All for a Scrap of Paper Part 43

Men lay side by side, without knowing each other's language; yet, because they were fighting the same enemy, felt themselves as brothers.

"Ah, yes," said a young French officer, who had been wounded on the day when Bob had been stricken down, "we're at the beginning of a new era.

Yes, we have had compulsory military service in France; we have been obliged to have it. We knew all the time that the Germans were waiting to pounce upon us and crush us; that was why we wanted to be ready.

But the day is dawning, _mon ami_; we French have been a fighting nation, but we love war no longer. When the Germans are crushed, as they will be crushed; when their army and their navy are destroyed and they are forbidden ever to have others,--then the day of peace will come; then our nation will no longer be bled to pay for millions of soldiers. Yes, we Frenchmen realise it, and we will fight for it to the very last. It is not so much that Germany is an enemy to France and an enemy to England; it is that she is an enemy to peace, to goodwill, to fraternity--that is why we must fight. I had almost given up a belief in Providence, but, mon Dieu, I believe in it now; the good G.o.d is on our side."

"I thought France had largely given up the belief in G.o.d?" said Bob.

"No, no, there was a superficial scepticism, and what wonder? Have you read the story of France? Ah, yes, the faith is coming back. This last twenty years, _mon ami_, a change has come about. There is a new force working. People are beginning to believe again that there is something behind everything--something which cannot be explained away by a shallow philosophy. We have a mission, monsieur--the good G.o.d has given us and you a mission; it is to fight for peace. Who knows but this is perhaps the last war that Europe will ever know?"

Two days later, when Bob was much stronger, two events took place which must be recorded. One was the arrival of a letter from his mother.

The doctor's letter, telling her of Bob's doings, had reached her and so she immediately sent a letter to him full of pride and affection: "Oh, my boy," she wrote, "if once I was ashamed of you, my pride in you now is beyond all words! Everybody knows about you and is talking about you in St. Ia. I simply cannot realise it, and I am crying with joy as I write this. You are spoken of as a hero; the story of your splendid deed in rescuing Captain Trevanion is the talk of the county.

I think Captain Pringle met a London journalist in France and told him all about it. Oh, my dear boy, my heart simply aches to be with you, and if it is at all possible I shall get across to France to see you.

Meanwhile, I am constantly praying for you. It is all so wonderful, that my boy should do this because of what he believes to be call of G.o.d.

"By the way," the letter continued, "I suppose you have heard nothing of Nancy Tresize. I am told she is a nurse in a French hospital, but where, I haven't the slightest idea. Even the Admiral, whom I saw only a few days ago, told me he didn't know where she was, but he hinted to me that her engagement with Captain Trevanion was now practically settled. The Admiral also told me that the Captain's promotion is bound to be very rapid, and that if he lived he would doubtless come back a Colonel; and so, my boy, although my heart is full of joy at what you have done, I cannot help being sad because I am afraid you have lost the best girl in Cornwall. Still, as your father used to say to me, there is nothing higher in the world than to be true to one's conscience."

After Bob had read this letter he lay for a long time in deep thought.

Yes, in spite of everything, his sky was black. This ghastly war had wrecked his life's happiness; but for it he and Nancy might have been together, living a life of happiness and making plans for a life of usefulness. War was h.e.l.l; still he had no doubt about his duty. The G.o.d of War must be killed, and this menace to the peace of Europe must be destroyed. It was a divine call, and he must fight to make war impossible.

While he lay thinking of the letter, he saw coming towards him, accompanied by the doctor, a tall, clean-shaven, handsome man, who was evidently deeply interested in what he saw.

"Yes," Bob heard him say to the doctor, "this is the greatest crime in history. Here we are, nearly two thousand years after the birth of our Lord, engaged in the ghastliest war known in the history of the world.

The discoveries of science, instead of being devoted to the good of mankind, have been devoted to the work of the devil. I, for years, hoped to be one of the first inventors of a flying-machine; and now I curse the day when the flying-machine was invented. We have conquered the heavens, only to make h.e.l.l."

The doctor laughed at the other's words: "Perhaps there's another side to the question, Mr. Scarsfield," he said. "If you had seen what I have seen here during the last few weeks, you would know that the war has brought out many n.o.ble traits."

"Yes, yes, that may be so, and I have come all the way from the States to see for myself. You see, we are a neutral country, and what I have seen has made me determined to go back home and take a lecturing tour right through America denouncing the crime of war."

"Here is Lieutenant Nancarrow," said the doctor, nodding to Bob's bed.

"Yes, I want to see him," said Mr. Hiram Scarsfield; "I read the account of what he did in the papers, and I am mighty glad that the authorities have allowed me to come here. I want to shake him by the hand."

"Sir," he said, coming up to Bob, "whatever may be my views about war, I admire brave men, and you risked your life to save another. When I read it in the papers, tears came into my eyes, and when I heard that you were here, I just made up my mind to see you, and what I want to ask you, is this: You saved one man; how many have you killed?"

"I don't know," replied Bob.

"Many?"

"I hope so."

"Ah, that is the terror of the whole business! And when you get well again, are you going back to the front?"

"I hope so," was Bob's reply.

"To kill more, I guess?"

"If it is in my power."

"Young man, don't you feel the h.e.l.lishness of the thought?"

"Yes," replied Bob, "I shudder at the thought of it."

"Then my advice to you is--desert. When you get well enough, get out of France and come to America where you can live in peace. Yes, I know that sounds bad, but then I hate war; it just puts back the clock of the world; it crucifies our Lord afresh."

Bob looked at the other's face attentively, and he saw immediately that it was the face of a strong man. There was no suggestion of the fanatic about it; rather, it was sane and sincere.

"Then you believe in peace--peace at any price?" was Bob's query.

"I guess that is so; I guess there is nothing under heaven worth making h.e.l.l for, and that is what I have seen these last few weeks. I haven't been right up to the fighting-line--I haven't been allowed--but I have seen enough to make my heart bleed."

"I agree with every word you say," and Bob's voice was almost tremulous.

"Then why are you a soldier?"

"Look here, Mr. Scarsfield," said Bob. "Supposing that the French and the English and the Belgians and the Russians were all to disarm, what would happen, do you think?"

"There would be peace," said the American.

"And what kind of peace?"

"There would be a cessation of bloodshed, anyhow. Mind you, I would rather see all nationalities cease than that war should continue.

Let's all sheathe our swords and trust in G.o.d. That is my mission now, as long as I live. I am going back to America, and I am going to rouse the whole country to this feeling. It may be that this is because I have Quaker blood in my veins. I am afraid I am not worthy of my Quaker forbears, but now I am convinced that they were right."

"Yes," replied Bob, "I too have Quaker blood in my veins, and I too am convinced in my heart they are right."

"And still you are a soldier," said the other, in astonishment.

"Yes, I am a soldier, until this war is over. Look here, Mr.

Scarsfield, do you believe you could ever convert Germany to your way of thinking? Have you ever read the works of those German writers--men like Bernhardi and Treitschke and Nietzsche, and others of that school?

Do you know that their teaching is the religion of the war party in Germany, and that that war party rules the Empire? Do you know that it is the avowed determination of Germany to conquer the world by the sword? You do know it? For thirty years Germany has been building up her army and her navy for this purpose. She believes that war is a virtue, and that Germany is called by G.o.d to go to war; she wors.h.i.+ps the War G.o.d; she rejoices in it; lives for it. It is preached from her pulpits; it is taught in her schools; it is interwoven into the warp and woof of German life. Because of this they have altered the New Testament. Instead of preaching, 'Blessed are the peace-makers,' they preach, 'Blessed are the war-makers,' and they believe that the Almighty intends them to make war."

"Yes," replied Mr. Scarsfield, "I must admit that. I have read those writers you mention; read them with a sad heart."

"When I read them," said Bob, "I was obliged to throw them away from me, as if I had been touching unclean things. I too was brought up to believe in peace at any price, and I hated war as I hate h.e.l.l itself; so much did I hate it, that I refused to enlist in the English Army and alienated those who were dearest to me. Before I enlisted, I fought the biggest battle of my life. Presently I realised the meaning of the German creed; I saw the inwardness and ghastliness of their so-called Gospel of War; I saw that to carry out their purpose they were willing to sacrifice honour and to crush humanity. I saw that they professed friends.h.i.+p in order to betray us; I saw that while they accepted our hospitality in England, they filled our country with spies in the hope that when the time was ready, and they made war upon us, they would use those spies for our destruction. I saw that they regarded a treaty as something that could be thrown off like an old garment, and I saw they were determined on war. What could we do? You do not believe, I suppose, that the murder of the Crown Prince of Austria was the cause of this war? No one believes that it was anything but a pretext.

Germany made war--a war for which she had been preparing for a quarter of a century. She signed the Treaty to protect Belgium; she gave her word of honour as a nation that Belgium's neutrality and integrity should be maintained. Then she signed her ultimatum to Belgium, and told her that if she did not allow the German Army to pa.s.s through Belgium country in order to crush France, she should be treated as an enemy. When our Amba.s.sador in Berlin pleaded that Germany had signed a treaty to protect Belgium, what was the reply? 'Will you go to war with us just for a sc.r.a.p of paper?' That is what the war spirit means in Germany. They cannot understand how the honour of a nation could stand in the way of her ambition. And so Germany entered Belgium.

What was mercy? What was honour? What was purity? Read the story of Louvain, of Malines; think of the outrages, cruelties, blasphemies, and then ask yourself, what could we have done?"

"Yes," said the American; "but war--think of what it has meant."

"Is not there something worse than war?" said Bob.

"What can be worse?" asked Mr. Hiram Scarsfield.

"Violation of honour, of truth, of purity," said the young man earnestly. "That is worse; yes, and it is worse than war to allow a cancer like the German war-spirit to live in the very heart of a continent, making peace and goodwill impossible."

"Yes, young man," replied the American; "you make out a strong case, and I have no doubt that if a war could be just, England is fighting a just war. But no war can be just, because every war is born in h.e.l.l.

As for me, I'm going back to America on my crusade of peace."

"Mr. Scarsfield," said Bob, "may I suggest something to you?"