The copper era and Morenci leader., 1915-08-27

compelled to call halt on the culti-
waiting ambitions Of the French peas.
ants. They admired the spirit which
prompted the aged ones and the wom-
en- and the children to dare death in
order to make a full crop possible,
but they did not think that a few ex-
ira bushels Of wheat or of potatoes
would compensate France for further
losses among its peasantry. 1t was
necessary, therefore, to call halt on
this fine but dangerous farming en-
deavor. The toilers did not mind the
he'll Of she'll fire any more than the
soldiers did, but there are some sac
rif1ces which are needless. So it is
that the peasant toll of today must
manifest itself only up to the inside
limit of danger from dropping projec-
tiles. Thus it is that the plain on
which 1 am standing has not yet been
turned by the pillow.
Nature has been at work here ever
since 1t felt the first warming touch of
springs sun. This battlefield today is
covered with flowers, dandelions,
daisies, forget-me-nots and violets The
deep pits dug by the earlier fallen
shells are now sunken gardens. White
and gold, yellow and blue and Grim
son, enter into the color scheme Of the
battlefield. I never knew before the
knifelike sharpness Of contrast. War
and death are in the valley, and peace
and life are ON the commanding hin.
The guns are pounding while over my
head two skylarks are soaring and
singing. The fast growing grass az
fords the birds shelter for their nests,
and above them always Is the sky
against whose foundations artillery IL
vainly used.
r Reminders Of the Battle.
All along the edges of this plateau.
the. trenches are deeply cut They are
used for shelter by the men of both
T,armies during the sweeping fire on
this open plain. Today they are some
what back of the rearmost trenches
of the present fighting line. It is cas-
| lily learned how savage was the fight
In this place where today one picks
| flowers and listens to the larks sing
ing in defiance of the noise of the
cannon. Reminders of the battle that
has moved on apace are, everywhere
German shells and French shells ex-
| pended either vainly or to awful pur-
pose are an fncumbrance to ones foot
| steps. When one follows the track Of
modern war he wonders that any man
engaged in It can live to write its
history. -.
| 1t Is hard to turn away from this
field near st. Mihiel. There have been
horrors enough along the line of the
way to make one hate war for all
time, but yet there is something
about 1t which grips the interest and
the imagination. This battlefield of
Vaux-Marie is one point Of two meet
ing lines Of triangle, within whose
compass the fighting has been at its
fercest and whose edge is still famed
by the hot breath of battle. 1 have
said that this triangle is out Of the
present fighting, but one cannot so
sense It while the ground shakes with
the roar Of artillery.
France is Enthusiastically hopeful to-
day that the line of this fighting will
continue to recede northward and
north-eastward, and that the recession
will become quicker paced day by day
as the spring and the summer adj
vance, AS It is the fragments of vii
lagos within this triangle, and which
are still shaken by the gunflre, feel
seemingly that their future safety is
as assured as If they were removed
thousand leagues from the clashing
armies In the valleys of the Aire and
the Mouse. The few villagers who
have come back have full confidence
in the prowess OF the French soldiers
who are bulwarking the land.
More pesoIate Villages.
Near this field of the fighting there
are several desolated places which
have seen, but Of which I have not
written, so like is their condition to
that Of scores of other villages which
I have visited and whose pathos ap
pealed Pretz and Vassincourt are
gone Louppy lie Chateau is pile Of
ruins. At Revigny nothing is left but
the walls of the church and one saints
statue, from which destruction in
some way or another was warded of
We see these places as we pass
from the battlefield to village still
standing, at least in part, and where
we may rest, and where we might
forget war we're It not for the distant
rolling Of the guns along the line
where men are killing men. We are
going back to Paris and from there
later I hope to go under the same
guidance to another part of France
where, as along this line, the armies
are at death grips.