Yes, that is my
hope, my joyous hope. But to come to that day, so like a dream, we must
be of good cheer. It is only by enduring patience, full of confidence,
that we shall force back our oppressors. To chase away those cursed
Prussians--_Crack_! We need the obus. My captain calling, '_Crack_!
More, still more of those obus!' Giving them the bayonet in the bowels,
we shall chase them clean beyond the Rhine. And our victory will be won
to the waltz of the obus."
It was a song out of the heart of an unconquerable boy. It climbed the
hillock to the top. The response was the answer of men moved. His song
told them why they fought on. There is a Belgium, not under an alien
rule, which the shells have not shattered, and that dear kingdom is
still uninvaded. The mother would rather lose her husband and her son
than lose the France that made them. Their earthly presence is less
precious than the spirit that passed into them out of France. That is
why these weary men continue their fight. The issue will rest in
something more than a matter of mathematics. It is the last stand of the
human spirit.
What is this idea of country, so passionately held, that the women walk
to the city gates with son and husband and send them out to die? It is
the aspect of nature shared in by folk of one blood, an arrangement of
hill and pasture which grew dear from early years, sounds and echoes of
sound that come from remembered places.
Pages:
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174