The Sequel Part 12

The great smash on the German right at the Marne, which gave the first check to the German advance, was only possible because the French General, Gallieni, moved 70,000 soldiers out of Paris in taxicabs and other motor vehicles, and in six hours had them in action before even the German aerial reconnaissance knew about it.

The motor brought speed into the fighting in running the cheering soldiers to the front, and with auto hospitals brought the sorry wounded as speedily back again.

It was a triumph for the machine, and yet the machine, in the end, gave place to the hand to hand death grip of primitive man.

As Kipling wrote:--

"What I ha' seen since ocean steam began Leaves me no doot for the machine; what, what about the man?"

The Great War answered that question.

There was a doubt about the man--he dropped off the veneer of the human and became the animal once again.

When foe came face to face with foe the world dropped back ten thousand years.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XIX.

The Revolution.

And now the war was over--bar the shouting.

I remember the soldiers had strange emotions at the sudden ending to fifteen months' activity. At times they would be excited, and at others disappointed. It seemed like the feeling of the London 'busman who left off work for a week's holiday, but found himself on a 'bus next day asking the driver to "let him hold the ribbons for a bit."

The war fever had got into our blood, and the camps, instead of being orderly in arrangement, became moving ma.s.ses of wandering soldiers.

Discipline snapped as the news of Peace pa.s.sed through the ranks. Some soldiers would cheer--they had loved ones awaiting their return. Others took it as a matter of little concern--they, no doubt, had cut all ties in enlisting, and, perhaps, wondered if their old places had been kept open for them.

Troops still poured in from the south, adding to the demoralisation.

I remember that the commandant of my air corps rose with me in the 'plane and surveyed the wonderful scene.

Around Liege troops were moving in a wonderful ma.s.s, not unlike the mixed crowd that one sees in a city street after a procession has pa.s.sed along, but with the crowd increased a thousandfold.

Yet it was not a disorderly crowd. It seemed a crowd of good fellows.h.i.+p.

The German soldiers in the west had fought against the British and found them brave enemies. The revulsion of feeling made them friends. The tension of hate snapped.

It has ever been thus. With a quarrel over, the greatest haters become the warmest friends.

For two days the armies at the Meuse fraternised.

Our soldiers learnt much from their former enemies. They found, through some papers that had slipped the eyes of the censors, that the Socialists of Germany were in revolt.

I could then understand the excitement of my religious friend, Brother Wilbrid, on the Rhine road, and his anxiety to get back to Berlin without loss of time.

It appears that the first public indication of the insurrection took place as far back as December 2, 1915, when a party of fifteen Socialist deputies in the Reichstag, led by Karl Leibknecht, refused to vote for the second war credits. Four of these members were from Berlin. One, Stadthagen, represented a popular workmen's suburb in Berlin, while another, Geyer, represented a workers' suburb in Leipsic. The Socialists of Bremen, Stuttgart and Hamburg endorsed the Socialist Deputies'

refusal by a majority of two to one. Not only were the Socialist party rising in revolt, but the Moderates, under Bernstein, were opposed, because the war was entered into by Socialists exclusively as a war against Russia, whilst the authorities had cleverly turned the reason as a war against England. Though the Socialists may have hated England, the war proved that they were used as a cat's paw. So riots broke out in Berlin, Stuttgart and Hamburg.

In Berlin, down the Unter der Linden, a mighty mob of workers marched and stoned the Government offices. The military police dispersed them.

Fate helped the revolt.

At the surrender of the German armies, thousands of German soldiers, rather than surrender, had retreated along the roads leading into Germany, sullenly shouting the news of the defeat.

Bad news travels fast, and to the German people, who had been kept in ignorance of reverses, the news came with stunning effect.

Only a few days before had the authorities at Berlin announced to the Socialists that ultimate success was certain, and bade the people be of good cheer. Now, like a crash, came the news of defeat with the additional disgrace of being brought by retreating soldiers of the Empire!

Then the revolution crashed on Germany. It was a riot that rolled round the earth.

I remember it was a week after our arrival at Liege that the armies of the Allies began their march to the Rhine. They had not yet reached German soil, and the Peace terms would not be disclosed till the Allies were in Germany.

To my delight, the French army of the Argonne was given the post of honor. It must have been a wonderful sight to see the Air Squadron of twelve aeroplanes moving backward and forward over the heads of the moving columns. Nap accompanied me in my 'plane, and I remember I kept somewhat in advance of the rest to catch the first sight of Cologne Cathedral.

It came upon the horizon, its two great spires piercing the sky unscathed. How unlike the Churches of Rheims, Ypres and the other cities of France and Belgium. Germany well knew the value of its historical buildings to protect them, even at the price of peace. We flew low to give a more spectacular effect to our advance.

Soon the great piers of the familiar Rhine Bridge came into sight as the order was given to descend on a plain to the west of the river.

That night the army bivouacked on the outskirts of Aix la Chappele, but sleep did not come to my eyes. At times I desired to fly ahead to Cologne and tread the familiar ways--but strict regulations tied all troops to the camp lines.

I comforted myself that to-morrow I would reach Cologne and someone would be pleased to see me.

Next day we crossed the Rhine, circled the city of Cologne, and parked our 'planes in the gardens I had left but three weeks previously.

The Allied troops were marched through the city and encamped two miles beyond it. A regiment of French soldiers were deputed as military police to take possession of the city; and within an hour, from the poles of the official buildings, French, Belgian, Russian and British flags fluttered, and an order was issued that all arms must be handed in.

I remember the happy feeling as Nap and I hastened through the city to Goche's house.

I was in my uniform and felt I would cut a smarter figure before my sweetheart, than I did in the ragged "cast-offs" I wore as a prisoner.

I walked on air when I entered the familiar street and saw, in the distance, the house I knew so well. The street was silent. I reached the house, pulled myself together and knocked at the door. Happiest of thoughts coursed through my mind. What a wealth of news I had to tell her!

The door slowly opened, and Grandpa Goche's whitened and aged face came to the light. His under jaw seemed to s.h.i.+ver in terror. He gave the impression that he was expecting some dreadful calamity. As he recognised me, his jaw fell and he retreated into the room, sank into a chair, gripped its arms with shaking clutch, looked at me with hollow eyes and said: "Ja wohl."

"Where is Helen?" I asked.

"Forgive me," he said, "forgive me," shaking his head. "They came to me and asked for the Englishman that escaped--'the English dog' they called you. I told them I knew not, but as I hated you and hated her, for I knew she cared for you, I told them she could tell, as she saw you leave. Then they took her," and he bowed his head in his hands, "took her away----"

"Where, where?" I almost shouted at him.

"To Berlin, a week ago," was all he said.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "In Berlin."]