Evening capital and Maryland gazette. (Annapolis, Md.) 1910-1922, 1918-11-21
MAKE THEM PAY"
IS HIS WAR CRY
Canadian Soldier, Not Bloodthirs-
ty, But Peaceable, Writes
OF War Suffering
LEST WE SHOULD FORGET

There is a very s.rong campaign
going forth from Germany these days
to weaken Americas firm sense of JUS
tice by the mesmerism of sentimental
sympathy. Les. we forget" the Cap
ital reprints the following:
In an article, headed. Make Them
Pay" in the London Daily Mail, Ca
madam soldier writes
No one could call me bloodthirsty.
/ am the most peaceable of men. am
not vindictive, and think / may say
that seldom harbor ill-feeling in my
heart
Butt loathe HUI.
"Why?" I'll tell you.
Outside of a pretty little bungalow
in a tree bordered street in Victoria,
B. c., hangs a red flag. There is
sale on. That was my home. People
are inside there bargaining for our
little household treasures. Cautious
housewives are lingering carpets and
curtains. and appraising their value,
A fat old dealer is trying to convince
his pal that my priceless Sheffield
plate soup tureen is not genuine.
, There is a man carrying away my
child's cot.
I've no home now All the little
store of books treasured so is gone.
My wife is living in a boarding house
and the youngster has no nursery
now.
We've sold out so tina. | may join
the --th battalion.
The Hun must pay me for that
must make what reparation can be
made for breaking up my home; for
all the heavy heartaches we had in
parting from our treasures.
l am standing in the British mill
tary cemetery at Bailleul. 1t is June,
1917. have found what / sought. A
simple mound with little plain wood
en- cross at the head of il. My young
er brother lies here
Five years ago he came out to Brit
/ ish Columbia to meas fine a lad as
you could meet He had just left
school. A clean, wholesome product
of an English public school. In 1914
he lefs his job-surveying- en-
listed. He served eight months as a
private in France, got a commission,
and, within four months, his company.
Two days before his twenty-first
birthday-in June 1916-he was going
round the line at "stand-to." A sniper's
bulle hit him square in the forehead
the next day they brought him here.
1t was a Huns hand that pulled that
trigger. Do you suppose I'll meet a
Hun again when peace comes. with
the haunting feeling that the hand /
shook in greeting might be the hand
that pulled that trigger?
They can't give me back that young
] life-but they still have "eyes to weep
with"
4 Make them weep!
! An old man is walking slowly up
and down the lawn in the garden of a
beautiful old Kentish vicarage. 1t is
| a still summer night. Hardly sound.
you would say. But the old man stops
and listens. He can just hear a dis
| tant rumble-far, far away to the
south.
1.-THE guns in France or Belgium"
he would tell you. Day and night he
is listening, listening for that distant
rumble
! He is my father Four years ago
did not consider him on the border of
old age But these years of sorrow
and ever present anxiety. first for two
sons and now for only one, have
changed him. They have deepened the
/ burrows in his cheeks, have turned his
hair to silver, taken all the joy of life
from his eyes.
He is only one of millions.
| The Huns cannot make the old man
young again, cannot restore the boy
they stole from him. But even their
brutal instincts can be made to realize
how all decent people loathe muir
derer.
I sAf