p. 4 | Some Results of the War by G. B. T.

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Dec 23, 1915

Some Results of the War

By G. B. T.

THE Literary Digest of November 27, publishes an extract which gives a picture of some of the grim reminders of the bloody tragedy of war staged among the nations now engaged in a death struggle, as seen in one of the large capitals. The writer is one who has gone to offer her services in the hospitals:—

The opera house sparkled in the sunshine, the driver's whip snapped, the streets were crowded, but a shadow lay across the city. Sorrowing black-clad people filled the streets. I saw that practically every woman was in mourning. And the men, where were they? Gray-haired men drove cabs, white-haired, bent-shouldered waiters served drinks; but straight, upstanding young men there were none. A one-legged Turk, scarcely more than a boy, went hustling by on crutches, with an empty red trouser leg flapping aimlessly. . . . Legless, armless, blind men, all young, passed in a steady stream. Every able-bodied man . . . under forty-eight has gone to war. Cripples, widows, and ambulances—these are the dominant notes. . . .

Some wounded soldiers were being decorated. The place was packed. Weeping relatives came to honor their brave men. A mother with a baby stands beside me. Tears are on her cheeks, but pride shines in her eyes as a blind husband is led to his place. Then a band strikes up, and out across the courtyard move a hundred legless, armless, and blind men. The commander in chief is bestowing kisses and pinning on medals.

At the front are the vast cemeteries where tens of thousands are buried in unmarked and unknown graves. Yet the struggle goes on, taking from the nations that which is of far greater value than gold—the flower of young, strong manhood. Civilization is committing suicide. Somebody may win, but even then the clock of progress in all that is worth while is being turned back. The greatest waste the world knows is war.

G. B. T.