<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII<br/> <span class="cheaderfont">BOB RUSSELL’S STORY</span></h2>
<p>“Shortly after international war was declared
last July, the <cite>Herald</cite> decided that it needed a
personal representative at the front, and I was
selected for the job because I had been over here
several times on pleasure trips before, knew the
lie of the land pretty well and moreover could
speak half a dozen languages. As you may
guess, I was mighty proud of being honored by
so responsible a position.</p>
<p>“Before leaving I called at the offices of the
Universal Transportation Company to bid Ned
and Alan good-bye, but found that they were
visiting their families in Chicago, and so had to
leave without seeing them.</p>
<p>“Following instructions, I landed first in England,
where I interviewed both Lord Roberts,
commander-in-chief of the British army, and Sir
Edward Grey, the prime minister. At that time
no one in London seemed to be much worried
over the war and it was prophesied that the
Kaiser would soon be treating for peace.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[135]</span></p>
<p>“Knowing the truly magnificent organization
of the German military machine as I did, I didn’t
think so, and really I don’t believe that gallant
Lord Roberts did either, despite his remarks in
our interview.</p>
<p>“I crossed the channel from Dover to Calais
on August fifteenth, shortly after the fall of
Liege and while sharp fighting was going on
between the Germans and French in Alsace-Lorraine.
Everything was in confusion. Train
service was disrupted, the French army was only
half mobilized yet, the Belgians, despite their
wonderful resistance, were being crushed by the
invading Germans on every hand, and the country
people were fleeing in abject terror to get
out of harm’s way.</p>
<p>“Contrary to expectations, I found that foreign
war correspondents were not at all welcome
and I was subjected to all sorts of petty annoyances
from both civic and military officials. It
was then that I began showing my neutral newspaper
credentials less frequently, and tried
wherever possible to pass myself off as a tourist
unable to return home.</p>
<p>“The allied French, Belgian and English
forces engaged the conquering German host all
along a two hundred and forty-eight mile battle<span class="pagenum">[136]</span>
line on the Alsatian frontier about that time,
and the Germans threw millions of men into Belgium,
seeking a shortcut to already terrified
Paris. There were wild rumors afloat that Brussels,
the Belgium capital, would resist German
occupation. This promised to be a big ‘story’
for my paper, so I hurried there with what
haste I could.</p>
<p>“As you know, however, the terrible fate of
other Belgian cities which had resisted the invaders,
had pretty well cowed the citizens, and Brussels
surrendered without a shot being fired. I
was there when that wonderful German army
marched in and took possession, and I want to
tell you boys right now that it was the most
imposing spectacle I ever hope to see. The
crowds were packed eight and ten deep along
all the principal streets to watch the triumphal
entrance. They waited there anxiously from
early morning until two o’clock, when we heard
that the burgomaster had officially turned over
the keys of the city to the advance guard and
removed his scarf of office.</p>
<p>“‘They are coming! The Germans are here!’
ran through the tremendous throngs of citizens.</p>
<p>“On they came, preceded by a scouting party
of Uhlans, horse, foot, artillery and sappers,<span class="pagenum">[137]</span>
with siege train complete. There were fully a
hundred armored motor cars on which rapid-firing
guns were mounted. Every regiment and
battery was headed by a band.</p>
<p>“Then came the drums and fifes, the blare of
brass and hoarse, lusty-voiced soldiers singing
‘Die Wacht am Rhein’ and ‘Deutschland Uber
Alles.’</p>
<p>“The legions of the war-king of Europe swept
down through the ancient streets of Brussels
like a great flood. But the gorgeous garb of the
German army was missing—the cherry-colored
and lilac uniforms of the horsemen, the bright
blue of the infantry. All wore greenish, earth-color
gray, which made them less conspicuous
for hostile marksmen. All of the spiked helmets
were painted gray. The gun carriages and even
the pontoon bridges were gray.</p>
<p>“To the quick-step rattle of drums, the Germans
marched to the city square. Then at a
sharp word of command, the gray-clad ranks,
like one grand machine, broke into the famous
stiff-legged ‘goose step,’ while the simple folk
of the town gazed with mouths agape. They did
this after a long, grueling night of continuous
marching, when we expected that they would be
staggering with fatigue.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[138]</span></p>
<p>“There were the renowned 26th and 64th regiments,
already battle-scarred veterans. There
rode on prancing black horses the famous Brunswick
Death’s Head Hussars, and their comrades
on many bloody fields, the Zeiten Hussars. There
the dashing, reckless Uhlan lancers, some of
whom had Belgian officers manacled to their
stirrup leathers and caused a subdued murmur
of resentment to run through the crowd.
Instantly the German horsemen backed their
steeds into the densely packed ranks of the spectators,
threatening them with uplifted swords
and effectually quelling the outward manifestations
of momentary revolt.</p>
<p>“All day long and far into the night that
ominous gray column kept passing through the
streets, and it seemed for days afterwards as
if I could still hear the muffled <em>tramp, tramp,
tramp, tramp</em>, and the rumble of heavy gun
carriages over the cobblestones.</p>
<p>“The difficulties of my position were
immensely increased after this, for the Germans
proved very strict about signing passports or
letting noncombatants wander about the country.
While I was detained thus in Brussels,
reports came of the fall of Liege, fierce fighting
around Malines and the terrible sacking of<span class="pagenum">[139]</span>
Louvain. The German hosts invaded France,
Rheims fell, the French government fled south
to Bordeaux, and it was commonly said that
the Germans would eat their Christmas dinner
in Paris.</p>
<p>“As you may guess, I was wild to get nearer
the battle front, but no efforts of mine could
persuade or bribe the German officers to let me
accompany the army on the march. About the
only news that I could cable back to the <cite>Herald</cite>
was made up of sketchy little sidelights on how
the Belgians lived under the conquerors, and
even those were grossly edited by the official
censor.</p>
<p>“Early in September we heard that the Allies
had rallied, however. The English had imported
Sepoys from India, and the French, black men
from Algeria to help them in fighting, and had
thrown themselves between trembling Paris and
the advancing Teuton. Then, on the 7th, I think
it was, came news that the German right wing
had been checked almost within cannon shot of
the French capital, and that the whole auxiliary
army of the Crown Prince Friedrich Wilhelm
had been hurled back by a masterly flank movement
on the part of the French under General
Joffre.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[140]</span></p>
<p>“That seemed to be the turning point. Reinforcements
were daily arriving for the Allied
army from England and elsewhere; it was difficult
for the hard-pressed Germans to get sufficient
supplies so far from their own boundaries,
and, moreover, the Russian hordes had in the
meantime overrun all of East Prussia and had
become a dire menace there. A party of the
Army of the West was rushed across Germany
to help General Von Hindenburg resist the Russian
assault, and Von Kluck reluctantly fell
back from Paris to the French frontier, fighting
desperately every inch of the way.</p>
<p>“There the most sanguinary battles of the war
were fought as the Allies pressed on after the
retreating Germans. All of you boys have read
in the newspapers of the battles of the Meuse,
of the Marne, at Mons, and along that tremendous
battle line of the Aisne.</p>
<p>“Those terrible conflicts will go down in history
as the most awful of their kind ever known
on earth. The dead filled the trenches and river
bed so deep that they formed a solid footing for
their comrades to fight hand to hand with Englishman,
Frenchman, Hindu, Belgian, Algerian
and Lorrainer.</p>
<p>“Winter came with cold, ice, sleet and snow,<span class="pagenum">[141]</span>
to intensify the sufferings of the inadequately
protected soldiers. Thousands of wounded died
from exposure on the field where they fell. They
fought on the earth, in tunnels under it, high up
in the air, on the sea and under the sea. They
mined the whole North Sea and the English
Channel. Antwerp surrendered and Ghent fell
before the Germans.</p>
<p>“And all of that time I was cooped up in one
Belgian town or another, stopped every time I
tried to get anywhere near the battle front, with
the <cite>Herald</cite> cabling me every day or so for some
<em>real</em> news—the stuff that they didn’t get through
Associated Press channels—‘copy’ that would
enable them to print something that everybody
else didn’t have.</p>
<p>“So finally I grew desperate and determined
to get closer to the scene of actual fighting, at no
matter what hazard. Right then my real troubles
began.”</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum">[142]</span></p>
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