaties entered into by Germany and neutral States during the war.

PRE-WAR DEBTS

A system of clearing houses is to be created within three months, one in Germany and one in each allied and associated State which adopts the plan for the payment of pre-war debts, including those arising from contracts suspended by the war. For the adjustment of the proceeds of the liquidation of enemy property and the settlement of other obligations each participating State assumes responsibility for the payment of all debts owing by its nationals to nationals of the enemy States, except in case of pre-war insolvency of the debtor. The proceeds of the sale of private enemy property in each participating State may be used to pay the debts owed to the nationals of that State, direct payment from debtor to creditor and all communications relating thereto being prohibited. Disputes may be settled by arbitration by the courts of the debtor country, or by the mixed arbitral tribunal. Any ally or associated power may, however, decline to participate in this system by giving six months' notice.

ENEMY PROPERTY

Germany shall restore or pay for all private enemy property seized or damaged by her, the amount of damages to be fixed by the mixed arbitral tribunal. The allied and associated States may liquidate German private property within their territories as compensation for property of their nationals not restored or paid for by Germany. For debts owed to their nationals by German nationals and for other claims against Germany, Germany is to compensate its nationals for such losses and to deliver within six months all documents relating to property held by its nationals in allied and associated States. All war legislation as to enemy property rights and interests is confirmed and all claims by Germany against the allied or associated Governments for acts under exceptional war measures abandoned.

Pre-war contracts between allied and associated nationals excepting the United States, Japan, and Brazil and German nationals are cancelled except for debts for accounts already performed.

AGREEMENTS

For the transfer of property where the property had already passed, leases of land and houses, contracts of mortgages, pledge or lien, mining concessions, contracts with governments and insurance contracts, mixed arbitral tribunals shall be established of three members, one chosen by Germany, one by the associated States and the third by agreement, or, failing which, by the President of Switzerland. They shall have jurisdiction over all disputes as to contracts concluded before the present peace treaty.

Fire insurance contracts are not considered dissolved by the war, even if premiums have not been paid, but lapse at the date of the first annual premium falling due three months after the peace. Life insurance contracts may be restored by payments of accumulated premiums with interest, sums falling due on such contracts during the war to be recoverable with interest. Marine insurance contracts are dissolved by the outbreak of war except where the risk insured against had already been incurred. Where the risk had not attached, premiums paid are recoverable, otherwise premiums due and sums due on losses are recoverable. Reinsurance treaties are abrogated unless invasion has made it impossible for the reinsured to find another reinsurer. Any allied or associated power, however, may cancel all the contracts running between its nationals and a German life insurance company, the latter being obligated to hand over the proportion of its assets attributable to such policies.

INDUSTRIAL PROPERTY

Rights as to industrial, literary, and artistic property are re-established. The special war measures of the allied and associated powers are ratified and the right reserved to impose conditions on the use of German patents and copyrights when in the public interest. Except as between the United States and Germany, pre-war licenses and rights to sue for infringements committed during the war are cancelled.

SECTION XI

AERIAL NAVIGATION

Aircraft of the allied and associated powers shall have full liberty of passage and landing over and in German territory, equal treatment with German planes as to use of German airdromes, and with most favored nation planes as to internal commercial traffic in Germany. Germany agrees to accept allied certificates of nationality, airworthiness, or competency or licenses and to apply the convention relative to aerial navigation concluded between the allied and associated powers to her own aircraft over her own territory. These rules apply until 1923, unless Germany has since been admitted to the League of Nations or to the above convention.

SECTION XII.

FREEDOM OF TRANSIT.

Germany must grant freedom of transit through her territories by mail or water to persons, goods, ships, carriages, and mails from or to any of the allied or associated powers, without customs or transit duties, undue delays, restrictions, or discriminations based on nationality, means of transport, or place of entry or departure. Goods in transit shall be assured all possible speed of journey, especially perishable goods. Germany may not divert traffic from its normal course in favor of her own transport routes or maintain "control stations" in connection with transmigration traffic. She may not establish any tax discrimination against the ports of allied or associated powers; must grant the latter's seaports all factors and reduced tariffs granted her own or other nationals, and afford the allied and associated powers equal rights with those of her own nationals in her ports and waterways, save that she is free to open or close her maritime coasting trade.

FREE ZONES IN PORTS

Free zones existing in German ports on August 1, 1914, must be maintained with due facilities as to warehouses, packing, and shipping, without discrimination, and without charges except for expenses of administration and use. Goods leaving the free zones for consumption in Germany and goods brought into the free zones from Germany shall be subject to the ordinary import and export taxes.

INTERNATIONAL RIVERS.

The Elbe from the junction of the Ultava, the Ultava from Prague, the Oder from Oppa, the Niemen from Grodno, and the Danube from Ulm are declared International, together with their connections.

The riparian states must ensure good conditions of navigation within their territories unless a special organization exists therefor. Otherwise appeal may be had to a special tribunal of the League of Nations, which also may arrange for a general international waterways convention.

The Elbe and the Oder are to be placed under international commissions to meet within three months, that for the Elbe composed of four representatives of Germany, two from Czecho-Slovakia, and one each from Great Britain, France, Italy, and Belgium; and that for the Oder composed of one each from Poland, Russia, Czecho-Slovakia, Great Britain, France, Denmark, and Sweden. If any riparian state on the Niemen should so request of the League of Nations, a similar commission shall be established there. These commissions shall upon request of any riparian state meet within three months to revise existing international agreement.

THE DANUBE.

The European Danube Commission reassumes its pre-war powers, but for the time being with representatives of only Great Britain, France, Italy, and Rumania. The upper Danube is to be administered by a new international commission until a definitive statute be drawn up at a conference of the powers nominated by the allied and associated governments within one year after the peace.

The enemy governments shall make full reparations for all war damages caused to the European Commission; shall cede their river facilities in surrendered territory, and give Czecho-Slovakia, Serbia, and Rumania any rights necessary on their shores for carrying on improvements in navigation.

THE RHINE AND THE MOSELLE

The Rhine is placed under the Central Commission to meet at Strassbourg within six months after the peace, and to be composed of four representatives of France, which shall in addition select the President, four of Germany, and two each of Great Britain, Italy, Belgium, Switzerland, and the Netherlands. Germany must give France on the course of the Rhine included between the two extreme points of her frontiers all rights to take water to feed canals, while herself agreeing not to make canals on the right bank opposite France. She must also hand over to France all her drafts and designs for this part of the river.

RHINE-MEUSE CANAL

Belgium is to be permitted to build a deep draft Rhine-Meuse canal if she so desires within twenty-five years, in which case Germany must construct the part within her territory on plans drawn by Belgium, similarly the interested allied governments may construct a Rhine-Meuse canal, both, if constructed, to come under the competent international commission. Germany may not object if the Central Rhine Commission desires to extend its jurisdiction over the lower Moselle, the upper Rhine, or lateral canals.

Germany must cede to the allied and associated governments certain tugs, vessels, and facilities for navigation on all these rivers, the specific details to be established by an arbiter named by the United States. Decision will be based on the legitimate needs of the parties concerned and on the shipping traffic during the five years before the war. The value will be included in the regular reparation account. In the case of the Rhine shares in the German navigation companies and property such as wharves and warehouses held by Germany in Rotterdam at the outbreak of the war must be handed over.

RAILWAYS.

Germany, in addition to most favored nation treatment on her railways, agrees to cooperate in the establishment of through ticket services for passengers and baggage; to ensure communication by rail between the allied, associated, and other States; to allow the construction or improvement within twenty-five years of such lines as necessary; and to conform her rolling stock to enable its incorporation in trains of the allied or associated powers. She also agrees to accept the denunciation of the St. Gothard convention if Switzerland and Italy so request, and temporarily to execute instructions as to the transport of troops and supplies and the establishment of postal and telegraphic service, as provided.

CZECHO-SLOVAKIA

To assure Czecho-Slovakia access to the sea, special rights are given her both north and south. Toward the Adriatic she is permitted to run her own through trains to Fiume and Trieste. To the north, Germany is to lease her for ninety-nine years spaces in Hamburg and Stettin, the details to be worked out by a commission of three representing Czecho-Slovakia, Germany, and Great Britain.

THE KIEL CANAL.

The Kiel Canal is to remain free and open to war and merchant ships of all nations at peace with Germany, subjects, goods and ships of all States are to be treated on terms of absolute equality, and no taxes to be imposed beyond those necessary for upkeep and improvement for which Germany is to be responsible. In case of violation of or disagreement as to those provisions, any State may appeal to the League of Nations, and may demand the appointment of an international commission. For preliminary hearing of complaints Germany shall establish a local authority at Kiel.

SECTION XIII.

INTERNATIONAL LABOR ORGANIZATION.

Members of the League of Nations agree to establish a permanent organization to promote international adjustment of labor conditions, to consist of an annual international labor conference and an international labor office.

The former is composed of four representatives of each State, two from the Government, and one each from the employers and the employed, each of them may vote individually. It will be a deliberative legislative body, its measures taking the form of draft conventions or recommendations for legislation, which, if passed by two-thirds vote, must be submitted to the lawmaking authority in every State participating. Each Government may either enact the terms into law; approve the principles, but modify them to local needs; leave the actual legislation in case of a Federal State to local legislatures; or reject the convention altogether without further obligation.

The international labor office is established at the seat of the League of Nations as part of its organization. It is to collect and distribute information on labor throughout the world and prepare agenda for the conference. It will publish a periodical in French and English, and possibly other languages. Each State agrees to make to it for presentation to the conference an annual report of measures taken to execute accepted conventions. The governing body, in its Executive, consists of twenty-four members, twelve representing the Governments, six the employers, and six the employes to serve for three years.

On complaint that any Government has failed to carry out a convention to which it is a party, the governing body may make inquiries directly to that Government, and in case the reply is unsatisfactory, may publish the complaint with comment. A complaint by one Government against another may be referred by the governing body to a commission of inquiry nominated by the Secretary General of the League. If the commission report fails to bring satisfactory action the matter may be taken to a permanent court of international justice for final decision. The chief reliance for securing enforcement of the law will be publicity with a possibility of economic action in the background.

The first meeting of the conference will take place in October, 1919, at Washington, to discuss the eight-hour day or forty-eight-hour week; prevention of unemployment; extension and application of the international conventions adopted at Berne in 1906, prohibiting night work for women, and the use of white phosphorus in the manufacture of matches; and employment of women and children at night or in unhealthy work, of women before and after childbirth, including maternity benefit, and of children as regards minimum age.

LABOR CLAUSES.

Nine principles of labor conditions were recognized on the ground that "the well-being, physical and moral, of the industrial wage earners is of supreme International importance." With exceptions necessitated by differences of climate, habits and economic development. They include: the guiding principle that labor should not be regarded merely as a commodity or article of commerce; the right of association of employers and employes; a wage adequate to maintain a reasonable standard of life; the eight-hour day or forty-eight-hour week; a weekly rest of at least twenty-four hours; which should include Sunday wherever practicable; abolition of child labor and assurance of the continuation of the education and proper physical development of children; equal pay for equal work as between men and women; equitable treatment of all workers lawfully resident therein, including foreigners; and a system of inspection in which women should take part.

SECTION XIV—GUARANTEES

As a guarantee for the execution of the treaty German territory to the west of the Rhine, together with the bridgeheads, will be occupied by allied and associated troops for a fifteen years' period. If the conditions are faithfully carried out by Germany, certain districts, including the bridgehead of Cologne, will be evacuated at the expiration of five years; certain other districts including the bridgehead of Coblenz, and the territories nearest the Belgian frontier will be evacuated after ten years, and the remainder, including the bridgehead of Mainz, will be evacuated after fifteen years. In case the Interallied Reparation Commission finds that Germany has failed to observe the whole or part of her obligations, either during the occupation or after the fifteen years have expired, the whole or part of the areas specified will be reoccupied immediately. If before the expiration of the fifteen years Germany complies with all the treaty undertakings, the occupying forces will be withdrawn.

All German troops at present in territories to the east of the new frontier shall return as soon as the allied and associated governments deem wise. They are to abstain from all requisitions and are in no way to interfere with measures for national defense taken by the Government concerned.

All questions regarding occupation not provided for by the treaty will be regulated by a subsequent convention or conventions which will have similar force and effect.

SECTION XV.

MISCELLANEOUS.

Germany agrees to recognize the full validity of the treaties of peace and additional conventions to be concluded by the allied and associated powers with the powers allied with Germany, to agree to the decisions to be taken as to the territories of Austria-Hungary, Bulgaria, and Turkey, and to recognize the new States in the frontiers to be fixed.

Germany agrees not to put forward any pecuniary claims against any allied or associated power signing the present treaty based on events previous to the coming into force of the treaty.

Germany accepts all decrees as to German ships and goods made by any allied or associated prize court. The Allies reserve the right to examine all decisions of German prize courts. The present treaty, of which the French and British texts are both authentic, shall be ratified and the depositions of ratifications made in Paris as soon as possible. The treaty is to become effective in all respects for each power on the date of deposition of its ratification.

SUMMARY OF PRELIMINARY TREATY OF PEACE

AUSTRIA

On June 2 there had been handed to the Austrian delegates a preliminary treaty which covered certain points, but left others to be dealt with later.

Austria must accept the covenant of the league of nations and the labor charter.

She must renounce all her extra European rights.

She must demobilize all her naval and aerial forces.

Austria must recognize the complete independence of Hungary.

Austrian nationals, guilty of violating international laws of war, to be tried by the Allies.

Austria must accept economic conditions and freedom of transit similar to those in German treaty.

Sections dealing with war prisoners and graves are identical with German treaty.

Guarantees of execution of treaty corresponds to those in German pact.

Boundaries of Bohemia and Moravia to form boundary between Austria and Czecho-Slovakia, with minor rectifications.

Allies later to fix southern boundary (referring to Jugoslavia).

Eastern boundary Marburg and Radkersburg to Jugoslavia.

Western and northwestern frontiers (facing Bavaria and Switzerland) unchanged.

Austria must recognize independence of Czecho-Slovakia and Jugoslavia.

Austria is recognized as an independent republic under the name "Republic of Austria."

Austria must recognize frontiers of Bulgaria, Greece, Hungary, Poland, Rumania, Czecho-Slovakia and Jugoslavia as at present or ultimately determined.

Boundaries of Austria, Czecho-Slovakia and Jugoslavia to be finally fixed by mixed commission.

Czecho-Slovakia and Jugoslavia must agree to protect racial, religious and linguistic minorities.

Both new Slav nations and Rumania must assure freedom of transit and equitable treatment of foreign commerce.

Austria must recognize full independence of all territories formerly a part of Russia.

Brest-Litovsk treaty is annulled.

All treaties with Russian elements concluded since revolution annulled.

Allies reserve right of restitution for Russia from Austria.

Austria must consent to abrogation of treaties of 1839 establishing Belgian neutrality.

Austria must agree to new Belgian boundaries as fixed by Allies.

Similar provisions with respect to neutrality and boundaries of Luxemburg.

Austria must accept allied disposition of any Austrian rights in Turkey and Bulgaria.

She must accept allied arrangements with Germany regarding Schleswig-Holstein.

Austrian nations of all races, languages and religions equal before the law.

Clauses affecting Egypt, Morocco, Siam and China identical with German treaty.

Entire Austro-Hungarian navy to be surrendered to Allies.

Twenty-one specified auxiliary cruisers to be disarmed and treated as merchantmen.

All warships, including submarines, under construction shall be broken up and may be used only for industrial purposes.

All naval arms and material must be surrendered.

Future use of submarines prohibited.

Austrian wireless station at Vienna not to be used for military or political messages to Austria's late allies without Allies' consent for three months.

Austria may not have naval or air forces.

She must demobilize existing air forces within two months and surrender aviation material.

Austrian nationals cannot serve in military, naval or aerial forces of foreign powers.

She may send no military, naval or aerial mission to any foreign country.

Penalties section identical with German treaty excepting reference to German kaiser. New states required to aid in prosecution and punishment of their nationals guilty of offenses against international law.

Economic clauses in general similar to those in German treaty. Austria given access to Adriatic.

Austria must abandon all financial claims against signatories.

Treaty to become operative when signed by Austria and three of the principal powers.

On July 21, an amplified treaty with Austria-Hungary taking up matters omitted from the first paper was given to the delegates from that country. A summary of the articles follows:

In addition to the published summary of the terms of June 2, the new clauses provide for reparation arrangements very similar to those in the treaty with Germany, including the establishment of an Austrian subsection of the Reparations Commission, the payment of a reasonable sum in cash, the issuing of bonds, and the delivery of livestock and certain historical and art documents.

The financial terms provide that the Austrian pre-war debt shall be apportioned among the former parts of Austria, and that the Austrian coinage and war bonds, circulating in the separated territory, shall be taken up by the new governments and redeemed as they see fit.

Under the military terms the Austrian army is henceforth reduced to 30,000 men on a purely voluntary basis.

Paragraph 5, relating to the military situation, says that the Austrian army shall not exceed 30,000 men, including officers and depot troops. Within three months the Austrian military forces shall be reduced to this number, universal military service abolished and voluntary enlistment substituted as part of the plan "to render possible the initiation of a general limitation of armaments of all nations."

The army shall be used exclusively for the maintenance of internal order and control of frontiers. All officers must be regulars, those of the present army to be retained being under obligation to serve until 40 years old, those newly appointed agreeing to at least twenty consecutive years of active service. Non-commissioned officers and privates must enlist for not less than twelve consecutive years, including at least six years with the colors.

Within three months the armament of the Austrian army must be reduced according to detailed schedules, and all surplus surrendered. The manufacture of all war material shall be confined to one single factory under the control of the State, and other such establishments shall be closed or converted. Importation and exportation of arms, munitions and war materials of all kinds are forbidden.

Paragraph 8 (on reparation) reads, in substance: The allied and associated Governments affirm, and Austria accepts, the responsibility of Austria and her allies for causing loss and damage to which the allied and associated Governments and their nationals have been subjected as a consequence of the war imposed upon them by the aggression of Austria and her allies. While recognizing that Austria's resources will not be adequate to make complete reparation, the allied and associated Governments request, and Austria undertakes, that she will make compensation for damage done to civilians and their property, in accordance with categories of damages similar to those provided in the treaty with Germany.

The amount of damage is to be determined by the Reparation Commission provided for in the treaty with Germany, which is to have a special section to handle the Austrian situation. The commission will notify Austria before May 1, 1921, of the extent of her liabilities and of the schedule of payments for the discharge thereof during a period of thirty years. It will bear in mind the diminutions of Austria's resources and capacity of payment resulting from the treaty.

As immediate reparation, Austria shall pay during 1919, 1920, and the first four months of 1921, in such manner as provided by the Reparation Commission, "a reasonable sum which shall be determined by the commission."

Three bond issues shall be made—the first before May 1, 1921, without interest; the second at 2-1/2 per cent. interest between 1921 and 1926, and thereafter at 5 per cent., with an additional 1 per cent. for amortization beginning in 1926, and a third at 5 per cent, when the commission is satisfied that Austria can meet the interest and sinking fund obligations. The amount shall be divided by the allied and associated Governments in proportions determined upon in advance on a basis of general equity.

The Austrian section of the Reparation Commission shall include representatives of the United States, Great Britain, France, Italy, Greece, Poland, Rumania, the Serbo-Slovene State, and Czecho-Slovakia. The first four shall each appoint a delegate with two votes, and the other five shall choose one delegate each year to represent them all. Withdrawal from the commission is permitted on twelve months' notice.

Paragraph 9, (Financial.)—The first charge upon all the assets and revenues of Austria shall be the costs arising under the present treaty, including, in order of priority, the costs of the armies of occupation, reparations, and other charges specifically agreed to and, with certain exceptions, as granted by the Reparation Commission for payments for imports. Austria must pay the total cost of the armies of occupation from the armistice of November 3, 1918, so long as maintained, and may export no gold before May 1, 1921, without consent of the Reparation Commission.

Each of the States to which Austrian territory is transferred and each of the States arising out of the dismemberment of Austria, including the Republic of Austria, shall assume part of the Austrian pre-war debt specifically secured on railways, salt mines, and other property, the amount to be fixed by the Reparation Commission on the basis of the value of the property so transferred.

Similarly, the unsecured bonded pre-war debt of the former empire shall be distributed by the Reparation Commission in the proportion that the revenues for the three years before the war of the separated territory bore to those of the empire, excluding Bosnia and Herzegovina.

No territory formerly part of the empire, except the Republic of Austria, shall carry with it any obligation in respect of the war debt of the former Austrian Government, but neither the Governments of those territories nor their nationals shall have recourse against any other State, including Austria, in respect of war debt bonds held within their respective territories by themselves or their nationals.

Austria, recognizing the right of the Allies to ton-for-ton replacement of all ships lost or damaged in the war, cedes all merchant ships and fishing boats belonging to nationals of the former empire, agreeing to deliver them within two months to the Reparation Commission. With a view to making good the losses in river tonnage, she agrees to deliver up 20 per cent. of her river fleet.

The allied and associated powers require, and Austria undertakes, that in part reparation she will devote her economic resources to the physical restoration of the invaded areas. Within sixty days of the coming into force of the treaty the governments concerned shall file with the Reparation Commission lists of animals, machinery, equipment, and the like destroyed by Austria which the governments desire replaced in kind, and lists of the materials which they desire produced in Austria for the work of reconstruction, which shall be reviewed in the light of Austria's ability to meet them.

As an immediate advance as to animals, Austria agrees to deliver within three months after ratification of the treaty 4,000 milch cows to Italy and 1,000 each to Serbia and Rumania; 1,000 heifers to Italy, 300 to Serbia, and 500 to Rumania; 50 bulls to Italy and 25 each to Serbia and Rumania; 1,000 calves to each of the three nations; 1,000 bullocks to Italy and 500 each to Serbia and Rumania; 2,000 sows to Italy, and 1,000 draft horses and 1,000 sheep to both Serbia and Rumania.

Austria also agrees to give an option for five years as to timber, iron, and magnesite in amounts as nearly equal to the pre-war importations as Austria's resources make possible. She renounces in favor of Italy all cables touching territories assigned to Italy, and in favor of the allied and associated powers the others.

Austria agrees to restore all records, documents, objects of antiquity and art, and all scientific and bibliographic material taken away from the invaded or ceded territories. She will also hand over without delay all official records of the ceded territories and all records, documents and historical material possessed by public institutions and having a direct bearing on the history of the ceded territories which have been removed during the past ten years, except that for Italy the period shall be from 1861.

As to artistic archæological, scientific or historic objects formerly belonging to the Austro-Hungarian Government or Crown, Austria agrees to negotiate with the State concerned for an amicable arrangement for the return to the districts of origin on terms of reciprocity of any object which ought to form part of the intellectual patrimony of the ceded districts, and for twenty years to safeguard all other such objects for the free use of students.

The war debt held outside the former empire shall be a charge on the Republic of Austria alone. All war securities shall be stamped within two months with the stamp of the State taking them up, replaced by certificates, and settlement made to the Reparation Commission.

The currency notes of the former Austro-Hungarian Bank circulating in the separated territory shall be stamped within two months by the new governments of the various territories with their own stamp, replaced within twelve months by a new currency, and turned over within twelve months to the Reparation Commission. The bank itself shall be liquidated as from the day after the signature of the treaty by the Reparation Commission.

States to which Austrian territory was transferred and States arising from the dismemberment of Austria shall acquire all property within their territories of the old or new Austrian Government, including that of the former royal family. The value is to be assessed by the Reparation Commission and credited to Austria on the reparation account.

Property of predominant historic interest to the former kingdoms of Poland, Bohemia, Croatia, Slavonia, Dalmatia, Bosnia, Herzegovina, the Republic of Ragusa, the Venetian Republic, or the episcopal principalities of Trent and Bressanone may be transferred without payment.

Austria renounces all rights as to all international, financial, or commercial organizations in allied countries, Germany, Hungary, Bulgaria, Turkey, or the former Russian Empire. She agrees to expropriate, on demand of the Reparation Commission, any rights of her nationals in any public utility or concession in these territories, in separated districts, and in mandatory territories, to transfer them to the commission within six months, and to hold herself responsible for indemnifying her nationals so dispossessed.

She also agrees to deliver within one month the gold deposited as security for the Ottoman debt, renounce any benefits accruing from the treaties of Bucharest and Brest-Litovsk, and transfer to the allied and associated Governments all claims against her former Allies.

Any financial adjustments, such as those relating to banking and insurance companies, savings banks, postal savings banks, land banks or mortgage companies in the former monarchy, necessitated by the dismemberment of the monarchy, and the resettlement of public debts and currency, shall be regulated by agreements between the various governments failing which the Reparation Commission shall appoint an arbitrator or arbitrators, whose decision shall be final.

Austria shall not be responsible for pensions of nationals of the former empire who have become nationals of other States.

As for special objects carried off by the House of Hapsburg and other dynasties from Italy, Belgium, Poland, and Czecho-Slovakia, a committee of three jurists appointed by the Reparation Commission is to examine within a year the conditions under which the objects were removed and to order restoration if the removal were illegal. The list of articles includes among others:

For Tuscany, the Crown Jewels and part of the Medici heirlooms; for Modena, a Virgin by Andrea del Sarto and manuscripts; for Palermo, twelfth century objects made for the Norman Kings; for Naples, ninety-eight manuscripts carried off in 1718; for Belgium, various objects and documents removed in 1794; for Poland, a gold cup of King Ladislas IV., removed in 1772; and for Czecho-Slovakia, various documents and historical manuscripts removed from the Royal Castle of Prague.

INDEX

A

Air Raids, at night, III, 229-241;
British, II, 249;
on England, I, 375-388

Albert, King of Belgium, I, 114-115;
encourages soldiers, I, 51, 53

Albert, town of, III, 164

Alcedo torpedoed, II, 374-378

Alderson, General, at Second Ypres, I, 258

Aleppo, importance as railway junction, II, 180;
starting point for caravans, II, 178

Alien enemies, rules concerning, II, 239-243

Allenby, General, at Gommecourt, II. 75;
commands in Palestine, II, 344-368;
in Allied retreat, I, 65-67

Allied Armies, in Macedonia, III, 170;
positions in Battle of the Marne, I, 78, 81, 90-93

Alsace, operations in, I, 84

America Drawn Into War, II, 205-225;
bad faith of Germans, II, 210;
sinking of Lusitania, II, 210;
stirred by invasion of Belgium, II, 208;
Sussex, II, 212

America's Break with Germany, relations severed, II, 197-198;
reasons for, II, 194-204

America's Declaration of Existence of War, II, 224-225

American Expeditionary Forces, a corps, III, 242-243;
a division, III, 242;
airplanes, III, 248;
artillery supply, III, 247;
artillery training camp, III, 202;
attack in the Soissonais, III, 224;
aviators, III, 269;
communication and supply, III, 244-246;
construction work, III, 244;
Engineer Corps, III, 216, 269;
fight through Meuse-Argonne sector, III, 256-267;
First and Second in Soissons drive, III, 252;
First Army is organized, III, 254;
first days on the firing line, III, 200-209;
First Division at Montdidier, III, 250;
First Division takes Cantigny, III, 250;
Forty-second Division east of Rheims, III, 251;
Forty-second and Thirty-second at Cierges, III, 253;
from the Marne to the Aisne, III, 210-228;
German supply line cut, III, 266;
infantry training, III, 243;
line on date of armistice, III, 267;
losses of, III, 268;
Medical Corps, III, 268;
Ordnance Department, III, 269;
organization of, III, 242-248;
plans for movement against St. Mihiel salient, III, 254;
ports employed, III, 245;
quality of soldiers, III, 228;
Quartermaster's Department, III, 269;
Second and Thirty-sixth with French, III, 261-262;
Second Army organized, III, 263;
Second Corps organized on British front, III, 251;
Second Division takes Bouresches, Belleau Wood and Vaux, III, 250-251;
Service of Supply, III, 245-247, 268;
Signal Corps, III, 269;
soldiers in Italy, III, 268;
soldiers in Russia, III, 268;
take St. Mihiel salient, III, 254-257;
ten divisions train on British front, III, 250;
Tank Corps, III, 269;
Third Division on the Marne, III, 250-252;
Thirty-seventh and Ninety-first in Belgium, III, 264;
three divisions on the Vesle, III, 253;
troops in the Argonne, III, 258-266;
Twenty-eighth Division east of Rheims, III, 251;
Twenty-seventh and Thirtieth Divisions break Hindenburg line, III, 261;
Twenty-sixth at Seicheprey, III, 249;
Twenty-sixth takes Torcy, III, 253

American Navy in the War, III, 270-296;
activities of Y.M.C.A. and Knights of Columbus, III, 287-288;
air stations in Ireland, III, 278;
aviation base at Eastleigh, III, 281;
base at Cardiff, Scotland, III, 286;
Battleship Division Nine, III, 278;
convoy of troops, III, 282;
co-operates with Allies, III, 271-273;
cross-channel transport service, III, 280;
destroyers on coast of Ireland, III, 275;
destroyers at Brest, III, 282-283;
forces at Gibraltar, III, 286;
mine-laying operations, III, 279;
naval pipe-line unit, III, 286;
northern bombing group of seaplanes, III, 281;
seaplane station at Killingholme, III, 280;
radio station near Bordeaux, III, 285;
railway battery, III, 285-286;
Rear-Admiral Rodgers, III, 276;
subchasers, III, 277;
subchasers at Corfu, III, 286;
subchasers at Plymouth, III, 280;
submarines, III, 276;
Vice-Admiral Wilson on French coast, III, 281-282

American Food Commission, II, 163

American Railway Association, aids war preparations, II, 332

American ships torpedoed, II, 286

Amiens, capture of, I, 82

Ancre, Battle of the, Beaumont taken, II, 109

Ancre and Somme, lines between, II, 71

Anglo-Russian Campaign in Turkey, II, 174-187;
British save oil fields, II, 181;
British in Kut-el-Amara, II, 181;
Russians in Caucasia, II, 183-186

Anzac, meaning of term, I, 224

Arbuthnot, Rear-Admiral Sir Robert, death of, II, 52;
ships are disabled, II, 41

Ardent, at Jutland Bank, II, 52

Argonne, American army prepares for battle, III, 258;
Americans open battle, III, 259;
character of ground, III, 258;
divisions engaged, III, 266;
is cleared of enemy, III, 263;
prisoners taken, III, 266

Armenia, Russians in, I, 184

Armistice, duration of, III, 304-305;
November 11, 1918, III, 266;
signatories, III, 305;
terms of, III, 297-305

Artillery, work of, in Argonne, III, 259, 261

Asia, routes, II, 177-178

Atrocities, in Belgium and Serbia, II, 223

Australians, at Gallipoli, I, 222-224;
in Palestine, II, 350

Austria-Hungary, army and navy reorganized, I, 8;
condition on Bulgaria's capitulation, III, 181;
orders partial mobilization, I, 24-25;
seeks control of Constantinople, I, 126;
sends ultimatum to Serbia, I, 14

Austria-Hungary and Russia, mutual antagonism of, I, 8

Austrians, on Col di Lana, II, 55-65;
in the Alps, I, 315-319;
use 17-inch howitzers, III, 78

Austro-German Offensive Against Italy, III, 71-100

Austro-Italian front, II, 56

Aviation, American naval, in Europe, under Captain Cone, III, 286;
American naval air stations in England, III, 280-281;
American naval air stations in France, III, 283-285;
American naval air stations in Ireland, III, 278;
German air raids, I, 375, 383; III, 229-241;
report on Jerusalem, II, 362;
Royal Flying Corps at Mons, I, 73

Avocourt, attack on, II, 22;
retaken by French, II, 19

Avocourt Wood, stormed by Germans, II, 18

Ayesha, cruise of the, I, 184-189


B

Bainsizza Plateau, evacuated, III, 80;
fighting on, III, 78

Baker, Newton D., Secretary of War, II, 298-343

Balkan Nations, I, 127-128

Balkan Railway, II, 179

Balkan War, danger to Turkey, I, 134

Basra, threatened, II, 181

Battle Lines, Map of, III, 227

Bayly, Admiral Sir Lewis, commands destroyer forces, III, 275

Beatty, Admiral, reports on Jutland Battle, II, 31-40

Beaumont, captured, II, 109

Beau Repaire Farm, III, 252

Belgian Army, heroism at Liege, I, 45;
retreats to Ostend, I, 106;
spirit of soldiers, I, 113, 122;
stand in Belgium, I, 101

Belgium, conditions better than in France, II, 167;
dangers for, I, 17;
French army in, I, 100-101;
German rule in, II, 159-173;
invasion of, I, 41-61;
last ditch in, I, 108-124;
neutrality of, I, 31-32;
war in, I, 106-107

Belleau Wood, taken, III, 251

Berzy-le-Sec, captured, III, 252

Bethmann-Hollweg, Herr von, opinion, I, 25-26

Birdwood, General, plans of, I, 370-371

Bismarck Fort, I, 216

Black Prince, sunk, II, 52

Black Sea, closing of, I, 135-137

Bohemia, National Assembly of, III, 186

Bohlen, Herr Krupp von, opinion of, I, 20

Bollati, Signor, views on German Government, I, 18-19

"Boris the Bulgar," III, 63

Boulogne, objective, I, 103

Bouresches, taken, III, 251

Boy-Ed, Captain, violates American neutrality, II, 288

Bridge of Arches, I, 47

Briggs, Lieutenant General, operations at Saloniki, II, 252

Brilliant, at Ostend, III, 111-112, 118

Bristol, in Falkland fight, I, 161-172

British Admiralty, I, 283-284

British and French, cooperation in Somme attack, II, 75, 86, 89

British Armies, advance in Marne battle, I, 80-82;
in capture of Tsing-Tao, I, 205-220;
growth of, II, 67;
in the Great Retreat, I, 86-89;
on Italian front, III, 83;
remove from Aisne, I, 99-100;
retreat in Picardy, III, 162-163;
transported to northern theater, I, 99

British Empire, in Africa, III, 50

British Navy, arrival of squadron at Port Stanley, I, 161-162;
at Jutland Bank, II, 32-54;
in Coronel sea fight, I, 141-157;
in Falkland Battle, I, 157-175;
Grand Fleet, II, 30;
at Zeebrugge and Ostend, III, 101-118

British Troops in Mesopotamia,
advance up Tigris, II, 181;
routes to Bagdad, II, 185

Brussiloff, commands offensive in Volhynia, II, 132-133;
talks on Rumanian situation, II, 137

Bulgaria, affected by the Russian Revolution, III, 174;
character of people, III, 171-172;
dependence on Germany for aid, II, 179;
dissatisfaction with Peace of Bucharest, III, 172;
dissatisfied with share of the Dobrudja, III, 175;
dissatisfied with treatment from Germany, III, 177-178;
influenced by Teuton promises, III, 173;
influenced by Allied victories in the West, III, 179;
victorious in Serbia and Rumania, III, 174;
withdraws from the war, III, 170

Bulgarians, advance in Struma Valley, II, 246;
attack Greeks, III, 61-64;
in Eastern Macedonia, II, 247

Bullard, General Robert L., commands Second Army, III, 263;
commands Third Corps, and operations on the Vesle, III, 253


C

Cadorna, General, arrests Italian offensive, III, 72-73

Caetani, Gelasio, Italian engineer on Col di Lana, II, 62

Calais, battle of, I, 104;
objective of Germans, I, 103

Cambon, coolness in crisis, I, 36;
fears of, I, 16

Cameron, Major General George H., in St. Mihiel battle, III, 255

Canadians, at Second Ypres, I, 248-286;
counterattack on Germans, I, 251-252;
heroism of, I, 249-252;
in gas attack at Ypres, I, 253;
position of Division at Ypres, I, 248-249;
recapture of guns at Ypres, I, 221;
Royal Highlanders, I, 255-257;
Third Brigade, I, 249-257

Canopus, accompanies Glasgow, I, 146-147;
in Falkland fight, I, 156-158

Cantigny, taken by First Division, III, 250

Cantonments, completion of, II, 327;
materials for, II, 322-323;
sites chosen, II, 319-320;
typical, II, 323

Caporetto, falls to Austrians, III, 71;
taking of, III, 76

Carnovan, in Falkland fight, I, 161-170

Carpathians, I, 319-320

Carpenter, Captain A.F.B., commands Vindictive at Zeebrugge, III, 104

Cassin, U.S. destroyer, torpedoed, II, 369-376

Castelnau, General de, orders troops to hold at Verdun, II, 16

Cavell, Edith, I, 348-364; trial of, I, 350-352

Central Powers, desire to dominate other races, II, 215

Champagne, great offensive in, I, 322, 347

Channel, race for, I, 96-107

Charleroi, defeat of Allied armies at, I, 61

Château-Thierry, German offensive at, III, 252;
July counteroffensive, III, 252;
Third Division holds bridgehead, III, 250;
topography, III, 210-213

Chetwode, General, route of Germans by, I, 73

China, neutrality of, I, 204

Choising, German ship, I, 187-191

Col di Lana, blowing off Austrian position, II, 55-65

Combles, French advance on, II, 94-95

Communipaw, sunk, II, 282

Congress, in extraordinary session, II, 26

Constantine, King of Greece, attitude of, III, 54

Constantinople, contention for, I, 129-130;
German cruisers at, I, 135;
hold of England and France on, I, 129;
importance of, I, 126-127, 140; II, 177

Contalmaison, attack on, II, 78

Convoy System, III, 282

Cornwall, in Falkland fight, I, 161-172

Coronel, Battle of, I, 141-157

Coté du Poivre, attack at, II, 18-21;
taken by French, II, 28

Council of National Defense, II, 321-343

Cradock, Rear Admiral Sir Christopher, attacks German cruisers, I, 150-157;
in chase for German squadron, I, 145

Crown Prince, German, army of, at Verdun, II, 12;
brings up fresh forces, II, 18;
urges troops to take Verdun, II, 8

Cumières, retaken by French, II, 22;
stormed by Germans, II, 22

Curry, General, at Second Ypres, I, 256-257, 259

Czecho-Slovak Expeditionary Force, III, 183

Czecho-Slovaks, III, 183-199;
character of men in Siberia, III, 184-185;
journey on a Czecho-Slovak train, III, 184


D

Daffodil, at Ostend, III, 101;
at Zeebrugge, III, 102-103, 105

Declaration of War, II, 238

Defence, at Jutland Bank, II, 52

Dellville Wood, attacks on, II, 87-88;
terrain around, II, 85

Deportations, II, 161-162

Destroyers, American, III, 7-31

Dickman, Major General, commands First Corps, III, 263;
in St. Mihiel battle, III, 255

Dobrudja, disposed of by Germany, III, 175;
failure of defense in, II, 134

Doiran Lake, British lines near, II, 246

Donnelly, Lieutenant, surprises Turks, I, 235-236

Douaumont, attacks at, II, 21;
French victory at, II, 27

Drake, exploits of, I, 149

Duchess of Hohenberg, I, 9

Dunkirk, bombed, I, 109-110;
objective of Germans, I, 103


E

East African Campaigns, III, 32-53

Egypt, natural routes to, II, 178;
need for large army, II, 180

Eightieth Division, available for St. Mihiel, III, 255;
in Argonne, III, 258

Eighty-ninth Division, at St. Mihiel, III, 255

Eighty-second Division, at St. Mihiel, III, 255;
in reserve in Argonne, III, 259

Eighty-seventh Division, in Argonne, III, 259

Eitel Friedrich, in Falkland fight, I, 162-174;
interns at Newport News, I, 174

Emden, cruise of, I, 176, 197;
ships captured by, I, 179-180

Engineers, sent to France, II, 328;
training of, II, 327;
work of, in Argonne, III, 259

England on neutrality of Belgium, I, 30-31;
scorns German proposal, I, 26-27

Erzerum, taken by Russians, I, 183

Evan-Thomas, Admiral, report on Jutland Bank, II, 39


F

Falkland Sea Fight, I, 142-175

Festubert, Canadian advance at, I, 274-275

Fifth Division, at St. Mihiel, III, 255

First Division, at St. Mihiel, III, 255;
in drive for Soissons, III, 252;
in reserve in Argonne, III, 259;
takes Berzy-le-Sec, III, 252

Flanders, Battle of, I, 97;
German attack in, I, 101-103

Foch, General, afterward Marshal, outmanœuvres Germans in Battle of the Marne, I, 93;
launches counteroffensive, III, 252;
uses American troops in Picardy and on the Marne, III, 249, 250

Food, in Belgium, II, 168

Forts of Liege, I, 54-59

Forts, on banks of Meuse, I, 54-56

Forty-Second (Rainbow) Division, at St. Mihiel, III, 255;
captures Sergy, III, 253

Fourth Division, in Argonne, III, 258;
relieves Forty-second, III, 253

France, her wounded heroes, III, 138-152;
Germany declares war on, I, 35;
German rule in, II, 159-173;
control cards, II, 160

Francis Ferdinand, Archduke, assassination of, I, 10;
character of, I, 7-9;
marriage to Sophie Chotek, I, 9;
political designs of, I, 7-9

French, Sir John, on Battle of the Marne, I, 73-82;
on Great Retreat, I, 62-72

French and British, cooperate in Battle of the Somme, II, 86, 89;
on Italian front, III, 83

French Armies, advance at Marne, I, 80-82;
break German attack at Verdun, II, 16;
in Alsace, I, 83-84;
in Battle of the Marne, I, 91-95;
in Meuse Hills, III, 266;
losses of, III, 159;
official account, I, 83-107;
retreat at Verdun, II, 14;
victorious at Ypres, I, 275

Fricourt, British attacks on, II, 76;
captured, II, 77


G

Gallipoli, abandonment of, I, 366-374;
campaign at, I, 221-239;
suffering of troops, I, 367

Gas, accounts for German gains at Second Ypres, I, 269;
bombardment at Second Ypres, I, 262-265;
cloud of, at Second Ypres, I, 242;
Canadians charge through, I, 268;
first use in war, I, 240-276;
Germans first to employ, I, 276;
peculiar appearance of gas battle, I, 267

Gerard, Ambassador to Germany, II, 294

German Activities in the United States, II, 278;
note to Mexico, II, 297

German Armies, battle plans of, II, 12;
cross the Sambre, I, 86;
checked at Verdun, II, 16;
driven to Soissons-Rheims, I, 77;
first to use gas in battle, I, 241-242;
in Battle of Picardy, III, 153, 169;
in Battle of the Marne, I, 89-90;
in Race for the Seas, I, 101-102;
invade Belgium, I, 41;
line at close of Battle of the Marne, I, 81;
losses in Battle of the Marne, I, 95;
losses at Ypres, I, 105;
losses at Prince Heinrich Hill, I, 209;
losses at Tsing-tao, I, 219-220;
strength at Verdun, II, 20;
positions in Champagne, I, 324-327;
losses of, at Ypres, I, 105;
defenses between Somme and Ancre, II, 72;
in retreat, I, 79-82;
prepare for Battle of Verdun, II, 8-12;
rapid advance against Italians, III, 77-78;
reinforced, I, 84

German Colonial Aims, strategic points desired, III, 45-46

German Control in Belgium, II, 167-172

German Control in France, gendarmerie brutal, II, 167;
treatment of girl workers, I, 161

German East Africa, a menace to Asia, III, 49;
evacuated by enemy, III, 41;
opinion of Baron von Rechenberg, III, 45

German Fleet, in Battle of Jutland Bank, II, 30-54

German Interference with American manufacturers, II, 292

German Note to Mexico, II, 297

German Notice of January 31, 1917, II, 285

German Propaganda, in Allied countries, III, 75-76

German Spies in America, II, 286-292

German West Africa, strategic importance of, III, 48-49

Germans, issue submarine proclamation, I, 280;
make peace proposals, II, 29;
nearness to iron ore, II, 9;
system of colonization, III, 43

Germany attains eastern ambitions, III, 154;
declares war on France, I, 35;
industrial expansion of, I, 127;
mobilizes, I, 35;
loses prestige in the East, III, 181;
must destroy either French or British army, III, 158;
need for Central Africa, III, 46:
perfidy of Government, II, 222;
plans of, I, 128-133;
preparation for defense, I, 201-202;
proclaims ruthless submarine warfare, II, 194;
sends note on submarine warfare, I, 307-308

Germany's African colonies, strategic importance of, III, 46-47

Glasgow, in Coronel fight, I, 146-157

Gneisenau, in Falkland fight, I, 147-171

Gompers, Samuel, labor leader, assistance rendered to government, II, 325;
on Council of National Defense, II, 325-326

Good Hope, sunk, I, 146-155

Gorizia, suffers from war, III, 71

Goschen, Sir Edward, I, 30-32

Gough, General, in Battle of the Somme, II, 77

Grand Fleet, British, II, 30

Great Britain, holds vantage points in the East, II, 180;
interests in Persia, II, 174-176

Greeks, fight at Rupel Pass, III, 59;
on the side of the Allies, III, 54, 68;
successes of, III, 61

Greeks and Bulgars, III, 64

"Green Devils," nickname for German gendarmerie, II, 167

Grey, Sir Edward, refuses German proposals, I, 30

Guillemont, fighting at, II, 88-91


H

Hague, The, American policy at, II, 206

Haig, Sir Douglas, commands British in Battle of the Somme, II, 67-113

Haig and Joffre, discuss plans for Somme offensive, II, 67

Hardaumont, fight for, II, 18

Hardromont Quarries, taken by General Mangin, II, 22

Henderson, Sir David, I, 71

Hepburn, Captain A.J., commands subchasers, III, 277

High Wood, II, 81, 82

Hill 304, artillery attack on, II, 21

Hindenburg Line, broken, III, 261

Hines, Major General John L., commands Third Corps, III, 263

Hohenberg, Duchess of, I, 9-10

Hood, Rear Admiral, at Jutland Bank, II, 38;
death of, II, 52

Hoskins, General, in East Africa, III, 41

Hospitals, II, 342-343; at naval bases, III, 288;
bombed by Germans, III, 240

Housatonic, sunk, II, 200


I

Identification Papers, II, 159

Indefatigable, sunk at Jutland Bank, II, 52

Inflexible, in Falkland fight, I, 161-170

Ingram, Osmund K., saves comrades, II, 370

International Law, upheld by United States, II, 284

Intrepid, at Zeebrugge, III, 102, 107, 108

Invincible, in Falkland fight, I, 161-170;
sunk at Jutland Bank, II, 52

Iphigenia, at Zeebrugge, III, 102, 107, 108

Iris, in Ostend Harbor, III, 101

Iris, at Zeebrugge, III, 102-103, 105, 106

Irish, in Gallipoli fight, I, 227

Isonzo, filled by rain, retards enemy, III, 92;
in Austro-German offensive, III, 71, 75

Italian Retreat, army reaches Tagliamento, III, 96;
Austrian aeroplanes overhead, III, 95;
brilliant work of cavalry, III, 97;
civilians in, III, 90-91;
difficulties of, III, 82-91;
Importance of Tagliamento bridges, III, 91;
military stores evacuated or destroyed, III, 84-86;
stand on Piave, III, 99

Italians evacuate Bainsizza Plateau, III, 80;
evacuate Udine, III, 81;
expect Austrian push, III, 72;
tactics, I, 315, 318

Italy, American troops in, III, 268;
Legion Italienne withdrawn for rest, II, 56-57;
war on Alpine front, II, 55-65


J

Jacob Jones, U.S. destroyer, torpedoed, II, 378-384

Jagow, Herr von, on Austrian note, I, 15;
on mobilization, I, 35

Japan in the War, I, 198-220

Japanese characteristics, I, 198;
landing and advance of, I, 203-206;
losses at Tsing-tao, I, 220;
ultimatum, I, 199-200

Jellicoe, Sir John, commands at Jutland Bank, II, 30-45

Jerusalem, British advance toward, II, 366-368;
capture of, II, 343;
official entry into, II, 368

Joffre, General, announces plans to General French, I, 76;
appeals to troops, I, 323-324;
forms new Ninth Army, I, 75;
gives order to advance, I, 90;
letter of thanks from, I, 347;
resumes offensive, I, 98-99

Joffre and Haig, discuss plans for summer offensive, II, 67

Jutland Bank, II, 30-54


K

Kalahari Desert, III, 32

Kato, Japanese Foreign Minister, I, 199

Kato, Japanese Vice Admiral, I, 202

Kent, in Falkland fight, I, 161, 175

Keyes, Vice Admiral, commands Warwick at Zeebrugge, III, 102

Kiao-chau, blockade of coast, I, 202-203

Kigali, East Africa, III, 37

Kitchener, Earl, II, 188-193

Kivu Lake, East Africa, III, 37

Kleyer, Burgomaster of Liege, I, 47-51

Königsberg, in Rufiji River, III, 18

Kriemhilde Line, penetrated by Americans, III, 264

Kut-el-Amara, occupied by British, II, 181;
importance of, II, 183


L

Lansing, Secretary, note to German Government, I, 305-307

League of Nations, III, 306-316

Leipsic Salient, II, 77

Leipzig, in Pacific, I, 147-148

Leman, General, I, 43-61

Le Mort Homme (Dead Man Hill), attacks on, II, 18-22

Le Transloy, defenses of, II, 102

Leval, Maitre de, endeavors to aid Miss Cavell, I, 353-362;
opinion on German Courts, I, 352

Liege, Forts of, I, 54;
Germans enter, I, 49

Liggett, General Hunter, commands First Corps of First Army, III, 253;
commands First Army, III, 263

Lipsett, Lieutenant Colonel, at Second Ypres, I, 257-258

Littell, Colonel I.W., constructs cantonments, II, 320

Louvain, capture of, I, 61

Lusitania, torpedoed, I, 277-312

Luxembourg, invaded, I, 41

Lyman M. Law, sunk, II, 200


M

Macedonia, Bulgarians in, II, 247

Macedonia, in Falkland fight, I, 161-171

Macready, General, cited, I, 72

Mametz Wood, II, 78-79

Mangin, General, takes quarries of Haudromont, II, 22

Marne, American Third Division at Château-Thierry, III, 250;
description, III, 212-215;
Battle of the, I, 73-82; I; 91-95

Marne-Aisne District, character of country, III, 210-224

Marne-Vesle, topography, III, 211-212

Masaryk, Professor, leader of Czecho-Slovaks, III, 192

Massiges, capture of, I, 340-341

Mayo, Admiral, report of, III, 270-296

Mediterranean, German submarines in, II, 282

Menin Road, I, 270-272

Mesopotamia, value of, II, 174-175

Messines Ridge, in Battle of Picardy, III, 167-168

Meuse-Argonne Front, the final advance, III, 265-267

Meuse River, divides battlefield of Verdun, II, 10;
fighting on both sides of, II, 18

Mexico, German note to, II, 297

Mitteleuropa, apparently accomplished in 1915, III, 173;
Bulgaria only a link, III, 175;
crumbling of idea, III, 170

Monastir, advance on, II, 250

Monfalcone, III, 79-80

Mongolia, fires first shot at Germans, II, 270-277

Monroe Doctrine, II, 205-207

Mons, Allied line through, I, 62;
British retreat from, I, 70

Montdidier, First Division at, III, 250;
taken, III, 164

Monte Nero, cut off, III, 71

Montfaucon, taken, III, 259

Moscow, refugees in, II, 114, 116

Motor trucks, supply French at Verdun, II, 17

Mountain Warfare, I, 313, 321

Mücke, Captain of the Ayesha, I, 176-197

Mudros Harbor, I, 222

Mulhouse, capture of, I, 83-84

Munitions Board, Council of National Defense, II, 321

Murray, Sir Archibald, Lieutenant General, cited, I, 72


N

Namur, surrender of, I, 61

Napier, Rear Admiral, II, 39

National Army, II, 318

National Guard, II, 318

Naval War Council, III, 273-275

Navy, United States, transports troops to Europe, II, 340

Nestor, sunk, II, 52

Neutrality, armed, II, 220

New Zealanders, in Palestine Campaign, II, 361

Newfoundlanders, at Gallipoli, I, 221-238

Niblack, Rear Admiral, commands ships at Gibraltar, III, 286

Nicholas, Grand Duke, in Caucasia, II, 183-184

Nieuport, bombardment of, I, 110;
fight on the road to, I, 123

Ninetieth Division, at St. Mihiel, III, 255

Ninety-first Division, in Belgium, III, 264;
in Argonne, III, 259;
at St. Mihiel, III, 255

Nivelle, General, brings up 400 millimeter guns, II, 26

Nomad, at Jutland Bank, II, 52

Northey, General, advances in East Africa, III, 37

North Sea, battle of the, I, 85

North Star, British destroyer, sunk at Zeebrugge, III, 110

Nürnberg, in Pacific, I, 147-148


O

Oil, in Black Sea district, I, 136;
pipe line in Scotland, III, 286

Oil fields, in Persia, II, 175;
pipe line from Persian fields, II, 181

Okuma, Prime Minister of Japan, I, 199

Olympia, on coast of northern Russia, III, 286

Ostend, evacuated, I, 106

Ostend Harbor, blocking of, III, 111, 118

Ourcq, valley of, III, 219-223;
Forty-second on, III, 253

Ovillers, taken by British, II, 82


P

Palestine, Campaign, II, 344-366

Papen, Captain von, plots of, II, 287-289

Pare Mountains, III, 39

Patria, attacked, II, 283

Peace, Allies refuse a peace by compromise, III, 155

Peace Treaty, with Austria, III, 366-374;
with Germany, III, 318-365

Pershing, General John J., offers army to Foch for Picardy battle, III, 249;
report on American Army in Europe, III, 242-270;
sent to France, II, 339

Persia, British and Russian interests in, II, 174-176

Persis, sunk, II, 282

Petain, General, congratulates French at Verdun, II, 19;
uses 40,000 motor trucks, II, 17

Petrograd, refugees in, II, 116, 118-120

Petrolite, sunk, II, 282

Piave, Italians stand on, III, 99-100

Picardy, Battle of, III, 153-169;
fighting in Lens-Arras sector, III, 167;
French extend to join British at the Oise. III, 163;
German infantry advances, III, 162;
Germans bring divisions from Russia, III, 156;
Germans checked at Villers-Bretonneux, III, 164;
Germans take Albert, II, 164;
Germans take Messines Ridge, III, 167-168;
German objectives in the North, III, 168;
Montdidier falls, III, 164;
number of German divisions, III, 162;
opens, III, 153;
plan to drive through Amiens, III, 162;
Vimy and Notre Dame de Lorette, III, 166;
why attack was made here, III, 159-162

Plec Line, taken, III, 77

Plunkett, Rear Admiral, commands railway battery, III, 285-286

Poland, refugees from, II, 115

President Lincoln, torpedoed, III, 290-296

Press, German opinion misled, I, 23-24;
public opinion on peaceful settlement I, 15;
Serajevo tragedy, I, 10;
warning in New York papers, I, 284

Prince Heinrich Hill, I, 208-211

Pringle, Captain, commands destroyers at Queenstown, III, 276

Proclamation of War, II, 238-243


R

Radio, Bordeaux station, III, 285

Radoslavov, Premier of Bulgaria, resigns, III, 178

Railways, Balkan, II, 179;
Berlin to Bagdad, I, 129;
British and Belgian routes in Africa, III, 44;
in Africa, III, 43-44;
in Asia Minor, II, 179

Ramscapelle, destruction of, I, 117-118;
recaptured, I, 103

Rawlinson, General, commands Fourth Army at the Somme, II, 75;
commended by Haig, II, 83

Read, Major General, commands Second Corps, III, 251

Red Cross, establishes hospital bases, II, 341

Refugees, I, 46; II, 114-123

Regular Army, II, 318

Relief ships, attacks on, II, 292

Retreat of Allies, I, 62-72

Rheims, capture of, I, 82

Robertson, General, cited, I, 72

Rodgers, Rear Admiral, commands Division Six, III, 276

Rodman, Rear Admiral, commands Battleship Division Nine, III, 278

Roubaix, France, under German rule, II, 159

Rovuma River, III, 37

Rumania, Allied plan for operation in, II, 133;
army well drilled, II, 140;
danger in entering war, II, 124;
failure of defense in Dobrudia, II, 134

Rumania, King of, a Hohenzollern, II, 126;
personality, II, 126-127;
views, II, 127, 131

Rumanians, withdraw from Transylvania, II, 134

Russia, American troops in, III, 268;
declares war on Austria, I, 21-23;
defends Serbia, I, 14;
desires control of Constantinople, I, 126-127;
general mobilization, I, 38;
interests in Persia, II, 175-176;
likely to defend Serbia, I, 14;
partial mobilisation, I, 24-25;
receives ultimatum, I, 34-35;
revolution in, II, 258-270

Russian Army, effect of collapse on Italian situation, III, 74

Russian Campaign, 1916, II, 68;
in Caucasia, II, 183-186

Russian Refugees, children emaciated, II, 115;
in freight train in Moscow, II, 114-116;
number of, II, 116-117

Russian Revolution, barricade on the Litenie, II, 264;
Cossacks in, II, 253, 259-261;
Czar dissolves Duma, II, 255;
Duma takes command, II, 286;
people charged by police, II, 254;
soldiers join revolutionists, II, 267


S

Sailly-Saillisel, French attacks on, II, 102, 105

St. Julien, fighting at, I, 262, 264;
penetration of, I, 244, 246

St. Mihiel, Battle of, III, 254, 257

Saloniki, British operations at, II, 248, 250

Sambuks, cruise in, I, 191, 193

Samson, air adventure at Gallipoli, I, 232

Sand Dunes, I, 119, 120

Sazanoff, M., receives German ambassador, I, 27

Scharnhorst, in Falkland fight, I, 147, 170;
in Pacific, I, 147, 148

Second Division, at St. Mihiel, III, 255;
in drive for Soissons, III, 252;
takes St. Etienne, III, 262;
takes Beau Repaire Farm, and Vierzy, III, 252;
with French near Rheims, III, 261, 262

Seicheprey, Twenty-sixth in battle, III, 249

Selective Draft, classes exempt, II, 309;
liability to service, II, 304;
physical examination of men, II, 308;
registration, II, 305-312

Serajevo, assassination at, I, 10

Serbia, announcement of expedition against, I, 19;
defended by Russia, I, 14;
demands from, I, 11;
replies to ultimatum, I, 22-23;
ultimatum to, I, 14

Sergy, taken by Forty-second Division, III, 253

Seventy-eighth Division, in reserve at St. Mihiel, III, 255

Seventy-ninth Division in Argonne, III, 259

Shark, sunk at Jutland Bank, II, 52

Shipping Board, II, 340

Sixtus, Prince, emperor's letter to, III, 155-156

Smith-Dorrien, Sir Horace, services of, I, 69-70

Smuts, General Jan Christiaan, III, 32-53

Soissons, American First and Second Divisions in drive toward, III, 252;
Franco-American drive toward, III, 224-226;
entered by Allies, III, 226

Solf, Dr., opinion on German colonies, III, 47

Somme, Battle of the, II, 67, 113

Somme and Ancre, lines between, II, 71

Sparrowhawk, sunk at Jutland Bank, II, 52

Spee, Graf von, commands cruisers in the Pacific, I, 147-155;
in Falkland light, I, 162-170;
wins Coronel fight, I, 148-156

Struma River, bridged by British engineers, II, 250;
British positions on, II, 245;
rise hinders operations, II, 248

Subchasers at Corfu, III, 286

Submarine War Zone proclaimed, II, 219

Submarine Warfare, American lives lost, II, 279;
American vessels sunk, II, 200;
in the Mediterranean, II, 282;
American ships, II, 269-384;
proclaimed by Germany, II, 194, 196-197;
the Sussex case, II, 194-196

Submarines, hunt each other in the dark, II, 135-136

Submarines, American, III, 119-137;
cross the Atlantic, III, 119-124;
go out on patrol, III, 126-134;
how it feels to be depth-bombed, III, 131-132;
the mother ship, III, 124-125

Suez Canal, control of the, I, 138;
importance, I, 138

Summerall, Major General Charles P., III, 263

Sussex, torpedoed without warning, II, 283

Sussex Case, II, 194-196


T

Tagliamento, importance of bridges, III, 91

Taurus Mountains, Armenian, II, 184;
frontier of Egypt, II, 178

Thetis, at Zeebrugge, III, 102, 107

Thiaucourt, taken by Americans, III, 256

Thiaumont, II, 23-25

Thiepval, British advance on, II, 98-99;
in Somme battle, II, 76

Third Division, in reserve at St. Mihiel, III, 255;
on Marne, III, 251-252

Thirtieth Division, with British, III, 261

Thirty-fifth Division, in reserve at St. Mihiel, III, 255

Thirty-second Division, in reserve in Argonne, III, 259;
takes Hill 230, III, 253

Thirty-seventh Division, in Belgium, III, 264

Thirty-sixth Division, with French near Rheims, III, 261-262

Thirty-third Division, available for St. Mihiel, III, 255;
in Argonne, III, 258

Tigris, British on, II, 181

Tipperary, sunk, II, 52

Torcy, taken by Twenty-sixth Division, III, 253

Townshend, General, advances on Bagdad, II, 182

Treaty of Peace, with Austria, III, 366;
with Germany, III, 318-365

Trebizond, Turks flee toward, II, 183

Triumph, attacks Fort Bismarck, I, 216

Trones Wood, British troops in the, II, 78

Trucks, used at Verdun, II, 17

Tsing-tao, capture of, I, 198-220;
importance of, I, 200-201;
siege of, I, 207-220

Turbulent, at Jutland Bank, II, 52

Turkey, Anglo-Russian campaign in, II, 174-187;
dependence on Germany for aid, II, 179;
imperialistic designs, I, 129-130;
economic and strategic position of, I, 131-132;
military situation hopeless, III, 180;
reason for joining Germany, I, 132, 133;
reorganizing army, I, 134-135

Twenty-eighth Division, east of Rheims, III, 251;
relieves Thirty-second, III, 253

Twenty-ninth Division, in reserve in Argonne, III, 259

Twenty-seventh Division, with British in attack on Hindenburg line, III, 261

Twenty-sixth Division, at St. Mihiel, III, 255;
pivot of Soissons movement, III, 252-253


U

Udine, before the war, III, 69-70;
in war, III, 69-70;
evacuated by Italians, III, 81

United States, holds Germany responsible, II, 284;
neutrality endangered, II, 208;
prepares for war, II, 298-343;
protests to England, I, 281;
protests to Germany on submarine proclamation, I, 281

United States, military preparations of, II, 298-343;
Act to Increase Military Establishment, II, 300-301;
cantonment sites chosen, II, 319-320;
construction and supplies, II, 324-325;
Council of National Defense, II, 331;
Council of National Defense organized, II, 334;
delayed by neutrality, II, 298;
labor assembled, II, 325;
labor conditions adjusted, II, 326;
Medical Reserve, II, 313;
navy transports troops to Europe, II, 340;
Officers' Reserve Corps, II, 313;
Officers' Training Camps, II, 314-315;
organizes mines, agriculture and factories, II, 299;
Pershing goes to France, II, 328;
plan to operate railways in France, II, 328;
Quartermaster General's problems, II, 329-334;
Red Cross hospital bases, II, 341;
Regular Army and National Guard increased, II, 304;
Selective Draft, II, 304, 305-312;
training of engineers, II, 337;
voluntary enlistment, II, 301


V

Van Deventer, General, in East Africa, III, 38

Vaux, fight for possession of, II, 18;
Germans gain at, II, 19;
taken by Second Division, III, 251

Vaux, Fort, captured by French, II, 23;
French victory at, II, 27

Venice, endangered in Italian retreat, III, 99-100

Venizelists, in Greece, III, 54-58

Venizelos, interview with, III, 54-67

Verdun, plateaus on either side the Meuse, II, 10;
relief map of, II, 10;
value of, II, 10

Verdun, Battle of, II, 7-29

Vierzy, taken by Second Division, III, 252

Vigneulles, taken by Americans, III, 256

Villers-Bretonneux, Germans checked at, III, 164

Vimy, in Picardy battle, III, 166

Vimy Ridge, German attacks on, II, 68

Vindictive, at Ostend, III, 111, 113-117;
in Ostend Harbor, III, 101;
work of, at Zeebrugge, III, 102-110


W

Walthamstow, air raid, I, 375-383

War, causes of, I, 7-40;
formally declared by the United States, II, 298

War Messages, II, 226-243

Warrior, sunk, II, 52

Warwick, at Zeebrugge, III, 110

Welland Canal, attack on, II, 291

Western Battle Front, August, 1916, Map of, II, 66

William II, Kaiser, eager to act, I, 28-30;
influence of, I, 16;
returns to Berlin, I, 23;
trip to Norway, I, 13;
ultimatum to Russia, I, 34-35

Wilson, Major General, cited for admirable work, I, 72

Wilson, President, addresses Congress on break with Germany, II, 192-204;
ideas on peace, II, 216;
note regarding peace, II, 214-215;
War Message of, II, 226-241

Wilson, Vice Admiral H.B., commands U.S. Naval forces in France, III, 281


Y

Yarrowdale, prisoners from, II, 294-296

Ypres, air battles at, I, 265, 266-275;
First Battle of, I, 104-106;
Canadians at, I, 248-276;
Germans use gas projectiles, I, 242;
second battle of, I, 240-276;
in battle of Picardy, III, 168

Ysaka Maru, sunk, II, 282

Yser, Germans trying to cross the, I, 116-117;
last ditch, I, 108


Z

Zeebrugge and Ostend, bottled up by British, III, 101-118

Zeppelins, raid England, I, 375-383

Zimmermann, Herr von, I, 35;
views of, I, 21-22