The silver state. [volume] (Winnemucca, Nev.) 1909-1925, 1920-01-13
BELGIUM SKETCHES
Il The Land of the
Lining and Dead
BY Katharine EssIesten Roberts.

fore the door Of the abri and rested his
gray. stubbled chin on the handle OF
his pick. YEARLY he gazed across the
desolate land Of destruction. His benz
shoulders dropped beneath the blue
smock.
Sometimes 1t just seems impossible.
Marthe." He turned to the woman In
the doorway. "You can't grow gar.
den In these wet shell-holes. Some OF
rs tried to urn more ground today.
but every time we swung q pick, up
came a skull or a piece Of q shoe. or
something. 1t 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"
Yes. yes" he sighed: we've come
back to the same place. bat II isn't
home any more. Look at those bare
trees. They lift their broken arms I
the sky and beg for pity. but they'll
v live. And those skulls-they
haunt me. What IL the user Always
q struggle. The dead cannot live
again. and " live or a 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 a battered ket-
tie. II secured up that empty shell
you found yesterday. 1t will do for q
enHoo-nnf Tru IN nnt onnfhor TT
use the same one for everything IL
hard" She sighed. II do wish we had
just a few of the old kitchen things.
But suppose some German woman IL
using my copper kettles and spoons
now" Marthe welded the homemade
wooden ladle with q vicious splash.
Jan laughed bitterly, as he settled
down by the table. Judging by what
they took from Belgium. / picture Ger
many as a land paved with copper ket-
ties. carpeted with mattresses and fes-
tooned with brass door-knobs. Oh,
what's the use, Marthe? What's the
use Of trying to live like this? An old
abri for a house. because there's moth
ing with which to. build. We make
our coffee in the shell of q spent obus.
Our furniture. everything is makeshift.
LIES nothing but a makeshift.
why do we cling to 1t? And the chill
dren that people r trying to raise
out here! They see only desolation (;
their toys are broken guns and rusty
b~ayonets. What kind of men and
women will they bef And still we 60
on working here, because we've no
where else to 60. and we think we
have to live" His gray head sank In
his hands.
Marthe placed the pot Of soup or
the table and gave him a 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 the
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: Il thought 1t hard to die
out here. but when l e these people
working. straining to make their
homes. l think 1t must be harder still
to live"
MY family has returned" another
spoke. II lived here once. It seems
so long ago. But when / came back
here to fight, my house was all de-
stroyed. my people gone. And then
fell there. In my W front yard
that shell-hole, see 1t. where the pop
pies grow? My little girl came there
to pick some flowers this afternoon.
l kissed her hand; she laughed. and
thought a poppy tickled her." He
smiled. III they could know"
ut must be nearly time" another
said. 1.-THE lights are out. The peo-
pie are asleep"
A bugle whispered somewhere in the
dark. The shapes fell into ranks; the
ghostly army marched. Before the
homes the spirits took their posts and
waited for the zero hour to come.
From far they saw the menace creep
ing up-vaguely, until the moo broke
through the mist and showed It grim
and hideous-the army of Despair and
faithless Doubt. that sought to drive
the people from the land.
The siege was hard. but through the
long. blue night the shapes stood firm
till. just before the dawn. the hour of
full strength came. Then with a rush
the living spirits fought. and put the
armies of Despair and Doubt to flight.
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 l was tired. What
better gift can we have than the land
where our sons have fought? What an
inspiration for our honest There's no
such thing as despair. Marthe. I was
wrong. very wrong last night. Today
I see only hope In the sky"