.^'> v' ^ ^•^^^^^• /\ '-^J ^^'\ ■ oV "by 4 o <^ °^ \t Ci ^ vP_ ^V ^s ^^. WAKE UP AMERICA! ^Thg^>^o THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO • DALLAS ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO MACMILLAN & CO., Limited LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. TOKONTO WAKE UP AMERICA! BY MARK SULLIVAN BetD gotit THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 1918 All rights reserved 6^ Copyright, 1918 By p. F. Collier and Son copyeight, 1918 By the MACMILLAN COMPANY Set up and electro typed. Published, April, 1918 M/iy -9 1918 ©CI.A497238 d WAKE UP AMERICA! WAKE UP AMERICA! THE war did not come to us as it came to Belgium. No Oregon rancher, working in his field on a peaceful afternoon, was disturbed by an odd whirring in the sunny air, and looked toward Mount Hood to see an airplane spitting fire upon his neigh- bouring village. In no New England town did children huddle in the windows and peer at exultant Uhlans prancing down the maple-shaded street. No Maryland farmer from his hilltop field saw a thing that sent him hurrying to the house to gather his children into his cart and take to the 1 2 WAKE UP AMERICA! road in fear. No city of ours walked for days in anxiety, listening to the rise and fall of a fateful cannonade. War did not thunder at our doors as at the forts of Liege. II /^ F the way that war came to ^^ Belgium and to France there are two pictures which, among Ameri- can witnesses, surpass all others and are unforgetable. One is in the letters home of an American woman. Miss Mildred Aldrich, who in June preceding the war had gone to a village in rural France for rest. It is part of the irony of the times that in her first letter, written six weeks be- fore the war began, she should have said: "I have come to feel the need of calm and quiet — perfect peace." Among the simple, friendly farmers she found the gentle serenity that she sought. She lived alone in her cot- tage, and used to smile at herself for 4 WAKE UP AMERICA! keeping up her American precaution of fastening the doors and windows when she went to bed at night. But one day the garde champetre with his drum walked up the country street, stopping at each crossroad to beat the long roll — "A chill ran down my spine," she wrote. Then she began to notice the airplanes hurrying from Paris to the front, and at night the nearby railway rumbled with the troop trains going by. Presently, war rolled right up to her peaceful door-step, a little band of tired and harried soldiers who said quite simply: "We are all that is left of the North Irish Horse." The other American, Brand Whit- lock, was Heaven-sent to Belgium. Not for his administrative accomplish- ments as our ambassador; that might well have been done as capably by an- other. But if a survey had been made WAKE UP AMERICA! 5 of all the professional writers in America, if the acutest intelligence had been exerted to find that one writer with the talent and the personality to picture how the greatest tragedy in history blasted its way across the peaceful sunshine of August in Bel- gium, Brand Whitlock might well have been chosen. He had the sensi- tiveness to see and the skill to make vivid. "Lovely Brussels," he wrote, "was lovelier than ever, but somehow with a wistful, waning loveliness in- ^ finitely pathetic. All over the Quartier Leopold the white fagades ^ of the houses bloomed with flags, their black and red and yellow colours transparent in the sunlight; in the Foret the sunlight filtered through the leaves, irradiating the green boles of the trees, and through the hazy sunlight that lay on the fields 6 WAKE UP AMERICA! the mound of Waterloo was outlined against the sky. In the Bois. in the xziid^ of woodland pe^ce^ the chil- dren were playing and lover? whis- pej^d still their marvellous discover- ies. Who • . . can think of those days . . . without the memon* of that wonderful sunlight which filled them to the hiim? Day after day went by, witli e^ch new morning the miracle was renewed." And then: *'The crash of the music of a mili- tary band, high, shrill with the fierce, screaming notes, the horrid clang of mammoth brass c^Tubals. not music^ but noise of a calculated savagery, to strike terror. The Prussian officers "with cruel faces scarred by dueling. Some of the heavier type with rolls of fat the mark of the beast, as Emerson calls it. at the back of the nedi, and red, heavy, brutal faces WAKE UP AMERICA! 7 looking aLout over the heads of the silent, awed, saddened crowd, with arrogant, insolent, contemptuous faces! The heavy guns that lurched by, their mouths of steel lowered to- ward the ground. It became terrible, oppressive, unendurable, monstrous, those black guns on grey carriages; those field-grey uniforms, the insolent faces of those supercilious young offi- cers; those dull plodding soldiers, those thews and sinews, the heels of those clumsy boots drumming on the pavements," Ill IVTOT like that did war come to us. "^ ^ It did not assault our eyes, our ears, our nostrils (some day get Will Irwin to tell you of the smell of war) . It did not come to us as a thing spurt- ing blood and belching thunder. To us war came rather as something on paper, as a thing of documents, and statutes and refinements of interna- tional law, a thing of whereases and therefores. Moreover, the quibbling, the note writing, the refining of verbal distinctions, had been going on for more than two years. And war having come to us in this way, there was not in it the quality to stir our emotions. "Flag-decked City is Calm," said the headline in the New WAKE UP AMERICA! 9 York Times on the day that President Wilson read his message. And the bloodiest thing that happened to us in connection with the war that day was recorded in headlines of the same size: "Senator Lodge Knocks Down a Paci- j&st." IV A ND, since the war came to us in ■^ ■*• that way, the question was, and a1 the end of a year still is, have we the imagination and that sympathy which in sensitive peoples can take the place of eyes and ears? Can we know war vicariously, through feeling for the Belgians and the French? Have we now the emotion of war? Are we really at war in our hearts? Have we felt "That leap of heart whereby a people rise Up to a noble anger's height?" Have we had the thing that is neces- sary to "stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, disguise fair nature with hard-favoured rage?" That is part of 10 WAKE UP AMERICA! 11 what is meant when people talk of a nation's "morale." Germany thinks we have not got it, and there are those among the subtle who believe that Ger- many has conducted herself during the past years with an eye to refraining from anything that would give us this lofty anger. For the theory is that without this emotion a nation can not fight with the energy that alone can make effective war. War, after all, when you get down to its essencCj is sticking a bayonet into another man's stomach — and pulling it out and sticking it in again. It is the second thrust that is impor- tant; that can only be inspired by high anger. It is not a thing that a man can do except in emotion. It is against all reason. It is against ev- ^ry moral instinct. It is contrary to all the habits of our ordered lives. It bajinot be done in cold blood. One 12 WAKE UP AMERICA! wonders if it can be done with the hands, while with the lips you talk peace. It is recognized that for war every nation needs this emotion. The ex- citement that supplies it comes some- times one way, sometimes another. In the Civil War, the excitant was sup- plied by the firing on the American flag. The people had endured the se- cession of six States ; they had endured the formal organization of the Confed- erate Government; they had endured the adoption by that Government of a permanent Constitution. But there was still wanting the thing that would make the nation flame. That want was supplied by the firing on the flag at Fort Sumter. J. G. Holland's "Life of Lincoln" expresses it: "The North needed just this. Such a universal burst of patriotic indigna- tion as ran over the North under the WAKE UP AMERICA! 13 injfluence of this insult to the National flag has never been witnessed. It swept away all party lines as if it had been flame and they had been wax." Once during this war we had the excitant. Once we had the begin- nings of the emotion. Once we felt in our hearts that rising flame which burns out self and fuses the indi- vidual into the nation. That was the morning after the Lusitania was sunk, when the German nation was revealed to us as something diff'erent from the German friends we knew, as some- thing else than our smiling, good- natured, sentimental friend of the beer garden and the Strauss waltzes; when we learned that the German had sur- rendered his will and his conscience and his soul, and put them at the dis- posal of the cruel will of a pagan autocracy. The German, under the 14 WAKE UP AMERICA! yoke and spell of that brutal will, was revealed to us as a man who mur- ders women and children, and then exults over it. And they were our women and children, dependent on our protection, trustful of our will to avenge them. Perhaps as they went down they extracted a measure of noble serenity from the thought that their death would not be in vain, that we would avenge them and that through them Belgium would be avenged, too ; that they were the sacri- fice chosen by fate to rouse this easy- going giant of the West. And we were aroused. Our blood did rise to the call. On that sunny morning in May, 1915, the tamest and lamest of us would have shouldered a rifle. But President Wilson thought that nego- tiation was better. He threw water on the rising flame. Since the Lusi- WAKE UP AMERICA! 15 tania, now within a few weeks of three years ago, was sunk there has not been any time when this nation has had the feeling of war, the thing that puts punch behind the bayonet. Not yet. Xp NGLAND'S first year of the war ■■-^ was completed a long time ago, on August 4, 1915. But what a dif- ferent first year it was from ours! On that first anniversary England held a solemn service in St. Paul's Cathe- dral. Solemn it well might be. She numbered her dead in hundreds of thousands. Week after week the lists had come back, a thousand, three thousand, five thousand. The wounded, the wreckage of war, thrust themselves on England's eyes in every street and country road. The enemy had been literally at her throat. He had been on her soil. England had been in the fire. She had passed through Mons and Ypres and the sec- 16 WAKE UP AMERICA! 17 ond Ypres. She had seen new forms of death, ingenious, monstrous. She had tasted horrors — as we have not. For although we have been for- mally in the war for exactly a year at the time this is written, we have not yet come to dread the day that brings the week's casualty list, nor learned to cover with silence the fresh draft on our fortitude. When we pick the day's paper up, we have not had the occasion to cover grief with serenity, as a duty to our neighbour with a simi- lar grief. Our wounded have not come limping back to our doorsteps. Our sons have not come home to us in winding sheets. In describing that solemn anniver- sary service in St. Paul's, and sum- ming up the first year of the war, the London Times was able to say of the English people: "They have borne the ordeal in a 18 WAKE UP AMERICA! fashion to which their children may look back with thankfulness and pride. The ordeal has been the hard- est they could have been called upon to undergo . . . They have made un- precedented sacrifices of treasure and blood, they have endured many vicissi- tudes and suffered many disappoint- ments. After all their losses and their efforts, the end is still remote. They know it, and with one accord they face the situation with a rising courage and a gathering resolve. No- where is there a whisper of doubt, of a shadow of irresolution." And right there is the difference. We have reached the end of our first year of war. And — it is said not in any spirit of self-reproach but as a simple record of fact — we have noth- ing yet to which ''our children may look back with thankfulness and pride." We have had no ordeal; we WAKE UP AMERICA! 19 have not been touched by the fire. The flower and fruit of war is sacri- fice, and we have made no sacrifice. The spiritual gain of war is sacrifice, and we have gained nothing. We have reaped nothing. But all in good time. VI T^HE people of the United States, -*- during the early weeks of the present year, had what might be de- scribed accurately as their first shock of war. It was not much of a shock. The people awoke one morning to be confronted with an order from their Government commanding them to close down some of their shops and some of their places of amusement for a half a dozen days, more or less. They got very much excited about that. In- deed, I know few things so little to our national credit as the chorus of angry irritation which swept over the land because of that casual inconvenience to our settled ways. To be sure, the 20 WAKE UP AMERICA! 21 order was awkwardly conceived in some of its details, and was put into execution somewhat precipitately. But it was neither as awkward nor as precipitate as shells dropping into your front yard, or a hostile army marching down your principal street. In all the angry outburst I can recall but one newspaper, the New York Globe, among those I happened to read, that took the other note, remind-^ ing its readers that after all we are at war, and I shall always think with pleasure of that one Southern Governor who, when a New York news- paper was soliciting statements for an / organized campaign of denunciation, replied that he did not have access to as many of the facts as Dr. Garfield had, and that in the absence of such knowledge, he chose to assume that the order was justified by some exigency of a nation engaged in war. 22 WAKE UP AMERICA! There could be no surer sign that psychologically we are not yet at war than the spirit in which we received that first mild shock, and it did not bode well for our national morale when, ultimately, war calls upon us for real emergencies and sacrifices of the kind that our Allies have come to take as a matter of course. One wonders just how deep our stores of fortitude will turn out to be. That first shock last winter was but a premonitory tremor compared to the shocks that are certain to come upon us during the next few months. We thought of that recent shock in terms of coal, partly because it came from Dr. Garfield, and partly because Dr. Garfield, not fully understanding it himself, phrased it in terms of coal. In reality it was not a crisis of coal, but a crisis of ships. If the events which led up to the order were set WAKE UP AMERICA! 23 down in sequence, they would read like this: England cabled us a call for sup- plies so urgent in its need that any ex- pedient was justifiable; the ships to carry these supplies were in American harbours unable to sail; they were un- able to sail because they had not been coaled. And the reason they had not been coaled was not the lack of coal. The coal was there — but the docks and terminals were so congested with every sort of supplies that it was impossible to get the coal from the sidings on to the ships. Dr. Garfield's closing of factories was designed primarily, not to save coal, but to prevent the further accumulation and congestion of goods which there were no ships to carry. Now if in February this lack of ships is an inconvenience, in July it is going to be a calamity. VII n^HE American people have got to -*- visualize this problem. They have got to put their imaginations on it until they realize it, and carry it about with them as the most important fact of their lives. They must see on one side of the Atlantic Ocean their new-bom army; they must see on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean the food and supplies to keep that army alive. And they must understand that the only thing that joins the two is a thin and fragile line three thousand miles long. There are many dra- matic aspects to this war, but I know of none so appealing as this frail line (which to most of us is merely a series of dots upon a map), made up of ex- 24 WAKE UP AMERICA! 25 ceedingly perishable ships, all too few in number at best, only about one to every two or three miles — and every few hours one of them feels the dreaded shudder, topples and is swal- lowed up. This picture is drawn to simplify es- sential truth. It is not overdramatic. That line is the umbilical cord of our little army, and the submarine is gnawing at it every hour of the day. More than that, it is the alimentary canal for a large part of the Allied armies, of the Belgian people, and of the sorely pressed women and children of England, France and Italy. Every rifle made in America is of no avail unless it passes successfully from end to end of that long, thin line. Every shell, every gun, every pound of meat, every grain of wheat, every airplane, the work of every factory in the coun- try, every village making Red Gross 26 WAKE UP AMERICA! bandages, every mother writing a let- ter to her soldier son, is dependent upon the maintenance of that line, and it is not being maintained. "Not being maintained" is an ab- straction. The casual reader may hurry over it without really taking it in. But we all must pause upon it until we do take it in. We must brood upon it. We must force our imaginations to grapple with this statement, until we can visualize it, until we understand what it means in terms of life and death. Every mother must see her son at the head of a trench, in that ultimate contest of hand and will, to which war sooner or later comes. She must see him alone, fighting for life, for his per- sonal life, pouring out his bullets and his strength as he must; she must see him at the first moment when it comes upon him that his bullets and his WAKE UP AMERICA! 27 strength are running low; she must see him in a second of respite turning his head to see if help is coming, if more bullets are being brought to him, if a comrade is hurrying to his sup- port; she must see that quick back- ward look again and again, until at last there is despair in it. She must know that if help does not come it is because there was not at that spot the quantity that we call enough, that quantity than which one bullet less is failure. And if there is not enough, it is because of one thing: the bullets were at the factory in abundant plenty, the soldiers were called and trained and ready in the cantonments; but somewhere in that long thin line, from the lone outpost on the battle front, back to the bullets factory in Pennsylvania, the weakest link had failed. And our weakest link is ships. VIII of w of communications^ — Napo- 6 make him indistinguishably American — an integral and necessary element in an enlightened and united nationalism." THE MACMILLAN COMPANY Publishers 64-66 Fifth Avenue New York ef^ RU- 66. OVR NATIONAL PROBLEMS A Series of New Books on Vital Issues of America Today Decorated Boards 16mo Each Sixty Cents Where Do You Stand? An Appeal to Americans of German Origin. By HERMANN HAGEDORN This is a fervent appeal to German-Ameri- cans to come out squarely and enthusiastically in support of the United States against Ger- many. Mr. Hagedorn thinks that the question which he makes the title of his book is a fair question for Americans to ask and he urges that it is not enough for German-Americans merely to be loyal to the United States ; they must make their loyalty whole-hearted and en- thusiastic. You Are the Hope of the World An Appeal to the Girls AND Boys of America By HERMANN HAGEDORN "Addressed to the girls and boys of America, this little book should likewise be read by all their fathers and mothers." — From Colonel Theodore Roosevelt's Fourth of July Oration. "There is inspiration for boys and girls in Mr. Hagedorn's book. If every public school child ten years old and over were compelled to read it the pros- pects are that it would bear fruit in better conditions in the future." — Philadelphia Ledger. THE MACMILLAN COMPANY Publishers 64^66 Fifth Avenue New York ^^sri«*