the train and examined our things in a superficial way. The more
obedient, who did as they were told, fared badly by their obedience.
There was such a mix-up inside that many came back minus valises,
dress-suitcases, carry-alls, steamer coats, and even lost their seats in
their coupés. The passengers were divided between Amsterdam, Rotterdam
and The Hague. A large number of these were without steamer passage, but
they were hurrying to Rotterdam determined to get something, even if it
was steerage. There were plenty who had boarded our train without a
dollar in their pockets beyond a railroad ticket to help them out, and
they were trusting to good luck or what friendships they might make on
the way for help. Many were loud in their praise of Mr. and Mrs. Gerard
for the friendly advice and the financial aid they had been given by
them. In spite of the hardships endured by the financial embarrassment,
loss of trunks, lack of sleep, there was much humor and joviality, which
is so valuable to the American people in difficult situations.
It was after one o'clock when we reached Wassenaar, a small suburb of
The Hague. The hotel had been originally built for a golf club. It was a
large, red brick building, set in a beautiful garden with such wonderful
flowers as only Holland can grow. Surrounded by this splendid wealth of
scenery, it was hard to imagine ourselves in the midst of countries that
might be racked and ruined by war. The next morning we visited the
Palace of Peace, handsome but imposingly simple. As we looked upon its
splendid rooms, decorated with pictures dedicated to peace, it seemed a
blasphemy to God and man that such a building should remain if men are
to fight out their differences with the cruel weapons of modern warfare.
For a short time we abandoned these disquieting thoughts and visited
some of the lovely Dutch shops, where we found a few inexpensive
souvenirs for our friends who were anxiously awaiting us at home. We had
our luncheon in a quaint Dutch restaurant where dainty sandwiches and
Dutch cakes were served on the prettiest of Delft china.
Then we hurried to our Embassy to find out if the Tennessee had landed,
as we all expected letters and hoped for money from home. One of the
clerks said that the Tennessee was expected in England that day and
would probably reach the Dutch coast in a day or two. Our Embassy was
crowded with Americans asking for passports, money and information. Mr.
Van Dyke and his clerks, assisted by boy scouts, were working overtime
to gratify all these demands.
A number of our clerks looked anxious that afternoon, as gossip had it
that the German Consul had been called back to Berlin that day, and if
Holland were thrown into war she would flood her entire country in less
than twenty-four hours' time. Our men thought it was an exaggerated
rumor, but still they were advising people to leave Holland as early as
possible. As we hurried along the streets and past the vacant lots, we
saw hundreds of soldiers going through their daily exercises so that
they could join the regular army when needed.
There was a great crowd of people waiting before the palace, anxious to
see their Queen start off for a daily drive. Soon the automobile
appeared, carrying the Queen and a friend for a drive out in the woods.
Though she has grown older she is as sweet and girlish as ever. Her
friendly smile shows that she has the determination to meet cheerfully
the most difficult situations that may confront her before the war is
finished.
We were about to take the 'bus up to our hotel when one of our friends
stopped us and said, "Are you willing to leave tonight if I can secure
passage for us four on the Ryndam?" I was so surprised by this question
that I thought our friend, who had been studying in one of the German
clinics, was losing his mental balance as a result of overstudy and war
talk.
"Go tonight!" I exclaimed. "Why, we only came at one o'clock this
morning. No, indeed; war or no war, I want one week of rest in this
lovely, peaceful country."
"This is no time to romance," he explained. "You can enjoy pastoral
beauties in our own U. S. A. There is talk that Holland may go to war
tonight. If she does she certainly will flood the country before she
stands for any nonsense such as Belgium has." With this he helped us
into the 'bus and boarded the five-o'clock train for Rotterdam, to take
his chance of getting four tickets at the eleventh hour.
When I got on to my splendid terrace window overlooking the garden I was
ready to sell out at any price. I argued that it was better to be shot
than to go crazy, and I knew that fifty-six hours without sleep or three
days and nights without sleep in a week was too much of a strain. The
beauty of these rosebeds and ponds seemed to comfort my jaded nerves
more than the happy thoughts of home.
So I took tea on the terrace and forgot all about an ocean voyage until
the face of my watch announced it was six o'clock and time to pack. By
seven our little party of three were ready for supper, but we had no
idea whether we were going to stay that night. We had two auto-cars for
our party of eight, in case the added four joined the two couples who
had passage secured on the Ryndam.
Our friends waited until nine and then they got ready to go, fearing
that they might miss their boat if they were detained any longer. They
suggested that they would give all the assistance they could, even to
besieging the captain to wait a little longer.
By ten the guests started to retire and most of the lights had been put
out. The doctor's wife, who was a young married woman, tried to read an
exciting story in one of the English monthlies, but she was so worried
about her husband I am confident she did not know a word she was
reading.
We tried to get the Holland American line at Rotterdam but the wires
were not working--were out of order. Shortly before twelve o'clock we
got a telegraph message sent over the telephone which said, "Tell the
Americans to come to the Ryndam at once." The message sounded so
strange, and, being unsigned, we feared it might be a plot to get us and
that we were being suspected as spies. This did not frighten the
doctor's wife, who insisted on going and looking for her husband. We
gave orders for the automobile to be called, and the man answered he did
not want to make an hour and a half trip at that time of night. I
answered that he must come around at once and set his price. It was
nothing more nor less than forty dollars, and he insisted on having
every gulden of it before he would turn the crank of the car. There were
a number of other delays, for we could not find a porter, and the room
waiter refused to carry our baggage to the car. Then the manager had
promised to take us to Rotterdam, but he said it was too late for him to
venture out in such times, and it was only when we offered the house
porter a five-dollar bill that he consented to sit on the box with a
revolver in his hip pocket.
Then our punctilious proprietor delayed us with our bill, for he was
more anxious that he should not charge us one cent too much or too
little than that we should catch our boat. We were even further delayed
by feeing the help, who still stood around for their tips while our
escort explained that money spoke in war times.
Finally we were off, and certainly this midnight ride compares favorably
with Paul Revere's famous ride. I do not know how many kilometers we
covered per hour, but I do know that if anything had bounced against us
or we against anything we would not have lived to tell the tale. We went
through deep woods, dark streets, through small villages and through
long, narrow dams at breakneck speed. We had the right of way except for
the tolls that had to be raised, for the soldiers watching at a distance
and for an occasional drunkard that tumbled into the streets. We went so
fast that every time our automobile took a bridge it flew several feet
into the air. It was only kind Providence watching over us that saved us
from being shot as spies--at least being taken prisoners. It was one
o'clock when we entered the Holland American office and gave up a good
cabin on the Rotterdam for two berths in the auxiliary cabin on the
Ryndam.
As we came on board we saw our ambassador, Mr. Van Dyke, tell some of
his friends goodbye and wish them Godspeed. We stopped to hear some
people exclaim, "My, that was a splendid speech--I guess he is sorry he
is not going home--well, if a man wishes to be an ambassador he must do
his duty and watch his people--I wonder how many of us will take his
advice and keep neutral in thought on this trip." As soon as we got on
board we found that ours was not a choice cabin. It was one of the forty
cabins made in a week in the hold of the boat usually made to keep the
trunks.
I decided not to go to our cabin that night, as it was nearly two
o'clock before the boat pulled out, and then we sat around and chatted
some time about the mines in the channel and the possibility of our boat
striking one and being blown to pieces. When we tired of sitting on deck
we went down into the dining salon and slept on benches in impromptu
manner. To tell the truth of the matter, we were reaching a point where
a few hours seemed a luxurious amount of sleep. Many who did not find
the early morning air too brisk camped out on steamer chairs outside.
Next morning my mother and I went down to see what our cabin was like.
After reaching the lower deck we had to climb down a small ladder to get
to our room. The company had tried to make the hold attractive by
arranging palms and flowers around the walls. The center of the hall was
usurped by trunks, for about one-third of the first-class passengers had
been fortunate enough to save their baggage. Some of the flat trunks
were useful, for they served as chairs and benches when our cabins
became too crowded during the day.
Much to our surprise, we found that our small cabin was designed for
four people, though it was only large enough for two during the day. I
gave my mother the lower berth, and then the question became pertinent
how was I to scramble into the upper one. I made many futile attempts
trying to bolt and then taking a turn at the ladder. I succeeded in
reaching the last step, but only went so far as bumping my head against
the ceiling when I tried to crawl in.
The lady who had the other lower berth soon saw that my efforts were
futile, and since she was extremely slight she kindly offered me her
lower berth. Unknown to the authorities, we sent the fourth occupant
into our friend's room and reduced the number to three. Thus we had one
less person in our room than the rest of the people in the auxiliary
cabin, but we found out that there were just two too many when rough
weather came.
Though everybody on board that boat had said the day before they were
willing to ride steerage and to suffer all conceivable hardships without
complaint, providing they could get away from warlike Europe, our
captain confessed that he never met so many complaining people at one
time in his life.
This was just a little annoying to him when he remembered that he had
already been placed as a naval officer on a Dutch man-of-war, and he had
only been recalled because he knew where the mines lay, and the company
felt he was competent to steer our ship safely out of the harbor.
Many of the passengers only muttered in a low voice as long as they were
in the channel, for they feared the floating mines, though not a single
mine broke loose and floated near our vessel. We were met by a number of
English naval war boats. The ugliest of these was a small torpedo boat
which stopped us before we were out of the English Channel. Our boat
cried "Halt!" as soon as we saw this little English racer coming toward
us with her guns leveled toward our bow. As soon as we were near enough
to hear her words one of her officers gave the following queries: "Where
do you come from?" "From Holland," was the prompt reply. "What have you
on board?" "A cargo of humans," answered the captain, loud and clear.
"Where are you bound for?" came the pertinent answer.
"For New York," they were told. Then came the fearless command:
"You may follow me to Scilly Island, where we will examine your papers,
and if they are satisfactory you may go on unmolested."
It was just luncheon time when our boat stopped and two of the English
officers came on board to examine our papers. Before going up to the
bridge he went down into the hold and looked at the baggage and into the
cabins. After examining our papers carefully they found the nearest
approach to German enemies were naturalized German Americans. With
English tact, they chatted with some of the men awhile and then went
down the side of the boat and were off.
We encountered a number of English men-of-war on our way out of the
English Channel but were only held up twice. As soon as they saw our
papers signed up by the first man-of-war they let us go very promptly.
As soon as we got out of the channel away from mines and men-of-war our
tired, jaded refugees began to nag the purser from early morning till
late at night. There were those who said that they consented to go
steerage because they thought steerage was fixed up like first cabin.
When they saw that their complaints were futile they sent over one
socialist leader to have it out with the overworked purser. The
passenger exclaimed: "I tell you it is an outrage, we are not immigrants
but good American citizens. I do not look like an influential man here
but I am a strong factor in the socialist party in New York, and I will
make this company look sick when I get there."
In marked contrast to this burly, rough man was the refined New England
woman, a professor in one of our leading girls' colleges. She begged the
purser to try and find three berths for her and two of her colleagues in
either the first or second cabin, and asked if he in the meantime would
see that the steerage was cleaned up and made a little more comfortable.
A few days later I saw this professor walking on the first promenade
deck telling some of her friends she felt like a culprit taking a
first-class berth while her friends were left behind. More than a
half-dozen worthies were brought over from the third cabin to the first.
A college girl was among this number, who had been travelling with her
brother. She had gotten into our cabin by mistake, and when I explained
to her that her room was around the corner she begged me to leave her
things in our room until she found her cabin, and she said: "I was in
hysterics for joy when my brother took me out of the third class, and I
know I shall die if I have to go back there."
There was a talented blind boy pianist who had been travelling with a
friend giving concerts abroad and a committee of wealthy men brought him
into the first class; he had such a sweet, kind face, I am sure he was
as uncomplaining among the steerage as he was after he had been provided
with a comfortable berth. Though there were not enough first-class
cabins for all the women and children found in the third, the committee
of wealthy men went down every day and saw that the steerage was kept as
clean as possible. But there were just as many complaints among the
first-class passengers, for those down in the auxiliary cabins tried to
get rooms on the promenade deck, or at least have the privacy of their
own rooms. Most of them who were at all comfortably placed found their
complaints useless.
Gradually these passengers became more resigned, for we had five days of
rough weather, and many of them were too seasick to worry about where
they could lay their heads. A few of the humorous people on board soon
discovered that the auxiliary cabins were all marked four hundred, so we
dubbed ourselves "The Four Hundred"; because of the flowers we dubbed
it the Palm Garden or the Ritz Carlton. As soon as the weather
moderated some of the enthusiastic women were busy getting up a Red
Cross collection for Germany. Then there was a petition gotten up by
some German Americans, thanking the Germans for the kindly treatment the
Americans had been accorded. The men in the meanwhile occupied
themselves wondering if the stock exchange had been closed, discussing
the merchants' marine and the duty of our increasing the navy.
One night we had a terrible electric storm which was a beautiful sight.
It was so strong it fairly lit up the rooms, but every time a crash came
we thought our end was near. The women, who were most afraid of the
storm felt doomed; they got dressed and went up into the upper cabin,
concluding that they would rather be shot at by cannon than to be
drowned at sea. The climax to all of our troubles was the making out of
our declaration and being held in quarantine at Ellis Island. Many
objected to this treatment and argued that they were good American
citizens and not immigrants. This was not much more than a form, for the
health officers only glanced at our papers. It is strange what an
influence this war had on women's consciences. There was not one woman
who had been born in this country, though she had lived abroad several
years, that wished to call herself a non-resident. In spite of heavy
luggage lost the women were so glad to get home that they made most
honest declarations. As our boat landed the dock was so packed it was
hard to distinguish our friends among the thousands standing on land
waving their hands and shouting a welcome home. Since we only had
dress-suitcases left our baggage was soon inspected, and in less than a
half-hour later we found ourselves in a comfortable New York hotel. It
only took a hurried breakfast and a refreshing bath to make me soon
forget my own hardships. Still, I shall never forget the suffering I saw
as I fled from the horrors of war, and I am now confident that the
expression "War is hell" is as sure and true as the fact that there are
stars in heaven.
WHAT MOBILIZATION MEANS
Have you ever been to war? Unless you can boast of the Civil War or the
Spanish-American War this question may sound futile.
Have you ever seen a manoeuvre? Unless you have been an invited guest at
one of the French or German manoeuvres you have but a faint idea of what
a gigantic review for active military service is.
Have you ever seen a mobilization? Probably not, unless you were one of
those who rallied around our flag in the Spanish-American War or in the
late Mexican crisis.
Much as you may have read how the European countries have been gathering
their forces, it is all a faint picture compared with the actual
gigantic work that has been taking place during the early periods of the
war.
Until I had seen a small part of this tremendous work, I had always
thought of mobilization as the task of gathering a certain number of
regiments led by their officers, and sending them off with their horses,
cannon and provisions to a point of attack. Though these are all a small
part of a great undertaking, mobilization is a gigantic, living,
breathing, throbbing force, where millions of men may act in concerted
action and still every individual must play a small part in this
melodramatic action.
I was fortunate enough to have been in Germany when the word was sounded
that Russia was mobilizing, and that Germany would do the same unless
Russia gave her some satisfactory explanation for her aggressive action.
When no answer came, at least no satisfactory reply, a declaration was
made that Germany was mobilizing. What did this mean? It meant the
bringing together of the most perfectly trained and equipped military
force of modern times. For just as England has seen to it that she may
retain the proud title of "Commander of the Seas," Germany has been
equally proud of her magnificently equipped military forces.
It may take years to answer the question whether this army was being
organized and trained for aggression to make other nations bow to
Germany's will, or whether the intelligence of the German nation
realized that the issue at stake during the Franco-Prussian War had not
been threshed out and would have to be answered later. For, as Bismarck
said in a conversation with the interviewer, W. B. Richmond, "Germany is
a new empire and it must be protected from possible assault by one or
two or both powers, one to the east, the other to the west of us. You
must remember that the next war between France and Germany must mean
extinction for one. We lie between two lines of fire; France is our
bitter enemy and Russia I do not trust. Peace may be far more
dishonorable than war, and for war we must be prepared. Therefore, while
Germany's very life as a nation is at stake, I cannot give the attention
that I would otherwise wish to as regards the encouragements of the arts
of peace, however much I may believe them to be, as you say, necessary
to the highest development of the nation as a whole."
The German people of all classes were familiar with this prophecy,
therefore they were not surprised, and more, they were prepared, when
Russia and France in turn threw down the gauntlet of war. In most of the
cities and towns you heard the familiar words spoken by men of all
ranks, "Well, it doesn't matter much; it had to come, today or tomorrow,
only the allies had planned to wait three years longer; then the French
soldiers would have their three years' service and the Russian Army
would have been reorganized. The allies thought that we might be found
napping, but we are pretty well awake, and it is to be a fight to a
finish."
Therefore, when the word mobilization was spoken throughout Germany it
was more than a call. It meant that every boy and man capable of
carrying a gun was more than ready--he was dead anxious to join his
regiment and die for his country. Whatever a man's rank might be,
whatever his daily occupation was, and however responsible the work, he
forgot it all in the eagerness to go to the front. One day I happened to
be in a large bank in Berlin when the president received his call. He
read it as though he were getting an an invitation to a Bankers'
Association banquet instead of its being a call to go to the front. He
had all his affairs in shape to go, and after a short talk with some of
the directors and a friendly goodbye to his associates, he closed his
large rolltop desk, put his hat upon his head and was off.
I chanced to be in a restaurant in Berlin one day when I noticed a group
of soldiers already dressed in their dark gray uniforms drinking their
afternoon coffee and smoking their cigars leisurely. Between the puffs
of smoke, I heard the following conversation: "Shooting down Frenchmen
will be rather different work than singing Sigfried and Tannhauser at a
thousand dollars a night."
"You musn't be so mercenary," answered another. "A campfire and a bed on
the ground will make me appreciate the comforts of a New York hotel
another season, more than the other, while sauerkraut and Wiener wurst
are fair exchange for lobster à la Newburg and chicken patties."
While a third piped up, "I know I will have a more enthusiastic audience
when I sing the Wacht am Rhine to my regiment than I have when I sing
Rigoletto on first nights in New York."
The same enthusiasm was shown by painters, sculptors and writers of all
kinds. What was a thought on paper, on canvas or in stone now compared
with the privilege of doing service for one's country!
While the first regiments were being called out, more than one million
reserves had offered themselves _freiwillig_. They were willing to go
and take any place, even the most dangerous, in any regiment, just as
long as they could serve their country.
One day I met a hairdresser who had two sons; the one had been called
into service and the other had enlisted and was to be called out in two
weeks. When I asked the father if he did not object to having both sons
leave he said, "It is better to have them go than to have them grumbling
every day at home because they cannot help the fatherland."
A few days later I met two young men on a train. They were tired, dirty
and impatient. The explanation for all this was that they had offered
themselves at a neighboring ministry of war and were refused because
there were too many reserves on hand.
About the same time a young girl told me seven of her relatives had been
called into service. One of her brothers-in-law was disqualified, for he
had been hurt while doing his one year military service. Still he was
determined to go, and applied at six different ministries of war before
he was finally accepted to help build up the Landsturm.