the americanization of edward bok-第86部分

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d　civilians　on　watch　at　night；　with　life…drills　each　day；　with　lessons　as　to　behavior　in　life…boats；　and　with　a　fleet　of　eighteen　British　destroyers　meeting　the　convoy　upon　its　approach　to　the　Irish　Coast　after　a　thirteen　days'　voyage　of　constant　anxiety。　No　one　could　say　he　travelled　across　the　Atlantic　Ocean　in　war　days　for　pleasure；　and　no　one　did。

Once　ashore；　the　party　began　a　series　of　inspections　of　munition　plants；　ship…yards；　aeroplane　factories　and　of　meetings　with　the　different　members　of　the　English　War　Cabinet。　Luncheons　and　dinners　were　the　order　of　each　day　until　broken　by　a　journey　to　Edinburgh　to　see　the　amazing　Great　Fleet；　with　the　addition　of　six　of　the　foremost　fighting　machines　of　the　United　States　Navy；　all　straining　like　dogs　at　leash；　awaiting　an　expected　dash　from　the　bottled…up　German　fleet。　It　was　a　formidable　sight；　perhaps　never　equalled：　those　lines　of　huge；　menacing；　and　yet　protecting　fighting　machines　stretching　down　the　river　for　miles；　all　conveying　the　single　thought　of　the　power　and　extent　of　the　British　Navy　and　its　formidable　character　as　a　fighting　unit。

It　was　upon　his　return　to　London　that　Bok　learned；　through　the　confidence　of　a　member　of　the　British　〃inner　circle；〃　the　amazing　news　that　the　war　was　practically　over：　that　Bulgaria　had　capitulated　and　was　suing　for　peace；　that　two　of　the　Central　Power　provinces　had　indicated　their　strong　desire　that　the　war　should　end；　and　that　the　first　peace　intimations　had　gone　to　the　President　of　the　United　States。　All　diplomatic　eyes　were　turned　toward　Washington。　Yet　not　a　hint　of　the　impending　events　had　reached　the　public。　The　Germans　were　being　beaten　back；　that　was　known；　it　was　evident　that　the　morale　of　the　German　army　was　broken；　that　Foch　had　turned　the　tide　toward　victory；　but　even　the　best…informed　military　authorities　outside　of　the　inner　diplomatic　circles；　predicted　that　the　war　would　last　until　the　spring　of　1919；　when　a　final　〃drive〃　would　end　it。　Yet；　at　that　very　moment；　the　end　of　the　war　was　in　sight！

Next　Bok　went　to　France　to　visit　the　battle…fields。　It　was　arranged　that　the　party　should　first；　under　guidance　of　British　officers；　visit　back　of　the　British　lines；　and　then；　successively；　be　turned　over　to　the　American　and　French　Governments；　and　visit　the　operations　back　of　their　armies。

It　is　an　amusing　fact　that　although　each　detail　of　officers　delegated　to　escort　the　party　〃to　the　front〃　received　the　most　explicit　instructions　from　their　superior　officers　to　take　the　party　only　to　the　quiet　sectors　where　there　was　no　fighting　going　on；　each　detail　from　the　three　governments　successively　brought　the　party　directly　under　shell…fire；　and　each　on　the　first　day　of　the　〃inspection。〃　It　was　unconsciously　done：　the　officers　were　as　much　amazed　to　find　themselves　under　fire　as　were　the　members　of　the　party；　except　that　the　latter　did　not　feel　the　responsibility　to　an　equal　degree。　The　officers；　in　each　case；　were　plainly　worried：　the　editors　were　intensely　interested。

They　were　depressing　trips　through　miles　and　miles　of　devastated　villages　and　small　cities。　From　two　to　three　days　each　were　spent　in　front…line　posts　on　the　Amiens…Bethune；　Albert…Peronne；　Bapaume…Soissons；　St。　Mihiel；　and　back　of　the　Argonne　sectors。　Often；　the　party　was　the　first　civilian　group　to　enter　a　town　evacuated　only　a　week　before；　and　all　the　horrible　evidence　of　bloody　warfare　was　fresh　and　plain。　Bodies　of　German　soldiers　lay　in　the　trenches　where　they　had　fallen；　wired　bombs　were　on　every　hand；　so　that　no　object　could　be　touched　that　lay　on　the　battle…fields；　the　streets　of　some　of　the　towns　were　still　mined；　so　that　no　automobiles　could　enter；　the　towns　were　deserted；　the　streets　desolate。　It　was　an　appalling　panorama　of　the　most　frightful　results　of　war。

The　picturesqueness　and　romance　of　the　war　of　picture　books　were　missing。　To　stand　beside　an　English　battery　of　thirty　guns　laying　a　barrage　as　they　fired　their　shells　to　a　point　ten　miles　distant；　made　one　feel　as　if　one　were　an　actual　part　of　real　warfare；　and　yet　far　removed　from　it；　until　the　battery　was　located　from　the　enemy's　〃sausage　observation〃；　then　the　shells　from　the　enemy　fired　a　return　salvo；　and　the　better　part　of　valor　was　discretion　a　few　miles　farther　back。

The　amazing　part　of　the　〃show；〃　however；　was　the　American　doughboy。　Never　was　there　a　more　cheerful；　laughing；　good…natured　set　of　boys　in　the　world；　never　a　more　homesick；　lonely；　and　complaining　set。　But　good　nature　predominated；　and　the　smile　was　always　uppermost；　even　when　the　moment　looked　the　blackest；　the　privations　were　worst；　and　the　longing　for　home　the　deepest。

Bok　had　been　talking　to　a　boy　who　lived　near　his　own　home；　who　was　on　his　way　to　the　front　and　〃over　the　top〃　in　the　Argonne　mess。　Three　days　afterward；　at　a　hospital　base　where　a　hospital　train　was　just　discharging　its　load　of　wounded；　Bok　walked　among　the　boys　as　they　lay　on　their　stretchers　on　the　railroad　platform　waiting　for　bearers　to　carry　them　into　the　huts。　As　he　approached　one　stretcher；　a　cheery　voice　called；　〃Hello；　Mr。　Bok。　Here　I　am　again。〃

It　was　the　boy　he　had　left　just　seventy…two　hours　before　hearty　and　well。

〃Well；　my　boy；　you　weren't　in　it　long；　were　you？〃

〃No；　sir；〃　answered　the　boy；　〃Fritzie　sure　got　me　first　thing。　Hadn't　gone　a　hundred　yards　over　the　top。　Got　a　cigarette？〃　（the　invariable　question）。

Bok　handed　a　cigarette　to　the　boy；　who　then　said：　〃Mind　sticking　it　in　my　mouth？〃　Bok　did　so　and　then　offered　him　a　light；　the　boy　continued；　all　with　his　wonderful　smile：　〃If　you　don't　mind；　would　you　just　light　it？　You　see；　Fritzie　kept　both　of　my　hooks　as　souvenirs。〃

With　both　arms　amputated；　the　boy　could　still　jest　and　smile！

It　was　the　same　boy　who　on　his　hospital　cot　the　next　day　said：　〃Don't　you　think　you　could　do　something　for　the　chap　next　to　me；　there　on　my　left？　He's　really　suffering：　cried　like　hell　all　last　night。　It　would　be　a　Godsend　if　you　could　get　Doc　to　do　something。〃

A　promise　was　given　that　the　surgeon　should　be　seen　at　once；　but　the　boy　was　asked：　〃How　about　you？〃

〃Oh；〃　came　the　cheerful　answer；　〃I'm　all　right。　I　haven't　anything　to　hurt。　My　wounded　members　are　gonejust　plain　gone。　But　that　chap　has　got　somethinghe　got　the　real　thing！〃

What　was　the　real　thing　according　to　such　a　boy's　idea？

There　were　beautiful　stories　that　one　heard　〃over　there。〃　One　of　the　most　beautiful　acts　of　consideration　was　told；　later；　of　a　lovable　boy　whose　throat　had　been　practically　shot　away。　During　his　convalescence　he　had　learned　the　art　of　making　beaded　bags。　It　kept　him　from　talking；　the　main　prescription。　But　one　day　he　sold　the　bag　which　he　had　first　made　to　a　visitor；　and　with　his　face　radiant　with　glee　he　sought　the　nurse…mother　to　tell　her　all　about　his　good　fortune。　Of　course；　nothing　but　a　series　of　the　most　horrible　guttural　sounds　came　from　the　boy：　not　a　word　could　be　understood。　It　was　his　first　venture　into　the　world　with　the　loss　of　his　member；　and　the　nurse…mother　could　not　find　it　in　her　heart　to　tell　the　boy　that　not　a　word　which　he　spoke　was　understandable。　With　eyes　full　of　tears　she　placed　both　of　her　hands　on　the　boy's　shoulders　and　said　to　him：　〃I　am　so　sorry；　my　boy。