Evening Republican, Volume 59, Number 113, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 June 1917 — Message to the Trenches [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Message to the Trenches

By John Elkins

(Copyright. 1817, by W. G. Chapman.) “I >don’t care how much I loved a man, if I found he was a coward that would settle it for me.” Ve“ra Garth spoke with considerable emphasis on the word “coward.” The young man under the tree beside 'her looked questioningly in her face before he replied. „ “Different people may have different meanings for that term ‘coward,’ ” he said. “It has but one meaning to me, In this case,” she answered. “I know-—you think we are both talking about the same thing, but we’re not. You are talking about heroism. I’m talking about war. I say war is just exactly what Sherman called it. The marvel to me is that in this year of our Lord, nearly twenty centuries since he came, that his words are entirely disregarded, and wholesale murder is sanctioned by sane men.” “And with this country at war, you will not fight?” she questioned. “I have not said that. If this country were Invaded there would be but one thing to do.—No-mancouldseea wild beast falling upon a woman or child without springing to their aid. But I don’t believe we will have war, and I don’t believe in Inviting it by our foolish words and deeds.” “Foolish !” she blazed out. “So it is foolish to be patriotic, to stand up for your country!” “Not when it is right. But there is a bigger word than ‘country,’ and that Is humanity.” —— —; Vera looked at Gilbert Lewis with something akin to contempt. She could not understand the fine distinction the young man made. Like thou* sands of others, she had fired up at the thought of “insult to the flag,” “love of country,” etc., and had not gone beyond the boundaries of her own land to consider a world republic. In some ways she was undoubtedly right, but her mental equipment could not follow the line of Gilbert Lewis’ thought; and they went on with the discussion till she became so exasper-

ated that she exclaimed with intense' disgust: “Wfell, I want you to understand- I despise a coward!” She had risen from the rustic seat, nnd turned away as she spoke. Her tone and manner roused something in Lewis that drove him to say: “Do you mean that for me?’ “I hope it doesn’t apply to you,” she answered, with a strong emphasis on <the “hope.” “If you have any doubt —about me 'being a coward .I—l think there is innthing more to be said.” He turned and walked away. Vera, blazing with the heat of the -discussion, said nothing to call him back. She Ipved him, and had told ?him so when he asked her. But just now she was thinking of nothing but her disappointment, as it seemed to her, in the patriotism of the man she had placed so high. Lewis, also disappointed In the uncomprehending. mind of Vera, and hurt to the heart by her words, made no move toward reconciliation/ And so silence fell between them. Vera, with the pride which has been bred by the foolish convention of ages, would not make the first move by acknowlefiing she wished for an amnesty, so two young people who really loved each other, and whose hearts were breakihg over the separation, went their several ways, and tried to forget. - In less than three weeks Vera heard that Lewis had sailed, in the interest of his firm, for England. Vera worked . -4q the war relief and indnstriously knitted socks for the soldiers. One day a friend laughingly asked her if she was knitting them for Gilbert Lewis. Vera flushed and answered sharply: “I thought you knew these were for soldiers!!* The girl answered quite as sharply: "Well, didn’t you know he was one? He’s in the trenches In France now.” "No,” said Vera, “I didn’t know.” "His mother has come back from California, and she’s heartbroken over It."

One day a case of necessary article* from far-off American came to the boys in the trenches. z One of them in high glee put on the pair of fine wool socks handed to him. .“Wy word!” he exclaimed. “What’s that in the toe?” Quickly drawing off the sock, he extracted a piece of folded paper, opened it and read with a smile that lengthened into a hearty laugh. Then he read aloud to the others ‘the lines: “I hope these socks will fit G. L. If he is at the front. But if he’s not, why then —Oh, well, They’ll do their little stunt Upon some other hero’s feet, But never help in a retreat.” _2_. “Hello! who’s *O. L.?”’ called out the reader of the note. “What fellow has those initials? He can have the note, but not the socks!” *0 “They’re mine!” laughed Lewis, “but it isn’t meant for me.” “Hold on!” cried the other. “Here’s a name! Vera M. G.” Lewis held out his hand for the bit of paper. “It is for me,” he said in a low voice. The other, seeing his face, said: “Here, pal! the socks are, too.” One day a note came to Vera from Mrs. Lewis saying she would like to see her. The girl sank down completely unnerved. What if something terrible had happened to Gilbert! How could she face his mother? She had never met Mrs. Lewis. Perhaps she might think her in some way responsible for his going to the front. But summoned up her courage and went. The mother showed her a copy of her lithe rhyme, and told her how glad he had been to get it, and read her his letter. In it he had said he was not there because he believed in war, but for another reason. Vera wondered what the other reason was. It was over a month when Mrs. Lewis sent for her again. The Instant she saw the woman’s face she divined what had happened. “Tell me!” she almost shrieked, “tell me what has happened?” “He is missing. They did not let me know- —because they hoped to hear something—but now—they seem to have given him up.” “Oh, no Ind I” sobbed Vera. “I can’t, I won’t, believe it!” The two women wept together, and the elder one knew then how the girl had loved him. One day a London postmarked letter came to Mrs. Lewis. It was,signed by a woman’s name unfamiliar to her. The letter ran: “From one mother to another whose son has been offered up in the great sacrifice, I feel that whatever concerned these dear ones will be of interest. Your son Gilbert became acquainted 'with my daughter, and called here often to see her. My abS was brought home from France badly wounded, and Mr. Lewis was with him a good deal. George worried so over having to leave the ‘boys’ and his duty at the front that the physician said that weighed heavily against his clyinces of recovery. I was quite ill at the time, and Edith, my daughter, feared his death would also prove to be mine. On£ day your son asked George if it would cheer him up any if he ' should go and take his place. At once George brightened up and asked him if he would, and would he tell the boys in his company how he longed to get back. M r - Lewis promised to go. We did not think he meant more than to humor the poor boy, but we soon found that he had kept his word. “George rallied, so that he was able to go back, but was killed by a shell before Verdun. I am writing this in the hope that any blame you may feel for my daughter and myself for having without any intention in a way caused your son to go to the front, may be forgotten in knowing of the splendid heroism of the sacrifice. It was not so much for the defense of France as it was the saving of two lives. You must Indeed be uplifted! You must be very proud to be the mother of such a son. He was dear, too, to us; and it is because of this the mother of another hero speaks to you.” Again the women wept together. The tone of the letter so surely meant that all hope was gone. Vera went home with many new thoughts surging through her mind. The man she had called a coward was the truest hero she had ever known. Then another torturing thought came into her brain. No doubt he had learned to love this English girl, and if it were possible he still lived he would go to her.

These thoughts drove Vera to sleepless nights and harrowing days, so that her only hope of remaining sane seemed to get away for a time tp other scenes. But even that did not help, so she returned before she had expected to. She sought at once the Lewis home. The mother meeting her, and seeing the drawn, haggard face of the girl, felt she must break what she had to say with some ta'ct. “I have news,” she said. “Oh, quick! quick! tell me!” sobbed the girt. “He was taken prisoner, and—” “Mother! I can’t wait!” cried a voice just; back of her, and Gilbert Lewis held the girl he loved in his arms. • .... ,

“I Despise a Coward!”