The labor journal. [volume] (Everett, Wash.) 1909-1976, 1918-07-12
HIS WHITE HAND
BECKONS TO AMERICA
Remade BY Science, This Belgian's
Fingers Symbolic a Nation Torn
and Ravaged By Autocracy.


lean Federation of Labor Mission
to Great Britain and France)
There is something about the
sight of a bloodless hand that stays
in the memory. Nothing is more
helpless, nothing quite so inert. Nor
so white with the paleness of death.
/ can see such hand just now,
in memory. The hand of a Bel
gian soldier. This Belgian once
was dashing crusader like the
spirited Blue Devils that went whril-
ing through America few days
ago. When | saw him he was
frail and slight and sunken of cheek.
Everything about him was pale, ex-
cept his eyes. They flashed with
life and hope.
But it was his right hand that
marked him for me. He stood be-
fore a machine that moved back
and forth like the balance wheel
of a big clock. 1t kept going,
back and forth, with a gentle per-
sistence Of motion. The mans right
hand was strapped to the machine.
The motion flexed the fingers and
the wrist constantly. And this sol
der stood, watching his fingers bend
and straighten, bend and straighten,
bend and straighten. Watching his
wrist limp back and forth and back
and forth
The machine was coaXing back
life driving out death; bringing back
usefulness and strength, driving out
helplessness and despair.
| wondered how long this patient
soldier would have to stand there,
watching his slim, white fingers be-
ing bent and unbent by the ma
chine. Days, weeks-perhaps many
weeks. 1t is something that can
not be computed. 1t is where chance
plays its big game.
Not long before this soldier had
been up in the north near where the
long fighting line touches the sea,
fighting the fight for all Of us.
And then a shell had torn his hand
to ribbons, which the doctors had
carefully woven together again in
something of their former shape.
| saw this soldier at the Belgian
.t,1 ipl1 Fnr
Havre, in France. There were
others there, strapped to machines
But there was nothing among all of
those men, weaving gently to the
motion of these mechanical aides
Of science quite as impressive as the
white hand of this particular sol
der.
This soldier will never go back
to the trenches. And there is nc
other Belgian to put in his place
Belgium's all is in the fight now
and has been for long, long while
| watched until | was almost fas
cinated by the struggle of science
against death. Which would win
| tried to build up the picture of the
past. What had the man looked
like? ?, What had the hand looked
like? How would it look when i
won its vicarious fight for life?
And then | thought out something
like this: There are no more Bel
gians to put into the line whel
Belgians are killed. There are M
more Belgians to go to work or t.
fight when Belgians die. They arr
all in now. There is no reserve o
Belgians. Only in America is thu
reservoir still full. Only in Amer
lea are there men and women read!
to step into line when gaps arr
made.
So, here, before me, is a Belgian
who cannot fight or work. HI
may be nursed back to service il
time-but it will be long time
What American has taken his place
Who has stepped in to fight thu
fight he left?
| thought then of the good shil
on which we had sailed away from
America = loaded with Americans
and of the stream of Americans tina
we had seen coming from othe
ships at the landing stages cove
there" And of the endless stream
pouring across our continent towarC
the seaboard, where the ships lii
waiting always. And of the mel
in olive drab that we had seen al
through England and France.
Then it came to me. The whit
hand of the wounded soldier was
symbol of a nation-a nation slail
by autocracy. Belgium is ravished
ruined, torn, bruised and battered
Almost dead All but the spirit