ALIEN’S LETTER FROM ENGLAND

Otago Witness, Issue 3183, 17 March 1915, Page 69

ALIEN’S LETTER FROM ENGLAND

January 14. After the first heat and ardour of mind of the nation which sprang from the conviction —and the revelation —that our call to honour and liberty, after the first response and ardent zeal which in its enthusiasm and generosity was an Empirewide impulse, there comes of nature and necessity a wide-eyed hour from the enhancement of war-enthusiasm in which those even of the most sanguine temperament ask the intrinsic value of the cost in life and property and happiness the war demands. And when, on investigation and scrutiny, the cost shows formidable in material things and terrible in the sacrifice of life and joy .for future uncertain gain, the enthusiasm of many flags. To believe ourselves invincible, insuperable, unconquerable makes enthusiasts ; to know that we are not inviolable, that our cause may be violated, injured, broken, profaned, and still to give ourselves for it makes heroes._ And England knows to-day that she is not invincible, and that to remain unconquerable she depends upon the loyalty and patriotism and heroism of the Empire, not only of her sons, but of her daughters. In England recruiting—by no means at a deadlock —has passed what may be termed its involuntary stage, when thousands were borne on a great tide of enthusiasm that swept the nation towards one goal of triumphant self-assertion and self-giving. After half a year we are beginning to realise that we have to justify our assertion that “ Britannia rules the waves ” by the horrors of the North Sea, and that “ Britons never shall be slaves ” by the bloody agony and selfless daring of that man-conceived hell known as “ the front.” The men who now come forward to fill the gaps realise all the ghastly possibilities of their offering. They voluntarily give themselves and the possibilities of their civilian life from conviction of the need for them, and though reluctant to break ties of human satisfaction and commercial advantage, they do both —and, what is harder, jeopardise the fixture well-being of others —for conscience’ sake. _ These are the very backbone of the nation —men of mental and moral virility,—and to invoke them with cheap invitations and solicitations to a personal “ glory ” on the battlefield is to strike _ a wrong note. Reason and not impulse is the impetus_ to action. Thev go with the full realisation of what their duty costs. They go because they are- convinced that it is their duty. The cheap recruiting braggart does not influence them. Nothing and no one will- convince them that any personal glory and gratified vanity can recompense for the relinquishment of the civilian life. Yet for honour’s sake they relinquish it—• spiritually brave men, mentally bold and noble, who will suffer hardship of necessity, and, if of necessity, pain and death, as heroically as those who enter the fight from love of adventure and instinctive sportsmanship. That quiet, tenacious courage carries far. There is no bluster or warrior talk. The man who Quarrels noisily and talks at the 'top of his voice is not the type of the present-day recruit; but, once having put his hand to the plough, he will not turn back till he is through with his furrow. But he cannot be taken by cajolement. Flattering and wheedling are for another tvpe of man, whose personal vanity must be stimulated, who must be “ appreciated ” to prowess, and the attributes of heroism attributed before they are realised. But a verv large proportion of people are emotionally stirred to action by the appeal to the senses. Tragedies are around us every day, which the novelist and dramatist for the first time visualise to us. Dancing and music are expressions of human emotions, and the revivalist has ever used music with which to attract the attention and assail the obdurate and indifferent, and it seems a curious oversight that so little use has been made during the war of music as a recruiting agency. The regiments march past through the depressing mud and rain week "after week, and except for their own whistling and singing there are few martial airs to inspire them or other mep to go and do likewise. And' if anything could kill the patriotic _ spirit, the rains of the last eight or nine weeks would have done it. ' It has rained every conceivable sort of rain at every conceivable time in every conceivable way. Showers, deluges, torrential rain, intermittent rain, steady rain, fitful rain, incessant rain, drizzles. In “the stilly night,” at dawn, morn, noon, afternoon, and eve. Sometimes it is a downpour, sometimes a sidesweep, sometimes it is sleet, sometimes it is hail, but always it is to the front of you and behind you and all around you. And the poor soldiers, made or in the making, are having an initiation to the trenches, if not in' fire, certainly in mud and water. But for their “billet” (to which many of them wade) scores of thousands of these men to whom we owe so much, or shall owe later, would, fresh from the comfort of civilian .life, have been put to more than bearable strain. For miles around every ■ camping-ground or drilling place, however, the men are billeted on the private houses for meals and sleeping. And the women, mistresses and servants, or working housewives, alike “do their bit” in hospitality and kindness over and above the soldier’s Is 8d a day,

and “mother” the khaki men. The Canadian troops at Salisbury, which for weeks has been flooded for miles over

the plain, have seen “active service” in curious transport activities over river-like roads, and in rescues of women and

children and old .men from the enemy—

the flood. Throughout the whole course of the Thames Valley, and in the low-lying

river and fen lands of the country.

(Specially Written for the Ladies’ Page.)

THE NATION’S NEED,

villages, towns, parks, and open spaces have presented scenes “the like of which” the oldest resident fails to recall. At any other moment of the country’s history we should have had vivid word-pictures of the placid rivers become swift, surging streams, and that weird, still creeping up of the waters under the January moon till there were no more fields and hedges in the low-lands, only quilty-faced lakes quivering as if with apprehension at the usurpation of the dry land about castles and colleges, mansions and cottages. And the reveh’y of the steamboats and launches that broke away from their moorings on the Thames, and, unrestrained, went with the current to their own destruction, or wounded, with broken funnels, lay by the bridges for rescue. There is so much of beauty, so much of humanity, so much of genius, so much that we have earned and revered and cherished going to waste the world over because of this war that the everyday spectacle of Nature is tame. But here and there an illustration of the flooded areas draws attention among the pictures of the war. Damage estimated at £200,000 has been caused in the Fenlands of West Norfolk, where the banks of the Little Ouse at Hockwold have burst and inundated the country for 10 miles long and seven miles wide. It seems as though in the long-drawn-our list of horrors of this horrible war the public is in danger of losing sympathy and interest in other ills. The illustrated press of the present day, however, has the advantage of realising for those at a distance scenes which else would be otherwise unrealisable; and terrible as it all is, there is every indication that the preparation is not for a speedy issue, but that we are but on the first stage of the vital venture. It is not by what the newspapers say but by what is left unsaid that one gauges the facts by personal observation. Things that one sees and hears and expariences are passed lightlv over as of no account. The whole tone’ of the reports of happenings, or as often the non-reports, point to the one striving of the press to keep up the public heart, and yet at the same time to impress it with the need for greater and greater sacrifice. The women of England are publicly thanked —an uncommon experience—-for the great part they have borne in the nation’s burden. They . are thanked because much more is needed. Not one journal only which a short time ago was fluent in derision of the struggle of womanhood for her acknowledged part in the welfare of the world says that the work that women have done in healing the sufferings of the war, in caring for the families of the soldiers who are fighting at the front, has been of heroic quality. “They have sacrificed themselves nobly and unsparingly, but what the nation above all requires of them is the far harder duty of sacrificing others. Every woman who restrains a man over whom she has influence from enlisting, and who does not actually urge and encourage him to put his manhood to the proof, is to that extent a traitor to her sex and her country. The instincts and functions of women are in the niain concerned with the preservation of life. But there are times, and this is one of them, when to preserve life you must spend it, when to keep anything you must venture everything.” True; but this is seldom conceded to women. “What women have done during the last five months behind the firing lines has been the admiration of the world.” And we are urged by the nation to greater doing. Four questions have been put to the women of England bv means of the newspaners, which face them in large print as the men face the call to arms in every train or ’bus or public building they enter. “You have read what the Germans have done in Belgium. Have you thought what they would do if they invaded England?” Second, “Do you realise that the safety of your home and children depends on our getting more men now?” Third, “Do you realise that the one word ‘Go’ from you may send another man to fight for King and country?” Fourth, “When the war is over and your husband or your son is asked, ‘What did you do in the great war?’ is he to

hang his head because you -would not let him go?” “Women’s sphere’’ that we hear so much about in times of peace does not appear to have any very definite lines of demarcation just now, and Englishwomen hope of very shame to hear less about the abuse of their womanhood by interest in political questions. She might have retaliated by saying that the war was man made, and out of her “sphere,” but her life’s life is being absorbed in it. The story is being told of Lord Kitchener that when asked the other day when he thought that the war would end, he replied that he did not know when it would end, but that it would begin in May. So we women must not be faint-hearted yet, although many of us in our inmost souls feel that much very much —ultimate good must be gained for the world to make the present suffering and loss worth while. The insistent call for such enormous numbers of men shows there is enormous need. We know very well that hard tests are still in store for us, and that we shall have to battle bitterly for our peace, and that there are still more sacrifices to make that will cause us bitter pains. Shun as we may those terrible lists of dead and wounded, every' name in the closely-packed columns of which mean misery and anxiety in some home, we must face them still, again, and yet again, and do, as well as bear, again and yet again The appeals for women s I service are on the inci’ease rather than otherwise. The soldiers and sailors at their posts or in hospital still need all that can be done for them, the needs orefugees increase with numbers, and already the Government is faced with the problem of what to do with our disabled soldiers, many of whom have lost a limb, and who in their youth are faced with a long life partly incapacitated. -To leave them to a long, ignoble existence on their pension is intolerable. &ir t rederick Milner, who has raised the question, feels that employment of brain and body according to capacity should be found. Meanwhile many of the wounded are guests of the convalescent homes, which a-e beautiful private country residences. But it is for the vears after the war their ptr i'ions should he assured, not left as ho-eless tckens of the nation’s ingratitude. So dally there is no news. The King and the Queen are daily occupied with visits to the wounded soldiers in the many hospitals scattered throughout the country. There are no society fixtures; it has been announced that the Courts will not be held this year either here or in Ireland. Also, there is to be no university boat race, the first time for many years—nearer 60 than 50 —that the historic race has not been rowed. Nor, of course, will there be any international contests of any kind, either polo, military tournaments, boat racing or yachting. In theatreland there ha-s been a revival, attributed to the fact of the boys and girls being home for their holidays and so many soldiers home just now cn" leave. The performances for the b nefit of the patriotic funds are many, and the music halls echo with patriotic songs. We are accustomed to the sight of the khaki bovs in the houses and the streets, but the khaki girls are a new feature. On Saturday afternoon great interest was aroused by the Women Volunteers on their first route march from Marylehone to Hampstead Heath. They went at a fine trained pace, and presented a smart appearance in short khaki skirts and putties, with Norfolk-like jackets leather-belted, and slouch felt hats. They are being trained in the offices of war save actual fighting, and in event of invasion will have allotted services. A regiment of young giantesses, they looked fit and capable enough for the actual fighting, and a reproach to some of their natural “ protectors.”