Evening Republican, Volume 59, Number 80, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 April 1917 — “PEACE?” WE SHALL FIGHT UNTIL FRANCE IS SAFE! [ARTICLE]

“PEACE?” WE SHALL FIGHT UNTIL FRANCE IS SAFE!

Point of View of the French Poilu as Reported by E. Phillips Oppenheim, Writing From “Somewhere in France”—“lt Is Belgium Who Shall Make Peace When It Comes; Who Has a Better Right?”

By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM.

friendship the hand of one of them, but behold, I have two sons left. I have lost tpuch anfl suffered much. Day by-day I have seen the losses of those about Hie increasing. I am fiftyeight years old, and peace would give me back my two sons. There are so many like me.” “Madame,” the soldier answered — and this lime he seemed to include ine in the argument—“pence will hot give back to the many hundreds of thousands of French mothers the soqs and husbands they—have lost. Peacewould only dishonor their memories, would bring the crudest of all bitternessiiuo their lives. Look you, they fought for their homes and their womankind, they fought for a sacred cause, they fought for others besides themselves.- See lumv it is today with those others! Belgium! Can one "spoili k of TFT It is Belgi tiin who sh all make pence when it comes. Who has a better right? What will she ask for, I wonder? Fifty thousand German men and women to make slaves of them? Tlie niai<|enhood of Germany to debauch? No, they are not Bodies. But strict justice would give them till that, and more.” Madame shook her head. She, too, Wits moved. “One must forget,” she muttered. “I had a niece myself at Lille —but one must not speak of those horrors. God Tilltne ca"n puriish such critnes.” The Poilu rolled another cigarette viciously. ".Monsieur,” he said, glancing across at me, “I appeal to you. You are English, are you not?” “T told Tiim ; “but with your permission I will be silent. Even our friends call us a somewhat obstinate nation. They say that we find difficulty in seeing any side of these great issues~save~buf“owh. Let me hear -you speak more of the peaee?’The Poilu lit his cigarette. Madame leaned forward. “There Is the Trap.” “Listen,” she intervened. “I have heard itsaid that the Bodies now are willing to restore all Belgium, that they will give back the whole of their conquered territory.” “If we leave.their military machine, their grefft engine of tyranny, autocraey, aggression and destruction, with all the power in it that made them begin the war,” the Poilu interrupted vigorously. “Ah, madame, there is the trap. We trusted once to German treaties and Gertsan faith. See how they regarded them! Treaties! It was Germany who dismissed them with the immortal phrase, ‘Mere scraps of

tin the New York World.) . Somewhere in Frame.- It was a slow and tedious crawl in the long Flench train away from the battlescarred country. There was nothing particular going on at the front, yet we seemed to be continually shunted for the passing of huge supply trains, moving eternally in the other direction. When the morning twilight rolled slowly away from the face of the country, leaving at first little clouds of .white mist hovering oyer_the_frcshJy plowed fields, the sound oi the guns whs still in our ears. The litre of the country, however, had changefl. There were farmhouses to be seen, some of them intact ami apparently prosperous, a chateau or two on the hillsides, old men and women and young girls at work in the fields. We stopped at the station ofsome small town and stretched out our eager hands for the cups of hot coffee and the rolls and butter wheeled along rhe length of the platform. The warmth of the coffee was like a talisman. My two companions thawed, as I did. under fts genial Influence.' Monsieur Poilu .accepted a sip from my flask and a cigarette with a grateful little ejaculation. Madam e,_glderly, In deep mourning, a little shabby but wonderfully neat, beamed . content upon us. The smoke did not incoinmode her. As for the flask—-ah, well, she took only coffee and a little wine itnci water Tierself, but nothing in the world was too good for the brave soldiers. A German Peace. Conversation blossomed out between the two and flourished. At first I barely listened. We were passing through a marshy district which reminded me of home, little pools of water, tall rushes moving in the morning breeze, sedgy places from which, at the sound of the shrill 'whistle of our locomotive,' a flight of ducks rose hastily. Then I heard a -word -bettbßfd ■me which lit these days inevitably stirs the blood. The word was “Peace!” I turned away from the window and “But, my sou, have patience,” the old woman was saying. “I speak who limy speukT Tor I have lost a husband and two sons. Yet I .have others fighting, and it is of _theml_ think. If indeed - these Bodies are weary of fighting, if indeed it is peace they offer, why should not one at least listen?.’* B The Poilu turned toward her. His haversack, with its queer collection of miscellaneous articles, was on the seat by his side. The mud of the trenches was thick upon his clothes. There was a week's beard bristling upon-his chin. Yet his voice suddenly proclaimed him a man of some education. “Madame," he demanded, “who are they to offer peace as a gift, they who deliberately brought this war .upon the world? And what sort of a peace do you suppose is in their minds? You haveread th^J>jOtmtfU.l J _ arrogaHT~wiifdS“ of their emperor’s declaration? Is there anything there of tlie humility of the wrongdoer, of the man who wishes to restore what he has stolen, to repair the greatest wrongs which have ever stained the pages of history? Peace, indeed, mother! There is no peace in their hearts.” : “It Shall Be a Belgian Peace?* Madame sighed. She felt herself no match for this man in whom her words had kindled a sudden eloquence. But in her heart there was the longing. " ' '■ ■ “They are brutes and savages,, my son,” she admitted, “and our peoplewould do well never to clasp again,in ;

paper!’ Promises! . Listen, madame. Their own chancellor, he stood up in their parliament and he pleaded guilty to a great broken faith. Necessity, he declared, demanded it. And 1 tell you this, when necessity, which with them means German ambition, demands anything, then a German promise and I a German treaty are worth Just a snap of the fingers—no more. That is why I jay —I andG:has£._othera._alLQ._ haye lived and fought through these desolate years—that with an unconquered Germany—there can be no peace.” One Who Had Thought Much. "My son,” the old lady declared, looking at him with interest, “you speak like one who has thought much.” The Poilu glanced down at his mudstained clothes. “I was an advocate’s clerk before the war." he said grimly. “What I mn now God only knows; but up there in the front it is not all fighting. There are long, lonely hours when the rain works, hours of solitude when one sees the truth." Madame sighed. "It is not often,” she confessed, "that I read the Journals— My eyesight is failing, and my daughter — well, we will not speak of her. 1 lost her. Therefore it is a new thing for me to talk to one like yourself. Remember now, if you please, that I speak only in the language of the village. They say—lhave heard it said —that Germany hungers for pence; that Therefore it is better for us to give peace now and so spare needless suffering.” A little cloud of smoke surrounded the soldier's head. His clinched fist struck the knapsack by his side. His eyes—hot and red they were with fall gut*—flashed. Forty Years of Preparation. “They talk Rke. cattle, declared vigorously. “Where are Germany's conquests? Belgium, witli odds against her of ten to one in men and fifty to one in artillery ! Montenegro, a mountain tribe! Serbia'? Well, it took theiti- eighteen months and jjfcost them a good many aliny corps to drive the Serbians from their country, antfr the end of them is not yet ! Rouhi.iuia? Victims of a foolish campaign, if you will, butxeven then overpowered with the war machine which it has Aiken Germany thirty-five years io evolve. Where are her victories against France, or Russia, or England? Her say, when you come to consider that for forty years she was slowly preparing while we refused to believe. Man for man, gun for gun, we are the better race. England is the better, race; Russia is the better I Therefore I say to you, madame, wait! Germany's last hour of triumph has struck. Englund has gathered strength beyond all that was

expected. France stand? firm and undismayed. ready to spring when.the hour comes. And Russia—Russia has shown what she can do. Wait till the mountain snows have gone! Germany has scattered her men, sacrificed them on every battlefield, the pawns of the game. It is not forever she can do this. In the end It is the pawns who count.” Th>‘ wiiman*S = WW~ were filled With tears. "Brave Talk, My Son.” “It is brave talk.” she cried; “brave talk, my son. I shall speak to them in the village of you.” “Not of me, madapie,” he begged. “Look at ine. I speak for what I represent. I am the common soldier of France. I am the man who bids good morning to Death, day by day, and will continue to do so until the end comes rather than leave our beloved land to the dread of mtltilation again.” There was no sound of guns here. The train clanked across the streets of an old country town and drew tip at the platform. Madame laid down her basket and embraced the Poilu. “Son of my country,” she exclaimed, “the good God guard you I” She kissed his cheeks and departed. The Poilu handed down her basket and waved his hand. He was once more gay. “One is tempted, perhaps, to talk overmuch, monsieur,” he ventured, turning to me. “One can never say too much in the langimge you speak." I assured him. He accepted more_ of my cigarettes and our Journey was resumed. , Presently he leaned out of the window and looked forward, shading his eyes with his hand. “What Did M. le President Mean?” “Soon,” he announced, “I. reach my home. For a week I shalFTeSt. Monsieur Is English?” he asked, turning .suddenly toward me, “not American?” “I am English,” I told him once more: v. .. -. “America,” he said thoughtfully, “is a great country. America has been the good friend of yourselves and of France. I would not say a word which might seem lacking in Tiiid yet—there is this note which started this peace babble, the note which, they say, Monsieur le President wrote.” him. “It has been answered with great words,” the Poilu assented, “and of that no more. But always this puzzles me—what did Monsieur le President mean when, in black and white, he set it down as an accepted thing that Germany, that our enemies, were fighting for the same cause as we, the cause of the smaller nations? Have they heard of Belgium over there, monsieur? Have they heard of the many Thousands of slaves being "dragged weekly from that country? Have they heard of Serbia and Montenegro? They were small countries, monsieur. Germany is very great, indeed, in her care for the small nations, but it is her way of caring, not ours. What did he mean, do you think, monsieur?” I shook my head. “The ways of diplomacy are not alwaysso easy as they may seem?” I replied. “Besides, there is much which remains behind all that is said in print.” “That Is Why We Fight.” _ The man’s attention had wandered. He was gazing ecstatically out of the window. He beckoned me to his side. About a space had been cut. A white farmhouse stood there, and near by a few cottages, and a church with a quaint tower. “My home,” he pointed out with a little catch in his throat.. “You see the hills yonder, monsieur? It was there that the Bodies swung round. A few more miles and I might have beep homeless, wifeless—and the children —” He stooped and picked up his haversack. His eyes were curiously bright. “You see.” he. concluded, “that is why we fight, that is why the word ‘peace’ today stinks in our nostrils. We shall fight untH„France is safe.”