Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1919-01-15
The Chemin des Danes
Vivid Picture of Havoc in War-Torn Battlefelds
Drawn by an American Widow Who Cries
For Vengeance Against Barbarians

the most hardtought battlefield of
the great war, from the pen of the
widow of Henry Beach Needham,
famous American war correspond
ent who lost his life while flying In
Europe.
Laon France. January End.
But. happily, it's over now,
Madame. The war Is finished"
Madame. the wife OF the mayor,
turned her faded blue eyes upon
me. regarded me with a steady,
searching look-then said quietly
and impressively:
mo. Madame, it is not over. The
war will not be finished until the
people OF the invaded districts have
enough to eat"
There was something peculiarly
meaningful in this, not only Tor the
Allied governments, but, to give II
more personal turn, to us OF the
American Committee for Devastated
France. The heel of fortune-of
life-turns. 1t does not stop. And
in this turn of its axis they and
we are to be tried-to be fashioned.
Millions of men have given OF their
lives to end this war-and nave
died that others might live. the
guns have ceased their firing-but
the battle for life has not yet ended.
That which lies in the wake ot
war-the destruction. the desola-
ton, the waste-how difficult 1t Is
for those who have not seen 1t to
realize, but for the sake OF those
who have gone before and of those
who will come after, it is necessary
that we try to see with that inner
eye in order that We may compre-
hend and wisely build.
looked out on that land oil
misery that stretched below Laon
the city set upon hill. Only q rev
weeks before the Germans had held
sway there. Their signs were sun
upon the crossroads; their hand.
writing still upon the fragments oi
the walls. l closed my eyes and sa"
again that vision which Will never
fade in the mind of any one who has
gone over the road so ironically
called, The Chemin des Danes.
Once, it is said, it was but marrow
lane bordered with tall poplar trees
through which the sun. shed its ray'
gently and the blue of the sky be
came more blue and the green o.
, the earth more green. Birds sang II
| the trees, flowers blossomed by th'
path and threw their fragrance OIL
the lovers wandering hand in hanC
walking on the heights of the
| country of Love.
And now! No words can paint 1t
No mind can compass 1t! 1t Is wa
itself! The earth. a rolling, angry
surging sea of shell holes, where on'
1 hole breaks on the crest of another
wave upon waves of shell-torn eartf
with not an inch of ground between
1 The armament, itself in mighty mo
tion-surging, beating, protesting
Almost one hears the cries of thos'
| who have been swallowed in II!
depths; almost one sees the strug
gle as one shell after another throw!
up the firm foundations to let then
fall upon men fighting for life anC
for liberty.
In the War Zone
And from out OF the depths of thil
surging. angry sea rise broken limbs
and trunks of trees. like spars of yes
sells lost at sea. Black, torn, burned
| leafless, their spirits, too, helpless
| ly cry out. For centuries each tre'
d. in it's own individuality had stood
there. Under its branches, wha
| lyrics, what epics. had been enacted
W
what fairies had built their home!
not made by hands! Birds-fairies-
trees have vanished. No longer &
land of lyrics and pastoral ballads
But heaving protest of passion anC
waste,
Gaily the light falls on stretche!
of barbed wire; on water stagnan
in the holes; on broken dugouts il
which men took refuge in the mids
of an inferno bound to compass then
on torn coats, on broken bayonets
on fallen helmets.
And over all the screeching. hun
cry, circling vultures. And under al
the crawling, writhing, hungr!
worms.
No-the war is not yet finished
while that angry sea still unceasingl!
beats on the shores of the Chemir
des Danes.
For-what of the people who once
lived here, shepherds on the hill
tops? What of the families of thi.
country-the mothers and father.
and children for whom their soldier.
fought and bled and died? For -four
years and a half the people in Laor
and the surrounding district haG
been in the hands of the Germans
under the cruel government of the
enemy. For four years and a hall
they had been out of touch with
their own nation. Truly, people with.
out country. No letters came tc
them, no letters went from them
During that time when food was
scarce, when vitality was low, wher
hope had no knowledge on which tc
build, what invidious doctrines. anC
lies and nelson's NAV have unoop
sciously seeped their way into theil
spirits? Who could know and who
could tell? No knowledge of the tide
of events could come to them. "Oncs
or twice." said an old man to me, 81
was able to buy newspaper from q
canton driver. l paid eighty franc.
for one. ninety for another. The,
were old and torn. but they told u.
something about our country-a far.
off land to us. / gathered a few peo
pie in my house that we might reac
them together. But the Germans go
wind of it. They couldn't find tn,
papers, but they forbade even tw,
or three of us to meet together"
The sound OF the guns increased
The din of the battle grew nearer
Some villages were evacuated ant
the inhabitants taken as prisoner,
into Belgium or Germany.
Then came that unforgetable da,
when Laon was freed from the Ger
| mans. The curtain of steel that 70
4 four years and a half had separated
il from its own country, was lifted
French troops marched in to gree
their dazed and slowly .awakenin,
kinsmen. A day for a Te Deum, wheI
mourning was laid aside, Laon wa