TABLE TALK AT A FLANDERS MESS.
"Look out," warned the Colonel as they stumbled along the Rue de la
Gare, "there's a hole somewhere about here." The Canadian officers
passed gingerly on feeling their way down the inky street. A Zeppelin
had been over the night before and the lighting regulations were being
strictly enforced.
Suddenly the Captain stopped, passed his hand along a brick wall, gave
a pull at a wire, and a gong on the inside rang like a fire alarm.
"How in the dickens you can see in this darkness beats me," said the
Colonel. "You must have eyes like a French cat."
The door was opened by Bittleson, and the three officers entered and
walked along the dimly lit, tiled hall into a room at the far end.
"Home, Sweet Home," said the Colonel looking around the room. "It is
the nearest thing we can get to it anyway, worse luck." They all threw
their British warms and caps onto a large chair, flung their sam-brown
belts on top of them and picking out their own respective easy chairs
drew up before the fire, which was burning brightly in the French
grate stove in the corner of the mess room, formerly the dining room
of Madame Deswaerts. The whole side of the room facing the rose garden
and pigeon cots was glassed in and the two huge French windows were,
no doubt, a pleasant feature in the summer time; at present they
admitted a great deal of the cold, damp air from outside.
"Rawson," called the Colonel. Rawson a little black-haired Jew, the
Doctor's batman and temporary mess cook, entered.
"Yessir," said Rawson.
"Put some more coal on that fire; it's as cold as hell in here,"
grumbled the Colonel.
The fire was duly replenished while the Colonel took a cigarette from
his case and opened his "Bystander."
"Do you know how to cook that canned asparagus?" asked the Colonel as
Rawson turned to leave the room.
"No Sir," said Rawson.
"Well how do you think you would cook it?" asked the Colonel.
This was a poser; Rawson was evidently nonplussed.
"Would you boil it, Sir?" he ventured when the silence had become
oppressive.
"You guessed right," and the Colonel deftly flicked a burned match up
behind a picture of the local curé. "What would you do with the tough
part of the stalks?"
"I dunno, Sir." Rawson was stumped again.
"Have you ever eaten asparagus?" asked the Colonel.
"No, Sir," said Rawson, "but I've seen it in the stores."
"Well, go and boil it for five minutes with some salt," ordered the
Colonel, "and then serve dinner."
"Yessir," said Rawson, retiring to the kitchen.
"It beats hell," fussed the Colonel, "how ignorant that boy is; he
hasn't a single ray of intelligence; he carries on just like a trained
monkey; he never thinks, never."
"Yes, he does," contradicted the Captain looking up from a New York
Journal received that day, "I actually saw him thinking yesterday; I
could almost see the wheels going around; in fact, I imagined I could
hear them grating, so seldom had they been used. It was really one of
the most fascinating things I ever saw; you couldn't describe it but
you could act it. The Doc. saw it too. Wasn't it funny, Doc.?"
"It was a marvel," said the Doctor. "I have always classed Rawson as
belonging to the palaeolithic age and imagined the missing link to
have about the same brain capacity as he has; since our experience
yesterday I have come to the conclusion that Rawson is a 'throw back'
and had normal ancestry. This is more apparent when we know he is
never savage but on the contrary very gentle."
The conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Bittleson, the
Colonel's batman. Bittleson had been deposed from his position as cook
two days before for being dirty and careless. He now came forward with
his cap on his head and saluted as only Bittleson could salute.
"Beg pardon, Sir," he hesitated with a deprecatory smile, pointing
with his thumb to the kitchen door, "but Rawson aint really up to
cooking stuff like this here sparrow grass--not yet. P'raps I had
better take a holt."
"All right," agreed the Colonel, "are you sure you know how to cook it
yourself?"
"Sure," answered Bittleson with an inflexion that spoke volumes as to
his knowledge. "Why when we was at Salisbury--"
"Shut up," commanded the Colonel and Bittleson respectfully saluted
and retired.
When the dinner was served we waded through our passable soup, tough
roast beef with "frits" and waited with pleasant anticipation for the
chef'd'oeuvre of the evening. The asparagus duly arrived and was
placed on the table by Bittleson himself with something of a flourish.
"What the sam hill do you know about that!" said the disappointed
Captain as all gazed at the plate full of white asparagus butts,--as
hard as tent pegs. The tender edible portions had been thrown away.
The Colonel turned to Bittleson but the latter was too quick for him
and had already made a strategic retreat.
"What a mess-president?" said the Captain, "Eh, what, Doc.?"
"Go to blazes," growled the Colonel, "You can't get results without
tools; pass the coffee pot." And they relapsed into silence for a few
moments as they severally speculated on the number of Bittlesons they
knew of in the army--in all ranks.
"Well, I wonder how long this blinking war is going to last," queried
the Colonel. "No signs of light on the horizon yet; Fritzy is some
sticker."
"I am fed up with the whole thing," returned the Captain snapping his
cigarette butt viciously into a corner. "What are we out here for
anyway; what are we fighting for; what is the whole bally business
about; that is what I would like to know?"
"What did you come out for?" asked the Colonel. "You had a good
position and a good future in your profession over in the States;
something made you come; what was it?"
"I don't know what it was; chiefly a desire to be in the game and not
be a quitter I guess; I hate the idea of my kids, if I ever have any,
asking me what I had done in the great war. I went up to Forbes Bay to
play golf and forget the war and suddenly found myself buying a ticket
for Valcartier Camp and here I am." There was silence for a minute.
"What did you come out for Colonel?" asked the Captain.
"For adventure," replied the Colonel. "So did everybody else; anybody
who says he didn't come out here for some such reason as that is a
damned liar; don't you think so Doc.?"
"I don't think I did for one," responded the Doc., "but I wouldn't be
sure; I had every inducement to stay home if any man had, congenial
work, interesting hobbies, the finest woman in the world, and I hate
the military game; I guess there were lots of others like myself."
"Well, what in thunder did you come for; what was the big idea?"
demanded the Colonel.
"The big idea in my case was that I thought I might be of some use in
keeping our men efficient, in other words 'service,'" said the Doc.
"What is more, that is what you and the Cap. both came for if you
would only admit it."
"Piffle," snapped the Colonel.
"It isn't piffle, it's the truth," asserted the Doc. "Why do you feel
sore now because other fellows you know haven't come out? If love of
adventure brought you, there is no reason for feeling crusty because
your friends haven't the same love of adventure that you have. Let
them stay at home and mind their own business if they want to and
can't see things as we do."
"Yes, but it's different now to what it was at first. Everybody knows
we are in this fight to the death,--that if we are licked it is
'good-night'!" said the Colonel.
"You can't convince them of that in England--not all at once," argued
the Cap. "The newspapers still construe every local success into a
great victory, the great mass of the people think the war will be over
in the autumn, and the strikers still strike!"
"Well, if they don't see the desperate nature of the affair in England
how can you expect them to realize it in Canada?" questioned the Doc.
"England has air raids, bombardment of her coast towns by German
raiders, ships sunk by submarines and all the evidences of a nearby
war. Of course she thinks she has the money and that money will win. I
guess Germany hasn't much real money but she carries on pretty well
without it."
"She is like America in that respect in regard to money--thinks that
the last dollar will win," answered the Cap. "It won't, its the last
big army in the field that can strike at a vital point that will win
this war."
"That takes money," said the Colonel.
"Yes, but hang it!" countered the Cap., "Germany can print money and
keep on paying; as long as the war lasts paper money will be honored;
it has to be if the Government says so. Only when the end comes and
there is no gold to honor the paper will the crash come: Germany hopes
to be in the position to obtain compensation when the war ends. I
believe that Germany is deliberately trying to ruin the Allies and
particularly England by causing them to make tremendous expenditures
in gold, which is the only thing neutrals will honour; then when we
are weakened in both men and money she hopes to get in her knock-out!"
"As a secondary consideration she may be trying to ruin England
because she has failed to get in the knock-out blow; that is more
likely," reasoned the Colonel. "She has tried hard enough to give the
knock-out both in the first rush to Paris, at Ypres, at Verdun, at the
battle of Jutland, and by her Zep and submarine campaigns. Hitherto
she has failed. Now I believe she is carrying on in the hope that we
will become exhausted and quit; they don't know the English."
"Neither does anybody else," said the Cap. angrily, "they don't know
themselves. They laughed at Lord Roberts and nearly crucified him:
they laughed at the German navy, at Zeppelins, at subs and at poison
gas, and they paid no attention to Sir William Ramsay for kicking
against American cotton going into Germany to make explosives to be
used against us. Now they are having a great laugh at Pemberton
Billings because he says the air service is rotten and advocates the
building of thousands of aeroplanes wherewith to swamp the Germans
with bombs. When he talks in Parliament, they get up and walk out of
the house. That is typical of the English people as a race; they are
so intolerant and so d---- conservative that even in questions of life
and death they won't learn. The aeroplane is a new brand of the
service and therefore they won't take it seriously and they say
Billings is just a blatherskite. But you know and I know that when
sixty planes went over the German lines the other night they played
havoc with certain cantonments. If so why will not ten or twenty times
as many planes accomplish ten or twenty times as much? It is simply a
problem in mathematics. But will Englishmen see that? Not much.
'Muddle through' is their national motto and they are proud of it.
Thank God the Germans are just as stupid. If it was the United States
they wouldn't play the fool in regard to new ideas, believe me."
"Rubbish," retorted the Colonel, firing up at the mention of the
United States, "There is a nation with no sand; she hasn't even got
gumption enough to know that other people are fighting her battles for
her. She has a three-for-a-cent war on with Mexico and she can't raise
50,000 voluntary troops, while Villa sticks his fingers to his nose at
them. Their only aeroplane was brought down by a Mexican revolver
bullet; their fleet is a joke; they are the greatest bunch of bunco
steerers in the world to-day!"
"Don't you believe it," replied the Cap. with deliberation, "I have
lived in the U.S. for several years and I think I know the people.
They have the makings of a wonderful nation. They are keen as mustard
and without silly antique prejudices inherited from the middle ages.
It is true, as a nation, they have something of a swelled head. But
give them a chance; they will come up to the scratch some day; mark my
words."
"Dollars! Dollars! Dollars! that is the American God," continued the
Colonel, "like the children of Israel they worship the golden calf;
they have no other ideal than to become rich, buy automobiles and 'put
it over' the other fellows. The Germans spit in their faces every day
and they say 'business is business' and take it. The Germans sink the
Lusitania and the President sends a note advising them to be more
careful in future and so it goes. Why, any decent man will strike back
when he is struck by a filthy swine; even a worm will turn."
"He couldn't," objected the Cap.
"Why couldn't he," returned the Colonel. "What's the matter with him?
Is he a jelly fish?"
"Because he is the chief engineer of the nation," explained the Cap.
"He is head of a nation that is a conglomerate; it isn't yet fused; it
contains fifteen to twenty millions of people of German origin. It is
like running an express train. As long as the track is straight and
the levers are left alone the engine will keep the tracks if he can
keep his hand on the throttle and observe the signals. There are some
bad signals up in the States. It is overrun with spies who know
everything; the navy is in bad shape; the Mexican affair is on; they
are nervous about Japan and they have no army. With a publicity bureau
such as the Germans have, controlling many newspapers and magazines,
the enemy can do a tremendous lot to alienate public sympathy from the
allied cause, and until America is touched in the quick there will be
no demand for a change of conditions."
"Then the President should lead public opinion," announced the
Colonel.
"Yes, and bring down the wrath of the enemy upon him; just give him
time; he hasn't got that jaw for nothing; he knows history; his
opportunity will come and he will rise to it. Don't you think so
Doc.?"
"I don't know," said the Doc. "I used to think he had tremendous
reserve power; now I'm not so sure. The President, in my opinion, made
his great mistake when he failed to make a dignified protest on behalf
of the violation of Belgium's neutrality. The U.S. stood for great
things in the world; she was the ideal of the smaller nations to whom
she was the personification of Liberty. She fell down and to-day even
France shakes her head or smiles behind her hand when the name of the
United States is mentioned. Yet, I feel that we cannot judge because
we don't know all the facts. The best men in the United States are
with us heart and soul; they feel disgraced and degraded individually
and as a nation because they are forced to eat dirt; they want to go
to war for they realize the European situation. Yet, we can't tell
what is going on behind the scenes in the United States; we don't
know all facts; the cards are not all on the table. If we knew what
President Wilson knows, we might judge, but we don't. For all we know
Great Britain and the other Allies may want America to keep out. The
Japanese question may be a very ticklish one. We don't know and
therefore we can't judge; that is my opinion."
"What is the feeling over there anyway?" asked the Captain.
"It was hard to determine," said the Doc. "Apparently everything was
going on as usual in New York. The editorials of papers like the New
York _Tribune_ and _Times_ were absolutely the finest I have ever seen
showing why the United States should be in this war. On the other hand
the Hearst papers and many others were antagonistic; the middle West
at least is pro-German, and the South is an unknown quantity. I met
many thinking men who used to be very favorable to the President but
who now curse him and his typewriter. Many business men had signs hung
over their desks 'Nix on the war.' They are different from English
people who through their press are leading the politicians and forcing
the authorities to more strenuous action. The United States on the
contrary seemed to be willing to place all responsibility on the
shoulders of the President and follow him. Meanwhile, he senses public
opinion and plays golf. He has more power than any man in the world
to-day, far more."
"And you really think they will finally come in?" asked the Colonel.
"I think they will have to; there will be no choice," answered the
Doc. "If they would only realize that the British fleet is the only
thing standing between them and Germany they would become panicked.
But they don't and while the British fleet protects them from the
Prussian--who is out for world domination--they soak the British
hundreds of per cent. profit on supplies. It is really very funny if
you can see it from the humorous standpoint."
"It seems pretty rotten to me," said the Colonel, "for a nation to
take everything and give nothing, while others fight for it."
"They don't know anything about Europe; they don't, as a nation, know
what the war is about. As far as that goes we have nothing to swank
about in Canada!" said the Doc.
"Canada has realized her responsibilities, anyway," put in the
Colonel.
"Just exactly what she has not," contradicted the Doc, in turn waxing
wroth. "What have we done anyway? Put four divisions in the field, of
which two-thirds were born in Great Britain. We have somewhere about
nine million people in Canada; we should get 12 per cent. of that
number under a system of national service, that is nearly 1,100,000
men. They say we have recruited about 300,000 for service abroad. It
isn't as if the rest were mobilized for war purposes--they are not.
There is not even a home guard. There are tens of thousands of men
around the streets of Toronto to-day who should be at war; I know a
lot of them personally and they haven't 'bad hearts' either, or
dependent mothers. They are just rotters, nothing else."
"Some of them who work for Red Cross one day in six months, throw out
their chests and tell you they are 'doing their bit' at home. I saw
red all the time I was back and a lot of them felt very uneasy when
they met me. When I see these chaps here tramping in and out of the
trenches day after day and think of those spineless blighters at home
it makes me sick."
"Ottawa has no backbone. It hasn't nerve enough to do anything. Quebec
holds the whip hand and Quebec is anti-war. And so the political game
goes on while Canadian profiteers make barrels of money--blood
money--out of munitions and food-stuffs. We make the most of what we
have done but I believe that Canada's effort is a disgrace."
"Well what would you have?" questioned the Colonel, "Canada has to
produce food for the Allies; she has to carry on; she could easily be
ruined by conscripting all her men for active service."
"Nobody suggests that all her men be conscripted for active service,"
said the Doc. "What is needed is that every man should be working for
the Empire. Whether it is in growing wheat, making munitions or
fighting, makes little difference. We need everybody working for the
common cause. There are plenty of men trying to sell real estate
to-day who should be out ploughing land for wheat to keep French and
British soldiers fit; there are lots of chaps who cannot fight or
plough who can run a lathe in a munitions factory; there are plenty of
women who could replace men on farms; every woman and man in France
is working. Why should not Canada be doing the same?"
"Its quite a bit different," argued the Cap., with a wink at the
Colonel. "After all if Germany won out it wouldn't make much
difference to Canada."
"Wouldn't it?" demanded the Doc, hotly. "That is what a relative of
mine said and I am only waiting for an opportunity to see the swine
and tell him what I think of him. If the British fleet failed to-day
do you know how long it would take the Germans to get over to Canada?
About ten days! And about ten thousand German marines with a couple of
naval guns would make Canada throw up her hands as fast as a footpad
would an old lady in a dark lane. I would say that ten high explosive
shells in Quebec and about twenty in Montreal would do the trick. That
followed by the despatch of two or three regiments to Ottawa would
settle the matter. The whole thing would be too ridiculous for words.
The United States would mind their own business because the Monroe
doctrine would avail but little without troops to back it up."
"Then what?" asked the Colonel, as the Doc. stopped for breath.
"Canada is the ideal country for a powerful German colony. I honestly
believe they would prefer Canada with all its latent resources, its
water power, great wheat fields, minerals and forest wealth, to any
spot on earth. With their systematic methods, their thousands of
trained scientists in all branches of industry, their tremendous
capacity for work and resourcefulness, they would take a hold of
Canada and develop it in a way that would startle the world. Germany
has millions of surplus population that she would transfer to Canada
for development purposes. She would have 100 million people to the
south of her for a market and in ten years she would control the
markets of the whole world. That is the German dream and there is only
one thing that stands in the way of its accomplishment, only one
thing."
"The British fleet?" asked the Cap.
"The British fleet!" repeated the Doc.
"I think you look on the whole thing too seriously," objected the
Colonel. "After all we are not reduced to extremities or anything like
it."
"No and that is the idea of every other conservative man in the
British Empire," said the Doc. "They all hope that something will turn
up before long, and fail to consider that while they hope the German
works. Just take a common enough example of how the devils do work in
comparison to ourselves. You remember those trenches that we lost in
the salient for several days to the Germans. Well our fellows were
simply thunderstruck when we took them back. They were remodelled,
strengthened and put into such perfect shape that our chaps said they
had never seen a real trench before. The beggars must have worked
twenty-four hours a day to do it. Catch our fellows doing anything
like that."
"What good did it do them? We got them back," laughed the Colonel.
"Yes, and did you notice the price we paid. Everything we got from
them we pay the utmost for; they extract the last ounce from us; and
so it will go on to the end. If they work twenty-four hours in the day
we will have to do the same. You can't help taking your hat off to the
brutes."
"Just about once a day," agreed the Cap.
"Or oftener," said the Colonel.
"Well, what is the end going to be?" asked the Cap.
"Personally, I don't think there is any doubt about us winning out
finally, but the end is not yet in sight. We have not used all our
resources yet because as an Empire we have not felt that we were up
against it hard. But the British are coming to it and if the war lasts
long enough Great Britain will be rejuvenated. She was getting pretty
rotten before the war. Suffering is chastening her; I have great faith
in that for there is no doubt that trials and suffering strengthen a
nation just as they strengthen individuals. I believe a newer and
greater Britain will arise out of the ashes of the old. There will be
many problems between capital and labor to work out; there must be a
redistribution of land; people will have to work much harder than they
have ever had to before. But to five millions of men in the army of
the British Empire a man has become a man once more. When men stand
side by side in the trenches, while the German shells play upon them,
the men of wealth, or education, or title realize that a shell does
not discriminate between him and the workman by his side. The soldier
knows that the only thing that counts is whether a man is really a
man; when he has stood before his maker for weeks at a time in the
front line, not knowing when his hour would strike, he realizes that
there are few things in life that really count. He is going to take
that point of view back with him into civilian life and he is going to
put it into practice. He will have no fear of anybody. He will want to
make a comfortable living but he will not, at least for years to come,
adopt the old ideas that money or so-called position really count.
Because he knows what really does count; he has had the greatest
experiences and has felt the most tremendous excitement that can come
to a man in life and a great deal of what would have appealed to him
before the war no longer moves him."
"Therefore I believe that there will be a new understanding between
the rich and the poor; between the educated and the ignorant. There
will be a new idea of public service. These hundreds of thousands of
people who have been helping in Red Cross and other service work will
not go back to the old careless life, for they will have been moulded
to new points of view and a new sense of responsibility. All this, of
course, pre-supposes that the war will last long enough so that the
nation as a nation will suffer. The profiteer must be shorn of his ill
gotten gains; the taxes must be heavy enough to pinch everybody; the
necessity to save in order to provide for others must come home to
every man, woman and child. Through things like that and the suffering
which has come and will come to relatives of the killed and wounded
the nation will get a new outlook on life and a healthy one. I think
we are now in the dawning of a new era."
"Sounds like a book," commented the Colonel. "Do you really believe
that people will change? Personally I doubt it."
"I think so," reasoned the Doc. "The basis of all reform is education
and the world is certainly undergoing a process of education right now
such as has never been known in history. You have seen how quickly a
city can be educated by going about it properly and we all know that
the point of view of the world has undergone a tremendous
transformation on nearly everything since the beginning of the war."
"Only Canada lags about two years behind. She doesn't know that a war
is on. Far from here she pursues her peaceful way quite oblivious of
the war. But the very fact that she is safe, that she has not been
invaded, makes her moral obligation even greater than if she had been,
because she is free to develop her industries normally and without
loss. She can pay; she must pay. Canada's obligations are just as
great as her resources; no more; no less. That is the viewpoint that
posterity will judge her by. And if she does rise to the occasion she
will go down in history as a real nation and with a soul."
"The Doc. is right," agreed the Colonel.
"You bet," seconded the Cap. "Some speech that--eh, what?"
There was a ripping sound in the distance, followed by the crash of an
exploding shell. In the silence that followed the hum of an
approaching plane could be heard. "Bombs!" warned the Colonel.
Bittleson appeared. "Excuse me, Sir, Madame Deswaerts presents her
compliments and says would the gentlemen please come down into the
cellar till the aeroplanes pass over?"
"All right Bittleson," agreed the Colonel, as they got up and strolled
cellarwards.