The weekly times-record. (Valley City, N.D.) 1912-1922, 1920-04-08
BELGIUM SKETCHES
The Land of the /
/. Living and Dead
tcopyri1ht. 1890. west.rn Newspaper U.io.
BY Katharine Eooleston. R,berts,

4ne OiO man sank upon stump BE-
fore the door Of the abri and rested HE
gray. stumbled chin on the handle OF
his pick. YEARLY he gazed across the
deso'ate land Of destruction. His bent
shoulders dropped beneath the blue.
smOck.
Sometimes 1t just seems Impossible,
Marthe." He turned to the woman IL,
the doorway. "You can't grow gar
den IN these wet shell-holes. Some OF
US tried to turn more ground today.
but every time we swung a pick, up
came q skull or q piece Of shoe, or
something. It doesn't seem right"
Marines knotted fingers twisted at
her apron. mo; but it's all we have,
Jan. We can't waste all West Flan-
ders, and-well, after all, it's home"
Eyes, yes" he sighed; we've come,
back to the same place, but it isn't
home any MORE Look at those bare
trees They lift their broken arms to
the sky and beg for pity, but they'il
never live. And those skulls-they
haunt me. What is the use2 Always
a struggle. The dead cannot live
again, and we live on land of
DEATH" He kicked of his wooden sa-
bots and followed his wife through the
doorway into the one room that served
for parlor, bedroom and kitchen.
Marthe bent over the sheet-iron stove
and stirred the soup in battered ket-
tie. II secured up that empty she'll
you found yesterday. It will do for q
coffee-pot. Try to get another To
use the same one for everything 10
: hard" She sighed. II do wish we had
just few Of the old kitchen things.
But suppose some German woman Is
using my copper kettles and spoons
now" Martfe welded the homemade
wooden ladle with vicious splash.
Jan laughed bitterly, as he settled
down by the table. Judging by what
they took from Belgium, picture Ger
many as land paved with copper ket-
ties, carpeted with mattresses and fes-
TONED with brass door-knobs. Oh,
what's the use, Marthe? What's the
use Of trying to live like this? An old
abri for house. because there's moth
ing with which to build. We make
our coffee in the shell of a spent obus.
Our furniture, everything is makeshift.
Life's nothing but makeshift.
"Why do we cling to 1t? And the chill
dren that people are trying to raise
out here! They see only desolation;
their toys are broken guns and rusty
bayonets. What kind of men and
women will they be7 And still-ws 60
on working here, because we've no
where else to 90, and we think W.
have to live" His gray head sank in
his hands.
Marthe placed the pot Of soup on
the table and gave him wooden
spoon. That's what Louisa was say
ing this evening. That's the way ev-
erybody feels when the dark comes
on"
Slowly the night mist crept over
No Mans Land and shrouded tho
stark, gray trees. One by one shapes
began to rise and wander over the pit
ted ground. They gathered into groups
and the murmur Of their voices was
like wind across the fields.
Said one: II thought 1t hard to de-
out here, but when see thess people
working, straining to make their
homes, / think 1t must be harder still
to live"
my family has returned" another
spoke. Il lived here once. It seems
40 long ago. But VIXEN came back
here to light my house was all de-
strOyed, my people gone. And then
l fell there, In my own front yard
that shell-hole, see 1t. where the pop
pies grow? Ny little girl came thers
to pick some flowers this aftsrHoen.
kissed her hand: she laughed. ana
thought poppy tlckled her" HIS
smiled. IF they conld know"
1T must he nearly time" another
saiA. 'The, lights ere ont. The pso-
, PIE. ars asleep"
A busle whispered somewhere II tho
DARK. The sAapes fsA .ato ranks: thu
shostly army marched. Rstors the
homes the spirits tosk their pssts asS
waited for the zero hour to eeme.
From far they saw the menace erssp
Ing np-vsSuely. until the moon brsks
Through. The Mat and showed It grin
and hideous-tAe array Of Despair aaA
fatthleas Doubt, that sought to drive
the people from the land.
The stsge was hard, but through the
long, blne niSht the shapes stood Arm
till, Just before the dawn, the hour Of
full strength came. Then with rush
the living spirits fought, and put ths
armies Of Despair and Doubt to ,Afght,
The old man stood before the door
Of the abri and watched the morning
turn from rose to gold. "Marthe," he
cried. II was foolish last night. It
must have been that was tired. What
better gift can we have than the land
where our sons have fought7 What an
inspiration for our homes! There's no
such thing as despair. Marthe. was
wrong very wrong last nirht To-day