CHILDREN AND THE WAR.
Children are the true hero-worshippers, and it is their nature to set
up their high altar on the gory battlefield--the gorier the better.
If you want to fathom the depth of “original sin” in the hearts of
little cherubs who adorn the hearths of peace-loving citizens, you must
become a General and win a great victory. Then your mail-bag will come
with the seams burst, and the bulk of your letters will be in large,
sprawling characters, that bespeak much travail of soul and inking of
rosy fingers. You will have little worshippers and sweethearts in every
land, and proud parents will discover their innocent babes setting
forth in cold ink sentiments that might bring a blush to the cheek of
Catherine of Russia and fill the breast of Torquemada with envy. And
you will have to pay the penalty. A widow’s importunity is not greater
than that of the child whose mission is to write letters to the famous
soldier. You will have to employ a special staff of corresponding
clerks; to keep a stock of signed photographs on hand, and to beg your
friends to save all their old postage stamps, for the worshippers have
albums and no scruples.
Lord Roberts, when in Bloemfontein, showed me some of his children’s
correspondence. One letter I remember. It would have driven Dr.
Watts to a new verse, for it embodied all the terrors of the Spanish
Inquisition. This is how it ran:--“Dear Lord Roberts, I am glad you
have caught Cronje. Mind you keep him fast, and don’t let him escape.
Give him to eat everything he does not like, and then he will die.
Yours affectionately. P.S.--Please send me your photograph and some
stamps.”
I am reminded of this epistle from a Christian child--who, doubtless,
goes to Sunday school, and could recite the Ten Commandments--by
a letter addressed to General Kuroki’s Army from Harada Ishi, a
twelve-year-old girl, who attends school at Yotsuya, in Japan. “One day
I was taking a walk with my sister. Before the gate of a certain house
stood a very little girl--very nice looking. She had with her a little
dog, very pretty, and said to it:--‘Tama, when the war is over, my
father will bring back a Russian’s head and give it to you. So you must
be a good dog.’ When I looked up at the gate there was a plate with the
name Lieut.-Colonel Katsuda.” Thus the daughter, not of Herodias, but
of a gallant soldier in the Twentieth Century!
General Kuroki received many letters from juvenile admirers in all
parts of the world. Most of them seem to think that he understands
English and keeps an unlimited supply of photographs and foreign
postage stamps. Like Lord Roberts, he insists on an answer to all these
communications. Perhaps I ought not to have made known this weakness.
Lest he should suffer from my indiscretion, let me hasten to add that
the General is thinking of some automatic and mechanical device that
will give him time to attend strictly to the business of war.
The teachers in Japan hit upon an ingenious plan for diverting
the stream of missives into a wider channel. They invited their
scholars to send letters and drawings to the soldiers at the front.
With the aid of an interpreter, I have looked over a batch of this
juvenile correspondence. Some of the drawings are excellent, and
show originality as well as artistic ability. They might astonish a
drill-sergeant and make an artilleryman forget to load his gun; but
even then the Russians would have the worst of it, for in the pictures,
as in the field, one Japanese is a match for three “Ruskies,” and a
broom serves to empty Liao-yang and Port Arthur of the enemies of
Nippon.
About the letters it would be as hard to generalise as it would be
about the speeches of British members of Parliament when a General
Election is approaching. One thing only is certain. The girls are
better letter-writers than the boys, and a Japanese letter looks
infinitely more artistic than the most finished Italian hand. Some
of these epistles might be framed and hung upon the walls of our
drawing-rooms at home, in order to show how the characters which
Japan has inherited from China live and breathe, and have form. Their
contents are as varied as children’s faces.
Here is a letter from a boy in the Higher Grade School at Aoyama. Sato
Shoichiro evidently knows something of the origin of the War, for he
writes:--
“Russia is one of the greatest Powers in Europe. Her dominion extends
over one-sixth of the globe. She has an Army of nine hundred thousand
men, and a Navy of fifty warships. Ten years ago, when we won the
Liao-tung Peninsula from China, after great loss of brave men, Russia,
backed by Germany and France, told us that the Japanese occupation of
the Peninsula was harmful to the peace of the East. Therefore, we gave
back the Peninsula to China. Then Russia got a lease of Liao-tung for
ninety-nine years, entered Korea through Manchuria, and tried to press
upon Japan. After many negotiations war broke out. Since hostilities
began, Russia, one of the greatest Powers in Europe, has been beaten
repeatedly by Japan--a small country of the East. Not a single victory
have the Russians won on land or sea. Now Liao-yang has fallen, and
Port Arthur is expected to fall soon.”
Tanaka Sumi is a girl, and does not trouble her little head about
history, though she reads the newspapers. She is twelve years old, and
full of enthusiasm. “‘Extra Special! Latest Edition!’ The cry of the
newsvendor rings through the street. I always buy a ‘Special’ and show
it to my parents. They read it, for it contains news of victory. Our
soldiers are fighting, and endure all sorts of suffering and privation.
What fortune for us at home to have been born in such an age! Port
Arthur will soon fall. Then another ‘Extra Special!’ Such repeated
victories and no defeats are unexampled in history. We thank you brave
men of the Japanese Army and Navy.”
There is at least one little girl in Japan who wishes she was a boy.
“I am sorry for the soldiers. We are much obliged to you. I, too, want
to go to the front. But I cannot, for I am a girl. Please forgive
me.” Chikako Makino is a little Martha of ten years:--“I want to send
cakes and tobacco to those who have gone to the war for our country.”
Another ten-year-old, Masako Asada, also a girl, as you may guess,
writes:--“Thank you very much for fighting so bravely--fighting not
only with the Russians, but with a bad climate and with bad insects.
Thank you very much. Now it is getting cold. Please take care of
yourselves.”
Uyemura Kei is a poet and a philosopher, though only eleven years old,
and a girl. Her letter from Fujimi School is very pretty, and ought
to be treasured by the lucky soldier to whom it is given. “There is a
Japanese spirit, as there is an English and an American spirit. Each
has its characteristics. The Japanese spirit is pure and noble. It is
like unto the cherry blossom. The cherry blooms beautiful, and without
a breath of regret is blown to the winds of heaven. So we live and so
we die, counting as naught the life we give for our country. That is
the secret of victory. Japan is small, but every Japanese has this
spirit at his birth, and is ready to die for Emperor and Fatherland.
Therefore, great Russia is beaten.”
Sasaki Shinki, of Koto School, is only ten years old, yet he has some
of this spirit, and will one day fight for his country. “Japanese
soldiers are ready to lay down their lives for loyalty. They have the
Japanese spirit, and, therefore, win every battle. When we grow up we
want to be soldiers and fight for Fatherland.” Little Miss Nagata,
who is nine years old, doubtless, speaks the mind of many tiny mites
in kimonos who had fathers and brothers at the war. “You are all
very strong. So you always win victories. I am glad of it. I hope
the war will soon be over and you will come home.” Kamoshita Kan, a
seven-year-old boy of Bancho School, is a confident prophet, for he
writes:--“You fight for Emperor and for us. You are victorious always.
Very soon you will go to Harbin, and the Sun-flag will wave over that
city. Then I will shout ‘Banzai!’ for the Emperor.” Yoshida Ryukichi,
another seven-year-old boy of Mikawadai School, ought to make a good
Special Correspondent under rigorous censorship:--“When Japanese
advance, Russians flee. Some Russians are captured. The Czar is crying.”
Here is a letter from a sympathetic little miss, Nakagawa Tomiyo,
first-year girl in the Lower Grade School at Awaji:--“Soldiers,
give victory to Japan. I am glad. Soldiers, you must be tired. I
sympathise with you.” Ten-year-old Yamaguchi Ume, of Okachimach,
writes:--“Soldiers are working hard. Not much water to drink. Never
complaining: ever striving: ever loyal to Emperor. Ah, how I admire
them!” These children’s letters all breathe the spirit of patriotism,
and it must be acknowledged that in the expression of that spirit the
girls are more eloquent than the boys. Kobayashi Fumi, twelve years of
age, who is at Bancho School, writes:--“In Manchuria the weather is
foul, and the enemy are said to be quite brave. But by your patient
labour and courage we win victories, for which we have to thank you
heartily. We admire the glory of our Emperor and the brave deeds of our
soldiers. Whenever we hear the cry, ‘Extra Special,’ we jump for joy,
and at the same time pray for your safety. It is getting very cold.
Please, honourable soldiers, take good care of yourselves and come back
to Japan with honour and glory.” Kishimoto Toshio, though only twelve
years old, is a thoughtful little fellow, and has a care for those who
are stricken in battle. “The Red Cross Society has hospitals for the
sick and wounded in the field. In Japan it originated with a so-called
philanthropic association during the Civil War. It is proper to help
soldiers without making any distinction between friend and foe. Both
are brave men, fighting for their country.”
The thoughts of the children turn naturally to rejoicing, and there are
many descriptions of popular festivities after the news of victory. I
give one example, from Aoki Ume, who writes from Honmura School:--“I am
a girl student of the Second Year Grade School. I am told by my teacher
to write you a letter. When I was thinking what would interest you
most, news came of the fall of Liao-yang. Then the citizens of Tokio
assembled to celebrate the victory. Every street filled with flags
and lanterns, and the night became as bright as day. The lights were
reflected on the flags. It was very beautiful. We owe you much, for
these nice scenes are the result of your victories. Banzai!”