CHAPTER XVII BOB RUSSELL’S STORY

“Shortly after international war was declared last July, the _Herald_ 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.

“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.

“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.

“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.

“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.

“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.

“The allied French, Belgian and English forces engaged the conquering German host all along a two hundred and forty-eight mile battle 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.

“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.

“‘They are coming! The Germans are here!’ ran through the tremendous throngs of citizens.

“On they came, preceded by a scouting party of Uhlans, horse, foot, artillery and sappers, 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.

“Then came the drums and fifes, the blare of brass and hoarse, lusty-voiced soldiers singing ‘Die Wacht am Rhein’ and ‘Deutschland Uber Alles.’

“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.

“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.

“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.

“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 _tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp_, and the rumble of heavy gun carriages over the cobblestones.

“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 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.

“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 _Herald_ 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.

“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.

“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.

“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.

“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.

“Winter came with cold, ice, sleet and snow, 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.

“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 _Herald_ cabling me every day or so for some _real_ 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.

“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.”