frightened to come with me. Two of us went off to the village for a
stretcher. I found one at the old ambulance, and was just leaving it
when I heard the scream of a shell, and took cover in the chimney--just
in time. A big black brute smashed half the house in. My comrade and I
hurried off after the wounded man. Our pals were watching us from the
mairie, wondering if we should ever get back. Old Gérome, (that's me,)
they said, will get back all right, and when back at the mairie I began
to give the wounded man first aid. Another shell came along, and the
place shook, window panes rained upon us, and dust blinded us, but at
last it cleared.
Left alone with my wounded man I went on dressing him, and when the
others got back I got them to help me take him to the schoolhouse near
by. I got congratulated by my comrades and the senior Sergeant, but the
Colonel and Lieutenant said nothing, though later I heard they were
pleased with me, but suddenly the Colonel said: "We can't stop here. Go
and see if there's room in the cellars of the castle for four officers
and thirty men. If there is don't come back, as we will follow you."
We got there at last, two of us, but the owner took a long time opening.
Meanwhile scraps of roofs and walls were raining on us, but with our
knapsacks on our heads we were a bit protected. At last our knocks were
answered, and we learned that there was room for four officers, but not
for thirty men! The Colonel and the men had to be warned, so my comrade
started running back and I followed about fifteen yards behind.
We passed a gap in the houses, with no cover, nothing but gardens. A
shell came along. I dropped, while the other man hid in a doorway. The
bits of it sang about our ears. I then sang out: "As you are nearly
there, go on, and I'll see if there is room in the farm near by." I
reached the houses and waited to see that he got through, because if
he'd fallen I should have had to go back to warn the rest. As he was
going two shells burst in the courtyard of the mairie, and I thought
of the Colonel and the rest, but at last my comrade; reached the place
and went in, and I was free to try for the farm.
[Illustration: VICE ADMIRAL SIR DAVID BEATTY
Youngest of British Admirals, Whose Fleet Sank the _Bluecher_, and Won
the Battle of the Bight of Heligoland
_(From the painting by Philip Alexius Laszlo de Lombos)_]
[Illustration: COUNT VON REVENTLOW
The German Naval Critic Who Has Intimated That the United States Might
Be a Divided Nation in Case of War]
On my way I met a friend and asked him to join me. At the time I was
thinking of you all, and it was not till later that I got frightened.
There were five horses at the gate of the farm. I shifted them and
showed my friend the entrance to the cellar. It was narrow, and he lost
time through his knapsack, and these are the occasions when your life
depends on seconds. I heard the scream that I know only too well, and
guessed where the beast would lodge, and called out to him "That's for
us." I shrank back with my knapsack over my head and tried to bury
myself in the corner among the coal.
I had no time, though. The shell reached, smashed down part of the
house, and burst in the basement a couple of yards from me. I heard no
more, but stone, plaster, and bricks fell all around me on the coal
heap. I was gasping, but found myself untouched. I got up and saw the
poultry struggling and the horses struck down. I ran to the cellar, with
the same luck as my friend.
My knapsack caught me. A shell screamed a second time again for us, and
it struck, wallop, on the gable, while the ruins fell around my head. I
pulled at my knapsack so vigorously that I fell into the cellar, and
some of our men who were there called "Here's a poor brute done in." Not
a bit of it. I was not touched then either.... At last the bombardment
stopped, and we all got out. I noticed about forty hens. Some were
pulped. Others had had their heads and legs cut off. In the muddle three
horses lay dead. Their saddles were in ribbons. Equipment, revolvers,
swords, all that had been left above the cellar had vanished, but there
were bits of them to be seen on the roof. My rifle, which had been torn
from my hands, was in fragments, and I was stupefied at not having been
hit. I noticed, however, that my wrappings that were rolled around my
knapsack had been pierced by a splinter of shell that had stuck an it.
Later in the evening when I started cutting at my bread the knife
stuck. I broke the bread open and found another bit of shell in it. I
don't yet know why I was not made mincemeat of that day. There were
fifty chances to one against me.
The two following days I stopped in the cellar, hearing nothing but
their big shells, while the farm and the buildings near it were smashed
in. Now it is all over. I am all right and bored to death mounting guard
over wagons ten miles from the firing line, with a crowd of countrymen
who have been commandeered with their wagons.
I ought to tell you that the two shells I saw fall on the mairie when my
comrade was going there unfortunately killed one and wounded five. It
was a bit of luck for me, as I always used to be hanging about the
courtyard. That's the sad side of it, but we have an amusing time all
the same. [The writer goes on to explain how he and his friends dressed
up some men of straw in uniform and induced the Germans to shoot at
them, and finally to charge them, while they fired at the Germans and
brought several of them down. He continues.]
But that's nothing to what they'll get, and their villages will get, and
their mairies, chateaux, and farms, and cellars, when we get there. I
will respect old men, women, and children, but let their fighting men
look out. I don't mind sacrificing my life to do my duty, and to defend
those I love and who love me, but if I've got to lose my skin I want to
lose it in Boche-land. I want the joy of getting into their dirty
Prussia to avenge our beautiful land. Bandits! Let them and their
choucroute factories look out! If you saw the countryside we are
recovering--there's nothing left but ruins. Everything burned and
smashed to bits. Cattle, more dead than alive, are bolting in all
directions, and as for our poor women, when I see them I would destroy
everything.
Our officers say: "We'll never be able to hold our men when we get into
their country." But I say that I want to go there all the same, and yet
when I say that I had a German prisoner to guard at the mairie. I gave
him half my bread and knocked walnuts off the trees for him. All the
time I saw five or more villages in flames around. Well, it all proves
that a soldier should never say what he will do tomorrow. My job is to
protect the flag, and the Boches can come on. Before they get it they'll
have to get me.... Vive la France!
Somali Volunteers
[From The London Times, Nov. 10, 1914.]
_We have received from a correspondent a copy of a petition signed by
the principal Somali chiefs in Jubaland, praying that they may be
allowed to fight for England. The terms of this interesting document are
as follows:_
To His Highness the Governor, Through the Hakim of Jubaland: Salaams,
yea, many salaams, with God's mercy, blessing, and peace. After salaams,
We, the Somali of Jubaland, both Herti and Ogaden, comprising all the
tribes and including the Maghavbul, but not including the Tulamuya
Ogaden, who live in Biskaya and Tanaland and the Marehan, desire humbly
to address you.
In former days the Somali have fought against the Government. Even
lately the Marehan have fought against the Government. Now we have heard
that the German Government have declared war on the English Government.
Behold, our "fitna" against the English Government is finished. As the
monsoon wind drives the sandhills of our coast into new forms, so does
this news of German evildoing drive our hearts and spears into the
service of the English Government. The Jubaland Somali are with the
English Government. Daily in our mosques we pray for the success of the
English armies. Day is as night and night is as day with us until we
hear that the English are victorious. God knows the right. He will help
the right. We have heard that Indian askaris have been sent to fight for
us in Europe. Humbly we ask why should not the Somali fight for England
also? We beg the Government to allow our warriors to show their loyalty.
In former days the Somali tribes made fitna against each other. Even now
it is so; it is our custom; yet, with the Government against the
Germans, we are as one, ourselves, our warriors, our women, and our
children. By God it is so. By God it is so. By God it is so.
A few days ago many troops of the military left this country to eat up
the Germans who have invaded our country in Africa. May God prosper
them. Yet, O Hakim, with all humbleness we desire to beg of the
Government to allow our sons and warriors to take part in this great war
against the German evildoers. They are ready. They are eager. Grant them
the boon. God and Mohammed are with us all.
If Government wish to take away all the troops and police from Jubaland,
it is good. We pledge ourselves to act as true Government askaris until
they return.
We humbly beg that this our letter may be placed at the feet of our King
and Emperor, who lives in England, in token of our loyalty and our
prayers.
[Here follow the signatures of all the principal Somali chiefs and
elders living in Jubaland.]
When King Peter Re-Entered Belgrade
[From The New York Evening Post, Feb. 15, 1915.]
PARIS, Jan. 29.
So King Peter himself became priest; and the great cathedral was filled
with the sobbing of his people.
Everybody knows the story of the deliverance of Belgrade; how the little
Serbian Army fell back for strategic reasons as the Austrians entered
the city, but finally, after seventeen days of fighting without rest,
(for the Serbian Army has had no reserves since the Turkish war,) knit
its forces together, marched 100 miles in three days, and drove the
Austrians headlong out of the capital.
King Peter rode at the head of his army. Shrapnel from the Austrian guns
was still bursting over the city. But the people were too much overjoyed
to mind. They lined the sidewalks and threw flowers as the troops
passed. The soldiers marched in close formation; the sprays clung to
them, and they became a moving flower garden. The scream of an
occasional shell was drowned in the cheers.
They are emotional people, these Serbians. And something told them that,
even with death and desolation all about them, they had reason to be
elated. A few hours before, the Austrians had been established in
Belgrade, confident that they were there to stay for months, if not for
years. Now they were fleeing headlong over the River Save, their
commissariat jammed at the bridge, their fighting men in a rout.
So King Peter rode through the streets of the capital with his army, and
came to the cathedral. The great church was locked, because the priests
had left the city on errands of mercy. But a soldier went through a
window and undid the portals. The King and his officers and some of the
soldiers and as many of the people as could get in crowded into the
cathedral. And, lacking some one to say mass, the King became a
priest--which is an ancient function of Kings--and, as he knelt, the
officers and soldiers and people knelt. There was a vast silence for a
moment; and then, in every part of the church, a sobbing.
This account is a free translation of a woman's letter, in Serbian,
received in this city a few days ago by Miss Helen Losanich, who is here
with Mme. Slavko Grouitch to interest Americans in helping her
countrymen back to their devastated farms. Mme. Grouitch is an American
by birth; but Miss Losanich is a Serbian, with the black hair and
burning black eyes of the Slavs, and boasting twenty years perhaps. Her
sister, Mme. Marincovich, is wife of the Serbian Minister of Commerce
and Agriculture. It was Mme. Marincovich who had written the letter.
"I've just had this letter from my sister in Serbia," cried Miss
Losanich, when a friend called, and she waved in one hand a dozen sheets
closely written in a script that resembled Russian. "I've hardly had
time to read it myself. But we will sit down and translate it into
English, if you say.
"She says here that, when the Austrians had to leave Belgrade, they took
1,200 people as hostages--non-combatants, you know. When they came into
the city first they gave assurances that all non-combatants would be
safe; but for the last few days before they left, no non-combatant could
walk on the street without being taken up as a hostage.
"Just imagine, it says here that they even took a little boy. He can
fight when he is older, they say. You know, the Turks used to do that.
They came and took our boys of nine and ten years, and trained them as
soldiers in their janissaries; and when they had forgotten their own
country they sent them back to fight against it. It is terrible, isn't
it!
"The Austrians took the furniture from our people's houses and carried
it across the River Save to the Semlin. They behaved frightfully, my
sister says; brought all kinds of people with them, including women from
the very lowest class; broke into the houses and stole the ladies'
toilettes. One lady with many beautiful dresses found them all cut to
ribbons when she got back to Belgrade.
"The Austrians brought lots of tea and crackers and conserves with them.
Some soldiers had taken a lady's evening gown and pinned strawberries
from strawberry-jam all over it, in appropriate places, and laid the
gown out for the lady to see."
A merry smile illuminated Miss Losanich's face as she read this part of
the letter.
"Our brother," she went on, "entered Belgrade with the army. He came
back to Nish on leave about Christmas, the Serbian Christmas, which is
about thirteen days later than yours. Nish is the temporary capital; and
my sister is there. He told them all about Belgrade. He had been to his
house; the whole house was upset, drawers forced, old letters opened and
thrown on the floor, papers strewn about, King Peter's picture
(autographed by the King) thrown on the floor, and King Ferdinand's
picture stamped on.
"Brother went to a private sanitarium that our uncle has in Belgrade.
The Austrians had seized this, and had begun making it over for a
hospital. They wanted the Bulgarian Red Cross installed. They had
brought quantities of biscuits and tea and conserves. But they had to
leave in such a hurry they couldn't take the things with them. 'And
now,' my sister says, 'we are eating them!'
"Across the street four of our cousins live--young men. They are all at
the front now"--Miss Losanich laughed outright as she read this
part--"their house was entered and all their clothes taken; dress suits,
smoking jackets, linen, and all those things. It makes me laugh; it's
naughty, I know. But they used to go out a good deal. I have seen them
in those clothes so often. One of them wanted to marry me. He used to go
out a great deal"--this with another merry peal of laughter.
"Mme. Grouitch's house was undisturbed; and ours. We used to know the
Austrian attaché before the war. He was rather a nice fellow. Played
tennis with us a good deal, and so on. He came into Belgrade with his
army, and he came around to our house. The servants recognized him,
because, you see, they knew him. The servants had stayed behind. He
seemed to think he would like to make my sister's house his quarters,
but after he had thought about it a while he went away.
"She says that she would like to go back to Belgrade, but the railroad
has been destroyed--a big viaduct of stone at Ralya, about 17 kilometers
from Belgrade; and they have to go from Ralya to Belgrade by carriage.
There are so many wagons of the commissariat on the road--so many
carriages have been seized by the Government--it is impossible for
private citizens to get through.
"A gibbet was put up in the square after the Austrians came into the
city and a man was hanged the first morning, in spite of the fact that
the Austrians had promised safety to the non-combatants. Dr. Edward
Ryan, the head of the American Red Cross in Belgrade, protested, and the
gibbet was taken down. But my sister says that eighteen more people were
hanged in the fortress down by the Save--she hears--where they wouldn't
be seen.
"Mr. Bisserce, a Belgian, is director of the electric lighting plant in
Belgrade. He is a nice man, and, being a Belgian, he does not like the
Austrians. He wouldn't light the town until they made him, and he
wouldn't give them a map of the system at all. He was bound in ropes and
taken away as a hostage, and they haven't heard from him since.
"The most touching thing was the entrance of King Peter--" whereupon
Miss Losanich told the story related above.
"Rubbish, straw, and dead horses were strewn through all the streets
when the King and the army came in. The shooting was still going on.
There was a jam of commissariat wagons at the bridge--you know there is
a bridge across the Save. The Austrians couldn't get across fast enough,
there was so much confusion--too many wanting to get over at one time.
The Serbian artillery was shooting at them all the time. Presently the
middle of the bridge went down. The men and the horses and the
carriages and the wagons all went down together. They were pinned down
by the masses of stone, but there were so many of them that they filled
up the river and stuck up above the water. It was so bad that our people
couldn't clear it up--so there is an awful odor all over the town.
"She says that the Austrians brought 17,000 wounded, thinking that they
were going to stay for months--and perhaps for ever. They turned over
quantities of them to Dr. Ryan at the American Red Cross Hospital.
"General Franck, the Austrian commander, made a remark--and he must have
made it to Dr. Ryan, although my sister doesn't say so. General Franck
said: 'If the Russians had fought the way the Serbians have, there
wouldn't be an Austrian soldier left!'
"That's a good deal for the head of the Austrians to say, isn't it? We
always expected victory; but even the most optimistic of us were
surprised at what our peasant soldiers did.
"In the flight, the Austrians could not take care of their wounded, she
says, and sent them back to Belgrade, many of them, as prisoners. Many
must have died during the flight, too, for they got a jolting that
wounded men can't stand.
"Our brother, who was a professor of chemistry, is a Sergeant now in
charge of two German Krupp guns, which were captured from Turkey in the
other war. He is at Banovo Brdo, a residence section outside Belgrade,
on a hill. All the villas have been destroyed by the Austrian artillery
fire.
"And," continued Miss Losanich, "she says that the toys sent by the
Americans were received in Nish and distributed to the poor children for
Christmas, and that the feeling of cordiality toward the Americans is
growing fast."
THE DRAGON'S TEETH
BY CAROLINE DUER
Oh, sunny, quiet, fruitful fields of France,
Golden and green a month ago,
Through you the great red tides of war's advance
Sweep raging to and fro.
For patient toil of years,
Blood, fire and tears
Reward you now!
The dragon's teeth are sown, and in a night
There springs to life the armed host!
And men leap forth bewildered to the fight,
Legion for legion lost!
"Toll for my tale of sons,"
Roar out the guns,
"Cost what it cost!"
This is a "holy war"! A holy war?
With thousand millions maimed and dead!
To show one Power dares more than others dare--
That higher rears one Head!
How will you count your gain,
Lord of the slain,
When all is said?
The dragon's teeth are sown, and in a night
There springs to life the armed host!
And men leap forth bewildered to the fight,
Legion for legion lost!
"Toll for my tale of sons,"
Roar out the guns,
"Cost what it cost!"
Oh, tragedy of Nations! Who may see
The outcome, or foretell the end?
Hark men and weeping women, misery
That none may mend.
Ruin in peaceful marts,
Dazed commerce, stricken arts.
God, to the ravaged hearts
Some mercy send!
The dragon's teeth are sown, and in a night
There springs to life the armed host!
And men leap forth bewildered to the fight,
Legion for legion lost!
"Toll for my tale of sons,"
Roar out the guns,
"Cost what it cost!"
Copyright, 1914, by The New York Times Company.
The Greatest of Campaigns
The French Official Account
The Associated Press received in London on March 5, 1915, an
official French historical review of the operations in the
western theatre of war from its beginning up to the end of
January, the first six months, which in terseness and dramatic
power will rank among the world's most important military
documents. The first chapter of the review was released for
publication by The Associated Press on March 16 and appears
below. It is one of those documents, rare in military annals,
that frankly confesses a succession of initial reverses and
official incompetence, only retrieved by exercise of the
utmost skill in retreat.
CHAPTER I.
THE FRENCH SETBACKS IN AUGUST.
The first month of the campaign began with successes and finished with
defeats for the French troops. Under what circumstances did these come
about?
Our plan of concentration had foreseen the possibility of two principal
actions, one on the right between the Vosges and the Moselle, the other
on the left to the north of Verdun-Toul line, this double possibility
involving the eventual variation of our transport. On Aug. 2, owing to
the Germans passing through Belgium, our concentration was substantially
modified by General Joffre in order that our principal effort might be
directed to the north.
From the first week in August it was apparent that the length of time
required for the British Army to begin to move would delay our action in
connection with it. This delay is one of the reasons which explain our
failures at the end of August.
Awaiting the moment when the operations in the north could begin, and to
prepare for it by retaining in Alsace the greatest possible number of
German forces, the General in Chief ordered our troops to occupy
Mulhouse, (Mülhousen,) to cut the bridges of the Rhine at Huningue and
below, and then to flank the attack of our troops, operating in
Lorraine.
This operation was badly carried out by a leader who was at once
relieved of his command. Our troops, after having carried Mulhouse, lost
it and were thrown back on Belfort. The work had, therefore, to be
recommenced afresh, and this was done from Aug. 14 under a new command.
Mulhouse was taken on the 19th, after a brilliant fight at Dornach.
Twenty-four guns were captured from the enemy. On the 20th we held the
approaches to Colmar, both by the plain and by the Vosges. The enemy had
undergone enormous losses and abandoned great stores of shells and
forage, but from this moment what was happening in Lorraine and on our
left prevented us from carrying our successes further, for our troops in
Alsace were needed elsewhere. On Aug. 28 the Alsace army was broken up,
only a small part remaining to hold the region of Thann and the Vosges.
THE OPERATIONS IN LORRAINE.
The purpose of the operations in Alsace was, namely, to retain a large
part of the enemy's forces far from the northern theatre of operations.
It was for our offensive in Lorraine to pursue still more directly by
holding before it the German army corps operating to the south of Metz.
This offensive began brilliantly on Aug. 14. On the 19th we had reached
the region of Saarburg and that of the Etangs, (lakes,) and we held
Dieuze, Morhange, Delme, and Château Salins.
On the 20th our success was stopped. The cause is to be found in the
strong organization of the region, in the power of the enemy's
artillery, operating over ground which had been minutely surveyed, and,
finally, in the default of certain units.
On the 22d, in spite of the splendid behavior of several of our army
corps, notably that of Nancy, our troops were brought back on to the
Grand Couronne, while on the 23d and 24th the Germans concentrated
reinforcements--three army corps, at least--in the region of Lunéville
and forced us to retire to the south.
This retreat, however, was only momentary. On the 25th, after two
vigorous counter-attacks, one from south to north and the other from
west to east, the enemy had to fall back. From that time a sort of
balance was established on this terrain between the Germans and
ourselves. Maintained for fifteen days, it was afterward, as will be
seen, modified to our advantage.
OPERATIONS IN BELGIAN LUXEMBOURG.