The Birmingham age-herald., 1915-08-15
TR|COLORS WAVE ON
 MARINE BATTLEFIELD
Each Marks Spot Where Frenchman Died La Patrie
CAREFULLY TENDED
Wire Is Stretched Around Them and No Peasant Thinks of Flowing Over Spot-German Graves,
 Too, Are Respected

Acy-en- Multien, Department of the
 Disc. France. August 1.-(Correspondenc
 of the Associated Press )-Since the four
 teenth of July, in many of the smiling
 fields of the 'Isle of France" fresh
 tricolored flags have thrust their stand
 ards proudly above the browning stalks
 of ripe wheat On almost every sunny
 hillside. in almost every valley between
 the Marne and the Aisne, in the grow
 ing barley, the alfalfa, the clover; at
 the roadside; in clusters under fruit
 trees, the red, white and blue of France
 like more vital fleur-de-lys. pale the
 poppies and daisies and corn-flowers that sprinkle growing grain.
 For here, 10 months gone. the battle of
 the Marne was fought, and here. today,
 the fields are sown with graves. each
 with its four posts thrust solidly in the
 ground with wire stretched between to
 mark the spot where some soldier lies No farmer blows above them, though his field be patch worked with hundreds of
 the tragic mounds, as many fields are.
 More, he cuts the weeds or the aggres-
 sive grain from every one. even those of
 the invaders and every one is marked with its cross or it's headboard. No Discrimination Shown Not the French graves alone are marked. The burial place of every German fallen in battle has its own fence about it. is kept free of conceal ing verdure and is marked with its cross. The only distinction is in the color of the crosses. The French are white and the Germans are black. And on each is printed a number, the mum Der of the regiment to which the dead belonged. There is seldom anything else. Now and again, where the name of the man was known, where his be- ing an officer served to identify his body, the name is on the cross, and a wreath from his comrades or his fam fly who have made a pilgrimage to the spot where he lies. Otherwise, all soldiers of France are equal in life as in death.
 On July IA, the countryside of this rart of the republic. which since the days of the Capets, has been known as the "Isle of France" was scat tered with living people. soldiers on leave from the front young widows older people bowed with age and sor- row, come a long way, stumbling along the sunny roads, peering into the fields. all searching for their own.
 Most of these searching groups car ried new flags to replace the wind washed and sun bleached emblems that had marked the graves since the battle of the Marne. Some of the comrades carried many, one for the grave of each man of his regiment who died on the hilltop. or who lies buried in the valley. When he returns to his regi- | ment, down there" in the trenches, after his leave of absence, the "poilu'' l tells those of the regiment who re- main that each grave he could find of theirs has brand new flag. on it and that it was thus he spent the na- tional holiday.
 A Constant Scene
 Next before the entrance to the ceme- tery of Acy-en-Multien Is a tomb, not
 unlike many others in the hills and val leys that lie between the Marne and the Aisne. It is perhaps 60 or 70 feet long so long that there was not room for 1t within the cemetery walls. Like the smaller graves. it, too, is surrounded by a wire fence, and new flags and flowers. constantly renewed, decorate it. At one end is temporary cross of iron. upon
 which is this legend: Here repose 72 soldiers of France, fallen on the field of honor in September, 1914. They recap tured Acy from the Germans; they con- | tributed to the victory of the Marne, which saved France"
 l Here almost every day there comes to this peaceful village and to many like | it throughout the ''Isle of France" sen- der figures muffled in heavy black. They kneel beside such long, common graves
 and pray awhile. The approaching visitor
 uncovers The kneeling figure at last looks up.
 Your husband Madame"
 Perhaps" she answers wistfuly. "It | was his regiment and he was killed here l-somewhere hereabouts, at least" Still | kneeling, she runs her hands lightly along the wire that separates her from l the mound, as if 1t were the body of her
 beloved, covered perchance with the glori- ous tricolor. Her eyes, as they look out over the radiant hills and beyond gleam Inshed tears.