The Washington herald. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1906-1939, 1914-08-21
The Yankee Passport.
BY EMORY J. HAYNES.

was in Europe at the time of the Franco-Prussian
war. l saw Louis Napoleon he rode from the
Tuileries in Paris to join the army. The passport
that helped me across frontiers lies before me- In
those days most Americans carried passports and gen.
orally had no use for them. Not till the war broke
cut had ever shed the document out of my luggage
But at once this formidable State paper became near
and dear to my heart See how worn it is leather
bound and durable it is yet how war blstered it
looks. In the rain al night on depot platform.
it has been handled by soldiers sentries on guard,
while. with my party, stood trembling
The officer of the guard takes the passport also.
He cannot read English. He tries to read my face,
and the faces of the ladies. I point out my name
and try to explain who l am, what l am doing in
Europe, and that merely want to go home to the
an6 of the free and the home of the brave But his
dialect is not the college brand, and have hard
time The rain is blistering the parchment like paper
The sentry gives very bad half hour, but finally
prods me, ALMOST with his bayonet back into the rail-
way car, and on moves the train to the next halt.
Words cannot describe the terror of mastering
armies. The passionate purpose to escape is frenzy
especially If there women in the party 1t is the
bad dreams" of childhood, when hobgobIns threaten
to get you if you don't watch out" To get away,
to get home What hunger and thirst and longing
the streets of the strange cities it clouds the railway
stations as you have seen sudden thunder cloud
darken building. And the rumble of cannon wheels
and the tread of passing regiments under the windows
of your hotel And you have the slightest inter
est in either side to the contest. Not the smallest
patriotic thrill Only miserable horror over the
entire fuss and burning contempt for yourself that
you ever fingered to be caught in it.
This is the paper that took through this decla-
ration of the Secretary of State that an Amer-
can citizen. 1t not proud that was an American,
but was mighty glad l was. There was no hurrah
feeling in it 1t simply the plain bare, hard fact
that there in it ALL that belonged TO powerful
nation away the ocean, and trusted the soldiers
about would treat me accordingly and let me
through
1t was precisely in case of house on FIRE,
when a small man can lift big trunk And the
ladies! What can they not endure? Any kind of
train, any old cart any long trudge any hunger and
assailment, only get of this only to get back
home No letters, of any kind in the
penumbra of forming army Nobody knows what
has happened will happen to other friends who
were to meet you at such city The human sea
has engulfed them and you. Ones money will not
buy things and there is little of it left But the pass
port that remains. 1t is more to you than your Bible
1t is everything. And the passport keeps pulling you
through. l have held this passport up to bayonets
| have seen its words traced with the point of
sword. But steel ever cut it nor did it dishonor
Where now are the hands of these soldiers
which politely folded and tucked the leather cover
in its loop? Where are the bronzed faces that
bowed in Difference to the Yankee fugtives and
grimly smiled? More than once they shared with us
their plain food, and never hunger better sauce
All these men were on the edge of battles. Surely
not all came safely through as did. When l I'M
covered tiny American flag, toy size that could
be pinned in the lining of my coat often these Ger
mans and Frenchmen sauted it. often touched its
slken fabric respectfully, and one German soldier
kissed it He said he had three brothers who were
now Americans
Did l ever chance to meet them? The passport
and the fag-these I still have. The soldiers who
respected them have long ago disappeared marching
in the clouds of dust