The Snyder signal. (Snyder, Tex.) 1887-????, 1920-02-13
Shall Chaos or Reconstruction
in Europe Follow the Great
World War?
NOW WEAK AND HEhRTBR0KEN
In Mourning and Poverty She Counts
Her Dead and Looks With Eyes OF
Sadness Toward the Threat
ening Future.
Article II.
BY FRANK coMERFoRp.


that day Germany declared war on
Russia. The fire alarm rang around
the world. Peasants In the Held
Strengthened their backs, listened and
looked into the sun confused, wonder
Ing. Flags were unfurled, bands
played, faces were white, tense ana
serious. Men left their work und
talked in groups on the street corners.
Women laid down their brooms. put
aside their washing and talked In
whispers; sad lights were In their
eyes. Children stopped playing. Some
thing had happened. Evil things were
ahead. August and found France
and Great Britain mobillzlng their
sons. The torch was sweeping Eu-
rope-the fire OF death had started
For four long years-heart- sicken'
ing ycars-the world ran red. Men
waded through mud and blood, fought,
suffered, cursed, prayed, while back
home 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, II Is finished. A
stunned, numbed, weak. heartbroken
Europe is again sitting In the sun OF
peace. Europe Is In dirty black rags.
The black is mourning the rags are
poverty. Her face is deeply lined
trenches made by suffering. Her eyes
are downcast and dead. Hope tiutters
weakly In her breast; faith has faded
from her soul Her home Is II house
of darkness. The fire on the hearth
has turned tn cold gray ashes. The
kettle no longer sings. II means. Her
mind is weary. her body is wnsted
Hunger has robbed her Of her strength
Her stOcklngless. shoeless feet are
blue from the cold. Her lips wear
starvation color. Ice In the winters
wind lashes her shverlng. half-naked
body. She mumbles as she stares va
cantiy into space-she Is tired, so
tired. As beheld her II seemed TO
me that face so troubled and sad
must never have known smile.
listened To her mutterlngs 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 sees 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
graves. For the most-part they were
her youngest born. her most beloved,
who dug deep in the soil to sleep for
ever In the dark dugouis.
AS they fell bleeding from steel and
lead. choking from gas. wrlthing In
agony from fire, they proved In the dy.
Ing word they spoke that they were
mere boys, as they had shown In their
fighting that they were brave men. To
the peoples they lntrusted their mes
sage. and the red peoples remember
the 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
shudders through her bent body. She
signs and sobs. "Seven and half MIL
lion of my sons are dead"
Her thoughts turn to the living, her
arms open TO receive them, she holds
them to her heart. They have come,
but howf
Some with slghtless eyes. doomed to
grope through the world In never
ending darkness, a night without stars
or moon; sunless, black, hopeless days,
and these, too. young men in the very
morning Of their day.
Others sentenced TO silsnce-deat
and dumb. Never again will she hear
their voices nor will they hear hers.
Still others In wheel chairs, dwarfed,
Iegless.
More hobbllng on clutches. limplng
on canes.
Some with empty sleeves.
Many with great scars where once
was handsome face.
She sees them all, her heart bleeds
the twisted. the mangled. the torn,
She Is counting them. the 12.616,0T,
the wounded OF the war.
Wars Frightful Cost.
Her voice Is husky, her hnnds ara
tired. but she must count on. Six and
n haif million NJ her sons were marked
"missing aud prisoners in the official
war score. Many Of these have come
hack 10 her. but she does not question
them-she dare not. Their faces tell
of the unspcaknhle horrors they en-
dured. She sees In their eyes depth
OF pain that is Questionable She Is