Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1915-05-10
WAR

! TNHE war has been literally written
i up. In the beginning It was said that
the day Of the war correspondent was
past, and that this war would be re-
ported only by the meagre official bull
letins issued by the various army
headquarters. But competition for
| the sympathy of neutral countries and
| perhaps other causes caused the res
direction of the war correspondent. So
all the startling things that stand out
In bold relief haye been variously de-
| scribed, until we readers have ac-
uuired a certain appetite for war lit
erature, though we may know no
more of war itself than the usual
sound of an air rife in a beach shoot
ing gallery.
Having covered the outstanding
features, war writer's are turning to
more abstract and subtle phases,
speculating as to what the soldiers
think about in the trenches. and
branching off into bit of metaphysics
as to Just what is war
Wilfred Gibson, tho young English
poet who has sprung into such sud-
den and general popularity. con-
tributes four very clever and discern
Ing war poems to the Independent
Q. II is difficult to choose between
them. He calls one Raining"
The night I left my father said:
you'll go and do some stupid thing.
You've no more sense in that fat head
Than Silly Billy Witterling
Not sense to come in when II rains
Not sense enough for that, you've got,
You'll get bullet through your brains
Before you know, as like as not"
And now I'm lying in the trench
And shells and bullets through the night
Are raining in steady drench.
I'm thinking the old man was right.
An ardent anti -militarist spent sew
eral weeks in the German trenches
this winter for the purpose of seeing
war as it really is and forming his
own conclusions. He is Ernest Poole,
author of one of the spring successes,
THE iarbor." After "A vivid descrip-
ton of scenes in the trenches in
Everybodys (2) he sums UP his i'm
preston of the spirit of war and the
power behind 1t:
Things looked black to me that nIrht
If war were hell, as had believed. one
might have hoped that in sheer disgust
men would learn their lesson here and
that this war would be the last. But 7
saw little hope of this disgust For I had
seen my enemys face, and II was NOT
hideous as I had thought l had seen
deep. cleaning. flashing eyes, had heard
voice that thrilled even me. And so
war felt terribly strong that night. For
listening TO these cracking shots, and the
occasional boom of Cannons, / thought
of young men by millions. Germans
French and English. all along this wind
Ing snake the trenches), such plain, ordl-
nary men, all in a few brief months
transformed each one with his selfish
ness left behind, here quietly Offering UP
his life for what each thought a big ideal
and doing this Is no sudden excitement
with no inspiring blare of bands, but
standing deep in water and mud, week
after week, and r.onth after month, and
still keeping the looks had seen I'm their
eyes. War was not hell to such men as
these; 1t was rather the one big event
of their lives. Such men will not want
disarmament.
And who are you" a voice seemed to
ask, Ito talk to these men of my ugli-
ness? Have you ever offered to give
your life for the thing that you believe
In? And nll your countrymen over the
sea, are they all so superior. so honest,
generous and kind, so noble in their
works of peace? What have you in your
little life ever known that can call to
men as l can, pulling them out OF their
creed5 and greeds to give up their lives
by millions, to shake the entire civilized
world and put all institutions on trial