Puslapio vaizdai

the commanding general ordered that the four platoons from each of the larger cities of the state which made the finest showing should be sent home for an exhibition drill. This had been a powerful incentive to the men. The home cities looked forward to the visit with keen anticipation. The newspapers featured it, and a monster reception was planned. When the day finally arrived, a great throng surged about the railroad station and lined the sidewalks. The whistles sounded, and the long-expected train pulled in. With the celerity and precision attained only by military training two hundred and fifty khaki-clad men had detrained. With steady step, eyes to the front, and seemingly unconscious of the vociferous cheers and shouted greetings of their friends and fellow townsmen, the solid ranks pushed through the parting throngs. The crowd was suddenly silent. It had vaguely sensed a new and mighty purpose.

It was the remaking of the nation. Were peace to be declared to-morrow, the National Army would have fully justified every effort which it has entailed and every dollar it has cost.


Magnificent as are these results, military experts tell us that they represent nevertheless only a fraction of what is necessary before the National Army can reach effectiveness as a fighting machine. They explain that an army is an organization held together and vitalized by moral forces. Neither numbers, nor equipment, nor drill can take their place. Napoleon said that 'in war the moral is to the physical as three is to one.' Men who have experienced the soul-shattering horrors of the present war place the ratio even higher as high as nine to one. As the French Infantry Drill

Regulations express it, 'The moral forces constitute the most powerful factors for success; they give life to all material efforts, and dominate a commander's decisions at every turn. Honor and patriotism inspire the utmost devotion; the spirit of sacrifice and the fixed determination to conquer ensure success; discipline and steadiness guarantee the necessary obedience and the coördination of every effort.'

How gloriously the French have proved all this! The ultimate purpose of every military operation is the destruction of the moral cohesion, the will and courage of the opposing force. So long as these last, the army may be battered in action or torn with losses, but it is not defeated. When they are gone, the army ceases to exist - it becomes a mob. In this condition it is helpless and a prey to the will of the victor.

These moral forces must finally come from the people. This is true in a special degree of the National Army. The splendid young men who volunteered for service in the Regular Army, the National Guard, and the Navy have behind them the heritage and traditions of the older organizations of which they are a part. The National Army, on the other hand, is without traditions. Its life is still in the future. It must of necessity draw its moral sustenance from the people at home. There is no other source from which it can obtain it. It represents every element and class of the population. The army as a whole, and every soldier in its ranks, is in constant communication and in intimate touch with those in civil life. The opinions prevailing in the community are immediately reflected in the army; if there be doubt at home there will inevitably be indecision in the camp; racial, religious, and social prejudices in the population tend to foster such differences among the

men and destroy their esprit de corps.

The sense of duty among the people will produce a corresponding level in the discipline of the army; their determination to wage the war to a successful conclusion will inspire the will to victory among the soldiers; if the people falter, the army will weaken; it is true of this army in a higher degree than of any army in the past, that its morale is a function of the public spirit of the nation. 'Battles are no longer decisive,' says General von Ludendorff. "The people must be defeated.' Hence Germany's policy of propaganda for confusing the intelligence, and her system of frightfulness for breaking the spirit of a nation.

That both will be employed against the United States goes without saying, and it behooves us to survey our defenses.

It is evident that the national spirit is determined largely by the character of the population. It will be more potent in a homogeneous people, speaking the same language, than in one made up of varied elements. Partly for this reason, Germany has been a far more important factor in the war than the heterogeneous population of Austria-Hungary. Our own country contains a variety of unassimilated elements. Forty per cent of those living within our continental territory are either foreign-born, or children of the foreign-born. In our large industrial centres, in the East and in the Middle West, from sixty to eighty per cent belongs to this class. What is more, they do not come from Anglo-Saxon or Teutonic stock. In recent years there has been a steady influx of Slavs, Armenians, Greeks, Latins, Turks- people who possess but little affinity with Anglo-Saxon ideals and institutions. So negligent have we been of our national life, that we have permitted our foreign population to segregate itself

according to racial groups, each group preserving its native language and only very remotely affected by American thought and ideals. For many of them America symbolizes merely a factory and a boarding-house, and neither of these institutions produces patriotic enthusiasm. Every man is ready to fight for his home, but none for a lodging-house or a workshop. No contribution to the public spirit of the country can be drawn from these sources.

Twenty years ago Germany began to take advantage of our fatuous shortsightedness. Just as unmistakable as the gun-emplacements which she built within the territory of her friendly neighbors are the evidences of her military preparations against the United States. Just as her agents promoted the purposes of Pangermanism in Austria-Hungary by consolidating the German and Magyar elements and by preventing the unification of the other racial groups, so in the United States they have consistently fostered the solidarity of the German section of the population and have sought to hinder all processes of assimilation.

It was no mere accident that, after German immigration had practically ceased and the dwindling circulation of German-language newspapers indicated that their usefulness was ended, these same papers suddenly increased their clientele of German readers, and at the beginning of the Great War, with sudden unanimity, became violent partisans of the German government. Nor is it a coincidence that through all these twenty years a vigorous propaganda for the German language and Kultur has been conducted in our schools and colleges, and in our legislatures and administrative bodies. It was a well-thought-out plan for the consolidation of the German element and the disintegration of the rest of the population. In this manner Germany

hoped to exercise a predominating influence upon American policies and to make impossible the development of any national spirit that might offer resistance to her plans of world-empire. To make assurance doubly sure, thousands of her spies and agents insinuated themselves into the peaceful communities of our country and into the offices of our government. Thousands of alien enemies are in the ranks of the National Army.

Common religious belief and enthusiasm for the same political ideals also serve to intensify the public spirit. Religious fanaticism spread the Saracen conquest over Northern Africa and into the Continent of Europe. The formula, of liberty, equality, and fraternity, cherished with the ardor due a religious creed, made the poorly equipped and poorly paid armies of the French Revolution irresistible. But these elements, again, are lacking in the United States. In the pursuit of wealth the principles of the Declaration of Independence and the ideals set forth in Lincoln's Gettysburg speech have been neglected. Those flaming words which inspired the efforts of the past have come to be regarded as glittering generalities. They have ceased to be the foundation of our education. We have made no effort to inculcate them in our foreign population.

We are to-day at war with a people which for generations has been trained in sacrifice and duty to the state. Ever since Stein translated the categorical imperative of Kant into terms of universal military service, the habit of discipline has become the predominating quality of German character. This quality, intensified by heredity and education, has given the German army the moral cohesion which has made it the most perfect military machine the world has known. Our own development, on the other hand, has been in

a different direction. Our history has been one of repeated struggles for individual rights and individual advantages. The sense of duty has not been called into play. Our foreign population, reaching these shores, has gladly cast aside the burdens which oppressed it in the home lands. But until the National Army was called out, we offered these people nothing to visual-' ize their duties and obligations to their adopted country.

It is against these sins of omission and apathy in our past that we must contend to-day. The faults and weaknesses in the mass of the population will inevitably be reflected in the army. Most of the foreign-born know little of the purposes of the war. Democracy is for them an ideality devoid of meaning. There is nothing in their social, intellectual, or emotional background to inspire their spirit. Among the native Americans there are many whose education in our history and our ideals has become so attenuated that they view the present struggle with utter indifference. After the novelty of the first few months had worn off, many men discovered that they were in the service against their will and against the wishes of their families, and claims for exemption were multiplied. And, finally, those who entered the cantonments with enlightened patriotism and high purpose have had their spirits sorely tried by the shortcomings of the government and the mood of the people at home.

Those having dependents promptly made allotments for their support. While these allotments were regularly deducted from the soldiers' pay, the government was unable to make prompt payment to the families. The long delay has caused suffering among dependents which has reacted unfavorably upon the men.

Again, men who are called away from

their business pursuits naturally chafe when they find that rifles are slow in arriving, that machine-guns and artillery cannot be supplied, and that they are marking time instead of making rapid progress in the work which they are called to do.

It is said that criticism should be stilled and investigation and inquiry suspended. On the contrary, every criticism and every inquiry prompted by interest in the welfare of the army and its efficiency should be welcomed. It would be a certain omen of defeat if the people did not demand the reasons for apparent failures. A nation indifferent to its armies never won a victory.

That the army has maintained its spirit is due to the splendid character of its leaders and the wonderful leaven of patriotism which it contains. There are within its ranks thousands upon thousands of men who gladly answered the call to service, sacrificing everything they held dear. There are thousands of men of Polish and other stock who, either in their own persons, or from the lips of their fathers, have learned the meaning of Prussian autocracy and realized its menace to human liberty and these men will acquit themselves in a manner worthy of the countrymen of Kosciusko and Pulaski! Every cantonment can tell of men and families who waived their rights to exemption that they might serve the country in its need; of men who, at large individual expense and inconvenience, submitted to surgical and medical treatment that they might pass the physical tests; of mothers who gave their sons without a murmur. It is these men and women who, to-day, are not only bearing the burden of their own sacrifices, but enlightening their comrades and neighbors, teaching them American ideals, explaining the meaning of the war, and maintaining their spirit under adverse conditions.

But up to the present it has been a personal, individual effort. The National Army is so new that there has been no mobilization of the mass-sentiment of the nation behind it.

It is true that public organizations have been active on behalf of the material well-being of our soldiers. But their appeal has been rather to sympathy and solicitude-sometimes even to pity. A young wife had sent her husband to the cantonment, in the fervor of her patriotism waiving her just claim for exemption. She gradually dropped out of the life of the community. One day her minister called to express his sympathy and condolences. Her patriotism turned to angry indignation. She had made a glorious sacrifice and in return was regarded as an object of charitable sentiments! It is not sympathy that is needed. Sympathy will not sustain a man through the long months of training, nor will pity nerve his sinews when he is brought finally to the supreme moment of his life, when his bayonet-thrust must be sure and his guard ready. Pity will not support a family throughout the long months of uncertainty. It is not this. It is far more. It is the pride of the country, the confidence in the valor and heroism of the army, and the flaming consciousness of the glory of the service, which must be mobilized. Until there is a vivid mass of realization of these things the country has failed in its spiritual duty to its soldiers.

The army is the cutting edge of the sabre, the government the blade and grip, but the force that must wield it is the people behind the army. If they lack determination, the blade will not be driven home. If there is uncertainty of purpose, the edge will be turned and the blade broken.

We are to-day seeking to overcome the results of fifty years of apathy and

careless living. We are attempting to accomplish within a few months what in the natural course of events would require generations - what in Germany has taken centuries of training and heredity. It seems impossible. But the very existence of the National Army proves that nothing is impossible to this nation when its intelligence and its conscience have once been aroused. Let us address ourselves promptly and vigorously to the Americanization of all who live within our territory by providing them with the opportunities for learning our language and for acquainting themselves with our history and the principles of our government. Until this has been done there is no excuse for continuing in our public schools the teaching of German. The task must no longer be left to charitably inclined individuals and organizations, but must be assumed by the state as a supreme duty. On the other hand, the utilization of such opportunities must be made compulsory.

The present war is the culminating struggle between two systems of poli

tical philosophy. It will end in the world being all Prussian or all free. Those who seek at this crisis to undermine our faith in our institutions, or to libel the policy or impugn the motives which brought us into the war, or who in any way would dissipate our determination to win, are no ordinary traitors. Benedict Arnold merely surrendered material resources-these would destroy the soul. The treatment accorded them should be commensurate with the enormity of their crime.

Let us no longer commit the error of extending barren sympathy to those families that have given their sons and husbands and brothers to the country; rather let us proclaim them as the elect of the community, those whom it delights to honor, and behind whom we gladly mobilize all our resources of sacrifice and devotion.

And in our soldiers may we cherish only confidence and pride. The fiery Pentecost will then descend and envelop our people with the glory of the battle for democracy and sweep its armies on to victory!



I KNOW a boy who dislikes to make calls. Making a call, he says, is 'just sitting on a chair.'

I have had the same feeling, although I had never defined it so nicely. One 'just sits on a chair' - precariously, yet with an odd sense of unhappy security, of having grown to and become part of that chair, as if one dreaded to fall off, yet strongly suspected that any

real effort to get up and go away would bring the chair up and away with him. He is, so to speak, like a barnacle on a rock in an ocean of conversation. He may exhibit unbarnacle-like activity, cross and uncross his legs, fold and unfold his arms, twiddle his useful fingers, incline his tired head this way and that to relieve the strain on his neck, assume (like an actor) expressions of interest, amusement, surprise, pleasure, or what not. He may even speak or laugh. But

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