Chapter III: Part 3

At first she did not enter the World War. She perceived from the very beginning that Germany and Austria were the attackers and were not the nations attacked. Her people began to understand what victory for the Central Powers would mean and clamored for war on the side of the Allies. Then the cry went up to redeem the lost Italian provinces held by Austria and called "Italia Irredenta" or "Unredeemed Italy," and Italy entered the war May 23, 1915.

At first she declared war upon Austria but not upon Germany. She made no attempt to work in harmony with the Allies. It was a war of her own upon Austria to regain the lost Italian provinces of the Trentino and Trieste. Although she fought against tremendous obstacles in the mountain passes with wonderful courage and success, her entrance into the war was of assistance to the Allies only as it kept a certain number of Austrian soldiers from the eastern and western fronts.

In 1916, the Italians captured Gorizia and all Italy went wild and began to dream of a more wonderful development than had ever seemed possible before. In 1917, they fought on with seemingly great success and dreamed wilder dreams than ever, for Russia was out of the war and would have no claim to Constantinople and the straits. Italy in this year sent an army across the Adriatic into Albania to assure Italian control of that country.

And then the "castles in the air" were suddenly shattered. The Italian army had not been properly supplied and the country was very short of coal. The army had therefore not been able to follow up its successful attacks. The enemy had also caused great discontent among the common soldiers in the Italian forces by spreading lies among them. The collapse of the Russian armies had also made many of them believe Germany was unbeatable.

Then, too, it is said the Italian generals were too sure, "too confident," as athletic trainers would say, and had not properly protected their armies and their northern provinces against a reverse. Italy had declared war on Germany on August 27, 1916, and German shock troops set free by the downfall of Russia were sent against the incautious Italians and broke through their lines.

No prepared positions were ready back of the lines. The great bases were close up to the lines. Therefore when the Italian armies were obliged to retreat to prevent being surrounded and captured, they had to retreat so far that their army bases with all their supplies were lost and hundreds of thousands of Italian non-combatants were forced to leave their homes on scarcely a "moment's notice." 250,000 Italians and 2000 guns were captured by the enemy.

The greatest humiliation and the worst suffering followed, however, for the Italian people who were left behind in the provinces overrun by the victorious Austrians and Germans. The following proclamation by the Germans in the province of Udine is an excellent example of how the Huns treated conquered territory and conquered peoples.

PROCLAMATION issued by the Headquarters of the German Military Government at Udine to the inhabitants of conquered Italy.

A house-to-house search will be made for all concealed arms, weapons, and ammunition.

All victuals remaining in the houses must be delivered up.

Every citizen must obey our labor regulations.

ALL WORKMEN, WOMEN, AND CHILDREN OVER 15 YEARS OLD ARE obliged to work in the fields every day, Sundays included, from 4 A.M. to 8 P.M.

Disobedience will be punished in the following manner:--

(1) Lazy workmen will be accompanied to their work and watched by Germans. After the harvest they will be IMPRISONED for six months, and every third day will be given NOTHING BUT BREAD AND WATER.

(2) Lazy women will be obliged to work, and after the harvest receive SIX MONTHS' IMPRISONMENT.

(3) LAZY CHILDREN WILL BE PUNISHED BY BEATING.

The Commandant Reserves the Right to Punish Lazy Workmen with 20 Lashes Daily.

What a contrast to the proclamation of General Allenby when the English captured Jerusalem whereby the inhabitants were guaranteed protection in carrying on their business, and all homes and buildings were to be safeguarded. When following the armistice the American soldiers occupied German cities, the Germans were surprised to find that they were in no wise punished or prevented from going about their regular pursuits.

As a result of the World War, Italy recovered the unredeemed provinces, and just before the signing of the armistice, she redeemed herself in war by wiping out the memory of her humiliating defeat about a year earlier at Caporetto.

The Italian war office in its official report of this second battle of the Piave says in substance the following:--

"The war against Austria-Hungary which under the supreme direction of the king, the commander-in-chief of the Italian army, began May 24, 1915, and which since then, with inferior numbers and material, has been conducted with unflagging faith and constant valor for forty-one months has been won.

"The gigantic battle of October 24 is victoriously ended. Fifty-one Italian divisions, three British, two French, one Czechoslovak, and one American regiment fought against sixty-three Austro-Hungarian divisions.

"The Austro-Hungarian army is destroyed. It suffered very heavy losses in the fierce resistance of the first days of the battle, and in retreat it lost an immense quantity of material of all kinds, nearly all its stores and depots, and has left in our hands over 300,000 prisoners, with their commands complete, and not less than 5,000 guns.

"The defeat has left what was one of the most powerful armies in the world in disorder and without hope of returning along the valleys through which it advanced with proud assurance."

Church bells were rung all over Italy and parades and celebrations were held in all the large cities.

President Wilson sent on November 4 the following message to the King of Italy:--

May I not say how deeply and sincerely the people of the United States rejoice that the soil of Italy is delivered from her enemies? In their name I send your Majesty and the great Italian people the most enthusiastic congratulations.

WOODROW WILSON.

During the war, Italy called to the colors from a male population of only 17,000,000 nearly 5,500,000 men and suffered a loss of almost 1,000,000 of them. It is estimated that the nation's man power suffered a permanent loss of over half a million.

But serious as is this loss, Italy inflicted an even greater punishment upon the foe. In Austrian prisoners alone she captured over a million. The Austrian loss in killed and wounded was doubtless far greater than Italy's.

Over 2500 miles of roads were constructed on the mountains of Italy and Albania, and 1000 miles of aërial cable railroads were built to carry food, ammunition, and guns over deep ravines.

Italy's fighters and industrial workers accomplished their work with an inadequate supply of materials and food that meant real and continuous suffering such as probably was felt by no other of the warring peoples.

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We will never bring disgrace to this, our city, by any act of dishonesty or cowardice, nor ever desert our suffering comrades in the ranks. We will fight for the ideals and sacred things of the city, both alone and with many; we will revere and obey the city's laws and do our best to incite a like respect and reverence in those above us who are prone to annul or to set them at naught; we will strive unceasingly to quicken the public's sense of civic duty. Thus in all these ways we will transmit this city not only not less but greater, better and more beautiful than it was transmitted to us.

_The Oath of the Athenian Youth._

SONG OF THE AVIATOR

(_This poem was written for an entertainment given by the Y.M.C.A. at an aviation barracks in a large camp in France. Mrs. Wilcox addressed five hundred aviators, and these verses were recited with great effect by Mrs. May Randall. After the entertainment there was a rush to obtain autographed copies of the poem._)

You may thrill with the speed of your thoroughbred steed,
You may laugh with delight as you ride the ocean,
You may rush afar in your touring car,
Leaping, sweeping by things that are creeping--
But you never will know the joy of motion
Till you rise up over the earth some day
And soar like an eagle, away--away.

High and higher, above each spire,
Till lost to sight is the tallest steeple,
With the winds you chase in a valiant race,
Looping, swooping, where mountains are grouping,
Hailing them comrades, in place of people.
Oh, vast is the rapture the bird man knows
As into the ether he mounts and goes.

He is over the sphere of human fear;
He has come into touch with things supernal.
At each man's gate death stands await;
And dying flying were better than lying
In sick beds crying for life eternal.
Better to fly halfway to God
Than to burrow too long like a worm in the sod.

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.

NATIONS BORN AND REBORN

In America, and in many other countries, people have listened with wonder and enjoyment to strangely beautiful music played by, probably the greatest of all pianists of today, Ignace Jan Paderewski. For years he has traveled from country to country and from city to city, playing the piano in a manner no other has been able to imitate, although Chopin's playing, it is said, had much the same effect upon the audiences. In Paderewski's playing as in his composition there is always an undercurrent deeply sad and weird. No one but a genius from the martyred land of Poland, or from some other that had equally suffered, could play as Chopin and Paderewski played or could compose music such as they composed. All the old glory of Poland in the ancient centuries, her grievous losses, the terrible wrongs done her, and the long-treasured dreams of a new and happier day for her people, live in the soul of Paderewski, and vibrate through his very finger tips as they move over the keys of his loved instrument.

Today the dreams of the Polish people are coming true. Hopes cherished since about the twelfth century are through the World War being realized in a new Poland.

The tenth century saw the formation of the first kingdom of Poland in central Europe to the east of the Germans. The country grew and prospered for two hundred years. Then, lacking kingly leadership, it became weak, and was finally divided into many principalities. At that time came the terrible Tartar invasion across Russia and into Poland, resulting in shocking desolation and ruin.

When complete destruction was threatened from hostile peoples, on the north and east, the Poles summoned aid from the Teutonic Knights, a German crusading order.

The Germans drove out the hostile neighbors, promptly taking control of their lands. Then Poland learned that she had even worse enemies to fear in those she had called to help her. She watched them build up military power to conquer her own lands. But by joining with the Lithuanians, she managed at length to defeat the Germans at the famous battle of Tannenberg in 1410.

For over three hundred years the kingdom possessed great power. But at last it again began to weaken, and the year 1772 "saw the beginning of the end." The three great nations, Russia, Prussia, and Austria, then joined against Poland and began to divide the kingdom among themselves. By 1795 Poland had ceased to exist as a nation.

The terrible misfortunes of the Polish people under these hostile foreign powers served really to bind them together with one common purpose--to win back the kingdom and to reëstablish a free country. This was their dream.

When the World War came, the Polish people in many lands, especially in the United States, volunteered for service on the French front. On June 22, 1918, the first division of Polish troops in France was presented with flags at a solemn ceremony, and listened to an address by the French president. Soon large numbers of Poles were fighting the Austrians and Germans in Italy and in Russia, although they knew that capture meant court-martial and death, since Austria and Germany considered them deserters, as they indeed were. The supreme commander of Polish forces, General Josef Haller, had been a colonel in the Austrian army. But he decided to desert the Austrian army to lead an "Iron Brigade" of Poles against the enemies of freedom.

Eighty-eight officers and twenty-six privates in his regiment were captured by the Austrians, court-martialed, and sentenced to death. When offered pardon by the Emperor Karl, they refused, saying, "We are soldiers of the Polish Nation. The Austrian government has no right to grant us pardon even as it has no more right to inflict punishment upon us than upon the soldiers of France and England."

Facing death, these men wrote to the Polish Parliamentary Club in Vienna, their reasons for desertion,--namely, the unfair treatment at the hands of the Austrians and their love for Poland. They had heard a rumor that the Polish organization was about to secure a more liberal sentence for them by agreeing to the cession of certain provinces of Poland. So the prisoners further wrote:--

"We value greatly the love of our countrymen and we were touched deeply by the generosity with which they thought of us, but we desire to protest most energetically against relief and concessions secured for us to the detriment of our country and the ancient rights of our nation.

"Do not permit our personal lot to weaken the united Polish front, for the death penalty can affect us only physically. The sufferings undergone by our grandfathers and fathers, we will continue to endure and with the sincere conviction that we are serving a free, united, and independent Poland."

A few days after they were condemned, the Polish National Committee sent a message to Italy declaring that representatives from all classes of the Polish people had met at Warsaw and proclaimed the union of all Poland.

Italy, France, and Great Britain formally recognized the Polish national army as independent and Allied, and on November 4, 1918, Secretary Lansing, in a letter, to a representative of the Polish National Committee, stated that the United States Government also wished to recognize officially the independence of the Polish army as a part of the Allied forces.

The people of the United States with those of other countries are hoping that Paderewski's great national family shall become united in one free and independent state. They now applaud this master of music as the first leader of free Poland. He will help destroy Bolshevism with its cry, "Death to the educated," which has resulted already in the death of hundreds of doctors, professors, engineers, and in one case, the extermination of all the pupils in a single high school. He will join the other great leaders in their belief that "Economic development, patriotism, and the ennobling of all human souls alone can lead to freedom."

To the south of Poland in the very heart of Europe is another new country, which already has set up a democratic government and elected as its president,--Thomas G. Masaryk, a former professor in the University of Prague, now the capital of Czecho-Slovakia.

Professor Masaryk spent some time in the United States conferring with officials at Washington. He was here when he received word that he had been elected first president of his newly formed country by a convention held in Geneva, Switzerland.

Great preparations for his return were made by the people. When at one o'clock on December 22, the booming of cannon told that the president's train was drawing in at the station, the hundred thousand people who had poured into the city of Prague were massed on every side to welcome him and sang, as only the Slavs can sing, their national song.

Soon President Masaryk's train, with its engine elaborately decorated, steamed in through the silent crowd. In complete silence, Masaryk, gray-haired and distinguished appearing, left the train and entered the station. There he saw groups of Czecho-Slovaks in French uniforms, some wearing the war cross, and groups who had been fighting in the Italian Alps. He saw also a group of university professors who had come to honor him.

In the tense silence, one of the leaders of the new republic came forward. He had for years conspired and worked with Masaryk for the freedom of their country, and now he greeted him by throwing his arms about him. After a further greeting from the government officials, and from the nation's aged and honored poet, Masaryk gave a brief speech telling of his hopes for the republic. He then passed out to the crowd who hailed him in a tumult of joy. One who witnessed Masaryk's return pictures the scenes on the way to the government buildings.

"There began a triumphal procession which took two hours to arrive at the Parliament house. Every window, every balcony and every roof was filled to overflowing, and every street lined on either side, twenty deep. All this multitude, most of whom had been standing for hours, had such joy written on their faces as has never before been seen and cannot possibly be described. Elders were holding children on their shoulders, all eyes were full of tears, all eyes smiling. The people kissed the flags of the Allies as they would kiss their babies.

"Since the proclamation, all the young ladies of Prague have taken to the fashion of peasant costumes, and several members of Parliament wore the old national dress. Searchlights playing on the spires and steeples of this most beautiful Slav city now again touch the great castle, henceforth the seat of government, where hundreds of windows are ablaze with lights, the first rejoicing it has known for three hundred years."

For three hundred years the peasants of Bohemia together with Slovakia which, with some smaller provinces, is now called Czecho-Slovakia, had tried every means to free themselves from Austria. On the north and west were the Germans and on the south the Austrians, both enemies, seeking only to get what they could for themselves out of the little country.

In their Declaration of Independence, given in Paris, October 18, 1918, the people have told the story of their past, as well as their purposes for the future.

"We make this declaration on the basis of our historic and natural right. We have been an independent State since the seventh century, and in 1526, as an independent State, consisting of Bohemia, Moravia, and Silesia, we joined with Austria and Hungary in a defensive union against the Turkish danger. We have never voluntarily surrendered our rights as an independent State in this confederation. The Hapsburgs broke their compact with our nation by illegally transgressing our rights and violating the Constitution of our State, which they had pledged themselves to uphold, and we therefore refuse longer to remain a part of Austria-Hungary in any form.

"We claim the right of Bohemia to be reunited with her Slovak brethren of Slovakia, once a part of our national State, later torn from our national body, and fifty years ago incorporated in the Hungarian State of the Magyars, who, by their unspeakable violence and ruthless oppression of their subject races have lost all moral and human right to rule anybody but themselves.

"The world knows the history of our struggle against the Hapsburg oppression. The world knows the justice of our claims, which the Hapsburgs themselves dared not deny. Francis Joseph in the most solemn manner repeatedly recognized the sovereign rights of our nation. The Germans and Magyars opposed this recognition, and Austria-Hungary, bowing before the Pan-Germans, became a colony of Germany, and, as her vanguard, to the East, provoked the last Balkan conflict, as well as the present world war, which was begun by the Hapsburgs alone without the consent of the representatives of the people.

"We cannot and will not continue to live under the direct or indirect rule of the violators of Belgium, France, and Serbia, and would-be murderers of Russia and Rumania, the murderers of tens of thousands of civilians and soldiers of our blood, and the accomplices in numberless unspeakable crimes committed in this war against humanity by the two degenerate and irresponsible dynasties. We will not remain a part of a State which has no justification for existence.

"We refuse to recognize the divine right of kings. Our nation elected the Hapsburgs to the throne of Bohemia of its own free will, and by the same right deposes them. We hereby declare the Hapsburg dynasty unworthy of leading our nation, and deny all of their claims to rule in the Czecho-Slovak land, which we here and now declare shall henceforth be a free and independent people and nation.

"We accept and shall adhere to the ideals of modern democracy, as they have been the ideals of our nation for centuries. We accept the American principles as laid down by President Wilson; the principles of liberated mankind--of the actual equality of nations--and of Governments deriving all their just power from the consent of the governed. We, the nation of Comenius, cannot but accept these principles expressed in the American Declaration of Independence, the principles of Lincoln, and of the declaration of the rights of man and of the citizen. For these principles our nation shed its blood in the memorable Hussite Wars, 500 years ago; and for these same principles, beside her Allies, our nation is shedding its blood today in Russia, Italy, and France."

It is said that the Czech soldiers fighting on the French front received the news of the declaration with wild enthusiasm, rushed forward, and wrested from the enemy one of the most difficult positions on the Aisne.

The Czechs were also fighting in Italy, and in Russia, although they had been first forced into the Austrian army. One Czech battalion commanded by Austrians and ordered against the Russians, rushed forward, but killed their officers on the way and surrendered in a body to the Russians, asking to fight with them against the Austro-Germans. If the Russian soldiers had held together and followed the invincible Czechs, Germany would have been driven completely out of Russia.

But the Czechs did not deceive the Austrians. Their hopes and plans were not secret. They openly warned Austria of their desertion. They wrote in chalk on the outside of the cars: "With us the Monarchy will not win."

Upon seeing this declaration, it is reported, the German and Austrian officers ordered the trainload of men to stand in line, and then shot every tenth man.

But the rest went on, through terrible and thrilling experiences, fighting and dying by the hundreds for the sake of the new republic which at last was born.

The story of the passage through Russia and Siberia of the Czecho-Slovak troops, who were fighting with Russia against Austria and Germany, is one of the most remarkable and exciting stories of history. These troops probably saved Siberia for the Allies and were at last able to join in the fighting on the western front.

Still another new nation now called Jugo-Slavia, although it may finally be called Serbia or some other name, has risen south of Austria-Hungary and east of the Adriatic Sea. It lies across from Italy and is nearly the same size as the mainland of that country. Its story, too, is one of conquest by northern enemies, followed by the crushing out of all freedom. But since the beginning of the World War, the people of Jugo-Slavia, on July 20, 1917, have set up a new republic based upon the ideas of justice and democracy, united under one flag, and granting its three different races equal rights and privileges.

Across the sea, in Arabia, the country of Hedjaz has been freed from Germany's allies, the Turks. The people of Hedjaz also once enjoyed freedom and glory, their power in early history reaching all the way from France to China. Backed by the British in Egypt and Mesopotamia, the Arabs revolted from the Turks, drove them out of the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, and at length broke their power completely. Mohammedans have always recognized the Mohammedan ruler who controlled Mecca and Medina, the birthplace and the burial place of the prophet, as their Kalif. If this custom is followed, the King of Hedjaz becomes the Kalif in place of the Sultan of Turkey.

Hedjaz has already arisen from the ruins of the Turks as an independent and separate state. Armenia, it is to be hoped, will do the same.

Each country needs only the will and the declaration of the people for freedom in order to secure the sympathy, aid, and recognition of the victorious Allied nations and the United States. As soon as they declare their independence and choose their own government, the greater nations at once rush to their relief. This was shown especially in the case of Finland.

For centuries Finland's fate was uncertain, resting now in the hands of Sweden, now in the power of Russia, and last, and worst of all, in the hands of Germany. But the people rose united, expelled their new rulers, who had been sent to them by the Germans, and declared their independence.

At once the United States and the Allies, with Food Administrator Hoover, planned a gigantic program for relief, which for Finland alone provided 14,000 tons of food. They further promised aid to all Russian provinces as fast as they should drive out the Bolsheviki, or at least deprive them of power. This meant a shipment in three months of 200,000 tons of food, clothing, agricultural supplies, and railroad equipment.

The world expects Russia to regain her equilibrium and reach the greatest heights of power ever known in her history. Her possessions will not be as large as they were before the World War, because of the loss of Finland, and of provinces in the west and south which are likely to become independent states.

In America the boys and girls scarcely realize what the blessings of freedom mean, as the children of the new countries do. But that America is indeed blessed with liberty and happiness is shown by the closeness with which the new nations have followed her as a pattern. Their appreciation of this country was clearly expressed in the Czecho-Slovak Declaration of Independence, and again when President Masaryk at the Hague, on December 30, 1918, spoke as follows:--

"Komensky's historic prayer has literally been fulfilled and our people, free and independent, advances, respected and supported by universal sympathy, into the community of European nations. Are we living in a fairy tale? Politicians of all countries are asking this. I put the same question to myself and yet it is all an actual reality.

"When the German victories seemed about to realize the Pan-German plan of the subjection of the whole of the Old World, America stepped out of its reserve, replaced weary and betrayed Russia and within a short time Marshal Foch dictated terms to beaten Germany and Austria-Hungary.

"President Wilson formulated the leading principle of democracy which is contained in the American Declaration of Independence, where, as in the French Declaration of the Rights of Man, revolution triumphed and established that all political power comes from the people. And as Lincoln said, is of the people, by the people, and for the people.

"President Wilson proclaimed as the object of the war the liberation of all mankind. We Czechs and Slovaks could not stand aside in this world war. We were obliged to decide against Austria-Hungary and Germany for our whole history led us to democratic powers.

"In May of last year I was obliged to go to Russia whence in the beginning of March I went to Japan and from Japan to the United States,--a remarkable and unexpected journey round the world,--verily a propaganda journey, winning the whole world for our national cause.

"After seven months I returned nominated by our government as the first president of the Czecho-Slovak republic. I know not whom I ought to thank first. It is natural that the recognition by England and the United States, the greatest Allied Powers, has helped us greatly. The United States guaranteed from their wealth abundant help, and we have from them a definite promise for the future. President Wilson himself has devoted sincere attention to our question and we are obliged to him and the Allied Powers. They can always count on us.

"The real object of the war and peace is the reorganization of eastern Europe and the solution of the eastern question. The war was a culmination of many struggles to solve the eastern question in the broad sense of the word. German pressure eastwards was directed against a zone of small nations between Germany and Russia, beginning with the Finns and going as far down as Greece, making a series of eighteen small nations. German, Austro-Hungarian, and Russian imperialism suffered shipwreck. The small nations are freed. The war's negative task is fulfilled. The positive task awaits--to organize east Europe and this with mankind in general. We stand on the threshold of a new time when all mankind feels in unity. Our people will contribute with full consciousness its part in the realization of this great and lofty task."

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And for your country, boy, and for that flag, never dream a dream but of serving her as she bids you, though the service carry you through a thousand hells. No matter what happens to you, no matter who flatters you or who abuses you, never look to another flag, never let a night pass but you pray God to bless that flag. Remember, boy, that behind all these men you have to do with, behind officers, and government, and people even, there is the Country Herself, your Country, and that you belong to Her as you belong to your own mother. Stand by Her, boy, as you would stand by your mother.

EDWARD EVERETT HALE.

"TO VILLINGEN--AND BACK"

Very remarkable in the world struggle for liberty was the eagerness of the Allied soldiers to fight and to make the supreme sacrifice if necessary. The Americans, especially, brought cheer and courage to the tired French, Belgian, Italian, and British hearts, so daring and high spirited were they when going into battle. With a smile, a shout, or a song, they went over the top to meet the Huns, ready for anything except to be taken prisoners into Germany.

This was the one possibility dreaded by the soldiers all along the front. They knew that the Huns were not a pleasant company to meet; that they sang only when ordered to do so, and sang only what they were ordered to sing; that they laughed most and shouted loudest when cruelly torturing innocent, unprotected, and unarmed people. What life must be in a German prison at the mercy of German soldiers, they dared hardly imagine.

It is not strange therefore that our men wished rather to die than to be prisoners. Nor is it strange that, having been taken, they made the most desperate attempts to escape.

Naturally the easiest time to break away was while being carried from the front to the rear of the German lines. Once thrown into prison, the difficulties were much greater.

Often the captive was handed back from one company of guards to another, being made to work for the enemy on his way. Private Donahue was one who was sent back in this manner, after being captured in a midnight skirmish near Château-Thierry.

He was dropped unconscious on the ground outside a German officer's tent, and when he revived he found that all his belongings,--even letters and snapshots from home,--had been taken from him. A German stood over him and began questioning him, hoping to gather important military information.

When asked how many Americans were at the front, the prisoner said, "Thirty-two American divisions and forty French."

"Pigs!" shouted the German lieutenant, and the cry was caught up by the guards, who came at a signal and dragged Donahue away.

From early morning until nightfall, he worked with the camouflage men, masking the batteries and cutting leafy branches for screening the stores of ammunition heaped by the roadside.

The Germans gave him no blankets at night, and for food poured out for him a sort of tasteless gruel and tossed him chunks of coarse black bread to eat with it. Every day a different soldier took him in charge. Each night he was closely guarded. He knew from the distant sounds of the guns that he was being taken back into Germany.

On the seventh night, he lay on the ground with Germans sleeping all about him. His guard sat beside him, leaning against a tree, his rifle between his knees. Private Donahue wished that he were back in the American lines, when suddenly in the moonlight he could see the guard's head nodding and nodding. Now was his time to escape.

He stole away and began creeping through the woods. There were Germans lying all around and he stumbled over several of them. But they only grunted savagely, and he crept fearfully on.

Soon he reached the edge of the woods and crawled under a bush to think.

Above No Man's Land an occasional shell was bursting, by whose light he could dimly see the American lines, eight kilometers away. He crept along in the shadows, lying still whenever a soldier passed near him. When morning came, he crawled into a grain field and lay down so that no one might see him. Several times soldiers passed so close to him that he could hear them talking. Once he was nearly trampled under the hoofs of two horses, and twice a Red Cross dog threatened to disclose his presence in the field. But he lay still as death and the dog went off.

That night he was creeping up the side of a ravine when he was discovered by the sentry.

"Halt!" cried the guard.

Private Donahue had been fearing that he would hear that word. But now he recognized it as spoken by an American voice.

"I am an American!" he cried joyfully, springing to his feet.

Soon he was sleeping inside his own lines, under two old potato sacks. At dawn he ate a good breakfast at the field kitchen, then reported at headquarters.

He had kept his eyes open during his seven days' journey through the German lines, and had some important information to give at French headquarters.

But many times the captives had no opportunity to escape before they were locked in the prison camp somewhere in Germany. Then it demanded every bit of Yankee ingenuity to get away.

One of the most elaborate attempts, involving the escape of a great number of men, is told in the following story.

There were seventy Americans among the prisoners in a German camp at Villingen in Baden. Not all had arrived at the same time. Some were newcomers, others unfortunately had been detained there for more than a year.

The prison consisted of a barracks for the men, surrounded by a large stretch of land, all inclosed with two rows of high wire fencing, completely charged with electricity. The second fence, which was six or eight feet away from the first, was very strong and bent inward toward the top, so that if a prisoner by any possible means succeeded in getting over the inner fence, he surely could not climb the outer. Moreover, guards were kept on watch between the fences, and outside, sentinels were stationed about thirty yards apart. It seemed impossible for the prisoners to get away by daylight, and at night the barracks with their iron-barred windows were closely guarded.

The treatment of the prisoners, especially of those who had made any attempts to escape, was shameful and often cruel. The food, in general, consisted of sour black bread, soup made largely from tree leaves, and some sort of drink made from acorns and called coffee. Needless to say, the prisoners were half starved. Indeed, two American girls who were in Berne, Switzerland, working among the released prisoners, in a letter to America showed in what an awful condition they found some of the men. Their letter read:--

"We have gone to the station three times at four o'clock in the morning to help feed the English soldiers who were on their way home after being exchanged for German prisoners. We had the privilege of giving some of them the first white bread they had had in four years. The men who had been kept working behind the lines were in a pitiable condition. One such man happened to be at my table,--for they are taken off the train for two hours, given hot tea and roast beef and ham sandwiches,--and the poor fellow began taking sandwiches, eating a few bites, and stowing the rest feverishly away in his pocket. He couldn't realize that he was in a place where he would be fed."

All of the seventy Americans at Villingen wished themselves anywhere outside the prison camp, and most of all back on the firing line, helping to win.

So much did they wish this that a few more daring than the rest had twice attempted to escape together. Their attempts had ended in failure, but that had only led them to spend months in making still more elaborate plans to gain their freedom.

Not all could leave the camp, they knew. Many did not care to risk it, while thirty of the seventy Americans were doctors and thought they ought to stay and do what they could for their weak and sickly fellow prisoners. But in the final plan, sixteen men were to try this break for liberty.

One of the men was Lieutenant Harold Willis of Boston, an aviator in the famous Lafayette Escadrille. He had been captured after a battle in the air. Not even fourteen months in a German prison could kill the daring spirit of this young lieutenant. Instead, the cruel treatment of the prisoners, the daily contact with the stupid German guards, made him long once more to cut through the clouds and bring down another boche. Accordingly, he became a leader in carrying out the plans for escape.

Lieutenant Edward V. Isaacs, of Cresco, Iowa, an officer in the United States Navy, was another leader. He was crossing the Atlantic in the big American transport, President Lincoln, when it was torpedoed by the submarine U-90, on May 31, 1918. He went down with the ship, but came to the surface again and crawled up on a raft where he stayed until one of the lifeboats came by and the men took him off. But the boat had gone but a short distance, when the guilty submarine pushed its nose up through the surface of the water near by. Its commander ordered the lifeboat to draw near and the helpless oarsmen had to obey. When asked the whereabouts of the captain of the vessel, the men in the lifeboat answered that, as far as any of them knew, he had gone down with the ship.

Then the commander, probably noticing his uniform, singled out Lieutenant Isaacs, demanded that he come on board the submarine, and informed him that if he did not find the captain, he would take him instead to Germany.

Two days later, the U-boat carrying this American officer was sighted by two American destroyers. Immediately the destroyers made for the submarine and tried to sink it.

The U-boat quickly submerged and floated far below the surface while the destroyers circled about for several hours dropping many depth bombs, five of which exploded not three hundred yards from the submarine. So great was the shock of these explosions that, in telling of his experiences afterward, Isaacs said it seemed as if the ocean shook the boat much as a dog shakes a rat.

During this time not a word was spoken except by the watch officers, who were at their posts like the rest of the crew, and reported to the commander the directions in which the bombs were falling, thus enabling him to move the boat about in a safe course. The bombing continued until nightfall. Then the commander thought he was safe. But the next day, another American warship appeared, and the U-90 made for its home port as fast as possible.

Lieutenant Isaacs, more fortunate than many U-boat prisoners, was treated well by the officers and crew. He messed with the officers and heard them most of the time discussing why the United States entered the war. They told Isaacs that the only possible reason was that the United States had loaned so much money to the Allies that she was obliged to enter the war to make sure of being repaid.

But Isaacs had no intention of remaining in the U-boat. As it entered neutral waters about four miles off the Danish coast, it began running along above the surface.

Isaacs secretly left his room, hurried to the deck, and was just about to dive over into the water, hoping to swim ashore, when Captain Remy, the commander, caught hold of him. He had suspected Isaacs and had followed him from below. "Stupid fool," he exclaimed as he drew him away from the side of the boat and ordered him below.

On landing at Wilhelmshaven, Isaacs was questioned by German intelligence officers, and then sent to Karlsruhe where he was again examined with the hope that he would give out information which would be valuable to the Germans. Here with several other prisoners, he was held for three days in a "listening hotel" where dictographs had been strung about the room. The German officers hoped that, left without guards in the room, the prisoners would talk over military matters, not knowing that the dictographs were there to record all that was said and thus reveal all to the Germans. But the prisoners expected some trick, discovered the dictographs, and pulled out the wires so that they would not work.

Isaacs remained in Karlsruhe for some time, then was placed on a train with several officers and started for the prison camp at Villingen in Baden. At Karlsruhe he had been shamefully treated and he determined he should never arrive in Baden.

On the train he was put in the charge of two guards and so closely was he watched that he despaired of having any chance to escape. But within five miles of his destination, he noticed that one guard became drowsy, while the other had his attention on the passing landscape.

Then it was, with the train running forty miles an hour, that he jumped to his feet and dived through the little car window. He landed on his head and knees on the opposite track. Although badly stunned, he struggled to his feet and began to run. By this time the train had been stopped and the guards were pursuing, firing as they came on. Isaacs went some distance but could hardly run for he had badly injured his knees. A bullet whistled by his ear and he dropped and let the guard come up to him.

Mad with rage the German kicked him, and beat him with his gun until he broke it. The rest of the guards soon came up. Then they made Isaacs walk the five miles into Baden, beating him now and then on the way.

On reaching the camp he was first taken to the officers' quarters and threatened with death if he tried again to escape. After being plastered with paper bandages he was put into solitary confinement for three weeks. So poor was the prison food that had it not been for the nourishment furnished by the American Red Cross, Isaacs never would have recovered.

He had been threatened with death if he tried again to escape, but he began at once to make plans and would have gained his liberty much sooner than he did, had not the Russian prisoner attendants each time betrayed his plans before he could try them. And now he and Lieutenant Willis with fourteen other men decided to try again for freedom.

The prisoners were sometimes permitted to take walks with the guards about the country. In this way the men who were to escape were able to learn about the roads and the best hiding places. They managed to secure maps and compasses by bribing some of the Russian attendants.

But these would only be of help when once outside the camp, and how to get out was a serious question. Some believed that the best way was to get past the guards through the big gate. To climb over the two wire fences, so heavily charged with electricity, seemed entirely impossible.

But Isaacs discovered a way across that barbed wire.

He had seen two of the prisoners marking out the whitewashed lines on the tennis court where the German officers played each day. The lines were made by the use of two narrow wooden boards, eighteen feet long, fastened together by crosspieces, allowing a small space of about two inches between. While the boards seemed very light, they were so fastened together that they were really quite strong. They could be made even stronger by nailing on more cross-pieces. Then they would form a sort of bridge over which the men could crawl from the barracks' windows to the outer fence, where they could drop to the ground and run from the sentinels.

For months the men gathered their necessary materials together. Many of the prisoners, who were not to try to escape, were let into the secret and helped as much as they could. They drew the screws out of the doors and windows, and brought strips of wood from broken provision boxes with which to finish making the bridges.

Best of all they secured three pairs of wire cutters, one from a Russian prisoner, and a second from a Russian attendant. The third pair was made by one of the prisoners.

This secret collection was a constant source of danger, as the prisoners were searched nearly every day. It is said that one prisoner was given solitary confinement because a map was found sewn in the seat of his trousers. Therefore, much of the work, such as bringing the boards into the barracks and nailing the bridges together, was left until the last. A month before they were to escape, they were suspected and the guard was doubled. Still they worked on and hoped on.

Their plans were nearly completed when it was suddenly announced that the camp at Villingen would be used in the future as a prison for Americans only. All other nationalities would be transferred at once to some other camp. This, the prisoners knew, would mean first a thorough searching of every corner and crevice in camp. Thus it seemed necessary to break away at once before this careful inspection should be made, or they probably could not escape at all that winter.

For two days they worked steadily and carefully. Night was their best time to escape, but somehow the electric lighting system, as well as the electric current in the wire fences, must be shut off. To do this, it was necessary to find strips of wire for making short-circuiting chains. A few of these strips they cut from the fencing back of the tennis courts. Most of them, however, were taken from the steep prison roof where they were used to hold the slate tiles in place. Nearly all of these wires were drawn out, so that if a whirlwind had suddenly swept across the country, that roof would have been scattered in every direction.

All this had to be done very quietly. One or two would work at it while others attracted the attention of the Germans by creating some excitement in distant corners of the camp.

The night before the camp was to be inspected, the break was made. The sixteen men were divided into four groups of four each, one in each group acting as a leader.

The first group, with Lieutenant Isaacs leading, was to get over the two fences from the windows by crossing on the bridges. The second group, led by Lieutenant Willis, was to cut its way through the wire fences. The third had ready some ladders made of strong rope, by which they hoped to climb over the fences. The last group intended to rush out with the guards when they ran through the gates to catch those who were jumping from the bridges.

At 10:30 that night, a signal was given and everything followed like clockwork. One of the prisoners short-circuited the wires, shutting off the electric lighting system and the current in the wire fences. There was no moon, and the camp was left in utter darkness.

At first the guards did not suspect anything, thinking the affair just an accident.

But immediately Isaacs began cutting away the bars at the window. When this was done, the prisoners helped him and his companions to throw over their bridges. The first man got out upon this flimsy bridge and when he was half way over, the inner end of the board was pushed out farther and farther until it touched the outer fence. Reaching the end, the man sprang to the ground, the inner part of the bridge was drawn back in by the prisoners at the window, and another man crawled out. This was continued until the four men had gone. It had been decided that the lightest man in the company would try getting over the bridge first, and Lieutenant Isaacs being the lightest led his group across.

When he dropped to the ground, he landed on his hands and knees not six feet from two German sentries, both of whom fired but did not even touch him. Without waiting for the others he ran into the woods to a spot two miles from camp which he and Lieutenant Willis had chosen for a meeting place, if they should get away safely.

Unprepared, as always if taken by surprise, the Germans when they realized the meaning of the disturbance rushed wildly about, one officer shooting frantically straight up into the air.

Willis had started cutting a way through the wires; but when his group was fired upon, they decided to change their plans and dash through the gate with the last group as best they could. Willis knew that in the darkness he might easily pass for one of the guards, so carefully had he disguised himself. He wore an old raincoat, decorated with German insignia and numerals, and a large belt-buckle, all cut out of a tin can. He carried a dummy wooden gun, bundles of food, maps, and a compass; and he wore a German cap.

He expected that the gates would be opened at once, but they remained locked while the patrol went into the guardhouse to report. But as they marched back again, the gates were thrown open and Willis and the other men dashed out.

They sped past the camp toward the dense forest. Willis darted off across the fields to a steep hill up which he ran, the guards firing continually at him.

As he reached the summit, he turned into the forest and hastened in the direction he had agreed upon with Isaacs. He soon met him, and together they started off toward the southwest, guided by the compass they had brought with them. They did not see any of the other men, with the exception of one whom Isaacs had heard puffing and grunting past him as they ran from camp. In the darkness he had not been able to recognize him.

That night they traveled about twenty-five miles. Hidden in the brush, they slept by day and traveled on again at night. It was a perilous trip through the forest, lasting eight days. Often they could only push their way backwards for long distances, through the terrible thickets. It rained and they were cold and wet. But on the eighth day they found themselves on the top of a dizzy precipice just above the Rhine. There they lay hidden until nightfall, although they were in constant danger of being discovered by German sentinels and townspeople who passed near them. When darkness came, they crawled about for two hours, seeking to find a trail that would lead them down to the river. If only they could cross the river, they were sure of safety. But wherever there was a possible way of reaching the river, there was a German sentry. Once Willis kneeled on a dry twig which snapped. In a trice a German sentinel flashed a bright pocket searchlight--but in the opposite direction.

The hearts of the two men sank in fear lest having nearly gained their freedom they should again be captured. Then they decided that they must creep down by one of the little tributaries flowing into the Rhine. So they stepped into the little stream and crawled down it, feeling for loose stones that might rattle and attract the attention of the sentry.

After several hours they reached the water's edge, about two o'clock in the morning.