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Updated: June 8, 2025
Long after I had left I could hear them shouting. A few streets farther on I saw in an open cafe a young couple, a reservist in field uniform and a young girl, his bride or sweetheart. They sat there, hands linked, utterly oblivious of their surroundings and of the world at large.
It was the order to go forward. Every one understood and rose up, except five men whom a nervous agony chained to their ground. They had been demoralized by their long wait and weakened by their yearnings for the abandoned homes, and were in the grip of fear. The lieutenant a reservist who had a little white in his beard looked at the five defaulters without anger.
Like myself he was waiting for his ship to sail, but not to England to France. He was a returning French reservist. Across the many miles of ocean the hand of duty had stretched and touched him; he was ecstatically glad that he was wanted. In those first days this ecstasy of gladness was a little hard to understand. Thank God we all share it instinctively now.
In the evening I went out in the car to fetch the general. The car, which was old but stout, had been left behind by the Germans. The driver of it was a reservist who had been taken from his battalion. Day and night he tended and coaxed that car. He tied it together when it fell to pieces. At all times and in all places he drove that car, for he had no wish at all to return to the trenches.
When I took a walk away from a railway station where I had to make a train connection, I saw a German reservist of forty-five who was helping with one hand to thresh the wheat from his farm, on a grey, lowering winter day. The other hand was in a bandage. He had been allowed to go home until he was well enough to fight again.
Not only have they landed at Ostend, Boulogne, and Havre, with all their field transports, but they have been taken up the Seine in steamers to Rouen, whence they were entrained on the strategic lines for Belgium. M.J.A. Picard, a young Frenchman, and his wife arrived from New York and reached Paris via Boulogne. M. Picard will join the army to-morrow as a reservist employed in the general staff.
While we were waiting for the coachman we had tea and supper, talking the while, in a fairly calm and composed manner, with the ladies of the house. We arrived at Freiberg early the following morning, after various adventures, and I set out forthwith to find the leaders of the reservist contingent with whom I was already acquainted.
He knows all about it, has done plenty of rough campaigning in his time, but he knows also that the religion of Jesus Christ is best for war or peace. Christ has been with him in all parts of the world, and Christ will be with them. They are going out. No one knows what is before them, but with Christ at their side all will be well. And now a Reservist speaks.
"So would you so would our friend the Italian reservist there. I'm an average American, free, white, and twenty-one, with strong pro-Ally sympathies and a passport in perfect shape. This is all nonsense, but of course there is something back of it. What has been your real reason for deviling me ever since I entered this room?" The lieutenant was studying my face. "Mr.
The Russians liked it. They were used to it. "We never keep the waiter late by tarrying over our liqueurs," said a Frenchman. Our reservist guide had run away to America in youth, where he had worked at anything he could find to do; but he had returned to Berlin, where he had a "good little business" before the war. He was stout and cheery, and he referred to the prisoners as "boys."
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