THE FARTHER WILDERNESS
And beyond the baths of sunset found new worlds.
--London.
Dr. Carey and Thaine Aydelot sat watching the play of a fountain in a
moonlit garden of tropical loveliness. In the Manila hospital Thaine had
gone far down the Valley of the Shadow of Death before he reached a
turning point. But youth, good blood, a constitution seasoned by camp and
field, the watchful care of his physician, and the blessing of the Great
Physician, from whom is all health, at last prevailed, and he came back
sturdily to life and strength.
As the two men sat enjoying the hour Dr. Carey suddenly asked:
"After this hospital service, what next?"
"How soon does this involuntary servitude end?" Thaine inquired.
"A fortnight will do all that is possible for us," Carey answered.
"Then I'll enlist with the regulars," Thaine declared.
"Do you mean to follow a military life?" Carey inquired, bending forward
to watch the play of light on the silvery waters, unconscious of the play
of moonbeams on his silvery hair.
"No, not always," Thaine responded.
"Then why don't you go home now?" Carey went on.
Thaine sat silent for some minutes. Then he rose to his full height, the
strong, muscular, agile embodiment of military requirement. On his face
the firing line had graven a nobility the old brown Kansas prairies had
never seen.
He did not know how to tell Dr. Carey, because he did not yet fully
understand himself, that war to him must be a means, not an end, to his
career; nor that in the long quiet hours in the hospital the call of the
Kansas prairies, half a world away, was beginning to reach his ears, the
belief that the man behind the plow may be no less a patriot than the man
behind the gun; that the lifelong influence of his farmer father and
mother was unconsciously winning him back to the peaceful struggle with
the soil. At length he said slowly:
"Dr. Carey, when I saw Lieutenant Alford brought in I counted the cost
again. Only American ideals of government and civilization can win this
wilderness. For this Alford's blood was shed. He wrote to his mother on
Christmas day that he was studying here to get his Master's Degree from
the Kansas University. I saw him just after he had received his diploma
for that Degree. I was a fairly law-abiding civilian. The first shot of
the campaign last February began in me what Alford's sacrifice completed.
I am waiting to see what next. But I have one thing firmly fixed now.
Warfare only opens the way for the wilderness winners to come in and make
a kingdom. The Remington rifle runs back the frontier line; the plowshare
holds the land at last. I want, when my service here is done, to go back
to the wheatfields and the cornfields. I want to smell the alfalfa and see
the prairie windbreaks and be king of a Kansas farm. I've lost my ambition
for gold lace. I want a bigger mental ring of growth every year, and I
believe the biggest place for me to get this will be with my feet on the
prairie sod. Meantime, I shall reenlist, as I said."
"Sit down, Thaine, and let me ask you one question," Dr. Carey said.
The young man dropped to his seat again.
"When your service is done is there anything to hold you from going
straight to the Grass River Valley again?"
Thaine leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head
while he looked steadily at the splashing waters before him as he said
frankly:
"Yes, there is. When I go back I want Leigh Shirley--and it's no use
wanting."
"Thaine, you were a law-abiding civilian at home. The university made you
a student. You came out here a fearless soldier to fight your country's
enemies. Alford's death made you a patriot who would plant American ideals
in these islands. May I tell you that there is still one more lesson to
learn?"
Thaine looked up inquiringly.
"You must learn to be a Christian. You must know what service for humanity
means. Then the call to duty will be a bugle note of victory wherever that
duty may be. You needn't hunt for opportunity to prove this. The
opportunity is hurrying toward you now from out of the Unknown."
The fine head with the heavy masses of white hair seemed halo-crowned at
that moment. It was as he appeared that night that Thaine Aydelot always
remembers him. Two weeks later Thaine enlisted in the Fourteenth United
States Infantry, stationed in Luzon. Dr. Carey was also enrolled in its
hospital staff. In July the regiment was ordered from the Philippines to
join the allied armies of the World Powers at Tien-Tsin in a northern
Chinese province, where the Boxer forces were massing about Peking. And
Thaine's opportunity for learning his greatest lesson came hurrying toward
him from out of the Unknown.
This notorious Boxer uprising, gone now into military annals, had reached
the high tide of its power. Beginning in the southern province of China,
it spread northward, menacing the entire Empire. A secret sect at first,
it was augmented by the riffraff that feeds on any new, and especially
lawless, body; by deserters disloyal to the imperial government; by the
ignorant and the unthinking; by the intimidated and the intimidating. It
enrolled an armed force of one hundred and seventy-five thousand soldiers.
Its purposes were fanatical. It aimed by the crudest means to root out
every idea of modern life and thought in China; every occidental
invention, every progressive method of society, every scientific discovery
for the betterment of humanity. And especially did it aim to put to death
every native Chinese Christian, to massacre every missionary of the
Christ, and to drive out or destroy every foreign citizen in China. Its
resources were abundant, its equipment was ample, its methods unspeakably
atrocious. Month after month the published record of this rebellion was
sickening--its unwritten history beyond human imagining. Impenetrable were
its walled cities, countless in numbers, unknown the scenes of its vast
plains and rivers and barren fields and mountain fastnesses. Fifteen
thousand native Christians and hundreds of foreigners were brutally
massacred. At last it centered its strength about the great city of
Peking. And a faint, smothered wail for deliverance came from the Foreign
Legation shut in behind beleaguered walls inside that city to starve or
perish at the hands of the bloody Boxers.
Very patiently the World Powers waited and warned the Chinese leaders of a
day of retribution. Fanatics are fanatics because they cannot learn. The
conditions only whetted the Boxers to greater barbarity. They believed
themselves invincible and they laughed to scorn all thought of foreign
interference. Then came the sword of the Lord and of Gideon to the battle
lines at Tien-Tsin on the Peiho River, as it came once long ago to the
valley of Jezreel.
In the mid-afternoon of an August day Thaine Aydelot heard the bugle note
calling the troops to marching order. Thaine was fond of the bugler, a
little fifteen-year-old Kansas boy named Kemper, because he remembered
that Asher Aydelot had been a drummer boy once when he was no older than
"Little Kemper," as the regiment called him.
"I wish you were where my father is now, Kemper," Thaine said as the boy
skipped by him.
"Where's that? It can't be hell or he'd be with us," Little Kemper
replied.
"No, he's in Kansas," Thaine said.
"Oh, that's right next door to heaven, but I can't go just yet. There's
too much doing here," the little bugler declared as he hurried away.
Young as he was, Little Kemper was the busiest member of the regiment.
Life with him was a continual "doing" and he did it joyously and well.
"There's something doing here." Thaine hardly had time to think it as the
armies came into their places. It was the third day after the regiment had
reached Tien-Tsin. Along the Peiho river lay a sandy plain with scant
tillage and great stretches of barren lands. Here and there were squalid
villages with now and then a few more pretentious structures with adobe
brick walls and tiled roofs. Everywhere was the desolation of ignorance
and fear, saddening enough, without the Boxer rebellion to intensify it
with months of dreadful warfare.
As Thaine fell into his place he thought of the Aydelot wheatfields and of
the alfalfa that Leigh Shirley's patient judgment had helped to spread
over the Cloverdale Ranch. And even in the face of such big things as he
was on his way to meet the conquest of the prairie soil seemed wonderful.
Big things were waiting him now, and his heart throbbed with their bigness
as his regiment took its place. It was a wonderful company that fell into
line and swung up the Peiho river that August afternoon. The world never
saw its like before, and may never see it again. Not wonderful in numbers,
for there were only sixteen thousand of the allied armies, all told, to
pit themselves against an armed force able to line up one hundred and
sixteen thousand against them. Not numbers, but varying nationalities,
varying races, strange confusion of tongues, with one common purpose
binding all into one body, made the company forming on the banks of the
Peiho a wonderful one.
Thaine's regiment was drawn up at an angle with the line, ready to fall
into its place among the reserves, and the young Kansan watched the flower
of the world's soldiery file along the way.
In the front were the little brown Japanese Cavalry, Artillery, and
Infantry--men who in battle make dying as much their business as living.
Beside these were the English forces, the Scotch Highlanders, the Welsh
Fusiliers, the Royal Artillery, all in best array. Behind them the Indian
Empire troops, the Sikh Infantry with a sprinkling of Sepoys and the
Mounted Bengalese Lancers. Then followed, each in its place, the Italian
marines and foot soldiery, the well-groomed French troops from all
branches of the military; the stalwart, fair-haired Germans, soldiers to a
finish in weight and training; the Siberian Cossacks and the Russian
Infantry and Cavalry, big, brutal looking men whom women of any nation
might fear. In reserve at the last of the line were the American forces,
the Ninth and Fourteenth Regiments of Infantry, the Sixth Cavalry, and F
Battery of the Fifth Artillery.
So marched the host from Tien-Tsin along the sandy plains, led on by one
purpose, to reach the old city of Peking and save the lives of the foreign
citizens shut up inside their compound--whether massacred, or living,
starved, and tortured, this allied army then could not know.
The August day was intensely hot, with its hours made grievous by a heavy,
humid air, and the sand and thick dust ground and flung up in clouds by
sixteen thousand troops, with all the cavalry hoofs and artillery wheels.
It was only a type of the ten days that followed, wherein heat and dust
and humid air, and thirst--burning, maddening thirst--joined together
against the brave soldiery fighting not for fortune, nor glory, nor
patriotism, but for humanity.
As they tramped away in military order, Thaine Aydelot said to his nearest
comrade:
"Goodrich, I saw a familiar German face up in the line."
"Friend of yours the Emperor sent out to keep you company?" Goodrich
inquired with a smile.
"No, a Kansas joint-keeper named Hans Wyker. What do you suppose put him
against the Boxers?"
"Oh, the army is the last resort for some men. It's society's clearing
house," Goodrich replied.
The speaker was a Harvard man, a cultured gentleman, in civil life a
University Professor. The same high purpose was in his service that
controlled Thaine Aydelot now.
"I don't like being at the tail-end of this procession," a big German from
the Pennsylvania foundries declared, as he trudged sturdily along under
the blazing sun. The courage in his determined face and his huge strength
would warrant him a place in the front line anywhere.
"Nor I, Schwoebel," Thaine declared. "I came out with Funston's 'Fighting
Twentieth.' I'm used to being called back, not tolled along after the
rear."
"Rock Chalk! Jay Hawk! K U!" roared Schwoebel in a tremendous bellow.
"Rock Chalk! Jay Hawk! K U!" a Pennsylvania University man named McLearn
followed Schwoebel.
"Rock Chalk! Jay Hawk! K U!" went down the whole line of infantry.
The old Kansas University yell, taken to the Philippines by college men,
became the battle cry of the Twentieth Kansas Volunteers, who when they
returned to civil life, left it there for the American, army--and "Rock
Chalk! Jay Hawk! K U!" became the American watchword and cry of all that
"far flung battle line" marching on through dust and heat to rescue the
imperiled Christians in a beleagured fortress inside the impregnable city
of Peking.
"You needn't worry about the rear, Aydelot. One engagement may whip this
line about, end to end, or it may scale off all that's in front of us and
leave nothing but the rear. All this before we have time to change collars
again. We'll let you or Tasker here lead into Peking," an Indiana
University man declared.
"That's good of you, Binford. Some Kansas man will be first to carry the
flag into Peking. It might as well be Aydelot."
This from Tasker, a slender young fellow from a Kansas railroad office.
So they joked as they tramped along. It was nearly midnight when they
pitched camp before the little village of Peit-Tsang beside the Peiho.
In the dim dawning of the August morning Little Kemper's bugle sounded the
morning reveille. Thaine was just dreaming of home and he thought the
first bugle note was the call for him up the stairway of the Sunflower
Inn. His windows looked out on the Aydelot wheatfields and the grove
beyond, and every morning the sunrise across the level eastern prairie
made a picture only the hand of the Infinite could paint. This morning he
opened his eyes on a far different scene. The reveille became a call to
arms and the troops fell into line ready for battle.
Before the sun had reached the zenith the line was whipped end to end, as
Binford of Indiana had said it might be. In this engagement on the sandy
plain about the little village of Peit-Tsang, Thaine with his comrades
saw what it meant to lead that battle line. He saw the brave little
Japanese mowed down like standing grain before the reaper's sickle. He saw
the ranks move swiftly up to take the places of the fallen, never wavering
nor retreating, rushing to certain death as to places of vantage in a
coronal pageantry. The Filipino's Mauser was as deadly as the older style
gun of the Boxer. A bullet aimed true does a bullet's work. But in this
battle that raged about Peit-Tsang Thaine quickly discovered that this was
no fight in a Filipino jungle. Here was real war, as big and terrible
above the campaigns he had known in Luzon as the purpose in it was big
above loyalty to the flag and extension of American dominion and ideals.
When the thing was ended with the routing of the Boxer forces, of the
sixteen thousand that went into battle a tithe of one-tenth of their
number lay dead on the plains--sixteen hundred men, the cost of conquest
in a far wilderness. The heaviest toll fell on the brave Japanese who had
led in the attack.
Thaine Aydelot did not dream of home that night. He slept on his arms the
heavy sleep of utter weariness, which Little Kemper's bugle call broke at
three o'clock the next morning. Before the August sun had crawled over the
eastern horizon the armies were swinging up the Peiho river toward Peking.
The American troops were leading the column now, as Thaine Aydelot had
wished they might, and in all that followed after the day at Peit-Tsang
the Stars and Stripes, brave token of a brave people, floated above the
front lines of soldiery, even to the end of the struggle.
It was high noon above the Orient, where the Peiho flows beside the
populous town of Yang-Tsun. The Boxer army routed by the battle of
Peit-Tsang had massed its front before the town, a formidable array in
numbers, equipment, and frenzied eagerness to halt here and forever the
poor little line of foreign soldiers creeping in upon it from the sea. The
Boxers knew that they could match the fighting strength of this line with
quadruple force. The troops coming toward them had marched twelve miles
under the August heat of a hundred degrees, through sand and alkali dust,
in the heavy humid air saturated with evil odors. They had had no food
since the night before, nor a drink of water since daydawn. Joyful would
it be to slaughter here the entire band and then rush back to the hoary
old City of Peking with the triumphant message that the Allied Armies of
the World had fallen before China. Then the death of every foreigner in
the Empire would be certain.
At noon the battle lines were formed. In the swinging into place as Thaine
Aydelot stood beside Tasker, surrounded by his comrades, Little Kemper
dashed by him.
"Here's where the corn-fed Kansans do their work," he said gaily to the
Kansas men.
"With a few bean-eaters from Boston to help," Goodrich responded.
"And a Hoosier to give them culture," Binford added.
"Yes, yes, with the William Penn Quakers and the Pennsylvania Dutch,"
Schwoebel roared, striking McLearn on the shoulder.
Men think of many things as the battle breaks, but never do they fight
less bravely because they have laughed the moment before.
Thaine was in the very front of the battle lines. In the pause before the
first onslaught he thought of many things confusedly and a few most
vividly. He thought of Leigh Shirley and her childish dream of Prince
Quippi in China--the China just beyond the purple notches. He thought of
his mother as she had looked that spring morning when he talked of
enlisting for the Spanish War. He thought of his father, who had never
known fear in his life. Of his last words:
"As thy days so shall thy strength be."
And keenly he remembered Dr. Carey, somewhere among the troops behind him.
The fine head crowned with white hair, caressed by the moonbeams, as he
had seen it in the Manila garden, and his earnest words:
"You must learn to be a Christian. You must know what service for humanity
means. You need not hunt for the opportunity to prove this. The
opportunity is hurrying toward you now out of the Unknown."
"It is here, the opportunity," he murmured. "Oh, God, make me a fit
soldier for Thy service."
He did not pray for safety from danger and death; he asked for fitness to
serve and in that moment his great lesson was learned. There came an
instant's longing for Dr. Carey; then the battle storm burst and he did
not think any more, he fought. It were useless to picture that struggle.
Nothing counts in warfare till the results are shown. For six hours the
fighting did not cease, and not at Valley Forge, nor Brandywine, Lake
Erie, nor Buena Vista, Gettysburg, nor Shiloh, San Juan Hill, nor in any
jungle in Luzon did the American flag stream out over greater heroes than
it led today on the plains beside the Peiho river before Yang-Tsun.
At last the firing ceased, the smoke lifted above the field; the Boxers,
gathering their shattered forces together, retreated again before the
little line of Allied Troops invading this big strange land. And the last
hours of that long hot day waned to eventide.
There were only a few of its events that Thaine could comprehend. He knew
Little Kemper had received his death wound, blowing his bugle calls again
and again after he had been stricken, till the last reveille sounded for
him. The plucky little body with the big soul, who had found his brief
fifteen years of life so full of "doing."
Thaine knew that in the thick of the fight the native Indian Infantry, the
Sikhs and Sepoys, had fallen in cowardly fear before the Boxer fire. He
remembered how big Schwoebel, and Tasker, and Binford, Goodrich, and
McLearn, with himself and another man whom he recalled afterward as
Boehringer, a Kansas man, had clubbed self-respect into a few of them and
kicked the other whining cowards from their way. He knew that Schwoebel
had been grievously wounded and was being taken back to Tien-Tsin with
many other brave fellows who had been stricken that day. He knew that near
the last of the fray a man whom he had admired and loved second to
Lieutenant Alford, big Clint Graham, of a royally fine old family of state
builders in far-away Kansas, had fallen by the mistaken shot of Russian
cannon, and the weight of that loss hung heavy about the edge of his
consciousness wherever he turned. But what followed the battle Thaine
Aydelot will never forget.
Twelve hundred men rose no more from that bloody field before Yang-Tsun.
The fighting force, sixteen thousand strong, was wearing off at the rate
of almost a regiment and a half a day, and it was yet a hundred miles to
Peking.
All about Thaine were men with faces grimy as his own; their lips, like
his, split and purple from the alkali dust. They had had no water to drink
in all that long day's twelve miles of marching and six hours of fighting.
Fearful is the price paid out when the wilderness goes forth to war! And
heroic, sublimely heroic, may be the Christianity of the battlefield.
"We must help these fellows," Thaine said to his comrades as the wail for
water went up from wounded men.
"The river is this way," McLearn declared. "Hurry! the boys are dying."
So over countless forms they hurried to the river's brink for water.
Thaine and Tasker and Boehringer were accustomed to muddy streams, for the
prairie waters are never clear. But Goodrich from Boston had a memory of
mountain brooks. The Pennsylvania man, McLearn, the cold springs of the
Alleghanies, and for Binford there was old Broad Ripple out beyond
Indianapolis. All these men came down with dry canteens to the Peiho by
Yang-Tsun. The river was choked with dead Chinamen and dead dogs and
horses. They must push aside the bodies to find room to dip in their
canteens.
* * * * *
"You have one more lesson. You must learn to be a Christian."
Somehow the words seemed to ring round and round just out of Thaine's
mental sight.
"Vasser! Vasser!" cried a big German soldier before him.
Thaine stooped to give him a drink, and as he lifted up the man's head he
saw the stained face of Hans Wyker.
"It's very goot," Hans murmured, licking his lips for more. "Wisky not so
goot as vasser," and then he trailed off into a delirium. "Don't tell.
Don't tell," he pleaded. "I neffer mean to get Schmitt. I not know he
would be der yet. I hide for Yacob, an' I get Schmitt in der back and I
only want Yacob. He send me to der pen for sure yet next time. I hate Yon
Yacob."
A little silence, then Hans murmured:
"I didn't go to Kansas City. I coom back to Gretchen's home by Little
Wolf. I hide where I watch for Yacob. I shoot twice to be sure of Yacob,
an' Schmitt, hidin' in der crack by der roat, get one shot. So I coom to
Yermany and enlist. Gretchen, she coom too an' she stay der. Vell! I help
fight Boxer some. Mine Gott, forgif me. I do once some goot for der world
dis day."
And that was the last of Wyker.
The twilight hour was near. The wounded had been borne away by busy Red
Cross angels of mercy. Wide away across the Chinese plain the big red sun
slipped down the amber summer sky into a bath of molten flame. Then out of
sight behind the edge of the world it turned all the west into one
magnificent surge of scarlet glory, touching to beauty the tiny gray cloud
flecks far away to the eastward; while long rivers of golden light by
rivers of roseate glow mingled at last along the zenith in one vast sweep
of mother-of-pearl. A cool breeze came singing in from the sea--fanning
the fevered faces of the weary soldiers. The desolate places were hidden
by the deepening shadows, and the serenity of the twilight hour fell on
the battlefield.
Then the men of each nationality went out to bury their dead. Swiftly the
little brown Japanese digged and filled up the graves into which their
comrades were deftly heaped. The Russian and Siberian Cossack lunged their
fallen ones in heavily and unfeelingly. The Bengalese and Sikhs thrust
their own out of sight as they were planting for an uncertain harvest.
Each soldier from France who lost his life on that battlefield fell on his
own grave and there his countrymen covered him over, an unmarked spot in a
foreign land.
Thaine straightened a minute above his spade. The cool breezes were
grateful to his heated brow. The after-sunset glow seemed like the
benediction of the Infinite on the closing act of the day. He saw the
hurried and unfeeling dumping of bodies into the holes awaiting them. Then
his heart grew big with something unspeakable as he noted how in all that
irreverent and unsympathetic action the American and English soldiery
alone were serving as brother for brother. In the long trenches prepared
for them their dead were laid with reverent dignity and gentleness. Each
one's place was carefully marked with a numbered slab that in a future day
the sacred dust might be carried back to the soil of the homeland. As the
sunset deepened to richer coloring and the battlefield grew still and
still, far along the lines the bands of the English Royal Artillery and
the Welsh Fusiliers, with the bagpipes of the Scottish Highlanders,
mingled their music with the music of the splendid band of the Fourteenth
American Infantry in the sweet and sacred strains of the beloved old
hymn:
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee.
E'en though it be a cross
That raiseth me.
Still all my song shall be
Nearer, my God, to Thee,
Nearer to Thee.
And Thaine Aydelot knew that his last and biggest lesson was learned.