_Toward Germany_
"Happy is he who takes the open road,
From rosy sunburst till the stars ascend.
Light is his heart, though heavy be his load,
If love but waits him at his journey's end."
THE two Red Cross nurses, Theodosia Thompson and Ruth Carroll were
standing together at the edge of a bleak field in the dawn of a
mid-November morning. Their companion was a young American physician.
"What an extraordinary quotation under the present circumstances, Thea!
But then, since you are a bundle of contradictions, I presume you
suggest that love will await us at our journey's end when you really
mean hate. I wonder to what extent the Germans will hate us and how
difficult life will be among them when we occupy their cities on the
Rhine."
Ruth Carroll, who had begun her speech as an answer to the other girl,
now concluded it by turning her gaze upon Dr. Hugh Raymond, who made no
effort at the moment to answer so unanswerable a question.
"Oh, I was not thinking of the entrance of our American troops into
Germany, but into Belgium and the little devastated French villages
which have not seen a friendly face in over four years," Theodosia
Thompson replied. "Our soldiers must first pass through the rescued
towns. But actually, Ruth, I was not thinking deeply at all. With the
knowledge that we were soon to take the open road, the verse came into
my mind. Please don't always be so matter of fact."
Possibly the two girls were talking because it is so difficult for girls
to remain silent for any length of time even under the most amazing
conditions. At this moment, peering steadfastly through the grey light
of the approaching day, with Dr. Raymond beside them, they were
beholding one of the greatest spectacles in human history, the first
movement of the American Army of Occupation toward the Rhine.
In line with the vision of the three watchers at this instant khaki-clad
figures were marching slowly forward with their faces turned toward the
east. Behind them down the long road ammunition and supply trains were
lumbering; cannons and big guns were groaning their way onward as in
time of war. But although it was not war, but the vanguard of peace,
nevertheless the American soldiers were prepared for war, should the
armistice be ended at any moment. Overhead observation balloons were
floating, which were to move more rapidly than the army and form a part
of the advance guard.
"We are scheduled to enter Virton some time tomorrow, Miss Thompson.
Virton is the first town across the Belgian border, then Briey and
Longwy and then the little Duchy of Luxemburg. It is a great trek and I
am glad to be allowed to join it. Yet somehow I wish we were sending our
nurses in dirigibles so as to make the journey more quickly and safely.
We have suffered so much from German treachery in the past that I can't
quite trust them on this march. Yet personally I wish I could have gone
with the soldiers."
The young American doctor spoke slowly and solemnly. He was a tall
slender fellow with sandy hair and a rather finely cut face, a little
Roman in type. His manner was also slightly dictatorial, as if he were a
much older and wiser person than his feminine audience, although he was
scarcely twenty-five.
Theodosia Thompson paid no attention to his remarks although he seemed
to be addressing her; however Ruth Carroll listened as interestedly as
any one could have desired.
Dr. Raymond had not been as friendly with the Red Cross nurses at the
Chateau-Thierry hospital as one might naturally have expected,
considering the fact that they had worked and dreamed and prayed under
the same roof during the last thrilling months before the close of the
war. But he was supposed not to care for women or girls, either because
he was too shy, or because he suffered from an undue sense of
superiority. Notwithstanding, he apparently made a mild exception in
favor of Ruth Carroll, although for her intimate friend and companion,
Thea Thompson, ordinarily he had to make an effort to conceal his
dislike.
Over the French country this morning the snow of a few days before had
hardened and been beaten down into a frost covered layer of mud, yet the
wind had become a little quieter and not so piercingly cold.
"Don't you think we had best go back to the hospital in a few moments,
Thea?" Ruth at this instant inquired. "There are still preparations for
us to make before our Red Cross unit takes its place in the line of
march. As a matter of fact I don't think I slept three hours last night,
and neither Dr. Clark nor Mrs. Clark made a pretence of going to bed."
Thea linked her arm in Ruth's.
The young physician who was their companion wore a curious, rapt
expression. He was still gazing after the moving army, and seemed not to
have heard.
"Goodby, Dr. Raymond." Thea made a little curtsey that was unexpectedly
graceful. "Thank you for suggesting to Ruth that she see the first
breaking of camp of the American Army of Occupation. I know you had not
intended that I accompany you, yet thank you just the same. Never so
long as I live shall I forget this daybreak in France! Why, it is as if
an old world had ended on the eleventh of November and a new one was
beginning today! Besides who knows what experiences may lie ahead, or
_romances_, Dr. Raymond. You see now the war has ended, perhaps even you
may wake up to other interesting facts in life beside professional
ones."
With an odd, challenging expression, Thea Thompson watched the young
doctor's face, expecting him at least to change color or show some sign
of annoyance. However, as he was a good deal taller than she, he merely
looked over her head and toward Ruth Carroll.
"If you will forgive me, Miss Carroll, I won't return with you just this
minute. I have nothing very special to look after and I want to see as
much of this first movement of our army as possible. Afterwards our Red
Cross motors and ambulances will probably have to keep in the rear."
Then the two girls moved away toward the Red Cross hospital choosing
their route along a path near the edge of the road, so as not to be in
the way of the oncoming trucks.
"I do wish you would try not to talk personalities on a morning like
this, Thea dear," Ruth urged gently, "and particularly not to Dr.
Raymond. I have told you it makes him uncomfortable. He is really not
aware that there is a woman or a girl in the world in any personal
fashion. I am sure the very word _romance_ irritates him. I presume that
is why you used it. Don't get into mischief now that the war is over,
Thea, because you may have less hard work when you have been so good all
the past year. I feel it specially because I know you did not naturally
care for nursing and only began it at first in order to come to France
with me. Still you have been very successful and perhaps may wish to
keep on with nursing as a profession after we return home?"
A little sound that was neither assent nor refusal followed.
Then Thea Thompson shook her head. "Let's don't discuss either the past
or the future just now, Ruth. Thank heaven the present is sufficient!
I've an idea that once our soldiers reach the Rhine and settle down they
will be needing entertainment as much as they will need nursing.
Personally I intend to have a little relief from this long strain and
have as good a time as possible. Oh, don't look so shocked, Ruth. I
don't intend to do anything especially wicked, play a little perhaps and
be a little frivolous. You and I are certainly contrasts as Kentucky
girls! You know there may be a chance we may run across a little
princess somewhere in hiding and that she may fall in love with one of
our American soldiers. American soldiers are greater than kings these
days, and princesses are in need of protection. So perhaps I may be a
looker-on at some one else's romance and not have one of my own. I
have been a looker-on at many things I have wished for myself before
today, Ruth, as you know. But please let us hurry. I promised Mrs. Clark
we would not stay away from the hospital but a short time and I wish to
keep my word. She does not like me particularly, or at least I seem to
puzzle her."
Ruth Carroll shook her head. The girl beside her had not had a happy
childhood or young girlhood, so perhaps it was natural that she should
wish, as she expressed it, "just to have a good time."
"You puzzle a good many people, Thea, including me and sometimes you
even puzzle yourself. But you know I have always believed the good would
win in the end. Don't spoil your nursing record. We are very fortunate
to have been chosen to form a part of the Red Cross unit to follow the
army."
At this moment the grey November clouds parted and a pale rose appeared
in the sky.
The two girls were reaching the neighborhood of their Red Cross
hospital. Drawn up nearby were half a dozen Red Cross ambulances, an
equal number of closed cars and several large trucks for carrying
medical supplies.
Moving about and directing the hospital orderlies was Dr. David Clark,
the surgeon in command of the hospital. He had been ordered to take
charge of the Red Cross unit, who were to follow the division of
American troops from the neighborhood of Chateau-Thierry to the Rhine to
assist in policing Germany.
With him at the moment, and aiding in a hundred small ways, was his
wife, Sonya Clark.
As the two nurses approached and Dr. Clark caught sight of them, he
frowned with disapproval and surprise.
At the instant it seemed impossible to guess what two of his nurses
could be doing off duty at daybreak on this morning of all mornings.
Sonya understood and nodded sympathetically.
"You have been to see our troops break camp and start for Germany? I
remember you asked permission. I envy you girls the experience,
although we shall probably see many extraordinary sights before this day
is over. We shall leave in a few hours; naturally it will not take long
for us in motor cars, to catch up with the soldiers who are traveling
afoot. You will be ready. I hope the sky at present is a good omen of
the future."
And Sonya pointed to the rose light overhead.
Later in the day, the Red Cross unit from the hospital in the
neighborhood of Chateau-Thierry took its place in the rear of the line
of march of the American Army of Occupation toward Germany.
By this time the sun was shining and the roads had become comparatively
clear. Hospital supplies had been sent on ahead with a group of hospital
orderlies, Dr. Clark and a corps of his physicians following soon after.
In a later automobile Mrs. Clark had with her half a dozen Red Cross
nurses, and in a second Miss Blackstone, the former superintendent of
the hospital, an equal number. Also there was a third automobile filled
with physicians and orderlies who were to keep as close to the two other
cars as circumstances allowed.
Across No Man's land on this November morning, from the northern end of
France to the southern, were passing the victorious allied armies, three
hundred thousand American troops led by Pershing to victory, and an
equal or greater number of French and British.
In the car with Sonya the American girls had but little to say to one
another during the first part of their journey. Not only was the land
before them desolate beyond description, but filled with tragic
memories.
Early in the afternoon, reaching the edge of a little French town, the
Red Cross automobiles stopped. The occupants were in no great hurry to
move forward. In advance the cavalry had swept on to prepare the way,
but the infantry was going ahead slowly and would encamp for the night.
This division of the Red Cross intended keeping in the background so
that in case the men became ill, they could drop out and be overtaken
by nurses and physicians.
The girls were glad of the rest and also extraordinarily hungry, having
spent the greater part of the night and every moment since daylight in
preparation for the advance.
Their three cars had stopped in front of a small farmhouse on the
outskirts of the town.
Approaching the house, Sonya and Dr. Raymond believed it to be empty.
The blinds were closed, the pathway to the front door untrodden. Yet it
had once been a gay little house of French grey with bright blue
shutters.
A knock at the door and both Sonya and the young physician thought they
heard scurrying noises inside. Yet knocking again there was no reply.
"Shall I try pushing the little front door open, Mrs. Clark? It is
pretty cold eating outside. I can't quite understand the situation. The
French people know we are their friends; they have been told to expect
nothing but kindness and consideration from us. Do look, already the
French civilians are coming out from the village to welcome us. Our
little house is surely uninhabited or it would not be so inhospitable."
Following Dr. Raymond's suggestion, Sonya turned.
Standing not far away in a group were the six Red Cross nurses for whom
she felt especially responsible, Nona Davis and Mildred Thornton, the
two girls who were her intimate and devoted friends and who had made
exceptional sacrifices to remain in Europe now that the war was ended.
There were also the two comparatively new nurses, Ruth Carroll and
Theodosia Thompson, and Bianca Zoli. The sixth girl was the Red Cross
nurse, Nora Jamison, who had arrived so late at the hospital.
Nevertheless she had been chosen by Dr. Clark to form a member of his
Red Cross unit who were to follow the army of occupation.
Beyond them was another group of nurses and physicians.
To Sonya's surprise she saw approaching at this moment from the little
French town close by between fifty and a hundred persons. Some of them
were old men and women hobbling along on sticks, their faces gaunt and
haggard with past suffering, but shining now with happiness. A dozen or
more little French girls were marching abreast, one of them carrying a
small American flag, another a French. Both flags were evidently home
made and must have been carefully hidden from the Germans during their
long occupancy of the French village. With them were five or six
American soldiers who had been taken prisoners by the Germans and were
now being allowed to rejoin their own comrades.
"We haven't a great deal of food, I know," Sonya began impulsively. "But
don't you think, Dr. Raymond, we might ask the friends who have come to
welcome us and who seem hungriest to share our food? A great quantity of
supplies are to follow us and we will probably wait for a few days
somewhere along the line of march. Dr. Clark told me he wanted us to be
prepared to care for the wounded American soldiers we meet along the
way, soldiers who have been imprisoned in Germany and must have
suffered untold tortures from improper treatment. Then, if any of our
own soldiers are taken ill along the route of march, Dr. Clark is to see
they are left in a comfortable hospital with the necessary supplies and
it may be we shall be delayed to look after them."
Forgetting her effort to enter the little house, Sonya at this instant
moved away from Dr. Raymond to rejoin the other Red Cross nurses.
In French fashion some of the old peasants were kissing the hands of
their allies. Miss Blackstone and a physician had already unwound a
dirty bandage from the arm of an American soldier and were examining his
wound. Sonya had no desire to be left out of the little crowd of French
and American friends.
Within fifteen minutes, however, she had again returned to the little
house. This time she was accompanied by an old French peasant woman to
whom she had explained the situation, inquiring if the farmhouse was in
truth uninhabited.
At present it was the French woman who hammered, not gently but with
the utmost firmness upon the closed door.
"It may not be possible, madame, that we enter in at the front door,"
she explained. "It is my impression that la petite Louisa has never once
unfastened this door since she opened it to the German soldiers who
afterwards took away her mother and older sister. She has been here ever
since all alone, as her father and brother were of course with the army.
La petite Louisa has since that time been distrait, not you understand
exactly in her right senses, but harmless. It is not that her French
neighbors have neglected her. I have myself tried to take her home to be
with me, but always she comes back to the little grey house."
The old peasant shrugged her shoulders, as she continued banging on the
door and talking at the same time.
"There have been so many things to endure. One more forsaken, half
starved child! What would you do? Her family was not well known in our
village; they had moved here from Paris a short time before the war and
were said to have been wealthy people who had fallen into misfortune.
So after a time, it may not seem kind, but life has been too hard some
of the days even for kindness, so finally we left the little girl alone.
Neighbors have given her food when there was food to give. Even a few of
the enemy soldiers have sometimes tried to make friends and persuade her
to eat, but always she would rush away from them with the great fear."
Not altogether sure of what the old French peasant was trying to make
plain to her, yet convinced enough of the tragedy of the story, Sonya
laid her hand on the old woman's arm.
"Don't you think we had best not frighten the little girl then by trying
to enter her house. Some one else in the village I feel sure will offer
us hospitality. And yet something should be done for the little girl,
now the war is past she must be made to understand she need not be
afraid," Sonya expostulated.
However, the French woman continued knocking.
She also had been calling out in French, reassuring the little girl
inside, pleading with her. "La petite Louisa."
And now Sonya heard footsteps drawing near the closed door. The next
moment the door partly opened, disclosing the most pathetic child's
figure she had ever seen.
The little girl was perhaps twelve years old and did not look like the
usual French child, for though her hair was coal black, her eyes were a
violet blue, fringed by the blackest lashes, her skin almost an
unearthly pallor. In spite of her look of hunger she was clean and not
only scrupulously, but exquisitely dressed in a little silk and serge
frock made with care and taste.
The child's eyes were what held Sonya, however, they were at once so
terrified and so sad.
Looking past the two women at the crowd outside, she would have fallen
except that Sonya's arm went swiftly around her while she tried to
explain that they were friends.
Afterwards Sonya and the Red Cross nurses discovered that the little
house was furnished very differently from the ordinary French
farmhouse, with possessions which must have come from some handsomer
home.
In the dining room they ate their luncheon on a French oak table with
beautiful carved feet and found that the sideboard and chairs were also
of handsome French oak.
The little room soon became crowded, not only with the Red Cross girls
and physicians, but with a number of the French people who came in to
assist in the celebration. Beyond gifts of chocolate and bread, they
refused to accept other food, explaining that the portion of the
American army which had passed through their village earlier in the day
had given them supplies.
Yet the little French girl in whose home the celebration was taking
place would neither eat nor speak to her French acquaintances or to the
strange Americans.
Sonya and Miss Blackstone confided to each other their impression that
the little girl was probably unable to speak, fright and exhaustion
having oftentimes this effect upon highly nervous temperaments.
However, in the midst of the luncheon, suddenly the little French girl
slipped over beside the new Red Cross nurse, Nora Jamison, and took
tight hold of her hand. She even allowed her to tempt her into eating
small morsels of food.
By accident the new nurse was sitting next Sonya Clark and Sonya turned
to her, mystified by the little French girl's impetuous action.
"I wonder how you managed that, Miss Jamison?" she inquired. "I have
been trying to make friends with our little French hostess ever since my
meeting with her and she would have nothing to do with me. You seem not
to have noticed her and she has given her confidence to you."
Still holding the little French girl's hand Nora Jamison nodded.
"You will find I am a kind of Pied Piper, Mrs. Clark. I had always
nursed children before I began war work and am especially fond of them."
Sonya shook her head.
"It is Peter Pan I thought of when I first saw you. I wonder if you are
one of the lucky persons who never grow up? I've an idea you will be a
great help to us when we finally reach Germany. We don't want the German
children to think of us as ogres and one wonders what stories their
parents may now be telling them of our American soldiers."
Then so many things distracted Sonya Clark's attention that she thought
no more of the little deserted French girl until she and Bianca looked
for her to say goodby and found that the child had disappeared.