Friday, Nov. 6, was a bitter morning. A forty-mile gale was blowing off the Yellow Sea, and with the thermometer at 2 below zero it was not any too comfortable, even for those of us who were fortunate enough to get near a charcoal burner.
Toward midnight Gen. Yamada, whose men were intrenched in front of Forts 2 and 3, sent out a detachment to learn the condition of the German garrison opposing him. The men approached the redoubt walls of the forts, climbed ten feet to the bottom, and found themselves face to face with wire entanglements twenty yards wide and running the length of the wall. No Germans were seen. Reinforcements were called for while the scouts were cutting the entanglements. At 1 A.M., Nov. 7, Gen. Yamada with more than 300 men was behind the redoubt walls of Fort 3.
In the meantime, heavily protected on all sides by planks and sandbags, a detachment of 200 Germans with machine guns was watching the approach of Gen. Barnardiston's men, who had been stationed to the right of Gen. Yamada. The Germans were unaware that the Japanese had gained the wall, when suddenly a sentry heard Japanese voices. The signal was given and the Germans rushed from their sandbag houses into the shadow of the wall, hoping to reach their comrades, stationed 500 yards back along the casement walls. Some, perhaps, reached their destination, but the majority of the men were shot down by the Japanese infantry.
The capture of Forts 2 and 3 by Gen. Yamada was quickly reported to Gen. Horiuchi, and within an hour his men had captured Forts 4 and 5 with very little resistance. Gen. Johoji, on the extreme left, with Gen. Barnardiston of the British force, also advanced with the news of the capture of the positions, but the Germans put up a stubborn resistance, and it was not until 6:30 A.M. that the attackers gained the coast fort and Fort 1.
With the capture of the redoubt fortifications there still remained the mountainous forts, Iltis, Bismarck, and Moltke, a quarter of a mile back toward Tsing-tao. With detachments of engineers and infantrymen, Gens. Horiuchi and Yamada ordered the general attack. The men rushed from their trenches for the base of the forts. It was to be a hand-to-hand bayonet attack.
But two guns on the Iltis fort had already been silenced, the four big 28-centimeter mortars on the same fort were useless for use at the base of Iltis, while the other guns had been so placed and sandbagged at the rear of the fort that they could not be quickly brought forward and utilized for work along the steep slopes leading to the forts. Rifles and machine guns were resorted to.
The Japanese, as they charged up the slope, were mowed down by the machine guns, but on they came from all sides—17,000 men against 3,800. The German garrison could not hold out, and the white flag was hoisted from Fort C, close to Gov. Gen. Meyer Waldeck's residence. The surrender came at 7:05 A.M.
THE BROKEN ROSE
(TO KING ALBERT)
By ANNIE VIVANTI CHARTRES.
[From King Albert's Book.]
Shy, youthful, silent—and misunderstood, In the white glare of Kinghood thou didst stand. The sceptre in thy hand Seemed but a flower the Fates had tossed to thee, And thou wert called, perchance half scornfully, Albert the Good.
Today thou standest on a blackened grave, Thy broken sword still lifted to the skies. Thy pure and fearless eyes Gaze into Death's grim visage unappalled And by the storm-swept nations thou art called Albert the Brave.
Tossed on a blood-red sea of rage and hate The frenzied world rolls forward to its doom. But high above the gloom Flashes the fulgent beacon of thy fame, The nations thou hast saved exalt thy name— Albert the Great!
* * * * *
Albert the good, the brave, the great, thy land Lies at thy feet, a crushed and morient rose Trampled and desecrated by thy foes. One day a greater Belgium will be born, But what of this dead Belgium wracked and torn? What of this rose flung out upon the sand?
Behold! Afar where sky and waters meet A white-robed Figure walketh on the sea (Peace goes before Him and her face is sweet.) As once He trod the waves of Galilee He comes again—the tumult sinks to rest, The stormy waters shine beneath His feet.
He sees the dead rose lying in the sand, He lifts the dead rose in His holy hand And lays it at His breast.
O broken rose of Belgium, thou art blest!
The Emden at Penang
Pen Picture by a Times Correspondent of the Havoc She Wrought
[From THE NEW YORK TIMES Correspondent in Penang.]
Penang, Straits Settlements, Oct. 29.—The German cruiser Emden called here yesterday and departed, leaving death and destruction behind her. You will doubtless have learned long before this story of her visit, carried by the slow mails of the Far East, is read in the United States some account of the Emden's raid, but the cable can hardly carry a detailed picture of the destruction wrought in a brief hour or so yesterday in this busy harbor, and it seems worth while to describe for you how this sudden vision of war burst on Penang.
For those who do not know, the City of Penang lies on the western coast of the Malay Peninsula, just below the Siamese border. It is the shipping point of the Federated Malay States, where 65 per cent. of the world's tin is produced, as well as a great amount of rubber and copra. With a population of 246,000, it is growing by leaps and bounds and gives every indication of soon becoming one of the largest ports in the Far East.
The thing that makes this city a point of importance in the present war is the fact that it is the last port of call for ships going from China and Japan to Colombo and Europe. As a result, it has been made more or less of a naval base by the English Government. Large stores of Admiralty coal have been collected and all vessels have been commanded to stop here for orders before crossing the Bay of Bengal.
It was probably with the idea of crippling this base, from which her pursuers were radiating, that the Emden made her raid here. Had she found it temporarily undefended she could at one blow seriously have embarrassed the English cruisers patrolling these waters and at the same time cause a terrific loss to English commerce by sinking the many merchantmen at anchor in the harbor.
It was early on Wednesday morning that the Emden, with a dummy fourth funnel and flying the British ensign, in some inexplicable fashion sneaked past the French torpedo boat Mosquet, which was on patrol duty outside, and entered the outer harbor of Penang. Across the channel leading to the inner harbor lay the Russian cruiser Jemtchug. Inside were the French torpedo boats Fronde and Pistolet and the torpedo boat destroyer D'Iberville. The torpedo boats lay beside the long Government wharf, while the D'Iberville rode at anchor between two tramp steamers.
At full speed the Emden steamed straight for the Jemtchug and the inner harbor. In the semi-darkness of the early morning the Russian took her for the British cruiser Yarmouth, which had been in and out two or three times during the previous week and did not even "query" her. Suddenly, when less than 400 yards away, the Emden emptied her bow guns into the Jemtchug and came on at a terrific pace, with all the guns she could bring to bear in action. When she had come within 250 yards she changed her course slightly, and as she passed the Jemtchug poured two broadsides into her, as well as a torpedo, which entered the engine room but did comparatively little damage.
The Russian cruiser was taken completely by surprise and was badly crippled before she realized what was happening. The fact that her Captain was spending the night ashore and that there was no one on board who seemed capable of acting energetically completed the demoralization. She was defeated before the battle began. However, her men finally manned the light guns and brought them into action.
In the meantime the Emden was well inside the inner harbor and among the shipping. She saw the French torpedo boats there, and apparently realized at once that unless she could get out before they joined in the action her fate was sealed. At such close quarters (the range was never more than 450 yards) their torpedoes would have proved deadly. Accordingly, she turned sharply and made for the Jemtchug once more.
All the time she had been in the harbor the Russian had been bombarding her with shrapnel, but, owing to the notoriously bad marksmanship prevalent in the Czar's navy, had succeeded for the most part only in peppering every merchant ship within range. As the Emden neared the Jemtchug again both ships were actually spitting fire. The range was practically point-blank. Less than 150 yards away the Emden passed the Russian, and as she did so torpedoed her amidships, striking the magazine. There was a tremendous detonation, paling into insignificance by its volume all the previous din; a heavy black column of smoke arose and the Jemtchug sank in less than ten seconds, while the Emden steamed behind the point to safety.
No sooner had she done so, however, than she sighted the torpedo boat Mosquet, which had heard the firing and was coming in at top speed. The Emden immediately opened up on her, thereby causing her to turn around in an endeavor to escape. It was too late. After a running fight of twenty minutes the Mosquet seemed to be hit by three shells simultaneously and sank very rapidly. The German had got a second victim.
It was here that the chivalrous bravery of the Emden's Captain, which has been many times in evidence throughout her meteoric career, was again shown. If the French boats were coming out, every moment was of priceless value to him. Nevertheless, utterly disregarding this, he stopped, lowered boats, and picked up the survivors from the Mosquet before steaming on his way.
The English here now say of him, admiringly, "He played the game."
Meantime, boats of all descriptions had started toward the place where the Russian cruiser had last been seen. The water was covered with debris of all sorts, to which the survivors were clinging. They presented a horrible sight when they were landed on Victoria Pier, which the ambulance corps of the Sikh garrison turned into a temporary hospital. Almost all of them had wounds of one sort or another. Many were covered with them. Their blood-stained and, for the most part, naked bodies were enough to send shivers through even the most cold-blooded person. It was a sight I shall not forget for many a day. Out of a crew of 334 men 142 were picked up wounded. Only 94 were found practically untouched. Ninety-eight were "missing." It is not yet known how many of the crew of the 78 of the Mosquet were rescued by the Emden.
So much of the story I am able to write from personal observation and investigation. Here, however, is an account of what occurred from an officer who saw it all from closer range and more intimate conditions, for he was on the French torpedo boat destroyer Pistolet. I tell his story exactly as he told it to me:
"The Captain of the Pistolet had invited Capt. T. and myself to have a game of bridge whist on board. His ship was lying alongside the Government wharf, just inside the inner harbor. The game proved a most interesting one and time flew by unnoticed. Finally, just before 1 A.M., it came to a close, but, owing to the fact that our going home at that hour of the morning would mean a rikisha ride of over two miles, the Captain stretched a point and invited us to remain on board, which we did. Little did we know what our decision was to mean to us.
"At 5:25 the next morning, just as day was breaking, I was awakened by a deafening crash, followed by two others in rapid succession. Without waiting for more, I pulled my ducks over my pajamas and hurried on deck. Right before us, at the entrance to the inner harbor, lay the Russian cruiser Jemtchug. Steaming toward her at full speed came the German cruiser Emden, her bow guns belching forth vast clouds of smoke, through which the flash of the guns could just be distinguished. She was less than half a mile away. After what seemed to me an interminable delay, the surprised Jemtchug started to reply with her small guns, and the din grew greater and greater.
"As the Emden came on she swerved slightly out of her course and steamed down the far side of the channel, thus bringing her broadside guns to bear on the Jemtchug, which by this time was literally spitting fire. The range now was less than 300 yards, and the execution being done must have been terrible. We noticed, however, that the greater number of the Russian shells were 'carrying over.'
"The Emden now changed her course again, to the right, and disappeared behind a group of several tramp steamers so as to enable her to turn around without unduly exposing herself. While she was doing this the firing diminished greatly, owing to the disinclination on the part of either, I imagine, wantonly to damage harmless merchant vessels. No sooner had she started on her way out of the harbor, however, than the din arose once more.
"Just at this time the French torpedo boat Fronde dropped back from her position alongside us and started in to take part in the melee with a machine gun. This caused the Emden to devote part of her time to us, and we were made the objective of a severe machine-gun fire which, owing to our position in the shadow of the pier and of the fact that the light was very poor, did little or no damage. Nevertheless, it was rather disconcerting to hear the rattle of lead on the corrugated iron sheds behind us.
"By this time the Emden must have realized that at such close quarters she was subject to the danger of a torpedo attack, (although as a matter of fact no effort seemed to have been made along these lines,) and she accordingly started up the north channel toward the outer harbor at full speed, firing broadside after broadside at the Jemtchug, now badly crippled.
"Suddenly, as the two cruisers were abreast and no more than 150 yards from one another, there was a tremendous crash. The Jemtchug heaved up amidships, there was another detonation even louder than the first, and she sank before I could realize what had happened. All that remained was a large pillar of smoke to mark the spot where she had been. A German torpedo had found its mark, and the Emden sailed around the point without firing another shot.
"By this time—less than thirty minutes after the first shot had been fired—the Pistolet had cast off and we started across the harbor toward the place where we had last seen the Jemtchug, with the Fronde close behind us. It was slow work, as we had very little steam.
"As we neared the scene of the disaster I received my first impression of the horror of modern naval warfare. The water was strewn with wreckage, amid which heads were popping up and down like corks in a lily pond. It seemed as if it were alive with men. They were everywhere, hanging on to pieces of wood, clutching life preservers, clinging to debris of all kinds.
"When we reached them we immediately started in getting them aboard by means of boats, ropes looped at the end, by hand, and in any way possible. They were indeed a most terrible sight. Most of them were wounded, and those that were were bleeding profusely. Practically none were wearing more than a pair of trousers, and a considerable number did not even have that. A few were frightfully lacerated, and we recovered one man who had had his leg blown off below the knee—he died five minutes after we got him on board. It was like living a frightful nightmare. Everywhere you turned you met a groaning, greasy mass of humanity.
"Discipline was thrown aside and Captain and men alike toiled in their efforts to alleviate the suffering of the Jemtchug's survivors. My partner at bridge the previous night, the doctor, asked my assistance, and together we went from man to man doing what emergency work we could. My pajama-decked costume was rapidly covered with blood. It was a case of everybody helping everybody else.
"Finally, when numerous launches of all sizes and makes had put out to relieve us, we returned to the Victoria jetty, which the ambulance corps of the Sikh garrison, aided by volunteers and local doctors, had turned into a temporary hospital. Here were removed what remained of the Jemtchug.
"While the last few men were taken off the Pistolet, another cannonading was heard. I hurried ashore, with no feeling of regret, I might say, and took a rikisha to the outer sea wall to see whatever fighting was going on. The ships were so far away that it was hard to tell with the naked eye exactly what was going on. We could see the little torpedo boat Mosquet trying to get beyond the range of the Emden's guns while the shells were throwing up water all around her. The chase had kept on for twenty minutes, I should say, when we saw the little craft sink by the bow. The Emden lowered boats to pick up any possible survivors, but, from the short time they were down, I imagine most of the crew were lost.
"I have tried to give you some little idea in the foregoing of the frightful encounter I have witnessed. It seemed like a nightmare afterward, although while it was actually going on you felt as if you were looking at a sham battle. Even when the bullets started in to rattle on the iron-covered sheds above our heads there was nothing terrifying about it. After the effect of the first few shots had worn off I felt as if I were watching a play. That quiet, staid Penang with her shaded streets and sampan covered harbor should be the scene of a naval engagement such as I witnessed today is almost unbelievable. Yet the sordid aftereffects are before our eyes.
"Only the masterly manoeuvring of that gentleman of the German fleet—the Captain of the Emden—prevented the city from being the scene of a terrible carnage. His refusal to sink unarmed vessels while the crews were on board, his refraining from bombarding the town, his stopping to pick up the crew of the Mosquet, although every minute was valuable to him, at once made him 'that gentleman, the Captain of the Emden.' On all sides you heard 'I hope they sink the Emden, but it will be a shame if any of her crew are lost.'
"While steaming away from Penang he met the tramp Glen. Instead of capturing her, he sent her into Penang with the message: 'I tried not to hit the town. If I did so, I am very sorry, indeed.' Well, he 'played the game,' and he has made me, for one, feel extremely doubtful whether the much-talked-of German 'atrocities' are true, except where the exigencies of war have made them unavoidable."
Here you have the story of an engagement which will go down in history as a demonstration that, even under the conditions of modern naval warfare, it is possible for two ships of almost equal armament to fight by daylight at almost point-blank range without resulting in the disabling of both. A sight similar to that witnessed yesterday would be considered by most naval critics as impossible, or, rather, suicidal.
The sad, or, rather, disgraceful, part of the story has yet to be told. It was true that the Jemtchug was caught unprepared. Her Captain was spending the night ashore, her decks were not cleared, she was slow to get into action, and when she did so her marksmanship was poor. All this could hardly be excused, but it becomes insignificant when we consider the case of the French torpedo boats and the D'Iberville, whose help the Jemtchug had a right to expect. Here they lay in a harbor with fully ten minutes' warning that a hostile ship was approaching, yet they allowed that ship to enter the harbor, steam around it, turn, and make her escape without so much as firing a shot, when, if they had gone into action, the Emden could hardly have escaped. The range was everything they could have desired.
What was the matter? Why did they remain silent? The answer is this: Although it was a time of war, a large percentage of the officers of these ships had been allowed to remain ashore over night. Not one of the ships had steam up. Their decks were not even cleared for action. Yet, even taking this into consideration, it is inexplicable that, when two or three torpedoes from any one of them would have saved the day, none was fired. The ships need not have moved an inch to have done so. The range was ridiculously short—less than 200 yards at one time. But surprise, lack of discipline, and general inefficiency seemed to hold them paralyzed.
The prevailing opinion here is that they did not wish to draw the Emden's fire on themselves—although one did use her machine gun toward the end of the engagement. Whatever is said, however, it is impossible to get away from the fact that the French Navy yesterday sustained a blow to its efficiency that it will take a long time to wipe out. Theirs was a "masterly inaction" caused by something which they do not attempt themselves to define. Both army and navy commanders here are one in their contemptuous condemnation of such a spectacle.
The Belgian Soldier
[From The London Times, Oct. 17, 1914. By its Special Correspondent lately in Antwerp.]
Before it fades I would like to record my impression of the Belgian soldier as I have seen him day after day through the two months ending with the fall of Antwerp.
I have seen him on every kind of duty and off, on the roads, in cabarets, in camp and barrack, on the march, in trenches, fighting from behind all sorts of cover or from none, on foot, on horseback, on bicycles, mounted proudly on his auto-mitrailleuse, or running behind his gun-team of dogs, each dog pulling and barking as if it would tear the whole German Army to pieces. I have seen him wounded on battlefields, by the roadside, and in hospitals; I have seen him, in the later days at Antwerp, brought back from the forts and from those terrible advanced trenches unwounded, but from sheer exhaustion in almost more serious plight than any of his comrades whom the shells had hit. And I have seen him dead.
As a result there has grown up in me an extraordinary affection for him. Greater even than my admiration of his careless courage is my liking for the man. For all his manhood he has so much of the child in him; he is such a chatterbox and so full of laughter, and never are his laugh and badinage so quick as when he has the sternest work on hand. Unshaven, mud-bespattered, hungry, so tired that he can hardly walk or lift his rifle to his shoulder, he will bear himself with a gallant gayety which, I think, is quite his own and is altogether fascinating.
As time goes on perhaps it will be the faces of the dead and wounded that will live most clearly in the memory, but at present the pictures of the Belgian soldier which stand out sharpest are less lugubrious and more commonplace.
I walked one day back toward Antwerp, along that awful road which ran by Contich and Waerloos to Waelhem. Daily along that road the German shells fell nearer to the city, so that whenever one went out to the place that he had visited yesterday he was likely to find himself disagreeably surprised. One day I found myself, (I would not have been there had I known it,) perhaps a mile inside the range of the enemy's guns. A Red Cross car had dropped me and picked up wounded men instead, and there was nothing for it but to walk back along the road.
Along the road from the foremost trenches came a dozen Belgian soldiers, just relieved after twenty-four hours of what it is difficult to describe otherwise than as hell. Muddied from head to heel, they could hardly drag their feet along, and, glad of any company, I fell in and walked with the last straggler of the little band, while the shrapnel with its long-drawn scream—whew-ew-ew-ew-bang!—broke on either side of us.
At every whew-ew-ew-ew which came too near I dived for cover. If there was no friendly wall or vehicle or tree trunk at hand the ditch beside the road was always there. And every time I dived my companion stood in the middle of the road and shook with laughter—not unkindly, but in the utmost friendliness and good humor—waiting till I rejoined him and we resumed our walk.
A little man, shockingly bedraggled, worn out almost to the point of collapse, utterly indifferent to his own danger, and taking a huge, childlike delight in my care for my personal safety, the picture of him as he stood and laughed all alone in the bare road amid the bursting shells seems to me curiously typical of the whole Belgian Army.
Another picture also—a composite photograph—I shall never forget. It is the same man—sometimes blonde, sometimes dark, but always the same smallish man—as, on picket duty, he stops you to examine your papers. He does not understand the papers in the least. The British passport begins with the words, "We, Sir Edward Grey, a Baronet of the United Kingdom...." Sternly he wrinkles his brow over the formidable document, earnestly trying to do his duty. At last, "Votre nom, Edouard Gra-ee?" he asks. You explain that you wish that it was and call attention to the place where your own insignificant name is mentioned lower down. To his immense relief he has mastered the central fact, namely, that you are English. And his face lights up with the smile which one has come to know so well; a smile of real pleasure and good-will.
Sometimes he speaks a word of English, and with what pride he uses it! "All ri'!" "Good night!" "How do?" And you go on into the night feeling that you are leaving a friend behind whom you would like to stop and talk to. And he, you know, has been cheered in his lonely duty by the mere contact with an ally.
THE HEROIC LANGUAGE
By ALICE MEYNELL.
[From King Albert's Book.]
When our now living languages are "dead," Which in the classes shall be treasured? Which will the masters teach? Kepler's, and Shakespeare's, and thy word, thy phrase, Thy grammar, thou heroic, for all days, O little Flemish speech!
Cheerful Spirits in Trench Inferno
[Special Cable to THE NEW YORK TIMES.]
Northern France, Dec. 20, (Dispatch to The London Daily News.)—This week—a week of many significant things—has ended in the wildest whirl of weather imaginable. The rains have been terrific, blinding, tropical in their almost ceaseless roar and fury. Surely only madmen or fiends would fight in such an elemental maelstrom. We may be both, and perhaps we are, now that the whole world is topsy-turvy; for we are going savagely on at this dread business, half blind and wholly desperate. If the furious sky were to rain red-hot pitchforks the contending armies would still be undismayed and would crawl, if not fly, at one another's throats.
But there is no romance in trench fighting; it is sickening, demoralizing. Ask any soldier who has been at it for a time. He will pour a few plain truths into your shocked ear. Down at the railroad terminal today I met some of them—a queer mixture. There was a batch of German prisoners; there was a squad of wounded Belgians, and there were four lost, stolen, or strayed British soldiers from the Seventh Division—a Sergeant and three men. They were all so plastered over with dirt that it was difficult to sort out their nationality.
What struck me most was their absolute and undisguised cheerfulness. I have lively recollection of the first German prisoners I saw in the early days of the war. They were in a gray funk, which is several degrees more sheer than a blue funk. They absolutely believed that the next moment or two would be their last on this woeful earth and that they would be shot out of hand.
The young Prussians I met today said that they had been having a very thin time recently; that their food was bad, and getting worse and more scanty every day; that pneumonia and rheumatism were rife in their trenches, to say nothing of the dreaded typhoid, and that they were tremendously glad to be out of it all. They understood that they were going to England. Anyway, they hoped so fervently.
The Belgian soldiers were all slightly wounded, mostly in the legs and arms. The mud and slime of the trenches north of Furnes had not yet dried upon their sodden clothes. They were cold and benumbed and desperately hungry, for their train had been held up for hours while certain private and confidential military scene changing was going on. In spite of the pain their hurriedly dressed wounds were giving them they, too, were cheerful.
"We are in great heart," said one of them, "for we are moving on surely and certainly. This week something new has come to us. The knell of retreat no longer sounds in our hearts; the tocsin rings there instead. We are marching on; we are driving the barbarians back. Every inch of our motherland regained is sweet and precious to us. Three days ago I saw our King. He was as muddy and stained, Monsieur, as I am now. An officer who was with him wanted to remove the mud from his clothes. 'But no,' said the King, 'let it stay. If my own land clings thus to me, let it stay; it is better that it should be so,' and he laughed as he passed on. We all cheered him, and he laughed the more, showing a shining face and bidding us take heart, as a brighter day was dawning.
"So we went into the fight that evening, afraid of nothing. In rain and mist we charged a small village with a mighty shout. Though our numbers were small we charged. We were beaten back, and then we charged again. My bayonet broke off short in the breast of a huge German, and then in the dark and mist a great crowd swept over us as we both went down. I came to in the dawn. Our men were singing the chant of victory. The gray enemy had gone. The village, smoking and shattered, was ours. Our guns were rattling up the street to take another and stronger position.
"A small victory, perhaps, but none the less sweet for that. Alas! I could not follow, and they brought me on here. The fortunes of war were hard."
He raised himself painfully. The big Sergeant from the lost legion, coming along at the moment, picked him up like a baby, hoisted him on his shoulders, and bore him along through mud to the clearing house beyond the station yard.
"Lucky chap," said the Sergeant. "He is going to have a warm, snug Christmas in a snug, warm hospital; and here's me only lorst in this bloomin' swamp, an' got to report for duty somewhere in the mornin'—Lord knows where!" he grinned ruefully at me.
King George's Visit to the Troops
[From The London Times, Dec. 8, 1914.]
An officer in the Indian Expeditionary Force sends the following description of an episode in the King's visit to the front:
A red-letter day indeed—for the King turned up here at 10:45 this morning and stayed quite a long time, inspecting detachments of the Indian Army Corps. He only crossed from England last night I believe, stayed with the General for breakfast, and saw us all before lunch, going on to the next army corps. It was quite the most informal show I have ever seen. He strolled up and down the ranks chatting with all and sundry. He asked two of our native officers how long they had been in the regiment, the General interpreting.
The secret of his visit was well kept. Last night after dinner the Adjutant biked over from Headquarters and said he and I and —— had been chosen by lot from the officers, with thirty-three men from each of the three squadrons here, to represent the regiment at an inspection by the Commander in Chief. Well, we went off this morning, and found similar detachments from all the corps not in the trenches. It was a dull morning and the mud was awful, and just before his Majesty was due a German aeroplane appeared heading straight for us. Our guns opened fire on it and it made off north, but it added excitement. Otherwise it was a quiet morning and hardly any firing from the trenches. The King and Sir James arrived in the first car, then the Prince of Wales driving his own car, and a crowd of staff officers. The two divisional staffs were presented, and then they started walking down the lines. My new horse is a real good 'un, but can't stand "Present arms!" under his nose, and he nearly backed into his Majesty as he came up from behind.
The Leicesters were in front of us. They had only come up out of the trenches at midnight and were in a lovely state of mud and unshavedness. The King simply reveled in them. He stopped and chatted to quite every one man in three; wanted to know all about trench fighting, and didn't seem to mind a bit their being covered with mud and unshaved for days. The Prince was just as interested. He wandered about at will, paying no attention to his father, and chatting with all and sundry. One man was wearing a pair of German boots which interested the King very much. He spent quite twenty minutes with the Leicesters, and they deserved it. They have done splendidly all through.
After that he gave two V.C.s to gunners who had won them very early in the war, and then when he ought to have been moving on he began strolling up and down the line again, asking all sorts of questions and noticing everything. At last they got him into his car to move on to the next army corps. The General came back to give us his message. It was that he was very pleased with all he had seen and heard; that he wanted the troops to know that both he and the Queen always kept them in their thoughts, and that he meant to see all of them again, with his own eye, as soon as the war was over. The General gave it out very well, (he is fluent in Hindustani,) and it made a great impression on the men.
It was altogether a wonderful visit, so quiet and informal and businesslike; no apparent precautions or rehearsal; the King tramping about in the mud as though he were partridge shooting, while the Prince wandered about as he listed. My interpreter, a French-Canadian, was amazed.
A member of the London Scottish writes:
IN THE TRENCHES, Nov. 11.
This is our third day in the trenches. We have not had an attack yet, though there has been hard fighting on our immediate right and left. We are fairly safe here behind barbed wire entanglements, and this would be an easy job if one could get used to the row and the watching through the night, which is rather nerve-racking. This trench is in a bonnie fir wood, just like bonnie Scotland, but the shell fire has damaged nearly all the trees. Today, being windy, they are falling in all directions. We have not had a hot meal since we came here. We are not allowed to build fires, and it is impossible to get anything hot. We have lost our blankets again in the meantime. I am just going to have my lunch of "bully" and bread and plain water.
We have had a pretty rough time lately. Last night was the first for ten days that I have had a roof over my head. The weather has been atrocious—pouring rain and driving, cutting snow—but it did not get through my overcoat, which is richly caked with mud. We have had a fortnight's fighting and have marched back now from the firing line for a short rest to refit. It meant two days' marching through roads and fields ankle deep in clinging, porridgy mud, but we were all glad enough to put up with any hardship so long as we got away from the strain of flying shells and bullets. In the trenches we lost some more of our men, but not many. I just wish you could see our battalion now; what a change from the crowd that used to march through London. Every man, almost, has a beard, and you could not imagine the dirty, bedraggled crowd we are. The strain of watching through the night in the trenches is pretty awful. The nights were pitch black, and the rain came pouring down, making the trenches an awful mess. One chap gave a loud cry in his sleep. Thinking it came from the wood in front, I blazed away. We sent a burial party out in front of us one morning. There must have been hundreds of Germans lying there, with thousands further on. All we could do was just to cover them with earth. It was a horrible sight, and it is impossible for you folks at home to realize anything of the awfulness of this war. This awful pace surely cannot last long. But despite all the discomfort, I would not have liked to miss the chance of doing my part here.
The Prince of Wales visited us yesterday. We are billeted in a cafe, and he came in rubbing his hands with the cold. He looked jolly well, and has a fine, healthy, clear complexion. We have been living in the lap of luxury lately. Yesterday was just like Christmas Day. We were inundated with parcels from home, and the room is one litter of all sorts of comforts, and any amount of sweets, shortbread, cake, &c. I cannot recollect two such happy days as these have been. You can have no idea how all these luxuries are appreciated after living on "bully" and biscuits. We have a perfect avalanche of cigarettes and tobacco. We had a bit of a panic this morning, as we were under orders to move at any moment, but by good luck it did not come off, and we are looking forward to a few more days' rest. Our last week in the trenches was a picnic compared with our first experience. This is a grand, free life, a sight better than mooching around the city. I'm just going to have a tot of rum now and turn in—it warms the cockles of one's heart and makes one sleep like Rip Van Winkle.
I never felt so fit in my life and never had such a good time before. This is simply a splendid life, and I am very glad, indeed, I did not miss my chance of being here. We were inspected today by Sir John French, who is tremendously pleased with us. Rumor has it that we are still to be here a few days, which is giving us a fine long rest. Then we may be wanted again. One of our fellows has just gone past the window with a huge sack on his back. It is most laughable to see immaculate city chaps out here doing all sorts of "orra" jobs. We have been served out with fur coats, no less; what on earth will they give us next, I wonder? We are still living in the lap of luxury and are a most happy family. We have a march every morning, which in this fine cold weather is delightful.
[From The London Times, Dec. 18, 1914.]
An officer in the R.A.M.C. writes:
Figure to yourself (as Wells says, isn't it?) a country of flat plowed field, pollard willows and deep muddy ditches. Then we come along, and in military parlance "dig ourselves in." That is, with the sweat of the brows of hundreds of Tommies working by night deep narrow trenches five feet deep and at least with the earth thrown up another two and a half feet as a bank on top. These trenches are one and a half to two feet wide, and curl and twist about in a maddening manner to make them safer from shell-fire. Little caves are scooped in the walls of the trenches, where the men live about four to a hole, and slightly bigger dugouts where two officers live. All the soil is clay, stickier and greasier than one could believe possible. It's like almost solid paint, and the least rain makes the sides of the trenches slimy, and the bottom a perfect sea of mud—pulls the heels off your boots almost. One feels like Gulliver walking along a Lilliputian town all the time. The front line of trenches—the firing line—have scientific loopholes and lookout places in them for seeing and firing from, and a dropping fire goes on from both sides all day long, but is very harmless.
Dec. 3, 1914.—I was just starting for my daily constitutional "on top" when the enemy began their bombarding, nearly one and a half hours earlier than usual, so I will postpone my little walk and finish this instead. Yesterday we had one man killed and two wounded, the first casualties for over a week. The story of one of the wounded is worth telling to show you the pluck of these men. He told me he noticed some new digging going on on the side of the enemy in front of his firing post. One can see the spadefuls of earth coming up from below the ground level when new trenches are being dug. Although this was in broad daylight, our man thought he would go and see what the Germans were up to, so he hops over the side of his trench and runs forward thirty yards to a ditch and crawls along it some hundred yards or so. He then spots a large shell-hole in the field on one side of the ditch, so doubles off and gets into that and has a good look around. Not satisfied with the point of view, he sprints to a line of willows nearer still to the enemy—within 250 yards of them indeed—and proceeds to climb up one of them. While doing this he gets shot through the shoulder. He told me he thought he had ricked his arm at first, as it felt numb and useless. Meanwhile a great pal of his in the regiment, hearing that he had gone out like this, hops over the parapet and sets off to look for him, and comes up just as he gets hit. The second man upbraids the first roundly for being a fool, carries his rifle for him, and brings him back. All this is done quite in the day's work and "sub rosa," as they would get punished for leaving the trench like that in the daytime if it was spotted. The pluck of these men is perfectly extraordinary, and the placid way life goes on under the risk of being sniped or shelled any moment is, until one gets used to seeing it, quite past belief. I must say the officers set the men a magnificent example.
A young officer attached to the Yorkshire Light Infantry writes on Dec. 6:
One wonders when one sees a German face to face, is this really one of those devils who wrought such devastation—for devastation they have surely wrought. You can hardly believe it, for he seems much the same as other soldiers. I can assure you that there is none of that insensate hatred that one hears about, out here. We are out to kill, and kill we do, at any and every opportunity. But, when all is done and the battle is over, the splendid universal "soldier spirit" comes over all the men, and we cannot help thinking that Kipling must have been in the firing line when he wrote that "East is East and West is West" thing. Just to give you some idea of what I mean, the other night four German snipers were shot on our wire. The next night our men went out and brought one in who was near and getatable and buried him. They did it with just the same reverence and sadness as they do to our own dear fellows. I went to look at the grave the next morning, and one of the most uncouth-looking men in my company had placed a cross at the head of the grave, and had written on it:
Here lies a German, We don't know his name, He died bravely fighting For his Fatherland.
And under that, "got mit uns," (sic,) that being the highest effort of all the men at German. Not bad for a bloodthirsty Briton, eh? Really, that shows the spirit.
I don't believe there is a man living who, when first interviewing an 11-inch howitzer shell, is not pink with funk. After the first ten, one gets quite used to them, but really, they are terrible! They hit a house. You can see the great shell—a black streak—just before it strikes, then, before you hear the explosion, the whole house simply lifts up into the air, apparently quite silently; then you hear the roar, and the whole earth shakes. In the place where the house was there is a huge fountain-spout of what looks like pink fluff. It is the pulverized bricks. Then a monstrous shoot of black smoke towering up a hundred feet or more, and, finally, there is a curious willow-like formation, and then—you duck, as huge pieces of shell, and house, and earth, and haystack tumble over your head. And yet, do you know, it is really remarkable how little damage they do against earth trenches. With a whole morning's shelling, not a single man of my company was killed, although not a single shell missed what it had aimed at by more than fifty yards. That makes all the difference, that fifty yards. If you only keep your head down, you are as safe as houses; exactly, you will remark, "as safe as houses."
The Things the Wounded Talk About
[A British Surgeon, in The London Times, Dec. 22, 1914.]
If you would realize fully what the war, as an event in the procession of events, means you must come to France and visit a military hospital. You must make this visit not as a sightseer, nor yet in the spirit of a philanthropist, but only as a friend. You must come prepared to listen to stories that have no relation to war and the affairs of war—most soldiers, I think, are reluctant to speak of the things they have seen—to stories that concern home ties and the doings, real and conjectured, of children—queer, sentimental stories woven around old ideas like the Christmas idea and the idea of home.
They will fill you with wonder at first, those unwarlike tales, because they belong to the truly unexpected, against which it is impossible to be prepared. It would not be an exaggeration to describe the first effect of them as startling. They kill so many illusions and they discredit so many beliefs. War, rendered thus the background of life, assumes a new proportion and a new meaning. Or, rather, it becomes vague and meaningless, like a darkness.
A few days ago I sat by the bedside of a wounded sapper—a reservist—and heard the story of life in a signal-box on a branch line in the North of England. The man was dying. I think he knew it. But the zest of his everyday life was still strong in him. He described the manner in which, on leaving the army originally, he had obtained his post on the railway. He told me that there were three trains each way in the day, and mentioned that on Winter nights the last train was frequently very late. This meant a late supper, but his wife saw to it that everything was kept hot. Sometimes his wife came to the box to meet him if it was a dry night.
In the next bed there was a young Scotsman from a Highland district which I know very well. We were friends so soon as he learned that I knew his home. He was a roadman, and we talked of his roads and the changes which had been wrought in them of late years by motor traffic. He recalled a great storm, during which the sea wall around a certain harbor was washed away and the highway rendered impassable. Then, rather diffidently, he confessed that he had lost a foot and would be handicapped in his work—"at Ypres."
At the far end of the ward there was a German who spoke a little English. He was a married man and came from Saxony. His wife and children, he said, would miss him at Christmas. We spoke a long time on the subject of Christmas. I suppose by all the orthodox canons that this German should have told me that he was glad to be a prisoner or else should have declared his conviction that the German Army would speedily carry everything before it to victory. But somehow he forgot to say these things and I forgot to ask him about them. These things seemed far away in the quiet ward, even—and for this I beg forgiveness—grotesque and uninteresting.
I had the curiosity to return to the young Scot and to ask him if he regretted the decision which had led to his being maimed for life. He shook his head. "No, because I've had a good home. A man with a good home should fight for it." He added that his father had advised him very strongly to enlist.
By the touchstone of the men it has broken this war is judged, and the makers of this war. And more than ruined villages and desecrated churches these soldiers pronounce condemnation. They, who have given so much, are, in a sense, without joy and without enthusiasm; rather they shun recollection. There is no zest in the killing of men. Their thoughts, especially at this season, are directed away from the dull, mechanic force which labors against its bonds across Europe, and dwell in the homes it has threatened. The war is revealed as a thing gross and dull-witted, a crime even against the ancient, chivalrous spirit of war.
Three Dying Foes Made Friends
[From The Hartford Courant, Jan. 14, 1915.]
To the Editor of The Courant:
I have read nothing more tender and moving than the subjoined letter found by a Red Cross agent at the side of a dead officer and forwarded to the person to whom it was addressed. The writer was a French cavalry officer engaged to a young American girl in Paris. It was written as he lay dying from wounds received in a cavalry charge. Let it speak for itself.
There are two other men lying near me, and I do not think there is much hope for them either. One is an officer of a Scottish regiment and the other a private in the Uhlans. They were struck down after me, and when I came to myself, I found them bending over me, rendering first aid.
The Britisher was pouring water down my throat from his flask, while the German was endeavoring to stanch my wound with an antiseptic preparation served out to them by their medical corps. The Highlander had one of his legs shattered, and the German had several pieces of shrapnel buried in his side.
In spite of their own sufferings they were trying to help me, and when I was fully conscious again the German gave us a morphia injection and took one himself. His medical corps had also provided him with the injection and the needle, together with printed instructions for its use.
After the injection, feeling wonderfully at ease, we spoke of the lives we had lived before the war. We all spoke English, and we talked of the women we had left at home. Both the German and the Britisher had only been married a year....
I wondered, and I supposed the others did, why we had fought each other at all. I looked at the Highlander, who was falling to sleep, exhausted, and in spite of his drawn face and mud-stained uniform, he looked the embodiment of freedom. Then I thought of the Tricolor of France and all that France had done for liberty. Then I watched the German, who had ceased to speak. He had taken a Prayer Book from his knapsack and was trying to read a service for soldiers wounded in battle.
And ... while I watched him, I realized what we were fighting for.... He was dying in vain, while the Britisher and myself, by our deaths, would probably contribute something toward the cause of civilization and peace.
[The letter ends with a reference to the failing light and the roar of guns.]
Chronology of the War
Showing Progress of Campaigns on All Fronts and Collateral Events from Jan. 7 to and Including Jan. 31, 1915
CAMPAIGN IN EASTERN EUROPE
[Continued from the Last Number.]
Jan. 8—Germans are trying to carry the Russian lines near Bolinow by the use of steel shields to protect riflemen.
Jan. 9—Germans renew offensive from direction of Mlawa; fighting on the Rawka and in the north; Russians enter Transylvania; Austrians meet delays near Nida River.
Jan. 11—Russians are strengthening their lines.
Jan. 12—Russians are pressing the Austrians near the Nida; Austrians are fleeing from Bukowina.
Jan. 13—Russians occupy several villages in the Masurian Lake region and threaten Mlawa; Austrians state that Russians lost heavily in Przemysl siege.
Jan. 14—Russians push north from Warsaw; Germans retake several positions on Bzura River; it is reported that Germans are short of supplies.
Jan. 15—New Russian army marches north in Poland; Germans near Mlawa are in peril; von Hindenburg declared in danger.
Jan. 16—Austrians bring up heavy artillery to hold the Donajec River; Germans are on way to Budapest.
Jan. 17—Russians take Kirlibaba Pass and progress along right bank of the Vistula; Germans pushed back on Plock.
Jan. 18—Germans occupy Kielce; Russians fall back to Radom; Russian capture of Kirlibaba Pass flanks Austrians; Germans out of Plock.
Jan. 20—Russians drive Austrians back in Hungary and march on Jacobeni.
Jan. 21—Russians renew offensive against Mlawa; Austrians rout Russians from intrenchments on Donajec River.
Jan. 22—New Russian army nears Prussia; invasion of Hungary halted; Russian advance is causing alarm in Budapest.
Jan. 23—Germans are massing in Hungary; Russians advance in the north.
Jan. 24—Russians checked in Transylvania.
Jan. 25—Armies are deadlocked in Central Poland; Austrians declare that Transylvania is safe; fierce fighting in Bukowina; Russians forced from trenches south of Tarnow.
Jan. 27—Austrians report the recapture of Uzsok Pass; Russians seize Pilkalen; ten army corps are gathered in Southern Hungary, with many Germans in them.
Jan. 28—Great struggle for the Carpathians is opening; Austro-German forces advance on eighty-mile front.
Jan. 29—Russian wings advance in East Prussia and the Carpathians; Russians close in on Insterburg; Tilsit surrounded.
Jan. 30—Russians cut railway between Memel and Tilsit, and enter Hungary.
Jan. 31—Russians gain in Carpathians.
CAMPAIGN IN WESTERN EUROPE.
Jan. 8—Allies gain north of Soissons, near Rheims, and in Alsace; French Alpine troops use skis in gaining an advantage in Alsace.
Jan. 9—Germans retake Steinbach and Burnhaupt; French take Perthes and gain near Soupir.
Jan. 10—French cut German railway lines to prevent reserves from coming to the relief of Altkirch.
Jan. 11—Allies, attacking from Perthes, are trying to cut German rail communications.
Jan. 12—French attempt offensive near Soissons and Perthes; they are checked in Alsace; British forces at the front are steadily increasing in number.
Jan. 13—Germans, reinforced, win victory at Soissons, forcing French to abandon five miles of trenches and to cross the Aisne, leaving guns and wounded; heights of Vregny are won in this fight by the Germans under the eyes of the Kaiser; Germans take 3,150 prisoners and fourteen guns in two days' fighting.
Jan. 15—French are calm over the Soissons defeat; British gain near La Bassee.
Jan. 17—Allies take trenches in Belgium; deadlock at La Bassee; Allies closing on Lille.
Jan. 18—Fierce fighting at La Boisselle; both sides are claiming success at Tracy-le-Val.
Jan. 19—French advance in attempt to cut off St. Mihiel.
Jan. 20—French are nearer Metz; British take Freylinghuysen.
Jan. 21—Germans repulsed in Ardennes woods by French and Belgians; French retake trenches at Notre Dame de Lorette; Germans retake Le Pretre woods; it is learned that the Soissons battle was won by von Kluck's veterans, and that the Germans granted a half-hour truce while French Red Cross aided wounded.
Jan. 22—Fierce fighting in Hartmanns-Weiler region.
Jan. 23—Germans renew activity near Ypres and bombard left wing of Allies; fighting in Argonne region.
Jan. 24—Germans are bombarding Flanders towns; Allies leave St. Georges.
Jan. 25—Kaiser sends Prince Eitel Friedrich to capture Thann and direct fighting in Alsace; French gain toward Altkirch and destroy bridges over the Meuse at St. Mihiel; Germans forced to abandon Dixmude trenches because of floods.
Jan. 26—Another battle on at La Bassee; Germans gain ground by vigorous offensive near Craonne and in Alsace.
Jan. 27—Germans attack between La Bassee and Bethune, this being the Kaiser's birthday; the French claim that the German loss is 20,000; indecisive fighting near Ypres.
Jan. 28—French defeated at Craonne; Germans make gains in the Vosges and Upper Alsace.
Jan. 29—Germans checked in two attempts to cross the Aisne; they drain the Yser flood area.
Jan. 30—Germans win in the Argonne.
Jan. 31—Kaiser directs German assault on La Bassee; zouaves and Indians win the Great Dune west of Lombaertzyde.
CAMPAIGN IN AFRICA.
Jan. 9—French win in Kamerun.
Jan. 15—British take Swakopmund.
CAMPAIGN IN ASIA MINOR AND EGYPT.
Jan. 9—Turks hasten construction of railway lines across Sinai peninsula.
Jan. 10—Turks are marching on Egypt; reserve Turkish army, trying to save Erzerum, repulsed at frontier.
Jan. 12—Erzerum road is being fought for; Noury Bey captured by Russians.
Jan. 13—Turks occupy Tabriz and report Arab victory over British troops on the lower Tigris.
Jan. 14—Armenian refugees cross Russian frontier; Turkish invasion of Persia continues.
Jan. 15—Turks advance in Persia.
Jan. 17—Turkish corps cut to pieces in the Caucasus.
Jan. 18—Turkish soldiers are being frozen to death.
Jan. 21—Turks are pushing plans for a strategic railway to the Egyptian frontier.
Jan. 24—Russians check Turkish advance on Erzerum.
Jan. 27—British defeat Turkish advance guard toward El Kantara on the Suez Canal; three Turkish army corps now marching on Egypt; British win at Korna.
Jan. 28—Turks, reinforced, attack Russians in the Caucasus.
Jan. 29—Turks fortify Erzerum, and order civilians to depart.
Jan. 30—Russians take Tabriz.
Jan. 31—Turks defeated near Sari-Kamysh.
Jan. 11—Report from Vienna that French dreadnought Courbet has been sunk.
Jan. 12—Japanese cruisers are hunting the German converted cruiser Prince Eitel Friedrich off the coast of Peru.
Jan. 13—Dover forts drive off two German submarines; bombardment of the Dardanelles by the allied fleets continues.
Jan. 16—French submarine Saphir sunk by Turkish mine at the Dardanelles; Italian gunboat Coatit damaged in the Adriatic.
Jan. 20—Dutch naval patrol boat sunk by a mine, five men being lost.
Jan. 21—German cruiser Karlsruhe reported off Porto Rico.
Jan. 22—German submarine U-19 sinks British freighter Durward.
Jan. 23—German supply ship sunk by Australian cruiser.
Jan. 24—British patrolling squadron under Vice Admiral Beatty defeats German squadron attempting to reach English coast; German battle cruiser Bluecher sunk and two other German battle cruisers damaged; British battle cruisers Lion and Tiger damaged; Germans claim three British ships were sunk.
Jan. 28—British Admiralty denies that any British ship was sunk.
Jan. 30—German submarine sinks three British steamers in Irish Channel and chases Liverpool passenger boat.
Jan. 31—German submarine sinks two British steamers in English Channel; third steamer escapes.
Jan. 10—German aeroplanes threw thirty bombs on Dunkirk, damaging several houses; Belgian aviators give battle to the Germans at great altitude and finally drive them off; German aviator shot down by French near Amiens.
Jan. 16—German hydroaeroplane lost in North Sea; nine aviators of the Allies drop bombs on Ostend.
Jan. 19—German airships drop bombs on Yarmouth, King's Lynn, and other English towns; four persons are killed, ten wounded, and considerable property damage is done; it is reported that the German plant at Friedrichshafen produces a super-Zeppelin every three weeks.
Jan. 21—Allies drop bombs on Essen.
Jan. 22—Holland is to investigate a report that a Zeppelin violated her neutrality by flying over her territory.
Jan. 23—Germans drop bombs on Dunkirk; it is reported that the American Consulate is damaged.
Jan. 25—It is reported from Amsterdam that 400 German war automobiles were destroyed in the raid on Essen.
Jan. 26—Russians bring down German airship that bombarded Libau.
Jan. 28—Crew of German airship that bombarded Libau will be tried by military court and will not be treated as prisoners of war; bomb dropped on Belgrade.
Jan. 24—Administration makes public in Washington a letter written by Secretary Bryan to Senator Stone of Missouri in which discrimination against Germany and Austria-Hungary is denied; twenty charges made by pro-Germans are taken up and the Administration's position and action on each are stated in detail.
Jan. 17—Anti-war demonstrations in Vienna; Czech editor executed for treason.
Jan. 20—Governor of Cracow orders partial evacuation of the city.
Jan. 21—Archduke Charles Francis, the Austrian Crown Prince, is in Berlin, where he will be joined shortly by Baron Burian, the new Austro-Hungarian Minister of Foreign Affairs; plans of campaign against Russia are to be discussed with German officials.
Jan. 23—Baron Burian leaves Berlin for German Army Headquarters to confer with the Kaiser.
Jan. 25—Riots in many parts of Hungary.
Jan. 28—Riot among Southern Slavs because of mobilization order.
Jan. 29—Prisoners of war are to be employed in farm work.
Jan. 30—Warning is sent to Rumania against agitation among Rumanian population of Transylvania.
Jan. 8—Cardinal Mercier has been placed under restraint by the German authorities because of his pastoral, read in the churches on Jan. 3, in which he told the Belgians that they owe German authority "neither respect, nor attachment, nor obedience."
Jan. 9—It is reported that Cardinal Mercier was arrested, but the report is denied by the Military Governor of Belgium; circulation of the Mercier pastoral is not being permitted.
Jan. 10—The Mercier pastoral is read in English churches; Belgian refugees are proving a problem in England and Holland.
Jan. 11—Admiration for Cardinal Mercier expressed by King Albert in a letter to the Pope.
Jan. 12—It is reported from Rome that the Vatican has asked Germany for an explanation regarding the acts with reference to Cardinal Mercier.
Jan. 22—Full text of the Mercier pastoral is printed in THE NEW YORK TIMES.
Jan. 22—Major General Hughes, Minister of Militia and Defense, arrives in Vancouver to arrange for enlistment of third contingent.
Jan. 30—First detachment of Canadian troops is in France; other detachments are en route; nine German prisoners escape from Halifax citadel; war fund of $1,500,000 raised in five days in Montreal.
Jan. 31—Six Canadians, including two officers, killed in La Bassee fight.
Jan. 10—Abbas Hilmi, deposed Khedive, calls upon Egyptians and Sudanese to rise against England.
Jan. 8—House of Lords adjourns after discussion of recruiting and other phases of the war.
Jan. 12—Government appeals to women to induce men to enlist.
Jan. 15—War Office issues statement that letters destined for hostile countries will be held up unless they are unsealed.
Jan. 16—Seven British naval officers, interned in Holland, escape, but five are recaptured.
Jan. 23—Statement shows that total casualty list of officers up to Jan. 12 was 4,344, of whom 1,266 were killed, the rest being wounded and missing; many interned Germans and Austrians released on parole.
Jan. 27—Two Hindu soldiers win Victoria Crosses; London financial papers deprecate a joint loan for the Allies.
Jan. 28—Many Oxford "blues" are serving in the army.
Jan. 31—There are 178 peers serving in the army.
Jan. 10—Government will surrender German surgeons and nurses held as prisoners of war only in equal exchange.
Jan. 14—Socialist Senator demands postponement of war discussion in Parliament and says speeches must give way to voice of cannon.
Jan. 18—Paris darkened by police order.
Jan. 22—Capt. Uhde, stated to be a relative of the Kaiser, is sent to concentration camp after being accused of having spied on the French fleet at Toulon.
Jan. 27—Many doctors have been killed, wounded, and taken prisoner, the reason for lengthy casualty list being stated to be that the French doctors do not desert their wounded on approach of the enemy.
Jan. 29—Officer stops Mrs. Asquith and party on way to the front for a weekend.
Jan. 8—Government charges that San Marino has been encouraging espionage by its wireless station.
Jan. 9—Tobacco sent to French prisoners to be admitted free of duty.
Jan. 10—Retired Belgian General and Lieutenant sentenced to life imprisonment for aiding Belgians to escape to Holland; it is said that the Landsturm can still furnish 5,000,000 men; Socialist meeting prohibited in Saxony.
Jan. 11—Reports from Russia state that German women in men's uniform have been taken prisoners in bayonet charges recently and that some of them are wounded and in hospital; sale of blankets forbidden in Berlin and Brandenburg; the stocks are to be placed at the disposal of the military authorities; French women and children taken from occupied territory are being sent home.
Jan. 12—The Pope is negotiating for better treatment of clerical prisoners.
Jan. 17—Official reports state that the prisoners of war held by Germany and Austria are now 800,000.
Jan. 22—Escaped British officer charges cruelty toward British prisoners.
Jan. 23—Money prizes are offered to the first invaders of England.
Jan. 25—Secretary Bryan makes public the text of German Government's notification of cancellation of exequaturs granted by Belgian Government to foreign Consular representatives, and the reply of the United States.
Jan. 27—Prince von Buelow tells Italian statesmen that Italy's preparations for war are resented and that an ultimatum may be sent; French charge that German soldiers reverse bullets for short-range fighting; wife of Greek Consul at Liege sentenced to prison for aiding Belgians to escape; all neutrals to be expelled from Upper Alsace; Gen. von Bissing orders all Englishmen in Belgium sent to Germany.
Jan. 30—Value of French territory occupied by the Germans is estimated at $1,900,000,000 by the Inspector General of the Credit Foncier, or 7.2 per cent., of the total value of all France; according to the census of 1911 3,255,000 persons, or 8.2 per cent. of the population of France, live in this territory; Berlin night life is under the war ban, yet the opera and theatres are open.
Jan. 11—Troops sent to garrison the Italian islands in the Aegean.
Jan. 12—Demonstration when the body of Constantino Garibaldi, killed while serving with the French, arrives in Rome; many applications for nationality by Germans are being refused; Committee of National Defense formed at Milan.
Jan. 13—Italians in all parts of the world are offering to enlist in event of war; a special police census shows 700,000 Austrians and Germans in the country; embassies advise them to leave.
Jan. 23—Vice Consul at Liege dismissed for aiding Belgians; prominent Italians appeal to neutral countries to take steps to preserve art treasures in belligerent countries.
Jan. 25—Radicals want war.
Jan. 29—Soldiers of the First and Third Categories are called to the colors; retired officers fit for service are liable to be recalled.
Jan. 30—Contracts for army and navy supplies are placed in the United States.
Jan. 31—Riots in Rome against neutralists.
Jan. 8—The nation is mobilizing 750,000 men, of whom 500,000 form the field army.
Jan. 11—London experts think that Rumania will soon enter war on side of Allies, her army linking with the extreme Russian left.
Jan. 16—Students in Switzerland summoned home because of mobilization.
Jan. 22—Orders are placed with Swiss firms for medical supplies.
Jan. 26—Exportation of army supplies to Hungary recommenced.
Jan. 9—Girl fights with Cossacks and wins Cross of St. George.
Jan. 10—Only half the number of this year's recruits liable for military service are called out.
Jan. 20—It is reported that some members of the imperial family are opposed to the war.
Jan. 21—Troops are warned against bogus proclamations, bearing Czar's name, circulated by Austrians.
Jan. 22—Orders issued for expulsion of Austrian and German subjects.
Jan. 26—Foreign Minister Sazonof says there will be no peace while a single soldier of the enemy remains on Russian soil.
Jan. 29—Poles form legion at Warsaw.
Jan. 8—California's relief cargo is on the way to Rotterdam.
Jan. 9—To date the value of cargoes of food, clothing, and medical supplies delivered, in transit on the Atlantic, or arranged for from the United States to Belgium amount to more than $14,000,000; milk and sugar are scarce in Belgium, the babies feeling the influence of the food crisis.
Jan. 10—Antwerp Council passes resolution of thanks to Americans, whose help "is literally saving us."
Jan. 11—American party sent to relieve German and Austrian prisoners in Russia is halted by the Russian Government pending negotiations.
Jan. 15—Large consignment of supplies is sent to Saloniki by American Red Cross; Virginia and Maryland send Belgian relief ships; Georgia is raising funds for a ship.
Jan. 21—American Red Cross issues report of its European activities from Aug. 1 to Jan. 9; war fund thus far amounts to $1,188,000; forty-five American Red Cross surgeons and 150 nurses are on war duty in Europe; Sing Sing prisoners are to knit socks for Polish destitute.
Jan. 23—Mme. Grouitch, wife of the Secretary General for Foreign Affairs of Servia, arrives in New York seeking funds for seeds for the Servian Spring planting; Dr. Wickliffe Rose and Ernest Bicknell, who have been in Russian Poland for the American Red Cross, report from Berlin that conditions in Poland are worse, if anything, than those in Belgium.
Jan. 24—Commission for Relief in Belgium has thirty-five chartered steamships running between American ports and Rotterdam carrying supplies.
Jan. 26—American Red Cross ships large consignment of supplies for Constantinople and Servia.
Jan. 27—Commission for Relief in Belgium states that 76,000 tons of food, in addition to supplies in sight, are needed for next three months; there are now 1,400,000 destitute, and the number is increasing daily.
Jan. 28—Committee of prominent American educators plans to have the 20,000,000 children of the United States help war sufferers through a new fund, to be called the Children of America's Fund.
Jan. 31—Rockefeller Foundation denies that it has withdrawn from Belgium relief work.
TO HIS MAJESTY KING ALBERT
By WILLIAM WATSON.
[From King Albert's Book.]
Receive, from one who hath not lavished praise On many Princes, nor was ever awed By empire such as groveling slaves applaud, Who cast their souls into its altar-blaze— Receive the homage that a freeman pays To Kinghood flowering out of Manhood broad, Kinghood that toils uncovetous of laud, Loves whom it rules, and serves the realm it sways.
For when Your people, caught in agony's net, Rose as one dauntless heart, their King was found Worthy on such a throne to have been set, Worthy by such as They to have been crowned; And loftier praise than this did never yet On mortal ears from lips of mortals sound.
Vol. I. From the Beginning to March, 1915
[Titles of articles appear in italics.]
ABBOTT, (Dr.) L., "Militarism and Christianity," 610.
ABOUKIR, 752, 755, 761.
ACLAND, F.D., speech, 277.
ACTORS, Russian, appeal, 817.
ADAMS, Adeline, poems, 593, 1004.
ADCOCK, A. St. J., review of book, "In the Firing Line," 971.
ADLER, Felix, criticism of A. Bennett, 95.
AERONAUTICS, 659, 664, 710, 932.
AERSCHOT, 380, 945.
After the Russian Advance in Galicia, 958.
AISNE, Battle of, 635, 650.
ALABAMA Claims, 258.
ALBERT, King of the Belgians, appeal to King George, 287; tributes in poems, 1210, 1228.
All-Night Attack, 979.
ALLENBY, (Maj. Gen.) E.H.H., 620-622, 635, 645.
Along the German Lines Near Metz, 731.
ALSACE-LORRAINE, 97, 147, 483, 488, 491, 492, 555, 557, 729, 736.
ALTENBURG, Duke of, letter, 1200.
AMERICANS, arrest on neutral vessels, 1181.
America's Peril in Judging Germany, 515.
AMMUNITION, sale of, 1178.
ANGELL, Norman, "On the Impending Crisis," 107.
ANGLO-RUSSIAN Treaty, 45.
Another "Happy Thought", 789.
Answering the "Chant of Hate", 988.
Anti-Christian War, 129.
ANTWERP, 682, 784, 787.
Appeal of the German Universities, 187.
Appeal to America for Belgium, 924.
Appeal to the Civilized World, 185.
Apportioning the Blame, 548.
ARBITRATION, 150; treaties, 50, 225.
ARCHER, William, poem, 1114.
Are We Barbarians? 178
ARIF Bey, 1029.
ARNOLD, Winifred, poem, 789.
ARRAS, Battle of, 707.
ARTISTS, British, protest against vandalism, 130; Russian, appeal of, 817.
As America Sees the War, 582.
As the French Fell Back on Paris, 689.
"As They Tested Our Fathers," 106.
ASQUITH, (Premier) H.H., criticisms, 23, 29, 62; statements, 278, 279, 291, 292, 299; letter to Mayors, 308; speeches, 309-325.
At the Kaiser's Headquarters, 718.
At the Villa Achilleion Corfu, 999.
ATROCITIES, German, 104, 129, 185, 192; Allies accused by Bethmann-Hollweg, 223; charges against Belgians, 261, 266; official statements, 374-391; letters of G.H. Putnam and R.F. Thienes, 563; statement by Lord Channing, 592; Aerschot, 945; French official report, 1132.
Atrocities of the War, 374.
Attack on Tsing-tao, 745.
AUGUSTA Victoria, see GERMANY:—Empress.
AUSTRIA-HUNGARY:— Balkan policy, 227. Conditions in Galicia, 958. Declaration of war on Serbia, 226. Ultimatum to Serbia criticised, 109, 136, 189, 195, 202, 203, 339, 559.
Austria-Hungary's Version of the War, 225.
AUSTRO-GERMAN Treaty, 298.
AUTHORS, British, defend England, 82; Russian, appeal of, 817; British, on Russian literature, 819.
BAKHMETEFF, (Ambassador) George, on Russia and the war, 364; authenticity of interview denied, 617.
BALKAN States, 1025-1071.
BALKAN WAR, 247.
BALUHTCHICH, (Serbian Minister,) statement, 1039.
Baptism of Fire, 977.
Barnardiston, (Col.,) 1104, 1105, 1110.
Barrie at Bay: Which Was Brown? 100.
BARRY, Beatrice, poems, 850, 948, 988.
BASS, J.F., on visit to Russian trench, 963.
BATTLE of Dorking, 13, 61.
BATTLES, see CAMPAIGNS, SEA fights, names of battles.
BAVARIA:—Crown Prince Rupprecht's army orders, 984.
BAZIN, Rene, appreciation of article in London Times on France, 153.
BECK, J.M., "In the Supreme Court of Civilization," 413; criticisms and replies, 431-448.
BEER, G.L., "What Gladstone Said About Belgium," 448.
BEGBIE, Harold, "As America Sees the War," 582.
Belgian Battleground, 1109.
Belgian Cities Germanized, 780.
Belgian Boy Tells Story of Aerschot, 945.
Belgian Ruin, 786.
Belgian Soldier, 1215.
BELGIUM:— Army, 725. Claims, 48, 97. Effects of war, 765. "Gray Book," 371, 413-448. Neutrality Violation and Treaty of London, opinion of G.B. Shaw, 25, 30, 58; A. Bennett, 62; C. Graham, 65; editorial in New York Times; C. Pankhurst; letter from Shaw to President Wilson, 77; H. Eulenberg, 80; British authors, 82; J. Galsworthy, 102; R. Kipling, 107; G.K. Chesterton, 108, 123; A.C. Doyle, 136; R. Rolland, 174; G. Hauptmann, 175; L. Fulda, 182; German professors, 185; British scholars, 189; Y. Guyot and Professor Bellet, 196; British theologians, 201; von Harnack, 204; Bethmann-Hollweg, 222; German analysis of British "White Papers," 241; "Truth About Germany," 249, 258; Sir E. Grey, 286; Asquith, 292, 321; Lloyd George, 336; statement by Legation at Washington, 365; G.L. Beer on Gladstone's views, 448; J.H. Schiff, 460; Dr. C.W. Eliot, 484; Dr. Dernburg, 488; Prof. Burgess, 511; A. von Briesen, 551; W. Ostwald, 572; Dr. N.D. Hillis, 575; Germany's strategic railways, 1000; "A Scrap of Paper," 1120. Refugees, 48, 614, 776. Treatment of resident Austrian and German citizens, 268.
Belgium's Bitter Need, 614.
BELGO-BRITISH Plot, 204, 369-372; 545-547; 990; 1000; 1101-1119.
BELGRADE, 969, 1042.
BELLET, (Prof.), reply to German professor's appeal to civilization, 194.
BELLOC, Hilaire, "Why England Fights Germany," 993.
BENEDICT XV., Pope, on destruction of Rheims, 392; letter to Cardinal Mercier, 923.
BENNETT, Arnold, "Shaw's Nonsense About Belgium," 60; reply from Shaw, 63; "What the German Conscript Thinks," 93; comment of F. Adler, 95; "When Peace Is Seriously Desired," 97.
BERCHTOLD, (Count), on Austria-Hungary, 227.
BERGSON, Henri, "The Vital Energies of France," 152.
BERNHARDI, (Gen.) Friedrich von, criticisms of, 13, 15, 25, 56, 135, 140, 343.
BERNHEIMER, G.E., reply to J.M. Beck, 431.
BERNSTORFF, (Count) Heinrich von, on peace proposals, 274; on Anglo-Belgian plot, 371.
BETHMANN-HOLLWEG, (Dr.) Theobald von, criticism by G.K. Chesterton, 114; speeches and statements, 219-225; conference with Ambassador Gerard on peace, 273; reply to Asquith, 313; full text of speech in Reichstag, 989; on Belgian neutrality, 1113; "A Scrap of Paper," 1120.
BEVIS, (Dr.), work among the wounded in Belgium, 714.
Big and the Great, 1114.
BLACKFORD, (Dr.) C.M., 107.
Bloodless Capture of German Samoa, 749.
BODKINSON, H.W., on refugees in Warsaw, 957.
BOEHN, (Gen.) von, 1117.
BOER War, 126, 133, 214.
Bombardment of Rheims Cathedral, 392.
BONN, (Prof.) M.J., "Tools of the Russian Juggernaut," 851.
BOON, John, on German entry into Brussels, 679.
BOSPORUS, Strait of, 1027.
BOURTZEFF, (Russian revolutionist), 823.
BOUTROUX, Emile, "Germany's Civilized Barbarism," 160.
BRANDES, Georg, "Fate of the Jews in Poland," 854.
BREZIZINY, Battle of, 740.
BRIDGES, (Col.), 1102, 1107.
BRIDGES, Robert, "An Anti-Christian War," 129.
BRIESEN, Arthur von, "Apportioning the Blame," 548.
BRIGGS, C.C.D., poem, 1198.
British Authors Defend England's War, 82.
Broken Rose, 1210.
BROQUEVILLE, (Lieut.) de, 714.
BROWN, Cyril, dispatches, 718, 780, 925-938.
BRUSSELS, 679, 780, 1118.
BRYAN, (Sec.) W.J., letter to Sen. Stone disclaiming bias against Germany and Austria, 1175; "Seizures of American Cargoes," 1183.
BRYCE, (Viscount) James, on teachings of Bernhardi, 343; appreciation of letter by Dr. C.W. Eliot, 477.
BUCHANAN, (Sir) George, 229-236.
BUELOW, (Gen.) Karl von, 1115.
BULGARIA, England's overtures, 1031; Serbs' view, 1036-1040.
Bulgaria and Kultur, 1040.
Bulgaria's Attitude, 1044. See also BALKAN States.
BUNSEN, (Sir) Maurice de, 231.
BURGESS, John W., letter on "Truth About Germany," 244; articles on the war and controversy, 507.
BURGESS, William, letter, 973.
BURNS, John, 23.
BUTLER, (Dr.) N.M., "The United States of Europe," 565.
BUXTON, Noel, 1031.
BYNG, (Maj. Gen.) Julian, 649.
CABLE Censorship, 1175.
Caldron of the Balkans, 1025.
CAMBON, Paul, 233-242, 355.
CAMPAIGN in Eastern Europe, 738-744; 957-965.
CAMPAIGN in Western Europe, 620-738; 949-953; 1167-1174.
CARGOES, Amer., seizures, 1183, 1188.
CARNEGIE, Andrew, 206, 208; interview, 451.
CARUTHERS, M.V., poem, 864.
Case for Germany, 209.
Case for the Triple Entente, 276.
Case of Belgium, 1101.
CASTELNAU, (Gen.,) 643, 1170-1173.
Cathedrale, La, 472.
CAUSES of the War, views of T. Niemeyer, 206; Dr. C.W. Eliot, 498; M.J. Bonn, 852; H. Belloc, 993.
CHANNING of Wellingborough, (Lord), "What America Can Do," 588.
"Chant of Hate Against England", 984; answer, 988.
CHARLES, King of Rumania, death, career, 1056.
CHARTRES, Annie, poem, 1210.
Cheerful Spirits in Trench Inferno, 1217.
CHESTERTON, G.K., "Why England Came to be in It," 108; "Russian or Prussian Barbarism," 111; "Disposing of Germany's Civilizing Mission," 115; "Russia Less Despotic Than Prussia," 119; "The Bond of Teutonism," 122.
CHILD, O.C.A., poem, 764.
CHRONOLOGY of War, 793, 1007, 1224.
CHURCHILL, W.S., criticism, 13; speech, 330.
Civil Life in Berlin, 943.
COBB, Irvin S., on effects of war in four countries, 765.
Commercial Treaties After the War, 863.
Common Sense About the War, 11.
Commercial Aspects of War, 526.
Concerning German Culture, 542.
Concerning the German Professors, 192.
Confiscation of German Patents, 849.
CONGO Conference, 259.
CONNAUGHT, (Prince) Arthur of, 646.
CONTRABAND, 1176, 1183, 1188.
COWEN, F.H., music for hymn to Belgium, 1126.
COX, John H., on fighting in Alsace, 736.
Credo for Keeping Faith, 102.
CRESSY, 753, 755, 761.
Crowds See the Niger Sink, 760.
CULTURE, 160, 178, 193-203; 317, 541, 543, 613, 821.
Culture vs. Kultur, 543.
CURZON, (Lord), criticism, 13; speech, 308; letter to London Times, 329.
CYPRUS Island, 1035.
Damp Humor of the Night Watch, 1206.
DANKL, (Gen.), 959.
DARDANELLES, Strait of, 1027, 1031.
DARRAIL, (Gen.), 1172.
DAVIS, R.H., on Rheims Cathedral, 932.
Dawn of a New Day, 678.
DAWNAY, (Maj.) Hugh, 649.
DECLARATION of London, 1182.
Declaration of the Russian Industrial Interests, 835.
Defense of the Dual Alliance, 438.
DELCASSE, T., letter denying use of dumdum bullets by French, 376.
DERNBURG, (Dr.) Bernhard, on German review of the evidence, 229; reply to letter by Dr. C.W. Eliot, 487; "The Case of Belgium," 1101.
D'ESPEREY, (Gen.) Franchet, 652.
DETENTION Camps, see PRISON Camps.
Diary of Lydia Evans, 981.
DIECKMANN, (Maj.), 1118.
DISARMAMENT, 50, 97, 223.
DIXMUDE, Battle of, 712, 715.
DOUMIC, Rene, "The Soldier of 1914," 156.
DOYLE, (Sir) A.C., "To Arms!" 132; on British militarism, 140.
DUBAIL, (Gen.), 1173.
DUCARME, (Maj. Gen.), 1104, 1105.
DUMDUM Bullets, sale by Amer. firms, 1179. See also ATROCITIES.
DURYEE, (Mrs.) Nina Larrey, appeal for aid for Belgians, 776.
ECOB, J.H., on the German Emperor, 510.
ECONOMIC Aspects of War, discussed by F.H. Giddings, 526; article by Prof. I. Fisher, 594; article by R.G. Usher, 600.
Effects of War in Four Countries, 765.
Effects of War on America, 600.
EGYPT, Sultan, see HUSSEIN KAMEL.
ELIOT, (Dr.) C.W., criticism, 182; letters, 465, 473-506.
EMDEN, poem, 816; at Penang, 1211.
Emden's Last Fight, 758.
EMMICH, (Gen.) von, 935.
ENGLAND:— Agreement with France, 239. Army, views of G.B. Shaw, 31, 32, 34; H.G. Wells on need of equipment, 91; recruits, 106, 132, 299, 304, 306, 312-333; reports of officers, 619. Conditions described by I.S. Cobb, 765; interview with F.H. Smith, 772. Declaration of war upon Turkey, 1035. Foreign Office, 13, 19, 28, 30, 61. Invasion by Germans, 89, 92. Labor problem, 49. Labor Party, 31, 33, 36. Navy, 311, 332. Overtures to Bulgaria, 1031. Russian Alliance, 81, 103, 107, 203, 207, 223. Ultimatum to Germany, 291. War Office, 34. "White Paper," 19, 61, 228, 413, 431-448, 548. See also BELGO-BRITISH Plot.
England Caused the War, 989.
English Artists' Protests, 130.
Entrance of France Into War, 350.
EPIRUS, 1052, 1065.
ESCAILLE, de l', 237.
ESCHENBACH, (Councilor,) 986.
ESSAD Pasha, 1063.
ESTOURNELLES DE CONSTANT, (Baron) d', letters, 146.
EUCKEN, (Dr.) Rudolf, defense of Germany, 534.
EULENBERG, Herbert, letter, 80.
EUROPEAN Federation, see UNITED States of Europe.
EVANS, Lydia, diary, 981.
Exit Albania? 1062.
"EYEWITNESS," reports, 650.
"Facts About Belgium," 365.
Fall of Antwerp, 682.
Fate of the Jews in Poland, 854.
FAY, Frances C., translation of "La Cathedrale," 472.
FERDINAND, King of Rumania, 1057.
FERDINAND, Tsar of Bulgaria, speech from the throne, 1044.
FERGUSSON, (Sir) Charles, 641.
FERRIMAN, Z.D., on Serbians' re-entry into Belgrade, 969.
FICHTE, J.G., 162.
FIELDING, (Lady) Dorothie, 1714.
Fifteen Minutes on the Yser, 949.
Fight to the Bitter End, 451.
FILIPESCU, N., on Rumanians in Hungary, 1061.
First Fight at Lodz, 740.
First German Prisoners, 974.
First Invasion of Serbia, 742.
First Warnings of Europe's Peril, 276.
FISHER, Irving, on probable economic effects of the war, 594.
FITZ CLARENCE, (Brig. Gen.), 649; tribute from Sir J. French, 649.
FLANDERS, Fighting in, 646, 1167.
Flaws in Shaw's Logic, 65.
FLEXNER, Hortense, poem, 612.
Flight Into Switzerland, 966.
FOCH, (Gen.), 647.
FOSBENDER, (Gen.) von, 1148.
Four Months of War, 1169.
Fourth of August, 87.
FOWLER, (Col.) J.S., 645.
FOX, Frank, 685, 686.
FRANCE:— Army, 156. Capital moved, 357. General conditions, 146, 765, 767, 770, 772, 982. Invasion of Germany, 221, 261, 264. Treatment of resident German and Austrian citizens, 268. Vital energies of, 152.
France and England as Seen in War-Time, 772.
France Through English Eyes, 153. See also CAMPAIGN in Western Europe.
FRANCIS JOSEPH, Emperor of Austria, 225, 226.
FRANCKE, (Prof.) Kuno, reply to letter by Dr. C.W. Eliot, 478; "French Hate and English Jealousy," 554.
FRANCO-PRUSSIAN War, 13, 69.
FREDERICK WILLIAM, see GERMANY—Crown Prince.
FRENCH, (Sir) John, tributes, 304, 306; reports, 619; order to troops, 654; arrival in Paris, 768.
FRENCH, W.E.P., poem, 458.
French Amenities, 1220.
French Hate and English Jealousy, 555.
French Official Report on German Atrocities, 1132.
"From the Body of This Death," 1119.
FULDA, Ludwig, 180.
GADKE, (Col.), 141.
GALLIENI, (Gen.), 702.
GALSWORTHY, John, "A 'Credo' for Keeping Faith," 102; poem, 1126.
GEIER (S.S.), 1181.
GEORGE V., King of England, messages and addresses, 294, 298, 307, 1035; visit to troops, 1035.
GERARD, (Ambassador) J.W., report on peace talk in Germany, 273.
German Airmen, 932.
German Attack on Tahiti, 748.
German Declarations, 534.
German Entry Into Brussels, 679.
German Generals Talk of the War, 934.
German Review of the Evidence, 228.
German Religion of Duty, 170.
GERMAN Samoa, 749.
German Story of the Heligoland Fight, 754.
GERMANS, criticisms of, 93, 95, 124, 170.
Germans as Seen from a Convent, 981.
GERMANY:— Address to Americans, 533. Army, criticisms, 93, 95, 141; mobilization, 252; strength, 255; officers, 256; reports of correspondents, 718, 731, 925-934; prisoners, 974; commanders' proclamations, 1116. Crown Prince's message to America, 1187. Empress's appeal to German women, 211; birthday celebration, 722. General conditions, 765, 943. Navy, 134, 215, 217, 254, 256. Reichstag, 250. South African intrigues, 127, 133, 214. Treatment of resident citizens of hostile nations, 267. White Book, 189, 413, 431-448. See also CAMPAIGN in Western Europe.
Germany and World Empire, 493.
Germany of the Future, 606.
Germany the Aggressor, 608.
Germany vs. Belgium, 1102.
Germany's Civilized Barbarism, 160.
Germany's Strategic Railways, 1000.
GIBBONS, Perceval, dispatches, 777, 961, 964, 1207.
GIBBS, Philip, dispatches, 691, 704, 714, 729.