The daily Alaskan., 1918-03-20
The Poisoned
 Dove
By Richard Washburn Child

 8 few months ago. A reporter on the pier in San Francisco said, What do they think in the far East about when the war will end?"
 That was the first expression about the war heard by an American return ing to his native country and aching to know what Americans at home had been thinking, planning, doing, how we were expressing our manhood and womanhood, whether we would soon find a way to mobilize America and throw the giant force of her against the menace of men.
 I heard this query with slckened spirit. The reporter would never have asked the question unless In behalf or the readers of his paper. Could this represent the spirit of the people the spirit of America2
 I had heard the same question In England back in the days when the Zeppellns had just begun to come over London with the slogan "Women and children first"
 lover there," however they learned long ago of the folly of living daily life with the sound of this question In their ears. They have learned that insid- iously, quietly, imperceptibly, the per sIstent tap, tap, tap of this little ques- ton weakens the cause, turns the edge of determination, enters the subcon- sciouS mind like a slow disease drain Ing off fighting spirit, manhood, and the dash and power of the one purpose and beats upon that which should be the unbreakable will of people who must win.
 Moro Dangerous Here.
 For America, this question haunting the minds of its citizens Is more dan gerous than 1t was lover there" Our soft prosperity, our distance from the struggle, tempts weak men to cling to the comforts of peace. We have not felt the gaff of war. Not yet have we learned the pain of that full deep thrust of regret that when democracy called for us, we, the pioneers of nb- erty, asked why and how and when but, at first, did not come. We have not learned even the prelude of that day when the WAT will have seized upon and wrung our hearts, when the ghosts of our men come back to sit in the farmhouse kitchen or In the leather chairs of the club, to click the latches of village gates, and march in invisible brigades up the asphalted avenues.
 So the flabby men and women among us still go on asking in that voice of childish eagerness, "How long will the war last?"
 And the selfish retailer, trader, OF fnancier, fat with gain and ease or lean with avarice, thinking of the ef- feet of peace upon the market, asks, "What would be your guess about the end of the war;"
 And even the thoughtless and the | ignorant and empty-headed, who would otherwise say, "Is this hot enough for you?" or Do you think It's going to snow?" say now, "Wen, when will the war endf"
 inc TWO types.
 Test the spirit of these questions by the two types-those who ask them and those who do not. Which Is the type of person whom you would trust for character, courage, and sense, for unfinching determination when some thing has been begun, to "see 1t throughT
 I remember leaving KitChener's ot- fee in London to visit the recruiting at Scotland Yard. Six feet four inches and 250 pounds of retired British army veteran, hardened, reddened, grizZled, was my escort. That was in 1915.
 There's too much wondering when the war will end," said be. My three boys have gone."
 'To France" said I, mIsunder- standing.
 "To rest" he said, strengthening. "Killed In action. Perhaps 'tis that which makes me sQuirm when hear any BritIsher guessing about the end of the war. My good sense would tell me anyway. If you see two men fight ing, would you put bet on him who was wondering when 1t would be oyer7"
 'No."
 "Nor I. When they ask me when the war will end, say, Something like year or two after the Prussians think 1t time to stop.'"
 For a contest between two men, two football teams, two nations, or two great alliances struggling in the great est war of all, over the greatest issue of all, there can be no other doctrine. When John Paul Jones' antagonists asked him If he was ready to stop , fighting and he answered that he had not begun to fight, 1t was not John Paul Jones but his enemy who was wondering ''when it would be over." No man, no woman who contributes even by innocent, thoughtless mouth foo kn n roaDfol oFfifuda oxDrauoaN In