New Mexico state record. (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1914-19??, 1920-01-30
PRObLEMSFAC|NC
STRICKEN WORLD
Shall Chaos or Reconstruction
in Europe Follow the Great
World War?
NOW WEAK AND HEARTBROKEN
In Mourning and Poverty She Counts
Her Dead and Looks With Eyes Of
Sadness Toward the Threat
eninQ Future.
Article H..
BY A

BY FRANK coMERFoRo.
August l, 1914, was the day. o.
that day Germany declared war OF
Russia. The fire alarm rang aroun,
the world. Peasants in the feel,
Strengthened their backs. listened an,
looked into the sun confused, wonder
ing. flags We're unfurled, band'
played, faces We're white, tense ant
serious. Men left their work ant
talked in groups on the street corners
Women laid down their brooms, pul
aside their washing. and talked II
whispers; sad lights were in theii
eyes. Children stopped playing. Some
thing had happened. Evil things were
ahead. August . and 4 found France
and Great Britain modifying their
sons. The torch was sweeping Eu
rope-the fire of death had started.
For four long years-heart-sicken
Ing years-the world ran red. Men
waded through mud and blood, fought,
suffered, cursed, prayed. while back
nome in the manless houses women
and children worked, cried, prayed
and waited. The world was mad.
Death poisoned every breath the
people breathed.
Ii Is over now, it Is finished. A
stunned, numbed. weak. heartbroken
Europe is again sitting in the sun of
peace. Europe Is in dirty black rags.
me black Is mourning, the rags are
poverty. Her face is deeply lined
trenches made by suffering. Her eyes
are downcast and dead. Hope futters
weakly in her breast faith has faded
from her soul. Her home Is a house
OF darkness. The fire on the hearth
has turned to cold gray ashes. The
Kettle no longer sings, it means. Her
mind is weary, her body is wasted.
Hunger has robbed her of her strength.
Her stockingless, shoeless feet are
blue from the cold. Her lips wear
starvation color. Ice in the winters
wind lashes her shlverlng, half-naked
body. She mumbles as she stares va
cantly into space-she is tired, so
tired. As ! beheld her II seemed to
me that a face so troubled and sad
must never have known a smile.
listened TO her mutterings. l found
That she was counting. Over and over
again she counted on her thin, tired,
worn hands-she was counting her
dead.
Thinking Of Her Loss.
She was thinking. Her eyes looked
over the hundreds OF thousands of
square miles OF war zone, slashed
with trenches, pitted and pockmarked
by shells. She see where they fell.
No tears are in her eyes. Long ago
the hurt had reached the point where
tears dry up. Row upon row. line
upon line, mile upon mile, white
painted wooden crosses mark their
For the most part they we're
her youngest born. her most beloved,
who dug deep in the soil to sleep for
in the dark dugouts.
As they fell bleeding from steel and
lead. choking from gas, writing In
agony from fire. they proved In the dy-
ing word they spoke that they were
mere boys, as they had shown in their
that they were brave men. To
he poppies they intrusted their mes
sage, and the red peoples remember
he last word Of Europe's dying sons.
who went out into the great beyond
With this last word on their lips,
Mother"
She has finished counting; an ache
hudders through her bent body. She
ighs and sobs, "Seven and a half mil
ion of my sons are dead"
Her thoughts turn to the living. her
open TO receive them. she holds
hem TO her heart. They have come.
mt how?
Some with sightless eyes. doomed to
rope through the world in a never
nding darkness. a night without stars
r moon sunless. black. hopeless days.
nd these, too. young men in the very
Of their day.
Others sentenced to silence-desf
nd dumb. Never again will she hear
heir voices nor will they hear hers.
Still others in wheel chairs. dwarfed,
,gless.
More hobbling on crutches. limplng
\ canes.
Some with empty sleeves. T,
Many with great scars. where once
a handsome face. ,
She sees them all. her heart bleeds: ,
he twisted. the mangled. the torn. .
he is counting them. the 12.61GO11. /,
Ie wounded Of the war. !
Wars FriehtfuI Cost.
Her voice is husky, her hands are {
red. but she must count on. Six and {
half million Of her sons we're marked @
Missing and prisoners" in the official
ar score. Many Of these have come
ok to her, but she does not question
em-she dare not. Their faces tell i
the unspeakable horrors they en- d
red. She sees in their eyes a depth y
pain that is Questionable. She is Il
mother-she knows. y
The war is over. but she is not over e,
e war. Must she never stop count $.
n Is there no end to her losses? "
~graveyards are crowded. Her ! Il