The Sunday Oregonian., November 22, 1914, MAGAZINE SECTION, Page 3, Image 69

TITE SUNDAY OTtEGOXTAN. rORTXAXD, NOVEMBER 22. 1914.
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ONE cold day on the Aisne when the
Germans had Just withdrawn to
the east bank and the allies held
the west, the French soldiers built
huge bonfires and huddled around them.
When the "Jack Johnsons," as they
call the six-Inch howitzer shells that
strike with a burst of black smoke,
began to fall, sooner than leave the
warm fires, the soldiers accepted the
chance of being: hit by the shells. Their
officers had to order them back.
I saw this and wrote of it. A friend
refused to credit it. He said it was
against his experience. 'He did not be
lieve that for the sake of keeping
warm, men would chance being killed.
But the incident was quite character
istic. In times of war you constantly
see men, and women too, who, sooner
than suffer discomfort or even incon
venience, risk death. The psychology of
the thing is, I think, that a man knows
very little about being dead, but has a
very acut knowledge of what it Is to
be uncomfortable. Hie brain is not
able to grasp death, but it is quite
capable of informing him that his fin
gers are cold. . Often men receive credit
for showing coolness and courage in
times of danger, when in reality, they
are not properly aware of the danger,
and through habit are acting automat
ically. The girl in Chicago who went
back into the Iroquois Theater fire to
rescue ' her rubber overshoes was not
a heroine. She merely lacked imag
ination. Her mind was capable of ap
preciating how serious for her would
be the loss of her overshoes but not
of being burned alive.
Dared Death for a Cigarette.
At the battle of Velestinos in the
Greek-Turkish war, John F. Bass, of
the Chicago Daily News, and myself
got into a trench at the foot of a hill
on which later the Greeks placed a
battery. All day the Turks bombarded
this battery with a cross fire of shrap
nel and rifle bullets, which did not "
touch our trench,, but cut off our re
turn to Velestinos. Sooner than pass
through this cross-fire all day we
crouched in the trench until about sun
set, when -it came on to rain. We ex
claimed with dismay. We had neglect
ed to bring our ponchos. "If we don't
fret back to the village at once," we as
sured each other, "we will get wet." So
we raced through half a mile of fall
ing shells and bullets and, before .the
rain fell, got under cover. Then Bass
said: "For 12 hours we stuck to that
trench because we were afraid if we
left it we would be killed. And the
only reason we ever did leave it was
because we were more afraid of catch
ing cold."
In the same war I was in a trench
with some infantrymen one of whom
never raised his head. Whenever he
was ordered to fira he would shove his
rifle barrel over the edge of the
trench, shut his eyes and pull the trig
ger. He took no chances.' His com
rades laughed at him and swore at him,
but he would only grin eheepishly and
, burrow deeper. After several hours
a friend in another trench held up a
bag of tobacco and some cigarette pa
pers and in pantomime "dared" him to
come for them. To the intense sur
prise of everyone, he scrambled out
ji our trench and, exposed against the
skyline, walked to the other trench;
' and while he rolled a handful of cigar
ettes, drew the fire of the enemy. It
was not that he was brave; he had
shown that he was not. He was mere
ly stupid. Between death and cigarettes
his mind could not rise above cigar
ettes. Why the same kind of people are so
differently affected by danger is very
hard to understand. It is almost im
possible to get a line on it.
I was in the city of Rheims for three
days and two nights while it was be
ing bombarded. During that time 50,000
people remained in the city and, so
far as the shells permitted, continued
about their business. The other 60,
000 fled from the city, and camped out
along the road to Paris. For five miles
outside Rheims they lined both edges
of that road like people waiting for a
circus parade. With them they. brought
rugs, blankets and loaves of bread and
from daybreak until night fell and the
shells ceased to fall, they sat in the
hay fields and along the grass gutters
of the road.
Some of them were most intelligent
looking, and had the manner and
clothes of the rich. There was one
family of five that on four different
occasions, on our way to and from
Paris, we saw seated on the ground at
a place certainly five miles away from
any spot where a shell had fallen!
They were all in deep mourning, but
as they sat in the hay field around a
wicker basket and wrapped In steamer
rugs, they were comic. Their lives
were no more valuable than those of
their fellow townsfolk, who in Rheims
were carrying on the daily routine.
These kept the shops open or in the
streets were assisting the Red Cross.
One elderly gentleman told me how
he had been seized by the Germans
as a hostage and threatened with death
by hanging. With 40 other first citi
zens, from the 4th to the 12th of
September he had been in Jail. After
such an experience one would have
thought that between himself and the
Germans he would have placed as'
many miles as possible, but instead he
was strolling around the Place du
Parvis, Notre Dame, in front of the
Cathedral. For the French officers who
on sightseeing bent were motoring
into Rheims from the battle line, he
was acting as a sort of guide. Point
ing with his umbrella, he would say:
"On the left is the new Palace of
.Justice, the facade entirely destroyed;
on the right you see the Palace of the
Archbishop completely wrecked. The
shells that just passed over us have
apparently fallen in the garden of the
Hotel Lion d'Or." He was as cool as
the conductor or a "Seeing Rheims"
observation car. . v
He was matched in coolness by our
Consul, William Bardel. The American
Consulate is at No. 14 Rue Kellerman.
That morning a shell had hit the chest
nut tree in the garden of his neigh
bor at No. 12 and had knocked all the
chestnuts into the garden of the Con
sulate. "It's an ill wind that blows no
body good, said Mr.,BardeK "S .
The Knitting Keedlea. '
, In the bombarded city there was no
rule as to how any one would act. One
house would be closed and barred, and
the Inmates would be either in their
own cellars or In the caves of the
nearest champagne company. To those
latter they would bring books or play
ing cards, and among millions of dust
covered bottles by candle light would
wait for the guns to cease. Their
neighbors sat in their shops, or stood
at the doors of their houses, or paraded
the streets. Past them their friends
were hastening, trembling with terror.
Many women eat on the front steps
knitting and with interested eyes
"watched their acquaintances fleeing
- towards the Paris gate. When over
head a shell passed, they would stroll,
still knitting, out into the middle of
the street, to see where the shell
struck. By the noise it was quite easy
to follow the flight of the shells. Tou
were tricked by the sound into almost
believing you could see them. The
six-inch shells passed with a whistling
roar that was quite terrifying. It was
as though just above you invisible tele
graph wires had Jangled, and their
rush through the air was like the roar
that rises to the car window when two
express trains, going in opposite direc
tions, pass at 60 miles an hour.
When these sounds assailed them the
people fleeing from the city would
scream. Some of them, as thougn they
had been hit, would fall on their knees.
Others were sobbing, and praying
aloud: . The tears rolled down their
cheeks. In their terror there was noth
ing ludicrous; they were in as great
physical pain as were some of the hun
dreds in Rheims who had been bit. And
yet others of their fellow townsmen
living in the same street, and with
the same allotment of brains and
nerves, were treating the bombard
ment with the indifference they would
show to a Summer shower.
A Matter of a Cake of Soap.
We had not. expected to spend the
night in Rheims, so, with Ashmead
Bartlett. the military expert of the
London Dally Telegraph, I went into a
chemist's shop to buy some soap. The
chemist, seeing I was an American,
became very much excited. He was
overstocked with an American shaving
soap, and he begged me to take it off
his hands. He would let me have it at
what it cost him. He did not know
where he had placed it, and he was in
great alarm lest we would leave his
shop before he could unload it on us.
From both sides of the town French
artillery was firing in salvos, the
shocks shaking the air; over the shop
of the chemist shrapnel was whining,
and in the street the howitzer shells
were opening up subways. But his
mind was intent only on finding that
American shaving soap. I was anxious
to get on to a more peaceful neigh
borhood. .To French soap, to soap
"made in Germany," to neutral Ameri
can soap, I was Indifferent. Had it not
been for the presence of Ashmead
Bartlett, I would have fled. To die,
even though clasping a cake of Ameri
can soap, seemed less attractive than
to live unwashed. But the chemist had
no time to consider shells. He waa
intent only on getting rid of surplus
stock.
' The maonily of people who are
afraid are those who refuse to consider
the doctrine of chance. The chances of
'
their being hit may be one in 10,000
but they disregard the odds in their
favor and fix their minds on that one
chance against them. In their Imagin
ation it grows larger and larger. It
looms red and bloodshot, it hovers over
them; wherever they go it follows,
menacing, threatening, filling them
with terror. In Rheims there were
100.000 people and by shells 1000 were
killed or wounded. The changes against'
were 100 to one. Those who left the
city undoubtedly thought the odds were
not good enough.
Parisian and the Bomba.
Those who on account of the bombs
that fell from the German aeroplanes
into Paris left the' city had no such
excuse. The chance of any one person
being hit by a bomb was one in several
millions. But even with such generous
odds in their favor, during the days the
bomb-dropping lasted, many thousands
fled. . They were obsessed by that one
chance against them. In my hotel in
Paris my landlady had her mind fixed
on that one chance, and regularly
every afternoon when the aeroplanes
were expected she would go to bed.
Just as regularly her husband would
take a pair of opera glasses and in the
Rue de la Paix hopefully scan the -sky.
One afternoon while we waited in
front Of Cooks, an aeroplane sailed
overhead, but so far above us that no
one knew whether it was a French air
ship ' or a German one preparing to
launch a bomb. A man from Cook's,
one of the interpreters, with a horri
ble knowledge of English, said:
"Taube, or not Taube, that is the ques
tion." He was told he was inviting
a worse death than from a bomb. To
illustrate the attitude of mind of the
majority of the Parisians, there is the
story of the street gamin who for some
time from the garden of the Tuilleries
had been watching a German aeroplane
threatening the city. Finally he ex
claimed impatiently:
"Oh, throw your bomb; you are keep
ing me from my dinner."
A soldier under fire furnishes few of
the surprises of conduct to which the
civilian treats you. The soldier has no
choice. He is tied by the leg, and
whether the chances are even -or ridic
ulously in his favor, he must accept
them. The civilian can always say:
"This is no place for me," and get up
and walk away. But the soldier cannot
say that. He and his officers, the Red
Cross nurses, doctors, ambulance bear
ers, even the correspondents, have tak
en some kind of oath, or signed some
kind of contract that makes it easier
for them than the civilian to stay on
the Job. For them it would require
more courage to go away than to re
main. Indeed, although courage is so highly
regarded, it seems to be of all the vir
tues the most common. In six wars,
among men of nearly every race, color,
religion and training, J have seen but
four men who failed to show courage.
I have seen men who were scared,
sometimes whole regiments, but they
still fought on; and that is the high
est courage, for they were fighting
both a real enemy and an imaginary
one.
There is a story of a certain politi
cian General of our -Army who under
a brisk fire turned on one of his staff
and cried:
"Why, Major, you are scared, sir;
you are scared!"
"I am," eald the Major, with his
teeth chattering, "and if you were as
scared as I am you'd be 20 miles in the
rear."
Men Fls-ht la a Kind of Dame.
In this war the onslaughts have been
so terrific and so unceasing, the artil
lery fire especially has been so entirely
beyond human experience, that the men
fight in a kind of daze. Instead of
arousing fear, the tumult acts aa an
anesthetic. With forests uprooted,
houses smashing about them, and un
seen express trains hurtling through
space above them, they are too stunned
to be afraid. And in time they become
fed up on battles, and to the noise and
danger grow callous.
On the Aisne I saw an artillery battle
that stretched for 15 miles.' Both banks
of the river were wrapped in smoke;
from the shells villages miles away
were In flames, and 200 yards in front
of us the howitzer shells were bursting
in black fumes. To this the French
soldiers were completely indifferent.
The hills they occupied had been held
that morning by the Germans, and the
trenches and fields were strewn with
their accoutrement. So. all the French
soldiers who were not serving the guns
wandered about seeking "souvenirs."
They had never a glance for the vil
lages burning crimson in the bright
sunlight, or for the falling of the "Jack
Johnsons." They were intent only on
finding a spiked helmet; and when they
came upon one they would give a shout
of triumph and hold it up for their com
rades, to see. And their comrades
would laugh delightedly and race to
wards them stumbling over the fur
rows. ' They were as happy and eager
as children picking wild flowers.
It Is not good for troops to sup en
tirely on horrors and also to breakfast
and lunch on them. So, after in the
trenches one regiment has been pound
ed it is withdrawn for a day or two He still had two days leave of absence
and kept in reserve. The English Tom- and as he truly pointed out in Pari?
mies spend this period in recuperating even in wartime five francs will not
in playing football and cards. When carry you far. I offered to be his bank-
the English learned this, they forward- er, but he said he would first try elsi
-ed so many thousands of packs of cards where. The next day I met him on the
to the distributing depot that the War boulevards and asked what kind of a
Office had to request them not to send riotous existence he found possible on
any more. . five francs.
Sharp Contrast of War. "I've had tho most extraordinary
When the English officers are grant- luck" he said. "After I left you, I met
ed leave of absence they do not waste mT brther. He was Just in from the
their energy on. football, but motor into front " I got all his money."
Paris for a bath and lunch. At 8 they "Won't your brother need it?" I
leave the trenches along the Aisne and askeJ.
by noon arrive at Maxim's, Volsln's or "Not at all," said the subaltern cheer
La Rue's. Seldom does warfare present fully. "He's shot in the legs and
a sharper contrast. From a breakfast they've put him to bed. Rotten luck
of "bully" beef, eaten from a tinplate 'or him you might say, but how lucky
within their nostrils the smell of camp 'or me!"
fires, dead horses and unwashed bodies. Had he been the brother who was
they find themselves seated on red vel- sno in both legs, he would have treated
vet cushions, surrounded by mirrors tne matter Just as light heartedly.
and walls of white and gold, and spread One English Major, before he reached
before them the most immaculate silver, h1s own "ring line, was hit by a burst
linen and glass. And the odors that ing shell in three places. While he
assail them are those of truffles, white wa3 lying in the American ambulance
wine and "artechant sauce znoussellne." hospital at Neuilly the doctor said to
It is a delight to hear them talk, him:
Their point of view is so sane and fair. "This cot next to yours is the only
In risking their legs and arms, or life on vacant. Would you mind if we put
Itself, they see nothing heroic dram- a German in it?"
atic or extraordinary. They talk of the "By no means!" said the Major. "I
war as they would of a cricket match, haven't seen one yet."
or a day in the hunting field. If things The stories the English officers told
are going wrong they do not whine or us at La Rue's and Maxim's by con
blame, nor when fortune smiles are trast with the surroundings were all
they Jubilant. And they are so appall- the more grewsome. Seeing them there
ingly honest and frank. A piece of it did not seem possible that in a few
shrapnel had broken the arm of one of hours these same fit, suntanned youths
them, and we were helping him to cut in khaki would be back in the trenches,
up his food and pour out his Scotch or scouting in-advance of them, or that
and soda. Instead of making a hero only the day before they had been
or a martyr of himself, he said, con- dodging death and destroying their
fldingly: "Tou know, I had no right to fellowmen.
be hit. If I had been minding my own BattIe storI.. ToId Mxllu,.
business I wouldn't have been hit. But Marlm.. wha . j ,
7(mw,, . , aiaiim s, which now reminds one of
Jlmmie was having a hell of a time on the last act of th widow"
top of a hill, and I just ran up to have wa3 the neetlng place for fna prenli
iixt:r me- rrr offrs from the
j , suv, TYuai! tna Amerlcan military attaches from
Tale of Two Brothers. our Embassy, among whom were sol-
I met one subaltern at La Rue's who diers, sailors, aviators, marines, the
had been given so many commissions doctors and volunteer nurses from the
by his brother officers to bring back American ambulance, and the corrcs-
tobacco, soap and underclothes that all pondents, who by night dined in Taris
nis money save five francs was gone.
SEVENTH OF A COURSE OF TWELVE MUSIC LESSONS TO APPEAR IN THE SUNDAY OREGONIAN
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GROVE'S MUSIC SIMPLIFIES
EVEOTH
EIGHTH LESSON NEXT SUNDAY
Grove's Music Simplifier
Is a method for the iome where a
child can from an object lesson listen .
to the harmonies which the lesson '
places under the fingers. It educate
the ear and prepares the mind for an
Intelligent Idea of music in its different
pathways. It also helps the advanced
music scholar and teacher, for no per
son can learn the grammar of. music
without understanding the facts con
tained in Grove's Musio Simplifier.
Entered According to the Act of Parliament of Canada at the Department of Agriculture in the Year 1906.
SECOND EDITION, Copyright, 1905, International Copyright Secured. Copyright V03-4 by W. SCOTT GROVE, Scranton, Pa.
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The white letters are to be played with the left hand and the black letters with the right hand. .
Now having placed the chart on the piano or organ, play the white letter on the top section with the left hand, and then the three black letters in unison with the right hand.
JNext play the middle section in the same way, then the lower section, and then return to the top section.
The small white letter D akbottom of chart with a dash above it, which gives the chart position, must not be played.
chord, mSvllv frf rtf. wv?faCmty ?trikinS the PJPer chorJ rm the basis of all musical knowledge. Keep the chart on the. piano or organ until you are thoroughly familiar with
chords in the keys given in this week s lesson, and when memorized you are quite as well equipped for the playing of accompaniments as one who has studied music for years. U1rUemy taDuljar
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first position, 1, the highest j read
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