One little scene has bobbed up in my memory—the death of an “E” Company Runner. Late on the afternoon of the tenth I left my P. C. to get a view of a certain position. I had gone but a short distance when I stepped on something that attracted by attention. It was a human hand! Near it was a large spot of blood and a trail as though something had been dragged in the general direction of where our First Aid Dressing Station had been before it was blown up. My course lay a little to the right, but I followed the gruesome marks for about fifty yards and there huddled up in a little gulley laid the “E” Company Runner I had sent out with a message for Captain Sanders about two hours before.
Not only was his right arm off at the elbow, but his right side and leg were badly mangled. I thought he was dead, but bent over and put my hand on his forehead. His eyes opened. In them was a wistful, faraway look. I spoke, and with an apparent effort he got them focused, they brightened with recognition, and immediately, almost to my undoing, his body straightened! His right shoulder and the stub of an arm jerked! Utterly helpless, trembling on the very brink of eternity, hehad come to “Attention” and hadsalutedhis Major!
Then I noticed he was making a pitiful effort to talk, and in some way, I can’t explain just how, I got the impression that there was something in his pocket he wished to see. I took out a wallet and found what I knew he wanted. It was a post-card photo of a pretty colored girl holding in her arms a dark, smiling baby. Shells were screeching over. Just then one tore the earth nearby and sprinkled us with dirt. I propped his head against my knee and held the picture close to his eyes. A proud, satisfied look came into them, then a calm, tired smile. He seemed looking farther and farther away. Another terrific, bouncing jar and the bloody, mud smeared form relaxed. Another brave comrade had “gone west.”
A little farther on I saw a big private leaning against the splintered trunk of a tree, his bowels all hanging out. No one else was near. He seemed to be in delirium and was crying pitifully like a little child for “Mamma.” When he saw me he stared for an instant, then jumpedup and yelled, “Major Ross is with us! Go to it, boys!” and fell over—dead. Then I thought about all I had heard to the effect that you have to treat soldiers like dogs—especially colored ones—to gain discipline and inspire respect. I thanked God I didn’t have to.
I might tell you how that morning during the advance, I happened to be looking at a non-com. section leader a little way to my left when there was a wicked crack and a blinding flash just above and in front of him, and how I saw his headless body—the blood gushing—actually step and lunge forward against a rock. I could tell you about strong men who went raving mad (and were still insane when I last heard) in that horrible turmoil. I could tell for hours about awful things in Bois Frehaut—let alone previous experiences in other places—the days were bad but the long weird nights. They are too gruesome, too sickening to talk about long at a time even here where we’re all safe, rested and well. No wonder the men who actually, personally underwent such suffering won’t talk about it much. But the memory of those awful things, pass it off as they may, is seareddeep into their very souls and will haunt them at times until their dying day.
There were people in America and also in France who wore officers’ uniforms and had the time of their lives and there were some who, if there is justice to come, will surely pay for their ridiculous arrogance during and following the war. Militarism is one of the disgusting institutions I fought to help eliminate. Yes, it will be eliminated—and prevented. At a glance just now on the surface, in most nations, things look much as before. The same old gang is in control, but lying and allying, brow beating, scheming a little more than was necessary heretofore. Since the World War (the result of worldly success and money worship) started in 1914, things have happened. For instance, the acceleration of the change in woman’s status. Votes are merely a result of that change. This phase alone, and what goes with it—the new state of sex affairs—necessitatesand will help bring about a changing of human viewpoint.
Whether or not certain persons and classes of persons like it, Democracy is in the world tostay, and staying will increase and flourish as the people learn. Reversion for the masses to ignorance, feudalism, slavery is unthinkable—impossible. Is the Almighty God a human fool? Has humanity ever or will it ever get away with the assumption that He is? Think of those fine young victims I mentioned lying in and hanging on the wire in front of Belle Aire Farm.
More important than militarism and war, or than politics, or than how to acquire fortunes, or than anything else is the learning—not just about it—buthow to attainrighteousness, peace, contentment, true happiness. I put righteousness first for there’ll be none of those things humanity longs for without it. There’ll be plenty of hypocrisy, but not much genuine righteousness until more of us get our minds, our hearts, our aspirations set on something higher than materialism and worldliness. You can notlegislaterighteousness into the hearts of humanity.
A host of thinking people are beginning to suspicion this to such an extent that they are interested in finding out the truth—theremedy.Now there are persons rushing about, others lying in wait to tell you the “truth.” Or they will hand you a pamphlet or sell you a book or refer you to one written by some person who makes great claims or insinuations about having “inside information.” There may be enough truth to it to fool the thoughtless or credulous and it may be insidious enough to worry even the wise. There are several that make startling claims, but none haveyetovercome any material laws. There are numerous courses of study and “systems,” not claiming to be Christian or religious, that guarantee to, and no doubt do, help you in business, add to your success, cure your ailments—some of them—and benefit your health.
Almost innumerable panaceas for all ills are advanced. Some of those religionists and uplifters with the “inside information” and “special revelations,” etc., may be sincere and many people may believe whatever it is. The same is true of the Turks and the South Sea Island Head-Hunters.
But in so far as I can find out there never lived on this earth butone Manwho taught thethings we need to and want to know about—who absolutely lived up to them Himself and who proved them and demonstrated them beyond all peradventure. You will find by honest, careful study, experiment and thought that these things and these alone arepractical. That Man was born in a stable, died on a cross and left an estate consisting of the clothes He wore. He’s the man who said, “Love your enemies.” “Lay up your treasures in Heaven.” “My Kingdom is not of this world.” “If you love me, keep my commandments or sayings.” “Except a man be born again....” “By their fruits shall ye know them,” etc., etc. And He’s the One Christendom claims to follow.
Fortunately certain men who knew Him personally and others who knew His Apostles personally wrote about Him—what He said and what Hedid. Some of those writings were gotten together and compiled into a book. That book is called “The New Testament.” Now with all due respect and consideration for the motives and intentions of many of those who have since written, some of whom claim or infer “special” or “inside” information, I humblysuggest that the logical, safe, reliable place for each of us to learn about Christ is in the New Testament. Let’s find out whether He really said anything applicable and worth whilenow, whether He meant it, whether He lived it and proved it, and, above all, let us stick to it until we find outwhat it was and is. The world needs it badly—needs it pure and undiluted, unadulterated—needs to know what it is without concessions and without reservations. If the people are smart enough to govern themselves (and I think they are and that they’re improving in that ability right along) they are now at last smart enough to study the New Testament itself by themselves and for themselves. How can any Christian logically object to that?
The only solution for humanity’s problems and difficulties lies in acorrectunderstanding of the teachings of Christ—not some vanity tickling subterfuge. Some persons think they know all about it now. No human is raising the dead or stilling the tempest these days and that “know it all” attitude is the result of fleshly vanity—not knowledge. So let’s start or review,beginning in the primary grade or the kindergarten. Many seem to have started in the post-graduate courses or at least in the senior class. I have a suspicion that selfishness, vanity, swell headedness, worldly pride, material ambition (whether called material or not), and so on, are the direct opposite to Christianity.
I thought I knew a lot about religion, but after they led me out of Bois Frehaut I started in in the primary grade to try to learn about Christianity—so to speak. The world must learnwhat it is, then begin learning to apply it or live it. It will be done. The churches will help. They’ll help or quit. Many of them are about through now. But Christianity as Christ taught it won’t quit. It will soon be the paramount subject of conversation and consideration. The world has reached a stage of material advancement. The people are awake, enlightened and organized to such an extent that things will become unbearable—impossible without it.
I couldn’t very well leave out all mention of Christianity in this lecture, for the things myBattalion fought to help make possible and to bring about in the world are in one sense closely allied to Christianity. There couldn’t be much real Christianity without Democracy and there can’t be any real Democracy without Christianity. I don’t claim to be much of a Christian, but I wish I had time to tell you what I think it is, and why I think so and whatmakesme think so, and so on. You look into it yourselves. And now we must get out of Bois Frehaut.
Not until ten-thirty o’clock on the morning of November eleventh did I receive orders relative to an armistice. The third runner sent out got through to me with a Division order. I was in direct command of the principal advancing done in attempts on the tenth and eleventh toward Metz and this was the first definite word I had about the armistice. We had heard that such a thing was expected but I supposed it would be several days, maybe weeks, before it went into effect. We knew that German officers had gone through the lines under a flag of truce to meet representatives of the High Allied Command, but we did not knowwhat the result of those parleys had been. Some thought hostilities would not cease for months.
Therefore, imagine our joy in that unbearable shellhole, when we found the war had butthirty minutesto last. Of those with me at the time some shouted for happiness and some stared in amazement fearing it was too good to be true. I sent the word out to my leaders and sat looking at my watch. Artillery fire increased in intensity if any difference and enemy machine gunners elevated their pieces and were spraying the wood with bullets. It would have been hard luck to get hit then. Promptly at eleven o’clock all fire began to lessen and in a few minutes had ceased. The World War had stopped.
Not only our men but the Germans also seemed overjoyed. Soon after the buglers had sounded “cease firing” the Huns rushed out of their positions and our men met them between the lines. They actually shook hands and slapped each others’ backs. They traded trinkets and were holding a veritable reception until our officers succeeded in getting the menback into the lines. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it.
During the afternoon I received word that our Lieutenant-Colonel, commanding the Regiment, together with some members of his staff, had been badly gassed in a dugout at Regimental Headquarters and forced to go to the hospital and that I, being next in rank, was temporarily in command of the Regiment. My face was so swollen that I could see a little only with one eye. My ears had been bleeding and I had to be yelled at to hear. I was scratched and bruised and my voice refused to work. A sort of reaction had set in and I felt weak and sick. We passed a row of dead and pieces of dead and some more dead and finally reached the limousine that had been sent for me.
We were proceeding slowly because of shell holes in the road when one of the men with me said, “There’s a man ahead singing and waving his arms like he’s crazy.” I could see that he was rared back and singing or yelling and every few steps he stopped and waved his arms and executed some strange dance movements. When we overtook him I stopped the car andasked him what was the matter. “Sir—Major,” he said, his eyes beaming, “I—I just can’t praise God enough for letting me come out of that woods alive.”
The outfit was too tired to move far that day. But the next morning the regimental band came to me in a body and asked permission to march up the road a mile or so to meet the Second Battalion, which under my orders was coming to Loisey, where there were comfortable billets, to rest. I walked out into the village square, as Regimental Commander, to welcome my heroic battalion—the battalion that hadearnedundying fame for itself, its regiment, its brigade, its division and for the American colored race.
Soon I heard the band playing as it never played before and they came into view marching up the main street of the town. There at the head, limping and dirty, was my big senior captain, Sanders. Farther back I could recognize Green, captain of “H,” stocky and ragged, marching abreast of his company guide. Others I noticed, and the absence of others, and many thoughts flashed throughmy mind as I watched them marching toward me.
Sanders saw me and knew what to do. I never gave many fancy orders, it wasn’t necessary in that outfit. When the middle of the column was opposite he bawled in a hoarse voice—but they, too, knew what to do—“Squads left—March! Battalion—Halt!” Those heels clicked. Their rifles, like one piece, in three clear-cut movements, snapped down to the “order.” Again he yelled, or tried to yell, “Present, arms!” Again two distinct and snappy movements. Sanders faced about standing at salute and there before me at “present arms”—not much larger than one company should be, stood all that was left of my wonderful Second Battalion!—My heroes of Bois Frehaut!
Note: Many were wholly incapacitated for many days, whose names were not turned in in final reports of “casualties.”
I brought them to the “order” and stood spell bound. It was by far the most touching, the most thrilling, the most awe-inspiring ceremony I ever experienced or witnessed. Therethey stood—covered with mud, stained and spattered with blood, their clothes, what was left of them, torn and ripped to shreds. They looked emaciated—haggard, but about those erect, motionless figures, those big steady eyes, about their whole proud, manly bearing was something of that true nobility of unselfishness and sacrifice that is beyond description.
These men had suffered the tortures of the damned. They had faced all the engines of terror and destruction that fiendish man could invent. They had endured the shriek, the smash, the roar and pandemonium of hell. They had seen their comrades blown to bits or torn and mangled, and choked by gas. They had listened, powerless to help, through long, ghastly hours, to the pitiful, heart-breaking moans of the wounded and dying.
Yes, they had been tried, they had been tested, they had been weighed in the balance, they had been through a fiery crucible—and they were true gold. For many hard, long, weary weeks they had suffered and endured, and all for what they believed to be the preservation of our country, the advancement ofDemocracy and the betterment of mankind. I stood there looking, thinking—torn and choked by emotion—thrilled with admiration, and a feeling rapidly growing that I would make my soldiers a speech—an oration. Butwhatcould I say? How could I say it? What could anyone in my placesay? After several attempts I moved closer and whispered as loudly as I could, “Officers and men, your Major is proud of his Battalion!”