How the Great War Ended.

I remember how Nap sparked up as he described the happenings of the past fortnight.

“We got the tip to prepare for the ‘Grand Advance,’” he said. “Our stunt was to thoroughly screen from German aerial reconnaissance all our movements between Rheims and Metz; and so for a week the air actually swarmed with our ’planes. Gee! but the smash-up of aircraft was awful. We lost quite a collection, but the Germans must have very few left. And the way we went about it was a caution! We had a real aerial fandango smashing bridges, trains, railway stations and any old thing. You see our commandants untied us let us loose. Why one of my ‘goes’ was the bust up of the big balloon and ’plane ‘deepo’ at Laon; but in chasing a Taube three days ago I came to grief right here engine trouble, sure.”

“But what was the game, Nap?” I asked excitedly. “What was the reason of your aerial razzle?”

“Simple enough, Jefson,” he replied, “we were screening a big transfer of our forces towards Metz. You see, the Germans, during June and July, had been pushed back to a line along the Lys, where they dug in on the right bank and waited.

“The great new armies Kitchener had in training during the winter were to be flung at that German line between Courtrai and Antwerp, to try and force their way through Belgium to Liege.

“We on the south were to put up a big bluff between Rheims and Metz in order to divert German attention from that big smashing attack on the Lys. Gee! How I’m itching to be back before the game starts!”

Then it all came back to me; the incident of the impatient German soldiers at the ferry on the Rhine; the tramp-tramp, rattle-clink of the German troops and carts on the Coblenz road; the anger of the little German woman at the farm and one line of reasoning linked all the incidents.

“They’ve started,” I said. “The Germans are retreating! That Coblenz road is a crowded procession of despair!”

He stopped and looked at me in surprise.

“How?” he queried. “Why we’re 100 miles from Metz. Bless me, they must have started just after I lit out. Gee! but we must hustle.”

So we stepped out briskly and reached the white strip on the tree. It was the piece of fabric from Nap’s ’plane. That night we repaired the machine, and after many hours coaxed the engine back to sanity. Before the dawn the leafy screen was cleared, the ’plane wheeled into the open, the engine coughed, spluttered and “got busy”; and up to greet the morning sun we rose and turned southward with the sky clear of cloud, fog or ’plane.

As we climbed, we could discern the Coblenz road and the River Moselle below us, the former still a long length of moving figures. In half an hour, up came the sounds of big guns. Far to the south the opposing armies were evidently in touch. It was round Metz that the fighting was taking place, and we could see the “grey coats” retreating along at least five roads.

As we passed over Metz, I remembered my last crossing it in a fog and my dash to the Argonne Forest seven months before. Things had changed somewhat since.

We crossed the fighting lines and were lucky to descend without being hit, as several shots were fired as we volplaned down.

I remember, in those excitement-laden days, how for a while I was surprised that we were only welcomed back with a nod. There were evidently more important happenings to consider than the return of two lucky aviators, so we were soon again in operation with our squadron reconnoitring on our right to watch for any German reinforcements coming against our right flank.

It was evident that the Germans understood that our attack from the south was only a feint, as our advance was poorly retarded; in fact the German rearguard defence was so weak that our mounted forces began to push ahead rather quickly. The enemy was evidently concentrating on the Lys to oppose the Allies’ main attack in West Belgium.

I remember that our forces to the left of Metz, the left wing of the southern armies, found an opening in the enemy’s line at the Argonne Forest, and poured through: and being mostly French, Italian and Australian mounted troops, with artillery; speedily moved ahead, dashed into the Ardennes; and, being reinforced with our Metz forces joining them at Longwy, pushed on with a six road front through the Ardennes Forest. They concentrated in force at the edge of the forest on the left bank of the Lesse River to wait for the engineers.

Oh, what a mad dash that was! There seemed to be no thought of taking prisoners. It was a wild rush north, with, of course, every precaution taken for providing defence on both sides of our advance.

I remember that I wondered, at the time, why the Germans were almost without horses. Their dash across Belgium in the previous year explained the mobs of broken-backed, split-heeled and fleshless wrecks we met in the paddocks along the Meuse.

Within four days we occupied the whole of the country south of the Lesse River; with two railways, one a double line, feeding us with reinforcements and supplies.

Then our second dash began, and within a week our front was entrenched at the junction of the Meuse and Ourthe, with our artillery banging into the swarms of German infantry pouring into Liege!

What a sacrilege it seems to tell of this wonderful week in plain matter-of-fact language!

A week of feverish excitement, when one hardly remembered meals, sleep or rest, when our spirits raced in front of us pulling our responsive flesh!

I remember that when the French mounted troops, who led the way, lined the ridge beyond Nandrin and looked down upon the City of Liege between the hills they fairly screamed in their frenzied delight.

The main attack of the Allies had changed from the west to the south!

In the meantime our forces on our right extended along the Ourthe, with those on our left along the Meuse, two natural defensive positions, as the troops kept pouring in from the south to strengthen our attack.

We were as a spear-head at the heart of Germany, and great armies of French reinforcements were coming up behind us to drive that spear-head home!

Against that “spear-head” German reinforcements drawn from the eastern army flung themselves, but their attacks seemed spiritless. Russia had already broken their power.

Beneath a fearful fire from the Liege forts the Allies’ armies poured across the Ourthe, climbed like cats on to the 200 foot ridge to the east of Liege; and within ten days all supplies for the German armies in Belgium were cut off!

On the second day of September, the main German armies in Belgium, that had held the line at the Lys, retired to their second line of defence at the Dendre, but almost before they could deploy the British were upon them and they unconditionally surrendered.

Thousands had fled to the Meuse, where the relentless French shells plowed passages through their ranks. Thousands had rushed, demoralised, northward, to be rounded up like wild cattle by the Dutch troops at the border line.

Then the British armies marched through Brussels and across the battle-blackened country easterly through Louvain; and at Liege joined hands with the armies from the south, as news came of the surrender of the German armies of the east.

The armies of Russia and Italy had been closing in on Vienna from the north and south.

Germany having no desire to get upon its own soil the awful devastation it had bestowed upon Belgium and France, through President Wilson, of the United States of America, asked the Allies for the terms of peace.

Then ensued a rather interesting situation.

The United States had not acted through the war with any admiration from the Allies.

Even when the German submarines had sunk the “Lusitania” and drowned over 1000 Americans, President Wilson did not take any action beyond practically asking Germany to frame any “old excuse.” He was a man of peace. He seemed to have forgotten that the foundations of the U.S.A. were carved with a sword, and that Jefferson’s first draft of the Declaration of Independence was militant and resistant. “For the support of this declaration,” he wrote, “we mutually pledge our lives, our fortunes and our sacred honor.”

President Wilson had previously informed the Allies that he was “too proud to fight,” so when the message requesting the terms of peace came through Wilson, the Allies received it in a cold and formal fashion.

There are some phrases in the world’s history that will live for ever. There is Kitchener’s reply to General Cronje in the Boer War: “Not a minute” there is Nelson’s immortal message on the “Victory” of “England expects “; so the reply of the Allies to America will long endure:

“They who conquer can dictate the terms of peace.”

Next day Germany and Austria pleaded for cessation of war.

Within fifteen months a world’s war had begun and ended, and the events at its close had moved as swiftly as those at its beginning.