Over Here: Impressions of America by a British officer

Chapter XVIII: Through Pennsylvania 219 (7)

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"There are many things in the commonwealth of Nowhere which I rather wish, then hope, to see adopted in our own," wrote Thomas More after finishing Utopia. Yet America has approached very close to Utopia, according to reports. America will learn a great lesson from our struggles and suffering. War is a rotten sort of occupation. Just imagine all the men who have been killed in this war marching down Piccadilly. Even if they marched in close formation it would take an awfully long time. Yet the whole thing is Love's inferno, but of course we are not going to change, but rather we will continue to build huge battleships, equip huge armies, fight, die, live unnaturally and take our just deserts, and we will get them.

PHILADELPHIA, January, 1918.

I am now definitely employed by Uncle Sam to go about the country giving talks about the war. He must have been pleased with the result of our first effort in Pennsylvania. At any rate it has become my job to go from county capital to county capital, in every state, giving addresses in the Court Houses.

We started off on Wednesday the 15th at 9.15 A.M. in the Lehigh Valley Railroad's charming train called the "Black Diamond." Our party consisted of my senator, an ex-congressman of Irish extraction, a British Tommy camouflaged as a sergeant, and myself. The British Tommy's job was to bag any Britishers who desired to enlist. Strangely enough everybody wanted him to talk, but he was told _not_ to do any talking. I should have had no objection to his obliging our American friends if he had had anything to say, but he had never been to the front, much to his own disappointment, and I disliked the responsibility.

We arrived at a little city called Towanda sometime after lunch and dined in state with the members of the local committee. They all seemed to be judges, so far as I can remember. This may have been owing to the beauty of architecture displayed in the local Court House. We spoke to a fairly large audience. The proceedings were opened by a young lady who advanced with tightly clenched lips, and an air of determination, to a large black and handsomely decorated piano. She struck a chord or two and then a choir of maidens, assisted by some young men, commenced to sing some patriotic airs. They sang very well and then my senator, having been fittingly introduced by one of the leading citizens, addressed the people. I came next, and enjoyed myself thoroughly, for none of my jokes missed fire. Then the congressman spoke and none of his jokes missed fire. At the end of this meeting a suspicion commenced to possess my mind. I began to wonder whether it were not true that the folks living in the country towns were more awake to the situation than their brethren in the cities.

I loved the congressman's effort. The lovely part about his remarks lay in the fact that all the time he felt that he ought to be careful not to introduce too much about Ireland's wrongs.

After the meeting we retired to the hotel and in the night a party of young people returned from a sleighing expedition and commenced to whisper in the room next to mine, which was a sitting-room. They succeeded in waking us up but, by merely whispering, refused to satisfy any curiosity that we possessed. It is a curious thing that ill-bred curiosity seems the predominant quality in a man when he is awakened at night and cannot go to sleep.

The next day we arrived at Tunkhannock, a charming little town, and we addressed a meeting in the Court House. It was freezing, and the ground was covered with snow, but that did not prevent the place of meeting from being crammed with eager, earnest people. I suggested to the congressman that we should talk from the bench, as it gave one more control over the people who were crowded close up to where we were sitting. He looked at me with a twinkle in his Irish eyes and said, "Yes, quite so--the old British spirit coming out again. If you get up there on the bench, in ten seconds you'll have me in the dock." Of course, amidst laughter, he confided the whole thing to the audience. The people were fine, as keen as mustard. They were all possessed with a firm desire to get along with the job.

That same evening we arrived at Wilkes-Barre and addressed a fairly large meeting in the Y. M. C. A. auditorium. I must honestly admit that I missed the wonderful spirit displayed at Towanda and Tunkhannock. This may be owing to the fact that the city is a large one, and visited a good deal by war lecturers. However, the men we met impressed us greatly, as we all chatted after the meeting in the local club.

The next morning we took a trolley car for Scranton. Scranton! If every town in France, England, Italy, and the United States possessed the spirit displayed by the citizens of Scranton, the war would go with a rush. I had friends in Scranton,--a boy and a girl married to one another, and now possessing a wee friendly baby, and they insisted upon my staying with them. At 7.45 we motored down to the Town Hall, towards which a great stream of people was advancing.

I mounted the platform and found my senator and the congressman safely seated amidst a number of officials and ladies. At eight o'clock some members of the Grand Army of the Republic took their seats well up to the front, amidst cheers. They were fine looking men, hale and hearty. I wish public speakers would not address these soldiers by telling them that their numbers are dwindling, and so on. They always do it, and the veterans are patient; but when I am eighty I shall object very strongly to anyone suggesting to me that soon I shall descend into the grave. The mere fact that their numbers are dwindling is true, alas, but they have faced death before, and even now they must feel the same irritation with public speakers that Tommy feels when, just before a charge, a chaplain preaches to him about the life to come. However, the ladies feel sobs in their throats and I daresay the soldiers don't mind very much. They have got hardened to it.

At this meeting there were three choirs numbering in all about six hundred voices. An energetic gentleman stood on the stage and commanded the singing, which all the people liked; and smilingly obeyed him when he urged different sections of the audience to sing alone.

Of course we sang the "Star Spangled Banner," and at the chorus one of the men of the Grand Army of the Republic stepped forward, like the soldier he was, and waved a beautiful heavy silk flag gracefully and slowly. The effect was fine.

After some remarks on the part of the chairman, in which he said that the "peaks in the distance shone with a rosy light," my senator spoke. He introduced a remark which I liked very much but had not heard before. It was something about his great-grandfather dying in New York on a British pest ship. His idea was of course to bring out a contrast in regard to the present friendship for Great Britain. I spoke for over an hour, and when I had finished the whole vast audience of nearly four thousand men and women rose to their feet and sang "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow." I felt a little miserable but very proud. It was all very easy, really. The war is a serious business to the Scranton folk and they wanted to hear about things: they have all got a sense of humour, and I have lived with the British Tommy.

The next day we arrived at Mauch Chunk and addressed a wonderful audience of people, some of whom I believe were Pennsylvania Dutchmen and consequently my friends. I wish I could pronounce the name of their town. The local clergyman showed me an application form he had filled in for admittance to the U. S. A. in which he remarked that he was a citizen of the United States by birth, talent and inclination. He is about sixty years old, but he will be a soldier of some sort before this war is over, I am quite sure.

That evening we addressed the citizens of Easton. Apparently the audience consisted of mostly workmen. After the meeting I went to a reception at the house of some people of consequence. The very rich folk of Easton were all here and beautifully dressed. They were awfully nice folk, but I suspect that they ought to have been at the meeting, for, of course, it was arranged by the men keenly interested in the war. I daresay that they felt that they knew all that was to be known about the war, but it seemed to me that they ought to have seized this opportunity to let the folk with fewer opportunities see that they were keenly interested. As a matter of fact, they all knit a great deal and do what they can. Actually, the outstanding fact is this: There were two meetings in Easton. One took place in a school auditorium and was filled with men and women keen as far as one could judge to "carry this thing through." The other took place in a very charming house which was filled with men and women in full evening dress, also keen to "carry this thing through." It is a pity that they could not have met.

We returned to Philadelphia, very tired, but buoyed up with enthusiasm which had been given to us by the people who live in the Susquehanna and Wyoming Valleys. There are other beauty spots in this world, but the man who follows the trail of the Black Diamond up the Wyoming and Susquehanna Valleys sees much that he can never forget.

People in Philadelphia sometimes say that the country is still asleep to the situation. They speak vaguely of the outlying counties. The folk there may be asleep, but to my mind they are giving a very effective sleep-walking performance and I should shrink from waking them up.

After a day's rest in Philadelphia we once more started off and addressed audiences in court houses all crammed to overflowing at York, Gettysburg, Chambersburg, Carlisle, Lewistown, and Middleburg. It would be difficult to say which of these towns displayed the most enthusiasm.

York is a fine town with some beautiful buildings, and an excellent hotel. I lunched with a friend who lives in a country house, a little way out. The landscape was covered with snow but it had rained during the morning, and the thaw had been followed by a sudden frost. The water therefrom running along the branches of the trees became glistening ice. The effect in the sunlight was beautiful as we motored along the chief residential street,--an avenue called after one of the kings of England.

The next day we boarded a local train that carried us to Gettysburg. It was drawn along by one of those beautiful old locomotives that must have dazzled the eyes of children forty years ago. It reached Gettysburg five minutes before its time. I had hoped to spend some time viewing the battlefield, but there were several feet of snow, so it was difficult. However, we drove to the cemetery and saw the many thousands of graves occupied by the young men who fought and died in a great battle. The weather was bad but the Court House was crammed with people, including some soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic.

The next day I met the Roman Catholic priest, who had been present, and he told me how he had liked my remark about the Tommies thinking it "rather cute" of the little French children to be able to speak French.

Chambersburg was our next stopping place and here my senator rejoined us, for business had compelled him to go to New York during the first days of the week. The congressman had found it impossible to come with us and we missed him a great deal. Chambersburg seems a bustling community and the Committee of Public Safety had aroused much enthusiasm: the large Court House could not hold all the people who desired to enter.

The next day we arrived in Carlisle. Carlisle is precisely like an English country town. It possesses a Presbyterian church which was built before the Revolution. We were entertained by some friends of the senator. During the day we motored out to the Carlisle School for the American Indians. This was interesting to me since I have read so many stories around the Red Indians. The school forms a pleasant group of buildings.

We approached a large drill hall or gymnasium and at the moment of our entrance a band broke into "God Save the King." In the hall the braves were drawn up on one side and the squaws on the other. I had the honour of inspecting them and later I spoke a few words to them, but my effort seemed stilted and weak compared with the things that filled my mind.

The meeting in Carlisle showed the same enthusiasm that had marked all the meetings throughout the week. I felt at home a little, for the inhabitants are all alleged to be Scotch Irish. The town is sweet and pretty and we regretted that more time could not be spent walking about its streets and examining the quaint old houses, but we had to get on to Middleburg.

The suspicion that had possessed my mind at the beginning of this my last tour of Pennsylvania that the people in the small country towns are very wide-awake to the situation became more insistent after my visit to Middleburg. The temperature was several degrees below zero, and the ground had at least a foot of snow on its surface. The meeting was held at 12.30 but by the time we were ready to start there was not a vacant seat in the whole building and people were standing at the back of the hall. They "wanted to know." It was quite unnecessary to catch their interest by telling them amusing stories. They desired strong meat. To me there seemed in this charming little community the spirit of the men of Valley Forge who drilled with blood-stained feet in order that the British Empire might gain its freedom. They didn't know that they were fighting for us. They might even have spurned the idea. It is true, nevertheless, and I told the folk at Middleburg this, and they believed me. They believed me, too, when I told them that once more the British people and the American people were allied with the same purpose in view--the downfall of futile autocracy.

The old determined spirit of '76 still exists in America. It lives in the cities where it is difficult for the traveller to see, but in little towns like Middleburg even a Britisher can see it and a feeling of pride creeps over him when he makes the discovery.

How clever our cousins are when it comes to the actual pinch. They were in a criminal state of unpreparedness, just like ourselves; but when they established their Committees of Public Safety throughout the length and breadth of this huge country they showed us something that we might do well to copy. The heart of the organization exists at the capital. Arteries run to the big cities, smaller blood-vessels tap the towns, and little capillaries go out even to the small villages where local orators address the people in the tiny schoolhouses. Hence the people will know about everything; their loyalty and keenness will be kept at the right pitch and the Government will then have a certain quantity to base their plans upon.

At the moment the men at the head of affairs are getting the criticism that is so good for them, but no one seems to realise as yet that all mistakes at the moment are not really new mistakes but part of the great big composite mistake of unpreparedness.

I am able to observe the feelings of the people as I go from town to town and I am possessed not merely with a knowledge that we are going to win in our fight against Germany (that is a foregone conclusion), but that the friendship that can be seen arising between my country and this is going to be a wonderful help to us.

I can see this country travelling over some very difficult ground during the next few months, but as the gentleman said at Scranton, the "peaks in the distance shine with a very rosy light."

And so to my own countrymen I can say, "Criticise the American statesman if you desire, since you are well practised in the art; laugh at Uncle Sam's mistakes if you dare, but trust the American boy!" Your trust will not be in vain, for with your own British Tommy, the French Poilu, and the Italian soldier (I don't know what they call him), he will be there, smiling and good-looking, and glad to see the gratitude and love for him too which you will not be able to prevent from appearing on your face when the people of the world can cry at last, "Victory!!!"

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Over Here: Impressions of America by a British officerChapter XVIII: Through Pennsylvania 219 (7)

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