--— ifriHriffH^^ MEMOIRS OF THE HARVARD DEAD !.V f HE WAR AGAINST GERMANY r5> ^ MEMOIRS OF THE HARVARD DEAD IN THE WAR AGAINST GERMANY I THE VANCaiARD M E IV I O I R S OF THE HARVARD DEAD IN THE WAR AGAINST GERMANY Hy :\1. a. DkWOLFK howe VOLUME 1 (AM HiniXiK iiAin AIM) I \ I \ i:i{>ir\ nn:ss M()nable bounds, of the material a I liaiid. J-Acry cll'orl has been put fort 1 1 to secure ecjUal >ijpjjlic.> (jI iiiatcrial liom all xiurco. l>iil witlioiil success. This will explain in >()nie measure the \aiyiMg length> of tlie iiieiii()ii> that follow. PREFACE In this first volume of "Memoirs of the Harvard Dead" only those thirty men are included whose deaths occurred before the United States entered the European War, April 6, 1917. They were "The Vanguard," the men who sealed with their blood the pledge of that overwhelming senti- ment in favor of the Allies which in time was to make our country an active participant in the fight. They deserve a volume to themselves. Those who give their all before any- thing is asked must be held in separate remembrance and gratitude. Throughout the work it is purposed to take up the sub- jects, as in this volume, in the chronological sequence of their deaths. M. A. DeW. H. Boston, March, 1920. CONTEXTS PAGE (tKok(;k \\ 11.1.1 a.mson ( lux s of I'. to.', 3 Edwahi) Mwdki.l Stone class i,f i'jos 7 AXDKE ('llERONNET-CllAMPOLl.loN Class ,if l!)0£ 11 11a1U)1,1J -MAliU).\-("K.\\\ FOHI) ( laa.'i oj 1'.)] I 19 C \\.\\\ Wellington Day Crailuafc School ii)i2-lJt 23 ("ahlton Thayer Bhodhk k ( lass <>f ntos 33 HaKHY (irsTAV ByXC Class „f 1U1S 41 Henhy Weston Faknswoimii class nf lOU 48 C'iiAHLi-:.s RoiJEKT C'ku.ss, Jr. CUuss of i:)03 58 AiuiiiHALi) Hamilton 1^\MSAY class of i!i07 70 (lEORCE Stetson Taylor class i,f iuos 73 Al.l.KN MArKFAZlK ClECHOI^N /nslnirtnr 78 Cro^HV (iiiH(II NViIITMAN Class of JJS.S l'l.LLl»ll.H (lass of I 'JO', \'M) CONTENTS John Cuthbert Stairs Laiol9l3-U 143 DlLLWYN PaRRISH Starr Class of 1908 145 William Stocks Lacey D.M.D.wis 155 Norman Prince Class of 1908 157 Edward Carter Sortwell Class of 1911 166 Edgar Allen Loav Shortt Class of 1917 173 Henry Richard Deighton Simpson Class of 1918 178 Howard Burchard Lines LL.B. 1915 183 Lord Gorell (Henry Gorell Barnes) Laio 1903-04- 188 Addison Leech Bliss Class of 1914 193 Henry Montgomery Suckley Class of 1910 195 MEMOIRS Ahy young heroes, safe in immortal youth as those of Homers you at least carried your ideal hence untarnished. It is locked for you beyond moth or rust in the treasure-chamber of Death. James Russell Lowell (IKOlUiK WILLIAMSON Class ok 1 !)().") VTeorgp: Wi I.LI a .mson, llic first <;ra(luatr of Ifarvard togi^■«'ll^s life in the war, i> >a](l also 1o lia\(> hccii the fii'st graduate ol aii> American college so to iiaxc fallen, lie was lioiii ill London. Scplcinhci' '2(i. l.S.S."». the son of ("liarles James and Martha Lauretta (Long) \N illiainson. His mother i> now Latiirly. The nieic fact that at the sophoiiiore dinner 3 GEORGE WILLIAMSON of his class he responded to the toast of "The Grind" sug- gests that he was not too hard a student: after-dinner speeches of this kind are generally assigned on the lucus a non lucendo principle. Williamson's college interests are further indicated by the fact that he was a member of the Institute of 1770, the Polo, Hasty Pudding, and Fly Clubs, and the editorial staff of the Harvard Advocate. In the sketches — they were hardly stories — which he contrib- uted to that journal, the English background of the young editor provided a refreshing bit of contrast with the famil- iar stock-in-trade of our college journalism. Read even to- day his contributions to the Advocate have qualities both of poise and of liveliness to which one responds with genuine liking. Graduating at Harvard in 1905, Williamson went at once to England where he matriculated at Oxford Univer- sity, in October, as a member of Christ Church. While at Oxford he joined the Duke of Wellington's West Riding Regiment, of which he was a lieutenant in the Third Re- serve Battalion. He became a student of the Inner Temple in 1906, and left Oxford at Easter, 1907. In January, 1910, he was admitted to the bar, and on November 9, 1910, married Hilda Isabel Gordon of Montreal, where he en- tered upon the practice of his profession. WTien the war came, four years later, he was a member of the Montreal law firm of Smith, Markey, Skinner, Pugsley, and Hyde. Early in August he was summoned by cable to join his regiment, and proceeded at once to England. The first bat- talion of the regiment was in India; the second had already gone to France. After about two weeks of training with his own, the Third Reserve Battalion, Williamson left England 4 GEORGE WILLIAMSON for the front, September 8. The retreat from Moiis had ended, and the Allies had resumed the offensive. Of what befell him from that tinu* forth there is no occasion to re- sort to other words than those of a private letter ^ which formed the basis of a skotcli of Williamson's military ser- vice in the Harvard Graduates' Magazine for ]\Lir(lu 1!)1.5: George went tlirougli tlio battles on the Aisno and on the Marne, and wrote several very cheery letters to his family at this time. Officers of his battalion who liave since come home, in- (•huiinli/al)elli Mandell Stone, both natives of Xew Bedford. Massachusetts. Henry Baldwin Stone had iiiacK- for liiiii><'lf a typically Anici'ican career: on o;rad- uation he hc^MU \\(jrk as a machini>l in a Waltham cotton mill: then he went WVst. and cntci-cd the slioj)s of the Chicago, liurlington and (^uincy Railroad at Aurora, III.: in a feu .\-cars he became general manager of the Burling- ton system and xeeond \ ice-presideiil of I he i-oa made |)i'e>ideiil ol I he ( hicag<» relephone ( (»m|)any and of t w (» ot her c<»m|)aiiie> re|)re>ent ing I he great inti'rests 7 EDWARD MANDELL STONE of the Bell Telephone system in the central states, a posi- tion which he held until a few days before his death. This occurred, July 5, 1897, through an accident. His wife died in 1907. Their son, Edward, who made his home in Milton, with his mother until her death, and then with his sister, was prepared for college at Milton Academy, and entered Har- vard with the Class of 1908. He completed his work for the A.B. degree in 1907, and during his senior year studied in the Law School. He did not finish his studies there, but in 1909 served in the Legation at Buenos Aires as a volunteer private secretary to the Hon. Charles H. Sherrill, United States Minister to the Argentine Republic. Returning to this country he entered the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences in January, 1910, taking courses in history and political science, and the next autumn resumed his course in the Law School. His graduate work showed marked in- telligence and a capability which would have carried him far had he taken up the practice of the law. Of the man himself Mr. Sherrill, speaking of his first interview with Stone upon his arrival in South America, has written : He was excessively modest, frankly avowing that he had no delusions as to his mental equipment for making a great success of his life, but in that interview and throughout my subsequent relations with him there always appeared an unswerving integ- rity of purpose, and a desire to be helpful. Those are the traits which seemed most to mark his character, and those are the traits which later led him to make his life more useful to civiliza- tion than our lives will probably be. This first Harvard volunteer to die for France bore a re- lation to the war of which there is little to tell beyond a 8 EDWARD MAXDELL STONE record of liis service. Reserved and chary of expression, he was averse equally from lotting' himself be photooraphed and from writing about himself in his infrequent letters, lie had been living in France for some time before the out- break of the war, and had become tleeply interested in this country and fond c»t' its pt'oj)lr. ^^ hen Germany attacked France in August, l!)14. he enlisted at once as a private in the For(>ign E(\h would have been to lie in the country which he loved and served. His class secretary reports of him that when he received hi> fatal wound a surgeon asked if he wished him to write to anybody, but that Stone said it was not worth while. "'I'hese words are, in a way, characteristic of the man. What he did he did well, and invariably felt that no partic- ular attention should be ])aid to the results he achieved, lb \va> an essentiall.x modest person who took life as he I'oiiiid it. and contributed to cN'erything he look jjart in both with high ideals and straightforward work." The ^nrgeon of the Foreign Ti(\gion who first car(Ml for liiin at'fei- hi> wound has written: I >aw J-^ddic ."^toiie i"re(juenll_\' duriii;; the six luoiillis we were t()f,'etlier in " Jidfalllnn (\ Seme Rnjimnd dc niarclw <)or cliaj). !) EDWARD MANDELL STONE One day I got a call from his company to treat a wounded man. It was Stone, I found, with a hole in his side made by a shrapnel ball, which had probably penetrated his left lung. There was no wound of exit, so the ball, or piece of shell, stayed in. He was carried back by my squad of stretcher-bearers from the front line trench — the "Blanc Sahlon,'" our headquarters — where I had applied the first dressing, and from there removed to a hospital about eight miles back. I did not see him again, and heard that he died of his wound in this hospital. He had friends in the Legion who spoke highly of him to me. There was very little help we regimental doctors could give the wounded, I am sorry to say. All we could do for them was to see that they were carefully moved back out of the firing zone after a first dressing. You can tell his people that he always did his duty as a soldier and died like one. Of this I am sure. A\1)1{I^ CIll^HOXXET-CHAMrOLLION Class of IQO'i 1 T is a true svinbol of the diversity of tlie Harvard fellow- ship and of th<' foniinon interests of England, America, and France tiiat, foll(^\vinhin(l Railroad, a man of affairs wiiose interot in nature ('\|)rcssed itself, lliiough (lie later years of his life in llic niaiiilcniince of buffalo and ollici" AiiHiiciu animals in his fores! and game preserve al New- |)oit . N<'\\ Hampshiir. Thi-, AuHiican grandfather had an II ANDRE CHERONNET-CHAMPOLLION interesting counterpart in Champollion's French great- grandfather, Jean Frangois ChampolHon, "ChampolHon the Younger," whose deciphering of the hieroglyphics of the Rosetta stone made him the founder of modern Egypt- ology. Before his death in 1832, handing his unpublished " Grammaire Egyptienne" to his older brother, also a dis- tinguished orientalist, he said, " Voild, fespere, ma carte de visile a la posterite." His great-grandson, as the first Har- vard man of French descent to die in the war, has strengthened the hold of his name upon the generations still to come. It is not surprising that Andre Cheronnet-Champollion's blended inheritances should have made him an unusual person. While he was still a boy in France his father died, and several years later, his mother. Thereupon, at the age of twelve, he came to America, to be brought up by his ma- ternal grandparents. From their home in New York he went to St. Paul's School, Concord, and afterwards to Harvard College. Here he made a creditable record, and in his senior year was not only president of the Cercle Fran- gais but took part in its presentation of Racine's "Les Plaid- eurs." He was a member, also, of the Institute of 1770, the Hasty Pudding, and Zeta Psi. It was after college that his distinctive tastes and characteristics became clearly manifest. For the tenth annual report of his class he wrote : After leaving college I took a trip around the world, stopping to hunt in Alaska. I visited Japan, China, the Philippines, the Malay States, Ceylon, India, Burma, and Egypt. I had intended to become a portrait painter, but on seeing India I became so en- thusiastic about that country that I decided to make it the sub- ject of future paintings. On returning I studied four years at the 12 AXDRfi CIIER()XXET-CHA^[P()LLIOX Art Stiidonts* Ix^agiie in Xew York, taking another trip to India in the fall and winter of 1008-0!). In the sprinj; of 100!) I travelled tlirongh Manehuria, visitinu the scenes of the Russo-Jai)anese war; I returned by way of Sil)eria and Russia. In the fall of 101'-2, after three years more of study, I shall return to Imlia for six months, after which I expect to begin exhibiting. Later on I hope to include Mexico and old Japan as snl)jects for paintings. I am a great admirer of the Russian painter Verestchagin. My favorite recreation is big game hunting. I have shot grizzly bears in Alaska, moose and deer in Xew Brunswick, caribou and black bear in X'ewfoundland, besides elk, deer, and wild bear on a private game preserve. I have hunted tigers in China, but with- out success. In this report he noted that he had contributed an article on "Hunting the Alaskan (Trizzly" to Forest and Stream. It is also recorded that in 1!)()S he married Adelaide Strong Knox, a tlaugliler of the late John Jay Knox, of New York, Comptroller of the Currency of the United States. Their only son, Rene, was born in 1 !)()!). It is not related in Champollion's report of himself that while he was nuiking his trij) round the world the Russo- Japane.se War began, or that his admiration of the painter Verestchagin was joined with a desire to become, as Cham- pollion's friend, Anton Schefer, has expressed it, "a painter of the same type, one w ho should depict the horrors of war- fare with intense reali.sm, in order to further the cause of peace." AN hen the war bictkc oul , ( lianipoilion. w ho had recently secured his final relea.se fi<»ni all military obligation in France, was living in Xew port. New Ilami)shire. He saw iiiiiiie(liat<'ly t hat , in ^|til c of all t he rights and inclinations which made for his remaining in Amciica. his i)lace was in i;5 ANDRfi CHERONNET-CHAMPOLLION France, and in the fight. His gravest misgivings were on the score of his duty to his wife and child. His wide experi- ence of hfe in the open had given him one excellent qualifi- cation for soldiering, though this may well have been offset by the sensitiveness to suffering and ugliness that was part of his endowment as an artist. Yet none of these consider- ations held him, and before the middle of October, 1914, he was a private in the French Army, serving at Sens ( Yonne) in a platoon of candidates for promotion. Here, from October till the end of February, 1915, he drilled as a private, hoping to be made an interpreter if not to win a commission, receiving neither of these rewards, refusing to be made a corporal or sergeant, because he valued the private's leisure, and because, as he wrote in a letter, "to be a successful corporal or sergeant, you have to get into the habit of abusing men who cannot answer back, and that is contrary to all my principles of sportsmanship." It was a period of much discouragement and depression, at one time almost of a nervous breakdown. Mrs. Champol- lion came from America, and established herself in an apartment in Sens, where her husband could be much with her. This saved the day, and when Champollion went to the front late in February, still a private, his letters re- vealed a spirit far better satisfied than it had been. A friend in New York, Anton Schefer, of the class after his own at Harvard, has made a privately printed volume of these letters to friends — ("Letters from Andre Cheronnet- Champollion, 1914-1915") — a poignant and distinctive memorial. A succession of passages, taken here and there from its pages, will permit Champollion to speak for him- self: 14 AXDRE CHfiROWET-CHAMPOLLIOX Sens, October I4, 1914- It looks as if the war was goinosing you get out of it alive and unhurt. Must fifteen years of study and ten years of hard work on art result in your dying at the age of thirty-four of intellectual dry rot ? I had imagined war more j)ainful physically, but not nearly so morally. ... At all events I still i)ersist in the belief that I should always have had a most uncomfortable feeling of shame and of duty undone if I ha. Tlic trouble with (he whole continent of I-jirojx- is t hat tot hem I he word "Sport " is unknown. To them it is a frivolous wa.\' of spending one's time. If the (Jermans had })een .sjxirtMiien and hail not taken themselves .so infenuilly seri- ouslv, flie\- would ha\'e been incapable of the atrocities tlie\' are acciis<-(| (if. Xo sports|ii;in, no nation of sportsmen, would be ANDRE CHERONNET-CHAMPOLLION capable of the things they are reported to have done as reprisals for very small offences. The Frenchman either takes life too seriously or too frivolously. He is either a grind or a loafer (a gentleman of leisure). Who ever heard of a member of the French Academy being a good golfer, or of a French bishop play- ing a good game of tennis, of a French president being distin- guished in any branch of sport ! And this spirit permeates the whole military system of this country. The trouble with Europe is that there is not enough football, tennis, golf, or base-ball. This sounds very frivolous, but it is a sincere conviction now. The whole damned continent needs new life, new ideas, new everything. Let all those who are Americans thank their stars that they are no longer members of the morbid European na- tions. It is as bad for nations as for individuals to take them- selves too seriously and not get out of doors and play ball once in a while. I believe if they had, this war might never have taken place. January 30. I frankly confess that if Adelaide had not ar- rived I would have broken down entirely. Her arrival was to me like a life preserver to a drowning man. Less than a month before Champollion was ordered to the front he was still hoping for a favorable response to his application for appointment as an interpreter. "If it does not succeed," he wrote, "I shall go and take my medicine like the rest, I suppose, and for months lead the life of a woodchuck whose hole is within fifty yards of the house of a farmer who is a dead shot with a rifle! " This life he was destined to lead for less than a month. He reached the front at the end of February. On March 1 he wrote a vivid letter in which he said, "I have indicated by a star every time a shell passes over us during the composition of this note. If I punctuated the explosions I should have to stop between letters." The printed page shows a terribly signifi- 16 AXDRE CHEROXXET-CHAMPOLLION cant sprinkling: of asterisks. A few other letters followed — courageous, clear-sighted, hlindingly illuminating. On ^larch '28, lOlo, the end came. Lieutenant Lucien Cour- tois. of Cham])ollion\s regiment of the French Army, wrote of it. and oi him, as follows: I quickly learned to sympathize with liiiii, Ijecause I saw him to he rather strange in surroundings altogether new to him, and heeause I admired deeply the heauty of his action, which had made him forget his interests and affections, to come, spontane- ously, to France in danger. Wc often talked together. I saw him accomplish his daily duties as a soldier in the trenches with con- stant modesty, good humor, sang-froid, and great indifference to danger, and this sympathy changed soon to profound friendship. He was struck hy a hullet in the forehead, on the '■2'ird of March, when the Germans, liaving unexpectedly exploded a mine in one of our trenches, attempted to invade our lines. To check them as quickly as possihle, our company was making a harricade of sacks of earth to fill the breach. It was when cooper- ating in this work, with his habitual courage that he was struck. Tic was buried in 1 he cemetery of Petan, near the village of Monlanville, at the entrance of the Bois-le-Pretre, where lii-- reginu'ut. the HIHth of the Line, had been fighting all winter. He was awarded the Croix de Guerre and cited for bravery in the Army order of the day for July 15, 1917, reading as follow.s: 1'2Hk Dinision", IOHk Hi':(;imk\t u'Imantkhie. OhDKK DC l{l':(ilMK\T Xo. 1)0. Citation, — Le bl.-( 'oloncl (Ml. \v KiSc Ke<,Mment (I'lnfau- tcric cite a I'Onh'e (hi Re^'iment le lira\i' dont le noni suit: ( lifToiuiet-C hanipoUion, Andre; 'i. ehisse, 4 (■()nii)a;4nie. A (jiiitte les Ktals-l'nis, on il etait elabli, pour venir des la de- elaiat ion iU- ;,nierre picmlre >a place sur le fnmt . Soldat eourag- eux el bra\f. Ix- 'vi.'J Mats, I!)!.*, an lioisde-Pretre, s'esl oll'ert ANDRE CHfiRONNET-CHAMPOLLION comme volontaire pour reparer sous le feu, sa tranchee qui venait d'etre bouleversee par I'explosion souterraine d'un fourneau de mine allemand. A ete tue d'une balle en plein front au moment ou il aecomplissait sa mission avec le plus absolu mepris du danger. Chepy, Le Lt.-Col., Cdt. le 168e R. I. Le 24 JmLLET 1917. HAROLD MAKIOX-CRAWFORD Class of 1911 JLiiis son of Frniicis Marion (Vawiord and Elizabeth (Bcrdan) ("rawl'ord was horn in Sorrento, Italy, February 1, 1888. His father, the well-known novelist, was the son of i'lionias Crawford, the seulptor, whose wife, afterwards Mrs. Terry, a sister of Mrs. Julia Ward Howe, was a famil- iar fi^'ure in Roman society. An eighteenth century ances- tor, whose name I lie noxchst horc, was General Francis Marion, the "Swamp Fo.\" of Revolutionary fame. The fathff of Mrs. Francis .Marion (raw ford was Ilirani Hcrdan, colonel of the first rci^imcnl of I he United Stales SharpNj|oot('|•-^ in tlic ('i\il War. hrcNctlcd major-^euiM'al for ln> condnrl at ( let lyshur^', in\'cntor of a rillc and ol lici' <|c\icc> of military and na\al warfare. Ilai'old Marion- l!t HAROLD MARION -CRAWFORD Crawford had thus a strongly marked American back- ground of descent, though his birth in Italy and his prepa- ration for college under a tutor in England, and then, for a short time, in Cambridge, brought him to Harvard by steps not at all characteristic of the American boy. His career in College, which he entered in the autumn of 1907, with the Class of 1911, was no more typical, for he did not com- plete even his freshman year. Nor was his next recorded step in any conventional direction since it bore him to the Federated Malay States in the employ of the English rubber-planting firm, the Luiggi Plantations, Ltd. Here, by 1910, he was a sub-manager, and later was made man- ager of a Division of the Plantations. In 1911 he married, in Singapore, Nina Noreen Wood, only daughter of the late C. W. W^ood, Esq., R. N., of Dublin, and the late Nina de Burgh (Egan) Wood. In 1913 he came to England, his wife's home, for a year's leave. There, on January 17, 1914, their only son, Howard Francis Marion-Crawford, was born. He had planned to return to the East at about the middle of August, and would have done so but for the dec- laration of war. Instead, he immediately obtained a com- mission in the Irish Guards, which he held for nearly six months. He was then made Bomb Officer to the 4th Guards Brigade, a post which involved the constant hand- ling of explosives, many of them in an experimental stage. A few bits from his letters from the front reveal the condi- tions of his daily life. January 7, 1915. We are just leaving for the firing line again after a few days well earned rest. Since I wrote you, we had a most appalling time in the trenches; what with the water, mud, 20 HAROLD .M A U ION -CRAWFORD and fifrlitin^, hell coukl never compare with it. Tt is hard to find any news from here witlumt goinli (iuar(i>, bill niucli more to us and his company 21 HAROLD MARION-CRAWFORD who knew him so well. Great-hearted and loved by all, full of life and confidence, I only wish he was with us instead of lying buried behind Givenchy, his grave covered with flowers by our sergeants who did their best to show how much he was to them." ( AL\i\ \vi:lli\(;t()x day Graduate School, 191:2-14 1 N 1 lie loii^f roll of t lie H;ii\;ir(l (lead there are many names wliicii llar\ai(l i> |)r()ii(l to ^liare with other inslitulions ol' learning — the names of men whose connection with tlie T'in'versit.\' lia^ hccii thfon^ii inciiii)erslii|) in the^faduate schooU. \N it li n(» ahalcinenl of allegiance to an earlier- (iliita mater, tiiese men hmi in Ilaixaid a second mother to w hom CALVIN WELLINGTON DAY they often bring a beautiful devotion. The first Harvard man of this considerable class who fell in the war against Germany was Calvin Wellington Day, of Kingston, On- tario, a student in the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences from 1912 to 1914. Born of LTnited Empire Loyalist descent in Kingston, Ontario, April 19, 1891, the son of Sidney Wellington Day and Adelaide Isabella (W^aggoner) Day of that city, Calvin Wellington Day had his schooling at the public schools and Collegiate Institute of Kingston and the Collegiate Insti- tute of the town of Cobourg in the same province. He then became a student in Queen's University, Kingston, where he received the degree of A.M. in 1911, with first class honors in the phj^sics and mathematics course and the Uni- versity Medal in Physics. In 1911-12 he was assistant in physics in Queen's University. In the autumn of 1912 he entered the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences at Har- vard for further studies in physics, and for the year 1913- 14 held a Whiting Fellowship and served, though without formal appointment, as a research assistant. The diary which he kept through his final weeks at Cam- bridge and thenceforward until within a few days of his death, and the letters to his familv for virtuallv the same period, tell the story of his connection with the war and picture the man himself. A few extracts from both these sources must briefly serve the same double purpose. The first of the Cambridge entries describes his passing the last of his preliminary examinations for the Ph.D. degree: All of the members of the division were present and they kept me up and bombarded me with questions for three hours. . . . When I came out I was nearly "all in," but when Professor Hall S4 CAT-VIN WKI.LINCTOX DAY (.aine out and told ine that 1 had passed and seemed amused at my anxiety I revived somewhat. I celebrated by going to bed early that night. The following i)ages of the diary touch ui)on ihv June and July pleasures of Canihridgo. and the progress of some work Day was conii)leting iu the Physical Laboratory. There were good times at tenuis and in other ways with girls of Cambridge and the Summer School. Class Day came and went : "I did n't l)clieve that a place could change so cpiickly as did Harvard S(iuare after Class Day. The Yard was like a \ase w ith th(> flowers r(Mnoved. yc^t beauti- ful withal."' Before the end of July there nrv notes about the political disturbance of Europe. As a schoolboy of sixteen at Co- bourg. Day had joined the Cobourg (iarrison Artillery, and at one of its summer camps had won the first i)rize for gun- laying and rauge-Hnding. In 1911 he had joined the Prin- cess of Wales's Own Rifles (14th Regiment) at Kingston, and receive(l his lieutenant's commission, April 3. IDh^. As ^oou a^ it hjoked as if Kngland might be involved in the imix'uding conflict. Day therefore telegraphed to a major of his regiment, volunteering in case of need, and received a |)r()ni|)1 reply saying that his message had been forwarded to Ottawa with recommendation. A piece of aj)paratus he \\a> in>talhiig iu the laboratory is set down as "a beauty." and then, in a few days. (•()ine> I lie new> llial England had .>ent an nil iiiiat uni to Ceinian.x': "so packed my belongings (|uietly and went out to diinier at Dr. Trueblood's. The next morning lAugu>t .>| I >larle(| for home." On I lie (ilh he wa^ ill Kingston, and fi-oiii Ilia I lime forward lliings nio\-e(i ra|)i(lly. 2.3 CALVIN WELLINGTON DAY Day and his fellow-soldiers were soon transferred from the "Home Guard" to the "Overseas Contingent," and on the 22d he left Kingston for the camp at Valcartier, Que- bec. Within a few days of his arrival there he fell in with a Harvard sophomore — to be encountered at a later day still more strangely — and wrote in his journal: "I nearly collapsed with surprise when I saw Brokenshire whom I had left in Cambridge sitting on a fence at midnight when I went to send my telegram to Major Dawson. He was in kilts" — having joined the 5th Canadian Royal Highland- ers as a private. At Valcartier, as later overseas. Day found all possible pleasure in human contacts, and here as there, joined heartily in the hard work which was to make his military unit the fighting force it became. The diary records all this process, and before the end of September he is found embarked in the ship Cassandra, one of a fleet of thirty-one transports guarded by six cruisers which bore the Second Battalion of the Canadian Expeditionary Force to England, actually the first Canadian soldiers to land there. On Sunday, October 11, at sea, he noted with equal satis- faction "a splendid sermon" and the fact that he had not heard a single "patriotic oration" since war was declared. He wrote besides: The people with whom I have come in contact, particularly the men of the contingent, have gone into this thing coolly and calmly with the characteristic British attitude. From the thought that the men have gone into this undertaking independ- ently, and perhaps more or less, as the case may be, actuated by ideals and acting on principles and not under the influence of a sentimental hysteria more or less mild, as would be aroused by 26 CALVIX WELLINGTON DAY an emotional outburst, I yet considerable satisfaction. Few men, if any, were actuated by any but the purest motives, and were not dragooned, compelled, or blutied into this thinj;, and in beiny given the responsibility and opportunity of l)eing a very junior officer of such men I get great satisfaction. The voyage from Gaspe Bay in the St. Lawrence to Ply- mouth lasted from October 3 to 14. The beauty of Eug:- land, the might of the Plymouth fortifications, the pride of being in the first colonial contingent to arrive, the newness of it all — a newness of 1014, expressed in such a sentence as "Just now we are having a band concert and the band is playing the popular Tommy Atkins song, 'It 's a long way to Tipperary ' " — these and many other sharp impressions find their record in diary and letters. Drake and the Ar- mada came inevitably to mind. After the Canadians had disembarked at Devonj)ort, in Plymouth harbor, and pro- ceeded to Bustard Camp on Salisbury Plain for their fur- ther period of training, Day wrote to his family: ''The boys had been on shipboard closely confined for twenty- four day>. and the 'Second Armada,' as the Plymouth people called it, was so unexpected that the people were very entluisiastic and excited." The actual scene is thIl^ preserved in the tliary: October I'J. liustard ("anip. Salisl)ury. I>a.st niglit at !).1.5 we fell in and inarched on to the pier, leav- ing (tur Immhc of twenty-four days. As modern sea-voyages go it was quite loiii: in pninl of lime. Wc made off from the pier at 10 P.M. and iuar<-hed through the narrow, paved streets of the Navy ^ ard b<'tweeii tlic lowering stone walls. The tranij), tramp, tramj) sounded even aljove the singing. When we struck town I undcrstooij what "^b■rry England" meant. In spile of the late- ness of I lie lionr, the >lre«'ts u<'re crowded and e\-ery window as 27 CALVIN WELLINGTON DAY we passed had its occupants. The old women and the young girls crowded into the road, and the lucky fellows on the outer flanks kissed everyone they liked. Mother, father, and daughter would be standing there together, and a soldier would stop to shake hands with the old people, to talk to them and kiss the young daughter, and the parents would not think anything of it at all. There was laughing and singing everywhere. The old ladies kissed the boys and wished them a safe return, and our company, thanks to my watchful care perhaps, was more orderly than the others. We did n't allow any girls being brought into the ranks, nor did any of our men fall out of the ranks and walk along the street with girls (except till I saw him). But apart from that there was no interference. They exchanged sou- venirs and everybody was happy and good-natured, and as one very nice-appearing man to whom I was speaking said, in all the' merriment there was n't an objectionable word or suggestion to be heard. Merry England! For something more than three months Day's regiment imderwent a rigorous training on Salisbury Plain. Yet there were intervals of relaxation, and England could sometimes be found still at play. Once when Day was rid- ing alone to visit a flying school not far from Bustard Camp his horse balked at a steam tractor, was led across a bridge over the Avon — "a creek" — Day called it in writing home — "about fifteen yards wide," when, he proceeds : I heard a hue and cry behind and a hare darted across the field by the road with about a hundred hounds and a dozen red-coated squires and about thirty officers in khaki in pursuit. The Master dashed by me with a whip in his right hand, a cigarette between his lips, and his horn and the reins in his left hand, going full gallop — but still as if he were stuck to the saddle — and his horse scarcely a bit wet. My horse must have had sporting blood 28 CAT.VIX WELMXCTOX DAY away hack, for hv started ott' full tilt — and 1 let hiiii gt). I am afraid and ashamed tt) say that I stayed perliaps a little closer to his neck than most jjood riders would, hut I stayed on. Anyhow I think tlif\" iHitieed my puttees and knew that 1 was only an infantry othcer. Another particij)ati(»n in Kiiylisli sj)orf. wliile Day and a friend were enjoying; a «i[linij)se of London, has its anuising chronicle: In tiie afternoon we (Mac- and I) went to Prince's ("luh, of which we are honorary meml)ers, and had a fine time skatin<;. I never saw so nuich >i;ood skating at one time hefore. Mac was Canadian champion figure skater for two years. There's always an old fogy in a cluh. We were going a little fast and he stoi)ped us and asked if we were Canadians, etc., and said the ice was like Europe, and was all full of little Bclgiums, and that they did n't \iolate one another's neutrality. We caught on and did n't need to he told any more. We had crossed his little "area." After a time Mac remarked to him that .some others were waltzing ahout anfl infringing a hit, and the old gentleman remarked, "Yes, hut they're good skaters." Mac was dumfounded. I nearly laughed out loiid. lint liic young Canadian was well di.sposed to like what he found in England " Happy Day " the men of his hat- talion called liiiii and at the same time to I'cmemhcr all that lie liad left acioss the Atlantic. A family hirfhday .seemcci ne\cr to pa>s unnoticed. On Xoveml)er 14 it was worth \\\> while t<» jot down in his diary an item, |)rol)al)ly picked ii|t ill an English ne\vs|)aper. "IIar\ai"d students "rotten egg' the Eioii of Brunswick " a statue not at t liat t inie ■^llieldcd \>\ the ( JermamC Museum. On .January ! Ik- \s rote home: " Heard yesterday t hat Hai'\ aid I iimme<| ^ ale .'Id Ml t he liew ^ ale liuw I oil Xo\ eliihei- 'J'J. Such is CALVIN WELLINGTON DAY fame!" His keen interest in everything must have made him the soldier that stands revealed in a letter written at Bristol, February 8, 1915, when on the very point of em- barking for the continent : When they were cutting down the establishment of ofBcers I was a little nervous, but as Curry said, "Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you may go to Tidworth." When the sig- nalling office was cut off the establishment, as such, and when the Colonel stopped me and asked me if I would take charge of the signallers in addition to a platoon — and said, "Now will you stand by me? " and I said ,"Sure Mike," or words to that effect, I was so tickled I could scarcely stand at attention. . . . We have absolutely no idea when or where we are going; it may be India, Egypt, Bordeaux, or Le Havre, but probably the latter. But they can't make me mad by doing things that way. In fact I like it. Eight days before his death in the second battle of Ypres, he wrote to his sister, April 15, 1915: "We're going to Y . 'They can't make us mad that way.' We're all sick and tired of this inaction." The refusal to be made "mad" seems to have been a matter of principle with him. The rough experiences in billets in the neighborhood of Armentieres and Lille, and later in Belgium might have shaken such a philosophy of life, but in his diary of March 25, he wrote: "Am beginning to like this game. I always have a happy faculty for liking things as they are and wish- ing them to continue." The journal may speak still more fully for him : April 4- Easter Sunday. Father's Birthday. Cold and windy with a sprinkling of rain in the morning. Church parade at 10 A.M. with Holy Communion, It was a very impressive ser- vice. I won't forget it soon. The communion rail was made of 30 CALVIN WELLINGTON DAY scaling ladtlers Avliicli the engineers had devised and make for getting over barbed wire entanglements in an assanlt. A large number of the men took connnunion, considerably over 100. I took the communion also. The last time was in Salisbury Cathe- dral about two months ago. April IJf. About 3 p.m. I got a wheel from lidcirs., and started over the sticky up-hill road to Cassel. It is eight kik)metres, but I got there before six. The road winds about on its way up the hill, and as one rises the level surrounding country unfolds it.self like a ma]). It is the first time I ever saw a level country from a height, and in this thickly populated and highly developed coun- try it is a very striking sight. On the way up I passed an auto coming down the broad level pave, and in it was General Foch reading his daily papers. To enter the town one has to pass through an old, covered gateway. Inside all the ground is paved. There was the usual square with the usual collection of motor transports. The town is old and quaint, streets at different levels and twisting about. Some very venerable looking buildings. I pushed my bike up to the highest point where there is a little park, an old chateau, and a wireless station. Here I was agree- ably and inten.sely surprised. The only other soldier up there was Brokenshire, Harvard '16. I had n't seen him since we left Eng- land. It was very strange and pleasing to me. We sat in one of the stone bastions, very like those at Fresh Pond in Cambridge which I remember so well, overlooking the level plain three hundred feet l>elow with its great straight roads losing them.selves like endless white ribbons in the mist and gathering darkness — the road to Dunkerque and the sea and the road to Ypres and the British wedge, from which direction the occasional report of an extra heavy gun was heard indistinctly. Here we talked of Har- vani and ("aMibridge, and the i)laces and the girls we had known. It was a pleasing and imjiressive sight in the .setting sun and a \('ry i)l«';isant cxiJCTicnc'c, and I was very sorry to leave it to him. 'I'lic letters and diary continue almost to the time of Day'.s death. On Aj)ril 1!), his twenty-fourth birthday, he CALVIN WELLINGTON DAY writes to his family of a "bathing parade" at a pond in the grounds of an Antwerp merchant's chateau: "We had a dandy swim and ran about the grounds and summer houses and caves and bridges in our bare feet Hke a company of fairies. I had a gorgeous time." On the 21st he wrote: "They're playing the game hard up here just now." The men were billeted in barns ready to move at short notice, with livelv bombardments verv close at hand. "It is mv turn," the letter ended, "as company orderly officer today and it is tea-time, so I will have to close." The short letter of the next day, April "2*2, ended with these words: Just now they are "going right to it.'' There is a horse waiting for me outside and I am going where I can see more of the row. I am enclosing a handkerchief for Mother and some lace for Mabel [his sister]. I got them down in the village, saw them making the lace. This letter he never posted. It was found, July 8, 1915, amongst some old papers by a fellow officer and forwarded to the address of "The Day Family" in Kingston. On the very day after it was written, April '23, he was killed in action near St. Julien, at the Battle of Langemarck in Bel- gium in the Second Battle of Ypres. This battle was in- famous in history for the first use of asphyxiating gas by the German Army, and memorable for the valor of the Canadian troops of which Lieutenant Day was so typical an officer. CAKLTOX TIIAYKU BRODRICK Class of 1908 JjUODHK K was Olio of 11k' five Harvard nionwho lost their lives in llic >inki!ifj of tlic Lu.sitania. Tiu' other four were Richard liicii Freeman. ,ir.. '(II). Edwin Wilhain Friend. 'OH. Fll)ert IIuhl)ar(l. "!»7. and Herbert Stuart Stone, '})4. All these may he >aid to liave met tiieir (h'atlis in tiie war against (lermaiiy; Kiit Hiodriek was the only one of them so identified with the \vai- lin'ough his own activities tliat this series of memoirs nmst inchide one of him. His name stands fir.>t on the hsi ol the more than twenty Har\'ard men who died (hiring the course of the war, while asso- ejatcd w it li (iiic (»f I he great auxihary ser\ices. Histith-to llii-~ place i» found in tin- woi'k he did under Mr. Ilerhert CARLTON THAYER BRODRICK C. Hoover in London, early in the war, for the Commission for Relief in Belgium. Carlton Thayer Brodrick was born in Dorchester (Bos- ton), Massachusetts, January 22, 1887, the son of Alfred Herbert Brodrick and Etta Louise (Redding) Brodrick. His boyhood was passed in Dorchester and in Newton, where he was a pupil first of the Hyde Grammar School and then of the Newton High School. Graduating there with high standing in 1904, he entered the Class of 1908 at Harvard College. His natural bent and abilities expressed themselves in the high standing he took in chemistry, mathematics, and geology. In his junior year he won a "Detur," and as a senior held a John Harvard Scholarship, a coveted honorary reward for the best academic work. His tastes and loyalties in College were suggested by his membership in the St. Paul's Society, the Sigma Alpha Epsilon, the Mining, Track and Field, and Chess Clubs. After graduating cum laude, he took up the higher study of mining, metallurgy, geology, and engineering in the Grad- uate School, and although he left the University before completing the work he had planned, received the degree of A.M. in 1910 with highest honors in geology. Professor John E. Wolff has written of Brodrick at this time as "a very earnest, intelligent and enterprising stu- dent," and has added: "I call him enterprising because after taking the summer school of geology in Montana he spent part of another summer, alone or with a packer, in a rather remote part of the British Columbia mountains, working out the geology of a little known district, and this took a certain amount of courage and determination and initiative, unusual in one so young." 34 CARLTOX THAYER URODRK K From the angle of a couteinporary, his dassinate and friend, Harold O. Welhnan, wrote in the Xewton Graphic of May -^S, 191 (J: Throughout his college eourse Brodriek showed a lively inter- est in niiiiing geology, and during his summer vacations made many trips, both for the College and on his own account, to the Rocky Mountain regions, British C\)luml)ia, and other points in the Northwest. His professors who guided his work even now speak of the energy and enthusiasm he manifested in making these re- searches, and of his constant interest in applying and working out in the field at every opportunity the theories studied in the classroom. Extraordinary facility in languages enabled Brodriek during these years to continue his engineering studies in the works of Russian, Swedish, and Italian authorities, as well as French and German, until in 1910, when he left his college courses to accept an appointment in the United States Geologi- cal Survey, he had a knowledge and grasp of his subject remark- ably wide for a man of his years. His work in the Government service at Washington early at- tracted the attention of Sidney H. Ball, the well-known mining engineer, who took Brodriek with him in the fall of that year to the Atbasar district in southwestern Sil)eria. There they re- mained six months, engaged in geological studies, particularly of cop]K'r occurrences, in which Brodrick's work proved so sound that he was engaged the next year as iiiiiiiiig geologist by the Russo-Asiatic Compaii\-, controlling large mining interests in the Jvyslitim district of the Ural Mountain region. At that time the Russo-Asiatic Company was just at the be- ginning of its enormous development, and soon Brodriek, who wa.s then only in his lucnly-foiirth .\('ar, was being sent all over Russia and Siberia to inx'cstigatc new properties and report on their mining i)ossibihties, a work which riMpiired the exercise, not onl_\- of expert knowledge, but also of sound and Far-seeing judg- ment. CARLTON THAYER BRODRICK Signal success in this work led to further promotion, and in less than two years, Brodrick was advanced to the post of con- sulting geologist to the Russo-Asiatic Company. In this capac- ity he examined and reported upon a considerable number of important Russian and Siberian mining properties, of w^hich the following have since become of notable interest: Tanalyk, Verkh, Issetsk, Miass, Sissert, and Revda. His latest work was an ex- amination of the wonderful Ridder mining properties in western Siberia, which are generally regarded by mining experts as one of the four or five great mining developments of the decade. To an engineer as young as Brodrick, it was no slight recogni- tion of his judgment and ability on the part of the company that he should have been given the opportunity of being closelj^ iden- tified with the early development of a mining proposition of such magnitude and importance. During these few years of rapid advancement and widening experience in his profession, Brodrick never lost active interest in his Alma Mater, and he made a practice of devoting a major part of the vacations spent in this country to the service of the Geological Museum of Harvard University. There he brought together specimens from foreign districts he had examined, and formed a large and valuable collection of Russian and Siberian ores, supplemented by an unusually complete fund of informa- tion gathered by him as to their occurrence in the field. What all this meant to one of Brodrick's former teach- ers, the following words of Professor Wolff's will suggest: As a young man active and successful in his profession as min- ing geologist he impressed me as thoroughly competent for the work he w^as doing, loyal to the interests he served, with a re- freshing joy and whole-heartedness in his work. In his occa- sional visits home on leave from the great mining company in Siberia by which he was employed, he always visited the College and greeted his old associates and friends with unfailing friend- ship; he usually brought some interesting mineral specimens 36 CARLTON TIIAYKU HRODRirK from Siberia and in other ways showed his attachnieiil to tlic in- stitution. He always made me a visit and it was a joy to talk with him, he was so full of delight in what he was doing, so haj)})y with life, with i,dimi)ses of deep devotion to his family and friends: he was high-minded and clean. He was physieally tall and active, no superfluous flesh, long-limhed. It happened that Mr. IlerlxMf C. TToover wa.s con.sultin^ engineer of the Uu.s.sian mining c'oni])anies for which Brod- ric-k was working when the war broke out. On his way to America for his annual vacation he .stopped in London, in January and February. 1J)L). and joined the force of Bel- gian Uclii'f workers under Mr. Hoover tiicrc. Thence he proceeded to Boston where he s])en1 two hapj^y months with his family and friends. One of those who saw him at this time was Dr. 1). W. Abercrombie of the Harvard Cla.ss of 187(), then principal of the Worcester Academy. On the sinking of the Lusiianin he wrote to B rod rick's father, whom he had never .seen, telling how he and the younger man. while still an undergraduate, had met in the White Mountains, and >U()W-shoed together: Carlton [he went on] greatly interested me by liis ingenuous- nes.s of mind and lovable spirit, and deej) interest in things that were worth while. I felt \ery afleetionately towards him. and called him onr d.iy my " pa|)oose " beeau.se of his long. loi)ing stride as we walkecl oxer the enniehing snow. Vi)r many years he wrote me. ;itid once he \isite(| nie. I fried lo keep informed in regard !•> his growing capacity, lor I was sure he was going to make ,1 name for himself in the world. ^Vilhin less than fonr weeks of his sailing, I think it was, I met him in Moston as he was taking a train for ('ornell, and he and I were seat-mates as far as Worcester. lie to|r| mc of \\\-^ later experiences in Russia, and of his intended relnrn on the \\v-^\ of Ma_\- on llie l.iisitiniid. When CARLTON THAYER BRODRICK that great ship went down by the dastardly act of the German government I thought instantly of Carlton, and looked with great anxiety on the lists of those saved and of those lost, and to my horror and sorrow, and grief that will never leave me, I saw that that splendid fellow had been lost. . . . I can only tell you that I am one of those many men who loved Carlton and who foresaw for him a great career, and that I grieve not as you do but as a friend may for your son's early and terrible loss. I shall always carry in memory the picture of his manly face and superb form. I was immensely pleased with his growth in maturity, with that world view-point which he had already won, and with the solid purpose of his mind. Brodrick's travelling companion on the Lusitania, Richard Rich Freeman, Jr., '09, was going with him to Russia to join in the mining engineering to which he him- self was returning via London, where he w^ould doubtless have applied himself again to the work of Belgian Relief. With the doomed ship his personal papers, with records of his professional work, went down. His body was rescued and brought home for burial. It is chiefly from such ex- pressions by Dr. Abercrombie and the following message of sympathy from Mr. Hoover that the quality of the man and his work must be inferred: Please accept from the Executive Committee of the Commis- sion for relief in Belgium our heartfelt sympathy. Early in the year your son unselfishly devoted his time and energies to this work and won the regard of all who became associated with him. Rest assured that many friends are prepared to do everything necessary. Scott Turner, who survived, was with him several hours after the ship sunk and last saw him supported by two oars and with every possibility of being rescued. He was probably the last passenger to leave the ship and was brave and cheerful throughout. Hoover, Chairman. 38 CARLTOX THAYER RRODRK K From distant IVtro^n-ad a t't'w inoiitlis later came this letter speaking for the impression wln'eh Brodrick's per- sonahty and hd)ors liad ])roduced in Rnssia; it was written by a i)rofessional and hnsiness associate, Mr. J. V. B, Webster: I write voii iu»t onlv on niv own l)ohalt', hut also at tlio retiuest of the Russian directors and employees of the Kyshtim, Irtysh, Tanalyk and Russo-Asiatic Companies to express our very deep sympathy with you iu the loss of your son. Mrs. Wel)ster lias already written you of the close friendship between vour .son and our familv, which we so much valued; this was in private life, and also in business his great ability, com- l)ined with unfailing courtesy and kind actions, cau.sed him to be held in the highest esteem by a very large circle of Russian friends. His important and succe.s.sful work at Kyshtim did not prevent him giving individual attention and kindly aid to his assistants, as a result of which, the Kyshtim Geological Depart- ment, founded by him, is now looked on as the finest practical school in Russia, men therefrom being eagerly sought to fill im- portant geological po.sts throughout the Empire; every man who pa.s.sed through tliis Ky.shtim .school during the i)eriod when your son was in t returned to I'etrograd from an extended visit to Kyshtim. 'ianalyk and the surrounding country; everywhere the dcejx'^t horror i> fell at the dastardlN' act w hich cost your son his life, and 1 was asked to express to you the sincerest sympathies of a very large circle of Ru.ssian friends and admirers of your son. \\(- ha\-e lost a true friend and Russia has lost the most hril- liaiit geologist of recent times. On the fiI•"^t anni\'eivsai"y of the sinking of the LiistUiiiiiK ^lay 7. I!)|(I, i*r(tfc>>or Josiali Royce (|eh\ cicil a nicniora- ble address. A portion of it consiNlcd of a Idler fioin a CARLTON THAYER BRODRICK friend describing the course of Brodrick and others, all un- named, in sailing on the Lusitania to fulfil professional en- gagements. Royce's words on this matter may well stand as the final words about Carlton Brodrick : Benjamin Franklin says, "They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety." My friend, intuitively enlightened by sorrow, said something deeper than the words of Franklin. Our liberties are dear to us and ought to be so. Our young professional men should be trained to be prepared for dangerous undertakings and dutifully to keep their promises when once these are made. Ralph Waldo Emerson said the well-known word about the con- ditions under which " 'Tis man's perdition to be safe." Such con- ditions are realized when men make professional engagements. Some of the young men who went down on the Lusitania were in this position. They met the requirements defined by Franklin's word and by Emerson's line about the safety that is perdition. We can speak of them as vindicating American rights, and rever- ence them for their part in doing American duties. They are the men whom we want. Since they met death in such a task, we honor their memory not merely as a matter of personal grief, but as an act of reverence and piety. Blessed are they : "Their works do follow them." IIAl^RY (.rSTAV BYNG Class of 1!)1.'J X HOUGH the college affiliations of Harry Custav Byn^ were witli the ('hiss of 1!)1.'{. tlie I niversity ('atah)^iie shows liini to haxc hccii rated in the first of his two years at Harxard. IJMO 11. as an imelassified, in tlie second, 1!)11 I'i. as a spcfial, stiident. These definitions ai-c ap- plied to men who do not enter ( Olle^e l)y the re^ulai* a\- enues. and are not at least not \et — candidates for decrees in tlir re^nilar e<»iii>>e. Tliere was e\'ery I'eason for Byn^ to stand in preei-^ely !lii> relation willi ilarxard. lie was an Mii^disliiiia ii. l)oiii in London, Jidy I'i, ISS!), tlie third >oiM»f (iustax and Ida Hyn^- His school was Har- row, where he Was captain of the ei^'ht. and head oi his house. His father was the fonnder of the (ienei'al MIeetric 41 HARRY GUSTAV BYNG Company in England, and it was to prepare himself for a position in this great organization that he came to America. A classmate, Oliver Wolcott, wrote of him in the Har- vard Graduates' Magazine of September, 1915: "When he decided to come to Harvard he had literally not an ac- quaintance in the United States, but the charm of his per- sonality and the fineness of his character quickly brought him not acquaintances but friends." If he had entered College with a swarm of friends and remained there four years he could hardly have taken a more definite place among his fellows; for besides becoming a member of the Institute of 1770, D. K. E., Stylus, Signet, Hasty Pudding, Iroquois, and Fly Clubs, he played in both of his two years on the "Soccer" football team, of which he was an ad- mirable captain in the second year, and served on the edi- torial board of the Advocate. His contributions, in articles and fiction, to that journal were English and Scottish in background, and revealed a maturity of thought and sure- ness of touch which seem a more characteristic product of E^nglish than of American schooling. At Harvard his special study was electrical engineering; for a year after leaving College he was employed at the Schenectady works of the General Electric Company. Thus prepared for the position awaiting him at home he returned to England, and was in the engineering depart- ment of the General Electric Company there when the war broke out. He enlisted at once as a private in a regiment made up of university men, the 28th City of London, known as the "Artists' Rifles," and went to the front in October, 1914, serving as a scout. In the following March he wrote to 42. HARRY (^rSTAV RVXC. Professor Copelaiul tliat \\v \va> ,m)iii^f to take a coiiiinis- sion: "Life is iiuicli more simple and j)leasaiit as a private amongst friends: l)ut tliey need officers who have had a certain amount of experience, so tliere is no helj) for it." In the same letter he wrote: "At first yon worry alioiil the huidin«; phices of the shells. i)nt there are so many differi'iit noises that, not bein^i: able to keej) track of them all. it is simpler to i^more them. 'Ver never 'ears the bullet wot cops yer' is the Tommies' j)hilosophy - and is the best one." In Alarch, l!)lo, he was gazetted "-id lieutenant in the King's Own Scottisli Borderers, known as the Border Regi- ment. Later in this month, during a four days' leave, he was married in London. ^Lireh 'i'-Z, to Miss Evelyn Curtis, of Boston, a daughter of Allen Curtis, of the Harvard Class of 1884. Returning immediately to the fnmt he took up with zest the officer's life, of which less than two months nMuained to him. His letters and diary show him playing, and enjoying socc-er, taking a hearty pleasure in meeting friends from the "Artists," keenly interested in the men of his command. An undercurrent of serious thinking expresses itself from time to time. "'I'he Parson was fifteen un'nute> late" — he wrote one day about ( linich Parade "and altogether the.ser\ice was a failure. Personally I don't care a bit now — unless the man is r<'ally g(»od: I am thinking my own thou;:ht> all tlu- time."" A liHh' later he wrote. "To eai-|\- Coniniunion with iand>a\'"- and a few day> later >till, April 'J. "Cood t'riday ;iiid I fori; oxer in an hour the only ditierence is that our test may come at an_\ moment and >o there ean he no second allowed for hreakin*^ trainin<:. 1 mn^t confess I don't like the life a ^'reat deal, and after the war. 1 shall get out of the regular Army, as soon as I can. AVe are still M'ry unsettled — yesterday morning' wc were told that we should prol)al)ly stay in for a long time — eighteen days, and tiien sudtlenly we were warned to he ready to hand ow-r our trenches tomorrow (that is today). The ofHcer of the relieving regiment came up this morning, as usual, to look round, ami this afternoon we are told that the relief is cancelled, so we don't know where we are at all. It gets a little trying after a W(H>k as you feel the lack of sleep. Personally, though, I stand it i)retty well — the night shift at Sehenectady taught me to .sleep during the day. I hought my jjlatoon flannel strips for u.se against the gases, but so far we have not l)een troubled — I am not very much scared of them. Hut the (iermans are dirty hghters in every wa>'. The chief unj)lea.santness of th(>se trenches is the nn- l)uried dead on, so they have to be left. \ on get used U> it, just as you do to everything else — a dead body really means nothing at all. it simply shows, that all that is worth anything of the person has gone somew Jiere el>e. l''rom a purely .sanitar\- point of \iew they are a daii;:er. llioni;li. One of our patrols yesterda\ brought in a |)o(ket book taken Ironi a dead (ierman - he was i)orn in bS!)7 pretty yonn:^ to gel kille, 1 don't know. 45 HARRY GUSTAV BYNG We were relieved last night about eleven — Lord, I was pleased! I was in a detached post, right out from our lines. I just had my platoon, about fifty men, two machine-guns, and six bomb-throwers. In a way I was pleased to go, as they send the best platoon and the best officer from each company, and every- body took it as a matter of course that I should take my number nine — they really are quite a splendid lot. You have to patrol rather a lot — it is nervous work, but really fairly safe. You crawl along about ten yards and then you flop and stay still and listen. The chief trouble up there was avoiding the dead bodies. I was really pleased with the men — the usual routine is two hours on sentry and four off. I had to have two hours on and two hours off, but they never complained, and yet in billets they grouse all day long. I had quite a compliment paid me yesterday: the Brigadier wanted a very important patrol done, and as it was on our part of the line, it was up to the Border Regiment to do it. Well, of course they never send Senior Officers on them, and I was told privately (by Bobby) that when the Brigadier asked for the best man for the job, I was chosen at once, thanks to my training as a scout. We had to find out the kind of obstacle to an advance that a ditch would be which ran about forty yards in front of one of our advance posts. The Germans are only about eighty yards away, so it needs care — the grass is getting long now^ and really it is not half so dangerous as it sounds. In fact, unless they see you — and it is up to you to take care that they don't — every- thing being aimed at the tops of the parapets is miles above you. Of course you crawl all the time. I am getting quite used to patrols now. Personally, I got too far to the left, but as a patrol we got at the conformation required and the C. O. was quite pleased about it, and sent me and Goodman up to the Brigadier himself. I was just about to start on the trip last night after finishing your letter. I only got in at four this morning, but I am going to have a long sleep tonight. 46 IIARRV Gl'STAV BYXCi On May l'-2 Byiig wri)tt' in similar Noin of his assi^nnirnt to ])atr()l duty: "It is a darn dani^crous joh. hut it i> \itally necessary for tlie attack, and it is a buried at Bethune in Picardie. HENRY WESTON FARNSWORTH Class of 1912 XlENRY Earns WORTH was the first of the Harvard men fallen in the war whose name is enshrined in a permanent memorial touching the daily lives of students at Harvard. The Earns worth Room in the Widener Library Building, a room full of books to be read merely for pleasure, and in a comforting quiet, symbolizes with special aptness the sanc- tuary which this young man, through the brief span of a life crowded with more than the commonly allotted share of vivid experience, found in the best reading, pictures, and music. He was born in Dedham, Massachusetts, August 7, 1890, the son of William Earnsworth of the Harvard Class of 1877, and Lucy Holman (Burgess) Earnsworth. When he 48 HENRY WESTON FARNSWORTII was twt'ho lie \\vu\ \o Cii-dtoii Sfliool. wlu'iici' lie proceeded to Harvard College, as a ineiiiber of the ( lass of lIM-i. An anecdote related in the "Foreword" to a ])ri\a1cly |)rinl<(l volnnie of his letters suggests the difficulties he was always to encounter in following the trodden i)alh> of convention: When eleven he went to a tlav-sclindl in l^ostmi. It was his first c-ontaet with the outside world. Oiu- day, after \w had Keen to sehool for a few weeks, he eanie home tliri'e iiours late, and said, "Mother, if you were a man, would you want to experience life.^ I felt that way this afternoon, ami I have had a soda in every sotla-water fountain in IJoston." This early desire to experience life was destined to carry him far afield. His first summer vacation gave him a taste of camping in the West, an initiation into the heautx' of "letting nature have its way." Early in his sophomore >-car. dissatisfied with the mode of life into which he had fallen at college, he resolved to follow his own bent, to test his own resources, and, wifhouf iid'ornn'ng his fann'iy of his l)lans, shipped as a deck-hand on a cattle-ship sailing for England. His hopes of maintaining him.self hy his jx-n proved delusive, and. in response to an ad\-crli.sement ol work to he had at a sheep station in Australia, he sailed .steerage in a small steamer, hound for Melhourne. " Lord. I wish I was coming into the tropics again for the fir^t time." he wrote afterwards. "I came through the Sue/ ( 'a nah and struck the East all in a heap. Nine! ecu years ol age, and a head full of all kinds of rot al that." The magic of Ea>tciii nauu's - especially Rang<»<»n. Singapore. I*a- rang hcwitched him. "What romance I had in tlio^c days, and how (|uil it lo<., I ha I lool kind, I mean. like calf loN'c." V.t HENRY WESTON FARNSWORTH Romance met with rough handhng when Farnsworth first stepped ashore in AustraHa. This was at Fremantle, where his ship stopped on its way to Melbourne. Return- ing to the vessel after dark, and passing through a rough part of the town, he was set upon, knocked senseless, and robbed of everything, even his shoes. Fortunately he was able to reach the ship before its sailing, but, utterly stranded in Melbourne, without money even to travel on to the sheep station he had come so far to find, he was obliged to pocket his pride and cause a cable to be sent to his father, asking for a little money. "All the rest of his life," says the "Foreword" to his "Letters," "he never forgot that the first act of his struggle for independence was a cry for help, when he had travelled to the other side of the world to try to help himself." The help that came from home enabled him to spend seven months in Australia as a sheep-herder, exercising his skill in horsemanship, and at the same time doing the hard, solitary thinking which brought him home again in time for the next year of study at college. With him this took the form of a wide range of reading in man}^ literatures, paralleled by the eager hearing of all the good music within reach. Through attending the Harvard Engineering Camp in the summer of 1911, he made up enough of his inter- rupted studies to graduate with his class in 191*2. That summer he passed in Europe, especially Russia, and, join- ing his family in Paris, returned to enter the Graduate School of Business Administration in the autumn. Then the Balkan War broke out, and Farnsworth hastened to the scene of it. 50 IIEXRV WESTON FAR NS WORTH Tlie record of lii^ cxprrieiu-o in tlial ui)lu'a\al of the Near East is preserved in a volnnic. "Tlu- Loir of a Wonld- b.' War CorrespondtMit " which \\v |)ul)hslic(l a year hitei-. Tlu' news of '■ trouble in liaikans," Farnswortli wrote, "seemed to l)e received with calm interest l>y the |)ul)lic: l)ut in me it started a veritai)le fire." His narrative of the results showed him chiefly occuj)ied with frantic hut un- availin. he mounted himself on a little stallion which he named John Henry Newman ("John Henry" for short), set forth loudly whistling' the Eroica Symj)hony in the zest of his |)ri\ate adventure towards tlie front, there ran imminent risks of cholera and >h(ll fire, saw nuich of ghastly and entertaining realities, and wrote about them afterwards with a liveliness of apprehension and description worthy of something more than a " would-be correspondent." I^ctuniiug to Amei-ica he took uj) his studies in the Har- vard Business School through the sj)ring of l!)b'). and in the autumn of that year, having deternu'n(>d to make w ril- ing liis oceui)ation, .seized an opportunity to become an actual war correspondent, in AFexico, for the Providence Joiinidl. His letters were printed on the editorial j)age of that n<'wspaj)er, and on lii> return to the I nited States he .serxed, in the winter- of l!)b'5 14, on its staff of re|)()rters. liack again to Mexico he weid when American troops were landed at \vr:\ ( 'i-u/,, and \\v ua^ in Mcxicd ( "ity w hen t he I'juvtpcan ^^ar broke out. He came home iinniccliatcly . to rc(<-i\r his h<'ai-t*> dcsirr when his f.innly, uiiimp(»rt nned. cons«'nt<'d to his setting foith to Europe, riierr in- mt ant to look 1)11 and write about what lies;i\\. Relofe t he en< 1 of HENRY WESTON FARNSWORTH October he was in Paris, and ready to join an independent fighting corps in case of its acceptance by the British Gov- ernment. This was not accorded, and after a visit to Spain and a lonely month in the Island of Mallorca, Farns worth found himself back in Paris, where the cause of France took such hold upon him that on January 1, 1915, with the cabled consent of his family, he enlisted in the Foreign Legion for the duration of the war. His printed letters show what manner of man he was, what manner of life he led in the Legion, more clearly than could anything else. Let the following passages tell their story : Paris, January 5, 1915. I formally and definitely joined the Legion Etrangere this morning, and tomorrow morning I go into barracks here in Paris, and as soon as the company is ready, on to the front. The join- ing was to me very solemn. After being stripped and examined as carefully as a horse, and given a certificate of "aptitude" I went to another place and was sworn in. A little old man with two medals and a glistening eye looked over my papers and then in a strong voice asked if I was prepared to become a soldier of France and, if asked to, lay down my life for her cause. Then I signed, and was told to report the next morning and be prepared to start training at once. I went out and walked down the Boulevard des Invalides, with Napoleon's tomb behind me. It was warm and foggy, and the golden- winged horses on the Pont Alexandre III seemed to be stirring through the mist. Lately I have come to love Paris be- yond all cities, and now I think in a dim way I can understand how the French love it. Paris, January 9, 1915. In the first place, there is no tough element at all. Many of the men are educated, and the very lowest is of the high-class workman type. In my room, for instance, there are "Le Petit 52 HENRY WKSTON FAKNSWOimi Pere I lilin," an old Alsatian, who lias alreaily serxcij t'tnirtttMi years in the Legictn in ( "liina and Moron-o; the Corporal Ix'hrun, a Sociahst well known in his own district; Entrier, a Swiss eotton broker from Havre; Donald Caniphell, a newspaper man and short -story writer, who will not serve in the Kn^lish arm> !»<•- cause his family left England in 174."), with the exeeption of his father, who was Cajitain in the Royal Irish Fusiliers; Snknna. a Fijian student at Oxfortl, hlack as ink; Hath, a Dane, o\-er >i\ feet, whom Campbell aptly calls "The Blonde lieast"(r/Wr "/ar- athustra"); Von somebody, another Dane,\"eiy >inall and yonn«i; Bastados, a Swiss carpenter, l)orn and bred in the .\lps, who sings — when given half a litre of canteen wine — tar better than most comic opera stars, and who at times does the Ranz dcs ]'ac}ie.s so that even Petit Pere Uhlin claps; the brigadier Mu.s- sorgsky, cousin descendant of the comi)o.ser, a little Russian; two or three Polish Jews, nondescript Belgians, Greeks, Roumanians, etc. I already have enough to write a long (ten thousand word) article, and at the end of the cami)aign can write a book truly interesting. Paris. Jaimari/ 17, V.)l-'>. The other day I bought a pair of l)oots and was at the cuissc paying for them, when the manager of the .shop dashed up and .said he would not take any payment from "»» dcs petits Legion- naires.'^ I explained to him that I had plenty of money, but that if he would give me a reduction, I would .see that the difference went where it would be really appreciated. He gave me ten francs off, and I gave five to \a' Petit Pere I'lilin and five to de Hath, a Dane and a gentleman, exj)laining of courM- how 1 got the moiH'y. rhiin sent a money order to his wife in .VIsaee, and de Hath bought a i)air of gloves. I mention this episode because it is a g«)od example of the way things go in our eonii)any. Al- though ridin has spent hours showing nie how to take down the rifle, to grease boots, fence with the bayonet, polish my belt. etc.. I have never dare<| oll'er him aM.\ money, all Imugh I knew he had not a cent except the live cenliriKs per day that is the regulati(.n pay. HENRY WESTON FARNSWORTH About March 7, 1915. (After moving toward the front.) Then came the magic of the nights. At sundown we began to do sentry, hour on and hour off till daylight. We were about fifty metres from the German trenches and not allowed to shoot (why, I don't know). As the night grows, and you stand crouching and watching for any sign of life ahead of you, the very air seems to come to life. All is still, nobody talks above a whisper, and all lights are out. From trenches, all along the maze of line, shots crack out and stray impersonal bullets whiz by on unknown er- rands. A huge rocket candle shoots up and hangs for a moment above the earth, lighting up a section of the country, big guns boom out, and shells like witches riding to a feast whiz by. Some- times, with a whistle and bang, a half-dozen "7o's" swoop over like a covey of devil's quail, and we stand crouching and watch- ing for any sign of human life. It never came. Just the imper- sonal bang and whistle. May 30, 1915. Of the last six days in the lines, rieyi a signaler, except two patrols, which lacked nothing but the Germans to make them successful. Between the lines is a broad fertile field of beet sugar and clover. It is grown high enough to hide a man crawling on his stomach, and in spots, even on all fours. It is here that the patrols take place. The first was an attempted ambuscade. Fif- teen of us, with an adjutant, a sergeant, and two corporals, went out and hid in a spot where Germans had been seen twice before. None appeared. The next night seven of us were detailed to carry French papers, telling of Italy's declaration of war, into the German lines. We crawled from 9 o'clock till 11.30, and succeeded in sticking papers on their barbed wire. They have since then steadily ignored them, much to our disgust. There is a certain fascination in all this, dull though it may seem. The patrol is selected in the afternoon. At sunset we meet to make the plans and tell each man his duty; then at dark our pockets are filled with cartridges, a drawn bayonet in the belt, and our magazines loaded to the brim. We go along the hoyau to 54 ITEXRY WESTOX FARXSWORTH the petit postf from wliich it is drcidfd to U'avc. All aloiij,' the line the sentinels wish us -^'ood hiek and a safe return. In the petit poste we chinip on tlie l>ayonets, hlow noses, clear throats, and prepare for three hours of utter silence. At a \v(»rd from the chief we form line in the prearranj^eil order. The sentries wish us luck for the last time, and the chief jumps uj) on the edi^e of the trenches and he^'ins to work his way (|uiekl\- through the barbed wire. Once outside he ilisappears in the beet wi'ed> and one after another we follow. Then betrins the erawl to the apjjointed s|)ot. We •xo slowly, with frequent halts. Every sound nuist l)e analyzed. On the occasion of the would-be aml)ush, I admit I went to sleep after a while in the warm fresli clover where we la.v. It was the adju- tant him.self who woke me up with a slitr /';. i;>t'>. I was in the ranks . . . this lll(p|•IliIlL^ wlieii. a dixisioii being draw n up. M . I'oiticare and M . M illciand and ( Jeneral d<' ( "astel- nan, and a lot of others. pres<'nted the regiment with a (lag deco- rated with t he ijrandr Croi.r dr (iiurrc . . . .The I 'resident ■< speech 55 HENRY WESTON FARNSWORTH was good, and very short, and addressed — it is characteristic of the French attitude towards the Legion — to the Zouaves and tirailleurs, the fourth regiment of the latter having received a flag as well. He spoke of the Marne, where the Division broke the Prussian guard, and ended up with a ringing praise for the action north of Arras. It was also characteristic that the Legion re- ceived its flag before the others, and that our Colonel gave the commands. I shall write again in three or four days. Now I must go and bathe in a mountain stream. Thirty-five kilometers on top of the review and the defile make it necessary. Less than a fortnight later Farnsworth was killed in the Battle of Champagne. His friend, the Fijian prince, who had been a student at Oxford, thus wrote of Farnsworth's last fight, and of his own debt of life to his comrade : Hospital Complimentaire, 17 Pre Aux Clercs, Lyon (Brett aux), France, October 2, 1915. Dear Mr. Farnsworth: At the request of your son, I am to say with real pain that he was severely wounded on the afternoon of the ^Sth of September last, on the fourth day of the battle of Champagne, a little in front of the German wire entanglements of the second line before the Fortin de Navarin. A large number of machine guns were on the right flank, and in front, where they were concentrating their fire on the leading files of the attacking party, and no stretcher- bearer could possibly reach the spot where he was lying. Toward dusk, the column was still being held up. I left for the rear about this time, but all I could do, I regret to say, was to ask medical people to go up if possible. As one who has seen a great deal of him here, I would venture to mention how much his coolness under fire has on occasions helped to steady the section, and how his indifference to danger prompted him at all times to volunteer for the most dangerous posts. Under a withering rifle and ma- 56 HENRY WESTOX FARNSWORTIl chine gun fire, he denied my first word and diiu a luAc for in(>. to whieh act I probably owe my hfe. V\) to the present, no frrsh inf(»rmation of iiim lias come inv wav. hut I shall alwavs i)e ;rhui to furnish any previous news. May 1 hen- »'\p^•■^•^ my profound and sincere sympathies. ^ cry trul>' yours, .1. I.. \'. SlKlNA. And \'ict()r (Minjinmn, un\ of (Iroton hut of St. Paul's School, wrote thus of his college contemporary and fellow Legionnaire: Camp n'.VvoHn, yotriiibcr J. lUI.'t. To Groton School, (iRoxox, Massachusetts: I suppose you have heard l)y now that Henry Farnsworth was killed in the last days of Sei)teml)er. A brave fellow he was and a gallant one. The two or three times I met him at college he made little impression. But of the months I knew him in the Ix'gion, I respected him and enjoyed his companionship more and more. When everything was going badly — we were disreputably offi- cered in the Sme de marche— and every man was finding fault, grumbling, making all the possible stej)s to get out of I he h('ij:i<>n into French regiments, lie was always optimistic, .serene, an froliman year he visited the Canadian Hockio and had liis firs! experience of snow -elimbing with guides. In cadi of the ne\l llii-ce -unmiers he fra\'elle<| in l'!urope. and in l!")| .mhI I!>(('2 made -.oliie liolable a>>ceiil> ill the .VIps. CHARLES ROBERT CROSS, Jr. From 1903 to 1906, when he took the degree of LL.B., he was a student working hard and maintaining an excellent position in the Harvard Law School. In 1907 he was ad- mitted to the Massachusetts Bar. Before he entered upon the practice of his profession he spent another year at the Institute of Technology, in the expectation of devoting himself especially to patent law. Finding that other branches of the profession really interested him more, he abandoned this intention and in the autumn of 1907 en- tered the law office of Boyden, Palfrey, Bradlee & Twom- bly, in Boston. Here he remained until 1913, when he withdrew, meaning to open an office of his own or to enter business. But a long summer expedition, for the double purpose of exploration and of restoring himself to normal health after an extended period of professional labor, was to come first. He had then been out of college ten years, and his own account of himself, written for the Decennial Report of his class, will show, better than any paraphrase of his words, what the years had brought to him — and he to them: As I glance back at the time that has passed since I became a graduate, it seems that my life has been governed by two gods: the spirit of modern civilization that gathers its slaves together in cities, and goads them on to toil in the crowded rounds of busi- ness, medicine, or law, striving for money and fame among men; and the red spirit of the wilderness and the wild, that leads its followers, regardless of the consequences, in search of the still places of the earth and regions where nature yet holds undis- puted reign. The first of these two masters carried me through the Harvard Law School, from which I graduated in 1906, through two sum- mers and a winter in Technology, and finally, into an ofiice in the 60 CHARLES ROBERT CROSS. .In. city oi Boston, in whitli (lilirc I >till am ami wlu're f»)r tlu" la>t four or five years I have worketl in tlu' practice of law. The second of my ma.ster.s ha.s led me not only thron^h the woods and mountains and upon the streams of New England, hut also on journeys to regions remote and unfrec|uented. Duriiii: tlif first four vears after leavintf the Law School I hunted for nian\- months in the Northwest; I .saw a sunnner pass and a fall while I travelled the woods and mountains of the upper Stikine and the headwaters of the ALickenzie in .search of hear and moose and sheep; a s])rin^ came and a sunnner went as 1 wandered amon<,' the snowy cloud-shrouded peaks of the Alaska peninsula, trailing' the great brown hear in his haunts by the Rehring Sea; and again as I followed tlie bear and the wliite sheep of the North over the ragged mountains of the Kenai, the fall days grew .short and the winter's snows drove down. And in the last three years, even since I i>erforce have l)ecome closely bound to the city and a lawyer's work therein, still my red god has led me each fall for a few weeks to the marshes and barrens of Newfoundland, where the caribou yet move ghost-like among the woods and through the fogs driving low across the opens, and where, as in Saltatha's country of the nuisk ox, "the lakes are sometimes misty and sometimes blue and the loons cry often." The summer expedition of 19L'J took Robert Cross, with Mr. Edw ard Preble of the rnited States Biological Survey, into the .scantily explored region of Lake Babine in British Colund>ia. east of the Skeena River. The i)rescnc-e and .species of the mountain shcH^p of this region were the spe- cial objects of his studx . l''r<)iii this exi)editioii lie rclurned to Boston late in the aiilunin of I!n:5. and in the s|)riiig of ]!»l 1- wa^ ^lill weighing the merits of possible i)erniaiient eiii- ployment> in business and tlic law when Ihe opporl iinil.\ came to join lii- friend S. l*re~>col I h'a.x llar\ard."(>7 > in ex- ploring the region of British ( '()lnnd)ia bet w cen I lie 'N ellow 01 CHARLES ROBERT CROSS, Jr. Head Pass and Peace River, in which Mr. Fay had already travelled. It was the last large area of British Columbia from which it was to be hoped that much fresh scientific in- formation could be brought. An account of the successes, hardships, and pleasures encountered by the two explorers, accompanied by Mr. Fred Brewster of Jasper, Alberta, with two helpers and twenty head of horses, was con- tributed by Mr. Fay to Appalachia for June, 1915. From this and other far northern expeditions Cross brought home noble trophies of the hunt in the form of heads and skins, some of which are to be seen in the "Aesculapian Room" of the Harvard Club of Boston, where thev have been placed by the Harvard Travellers Club, of which Cross was first a member and then a fellow. Reports of his several ex- plorations in Alberta, British Columbia, and Alaska were duly made to the United States Biological Survey, and of those in Newfoundland to the Agent of the Newfoundland Railway. Emerging from the wilds at a station of the Hudson's Bay Company, in October, 1914, Cross and his compan- ions first heard of the war in Europe. "It must be a fierce state of affairs." he immediatelv wrote home. Late in No- vember the party arrived at Jasper, whence it had set forth in June, and before the end of the year Cross was back in Boston. His mind was promptly made up to go to Europe and do what he could in the cause of the Allies. The thought of seeking a commission in the Canadian Army was rejected because he felt so strongly that the time must, and should, come when his own country would join the belligerents, and that his strength should be kept for that day. He had been a member of Battery A of the Massa- 62 CHARLES ROBERT CROSS, Ju. chiisetts :Militia from l!M).) to 1!>1 1. and. with all his skill in marksmanship and in ontdoor i)nrsnits, ashoiv and afloat, must have been conscions of a rare capacity for the j)hy.>i- cal stni^frlc of war. For the i)rcscnt. iiowcvcr, the best op- portunity for usefulness seemed to lie in some form of relief service, and witliout knowing jn>t what that form >liould be — since all tliis work was less definitely organized then than later — he sailed for Havre on January •20, !!)].>. A severe attack of bronchitis in Paris delayed his en- trance iij)on active, though tenij)orary, emi)loyment as a driver for the American Ambulance at Dunkirk, Having entered this s(>rvice with the understanding that he could leavi' it at w ill because he was meeting all his own expenses, he soon joined the American Distributing Service, an agency organized and maintained from the very beginning of the war by the wife of Robert Woods Bliss, of the Har- vard Class of 1900, counsellor of the American Embassy at Paris. Hs special mission was the collection and delivery of supplies to hospitals, of which, with a small but de\()t(>d .staff, it was then serving more than seven hundred, J'he appeal which this service nuide to Cross \\as, as he wrote home, that "it is real work that counts." and. moreover, that "they are j)lanning to mo\-e their work into Poland and j)erha])s Serbia," 'i'lie move to Serbia came earlier than could have been expected. Indeed he had hardl.x' begun his work with the Aineiican I )ist ribut ing Ser\ice in Paris when Dr. IJichard P. Strong. Professor of Tropical Medicine in the llai\ard JVledical School, who had conic to Paris willi the llar\ai-d Surgical Cm! for a term of >ei\ ice a! t he Aiiiericaii Aiiiltii- laiHc Hdvpilal in Pari^, liecaiiic ilircclor of the American CHARLES ROBERT CROSS, Jr. Red Cross Sanitary Commission to Serbia, financed by the Red Cross and the Rockefeller Foundation, and asked Cross to join him, as executive assistant, in the great fight against typhus. Here was work for a man who had con- ducted expeditions of his own through difficult countries. His hands were at once filled with manifold details. "I have been on the dead jump," he wrote to America, "ever since Dr. Strong told me he wanted me to come with him if I cared to go. I have been acting the part of ' courier ' for him, getting the necessary papers to get out of France and making arrangements for the journey. It has seemed best to get an entire camp outfit, as we shall be in Nish a week before the outfit arrives via Salonica, for we go via Berne, Vienna, Budapest, Sofia, etc., and hotels may not be safe. ... I felt there was a lot of work to be done and not too many who wanted to do it. I felt also that the work under- taken by Strong and Shattuck and the rest was a great one. ... As for the risk, for there is undoubtedly a risk, it seemed to me that if Strong and Shattuck could take it I could." A letter from Nish, the ancient Roman city of Nissa, described the places through which he passed with Dr. Strong on his way to Serbia, the familiar view of the Alps from Berne, the tension of feeling and the phenomenon of bread-tickets in Vienna, the liveliness and beauty of Buda- pest, the oriental aspect of Bucharest, the antiquity and strangeness of Nish itself. From Skoplje, where Dr. Strong began his work. Cross made trips with him to "typhus villages," to Belgrade, and other places. The transporta- tion of sorely needed supplies was a task of the first impor- tance. When Cross felt that he had done all that a layman 6-t CHARLES ROBERT CROSS. .Tu. might to prt.'i)aiv the way for the pliysiciaiis' ut)rk of sani- tation, he was making ready, hite in May. to return to Paris. Just at tliis t iiiie 1 )r. Sf i-oiig found t hat condit ions in Montenegro were siieli tiiat a dangerous t)nthreak of tyjiiius coukl be prevented only l)y (h'(isi\e measures. Dr. V. H. Grinnell (Harvard, \)i)), of Dr. Strong's staff, was accord- ingly detailed to Montenegro. None of the other medical men could be spared. "So (Irinnell was uj) against it." Cress wrote on May "^T in a letter from Skoplji', "both for a comi)anion anil a person to help manage the game. He th(>n asked me whether T would be willing to lend him a hand, and of course I said yes. 'When the other sevent\- five does from the States get here one or two will come over to assi.st, and probably there will be no more need for me." The pre.ssure of the immediate need was revealed l)y Cros.s's .saying in the letter just quoted, "This morning we started sixty bullock wagons of medical supplies, etc., down on the train to a place that sounds like Mitravika [Mitrovitza?]. and we follow tomorrow morning and will proceed day after tomorrow, if there are no delays, to Abm- tenegro." Professor Cross ha.s written, in the sketch of his son: No letters were received from M()iitenef,'r(), several lia\iii^' l)een lost in the mails. . . . Dr. (ieorge Shattuek told iiic llial on thearri\al of Dr. (irinnell and Rol»ert at 1\( li in M.tiilfnc^'ro. whiili they were to make tluir headcjuarters. the IJishoj) of rech invited them toestal)lish them.selves within the niona^lerv walls, .since, as he told them, the .Vlhaniaiis would attack and kill them if they slept outside. \alnnill\ tli<>y accejjted the invitation which indeed nni>l have l»-en welcome on other ^ToiUMb. Sln.rtly after, the lii-lioj) in\ it<(l them to (hue u ith him and soenjoyahle dill till- ()cc;iNi(.n pro\-e that he fnitlKi- a■^l^< serious injury, and during his convalescence received the Cross of the Legion of Honor with the thanks of the French (iovern- ment for the noble humanitarian work which he and many of his countrymen had done since the beginning of the war. riius writes Professor Cross: On October 4, 1!)1.5, with Russell (ireeiey lie left SI. Hrieue, wliere they had s|>ent the previous uiirht, with a li,i,'ht Ford auto- mobile to finish an insjieetion tour of the hosj)itals in that region- Late in the afternoon, as they were entering tiie little village of Ploubalay, a j>easant woman appeared driviufj a few cows one of which became frightened at the sound of the motor. The sheep- dog in chasing the cow ran directly in front of the auto w Inch was driven l)y Robert. Every effort on his part to steer the auto so that the dog might pass between the wheels failed and it went under a front wheel. The machine swerved toward the left, "the right front wheel struck a pile of broken stones by the left side of the road while the left fore wheel went into the roadside ditch and struck its side. . . . The ear was thrown into the air and it turned completely over backwards falling with the wheels in the air and turned in the opposite direction from that in which it had \ieen runninfi." (ireeley was thrown free from the car, ))ut l^obert was pinned down. Jioth were .seriously injured, the former with a linikcii pelvis, the latter with an injury to the spine such that he was paralyzed from the armpits down. It appeared later that the fourth, fifth, and si.xth vertebrae were ab.solutely cruslMMJ. Robert fully ajjpreciated the nuignitude of his injury at the liiiir and told (ireeley upon I heir being rescued thai he knew hi-' neck wa> broken bnl tlial lie nii;,'lil li\'<' fur some lime. At Crccley's rc(|Uc>t t lie t wo \-ict Ini-> of t lii> disa-^lcr were lj( )nH- to the l-'n-ncli Mililar.x' ^(»-^|)ilal NO. (i t at I )iiia rd, a few kilometers . I( \\a> the k'.s> lU't'ded because from tlie first lie piirposi'd spt'iuliii^ merely a year at Harvard in j)reparati()ii for the study of science at the En^dish ('aml)riil^e. Tiiis j)ian lie carried out, and \va> a member of Peml)roke Colk'^e fioni WHV.] to l!)()7. Ilis Har- vard friends and chissmates remembered him well as a keen sportsman, interested especially in shootin^^ attractixc in personality, and ^nfted with more than ct)nim()n abilities. "I can best illustrate his unusual brightness," says the friend already (juoted. " by citiiiu' the fact that when wcall gathered in Cambridge for Entrance E\aniiuatioii>. lie was pretty uvwr the first man to finish his j)a|)er in each >iibject and leave the examination, takin ij\' the A\ estinghouse Company in a capacity pai-tly techni- cal, partly commercial, and from 1!)1 1 till August. 1!)11', as an exchange specialist in an Anglo-French bank dealing with South America. During these years in Paris Ramsay became a well-known figure in business, social. anl l;iki' his pjiit in it, ;it !ca>t in liclpin^' to rciicxc the Nuffcrin^rs of the combatants. 'J Im- "ciithusiasni and cncr^'v wlnCh the secretary of Ins class lia-> notcil a•^ hi^dilv cliaiactcri^t ic ol liini in collrgc were ilhist rated in t lie second month ol t he 7.*} GEORGE STETSON TAYLOR war, when he dropped the business in which he had estab- hshed himself, sailed for England, and sought to make himself useful. He was born in Orange, New Jersey, May 22, 1886. His parents were Thomas Fenton Taylor, of New York, a grad- uate of Harvard in the Class of 1875, and Mary (Stetson) Taylor, originally of Bangor, Maine. His brother, Dr. Fenton Taylor, of New Y'ork, graduated at Harvard Col- lege in 1909. His own record, in school, college, and the larger world, as provided for the purposes of these memoirs is as follows: His preparation for college was made at the Newark Academy, Newark, New Jersey, from which he graduated in 1903. He took his part in sports from an early age, and for several vears was a member of the school track, base- ball, football, basketball, and gymnastic teams. He entered college in the fall of 1903 and graduated in 1908. His athletic activities in college were numerous. He played on his class football and tennis teams, and in his senior year was substitute quarterback on the varsity football team until serious internal injuries withdrew him from the game. He was a member of the D.K.E., Institute of 1770, Hasty Pudding, and Phoenix Clubs. On leaving college his desire for active outdoor work caused him to enter the field of contracting. He was asso- ciated first with the O'Rourke Engineering Construction Company, working as a pipe-fitter on the Knickerbocker Trust Company's building in New Y'ork; then with the Thomas Crimmins Contracting Company; but longest with the T. A. Gillespie Company, all of New York. While with the second of these firms he spent much time on the 74 (.EORCK STirrsON I AYI.OK reconstruction of the l);iri,H' canal lu-ar Koclu-stcr, \r\v \ork, wlierc lie made many friemls wlio came into his life later. In the fall of IJ)!.'). he estahlished his own coiitract- infj comi)any, Taylor. Phillij)l)ro\\ ii and ( 'ompaiiy. AMien war hroke out in Kuroj)c. he decided that indi- vitluals. if not the whole ct)untry. should he represented in the world's work. 'I'hus it was that as early as Septemher of l!n4 he cro.ssed to Enix hundred patients. Its jx-rsonnel and fnnds were hall Knglisji and hall' American, ^^'llen the orgaiii/.al ion was COIU|)leled 'Ja\lor was \\\:\(\r ml iii i ii isl ralriir (jiin rtil . GEORGE STETSON TAYLOR The hospital had good rail and water connections with the war zone, and soon acquired a standing with the French authorities which led to its constant use for seriously wounded cases. Taylor had a difficult position to fill because of the di- verse interests and methods of the French, English, and Americans with whom he had to deal. To his tact and de- votion the efficiency of the hospital was in large measure due. Towards the close of the summer of 1915 it was de- cided to separate the American and English elements into two separate hospitals. Before the time came for engaging in this new work Taylor crossed to England and married Hilda Dancocks, of London, who had been associated with the hospital at Yvetot. Shortly after his marriage, which occurred September 30, he developed mastoiditis, and died at St. Thomas' Hospital, London, on October 19, 1915. Throughout his short life Taylor displayed, among his chief characteristics, a great fund of energy, common sense, and good fellowship. This was shown both through what he accomplished, and in the host of sincere friends he had made for himself. One of these, a matron in the hospital at Yvetot wrote on hearing of his death: "I never encountered such a delight- fully clean, healthy mind; his judgment of people and situ- ations was remarkable." Another fellow- worker at YVetot gave fuller expression to the memory he left behind him: "He endeared himself to everyone at the Hospital which he certainly loved and worked for more faithfully than anyone else there. He never deemed any self-sacrifice too great, so long as it might advance the good work of the in- stitution. He was always good-tempered, and usually 76 (.k()R(;k stetson iayi.ok hap])y. ill sj)ito of a mult itiule of won-io; aiul it \\a> a joy to sec him \\t)rk out his ideals with a urim (K-tcrmiiiat ioii. ?nd a spleudicl steadfastness, to tlicir logical coiu lii>ioii. The s])leiuh(l work, in this way. which he iWd in tlioc tcrfi- l)k' times, iu the eause of liuman sutferin<;. will always hi' remembered hy us. who esteemed it a j)ii\"ilt'tic to woi'k witli liim." ALLEN MACKENZIE CLEGHORN Instructor Ur. Cleghorn was a Veterinary School Instructor in Comparative Physiology at Harvard in 1899-1900, and Instructor in Physiology in the ensuing year. He was born in London, Ontario, in 1872, of Huguenot, Scotch, Irish, and English ancestry, the son of Andrew Cleghorn. His father's death preceded his own. His mother, his wife, Edna (Gartshore) Cleghorn, and their two children sur- vived him. After studying as a boy at Trinity College School, Port Hope, Ontario, he attended the University of Toronto, where he received the degree of M.D. in 1892. A term of clinical work as medical superintendent of the Toronto 78 AT.LKX ^FACKEXZIE (M.ECUIORX Homo for Incurahlos was followed !>>• \hc contimiancc of his nuMhVal stiuHes in London. Kdinhur^h. and (das with people of all types and a rathei- happy memory for anmsing situations made him a very agreeable comi)anion, es])ecially when stories were being swapped." Between ISDS and lOOl he contributed a number of papers on physiological topics to the American Journal of P}njsiol()(nj. and one to the Journal of ihe Bosion Sociefy of Medical Science. As a teacher he was regarded as "clear, pointed, selective, and sympathetic," and liis friendships among students and colleagues were many and geimine. After two years at the Medical School he took up Ihe practice of his profession in Cambridge. I'hen lii^ htallh became impaired, and in the hoi)e of restoring it he re- tuiiird to Canada, where he spent niucli time at Algon(iuin Park, Ontario, fighting off tuberculosis. At the same time he in\<'stigate(l the hal)its of the wild ci-eatures who were yielding j)la(<" to cixilization. and recorded obsci-\ ;it ions, especiall\' on liil«Tnation. w hicli liaxc since been published. Tn this period aNo he prepared a manuscript on racial ex'o- lutioii and eugenics. \\ lieu the war c;inic he ruade re|)ealed -nlicitat idiis for accept ;i uce liv the |{(»yal A rr uy Mecjic.il ( drps. in I )eceUl- ALLEN MACKENZIE CLEGHORN ber, 1915, his health was considered adequate for field ser- vice, and he sailed for England. While awaiting orders to go to the front, with a captain's commission, he con- tracted broncho-pneumonia, and died March 22, 1916, in the Military Hospital at Bramshott, Hampshire. He was buried at Borden with military honors. CROSBY CIirUCH WHITMAN Class of 1880 1mmp:diately upon the deatli of Crosby Cliurcli AVIiil- inan, in Paris, on March 28, 191(1, anotlicr grachiatc of Harvard, AVilliani T. Canii)l)t'll, of the (Mass of 1875, like ^^)litIHan a resident of l^iris, hut in earh'er years a teacher of iii;it liciiialics in the Adams Academy at (^uiiicy. wlicii' \\ hit man had prepared for coHege, wrote a memoir of liini wliich tells the essential story of his life and work. It is given h('r<'\\ itli : Dr. ('n)>h\- ( 'liiinli Whit man. nf t lie ( 'la^- of jSSd, \\a> l>i>iii ill IJciiicia, ( 'alifornia, March v.'.'!. IS(I.'!, ;iml (hcd in l*;iti^, l-'rancc. .March '■^H, liHd. lie ua-< I he son ofjiid^'c McriianI Cnohy \\\i\[- Mian and M.ii \ lOii/alx-lh (Chnrcli i \N liil ni.in. I lis fa I Iht, of the IIar\ ar^ of IS Ki, was .i well know n al lonicy -al -law in San Si CROSBY CHURCH WHITMAN Francisco, and later became Judge of the Supreme Court of Nevada. Dr. Whitman prepared for college at Adams Academy, Quincy, Massachusetts, where he was a great favorite with both masters and schoolmates. The late Dr. William Everett, headmaster of the Academy, cherished a particular regard for him, and never failed afterwards when visiting Europe to go out of his way to call on him. Every teacher knows that it is one thing for a boy to do well what he likes to do, and quite a different thing if a subject is not to his taste ; for then success depends on character. Dr. Whitman was a case in point. He did so well in mathematics that his teacher, knowing that he came from a section of the country where science would be in special demand, supposed he was preparing to follow some branch of engineering; it was only after entering college that he said he had no taste for mathe- matics and had never thought of taking up a profession where they would be the foundation. In college his relaxation was in music. He was a very good pianist and his services were in constant demand for the musical entertainments of the societies to which he belonged. Early in the course he was chosen pianist for the Pierian Sodality, of which later he became secretary. He was a member of the D.K.E., librarian of the Institute of 1770, and president and musical director of the Hasty Pudding Club. He was graduated at Harvard with the degree of A.B., but his medical education was acquired in Paris where he was admitted to the Doctoral en Medecine. After an interval of experience in New York, returning to Paris, Dr. Whitman began his life work of private practice and of public services of various kinds originating in the American Hospital at Neuilly, of which he was one of the founders. He was occupied in this way when the war broke out. On the ap- proach of the Germans he made it his first duty to secure the safety of his patients. He was then invited by Mr. James H. Hyde, of the Harvard Class of 1898, to organize an ambulance 82 ( ROSBY CHURCH WHITMAX in his residence, to be placed under the fla^ of the Croix Rouge Frangaii>e. He took up tliis work with enthusiasm, and was ap- pointed medec'm chef hy the Minister of War; all was ready when the wounded arrived from the Battle of the Marne. With unfailin^f courtesy to all whom he met, and the many ([ualities which have endeared him to his friends, he devoted him- self to his new duties, soothinj; sufferers In* words as well as hy professional skill, encourafjing the despondent, and frecjuently providing; at his personal expense the best apparatus for unfortu- nate amjnitated men when the time came for them to leave the ambulance. In the multiplicity of details, many annoyances were inevitable; but he always kept his cheerful serenity; it was said that a mere glance at his countenance was enough to make a wounded man feel sure that he was on the road to recovery. Some months afterwards, when Mr. James Stillman j)laced his residence at tiie disj)ositi()n of the Hopital Militaire (lit ]'al-de- Grace, Dr. Whitman organized this ambulance, also, and was ap- I)()inted mcdecin chef l)y the medical director of Val-de-Grace, re- taining his former duties and having the additional responsil)ility that the new ambulance was reserved for officers, some of high rank. It is needless to say that the care of two ambulances was a serious strain; besides this he was on the staff of the Franco- Beige Dispensary for the relief of refugees from the war zone, and he visited nearlv everv dav an ambulance established in the Ecole Polytechnique; but he was so hai)j)y and successful in flic work that he felt no fatigue. It was during January, 1!)1(), on the first relaxation of pressure in the ambulances of Paris, that he felt the magnitude of Iiis effort. Oil tlie ad\iee of liis associates lie iiiterrtijjted his work, as he suj)i>osed, for a few days; but his liealtli failed rapidly. \\v pa.s.sed away in his sleep, at his own residence in Paris, in the presence of lii- iintther, the household, and th<' attending |>li\ - sicians. 'riiroughoiit the war his ashes remaim-d in a chapel in I'aris. w hence his inut her pia n lied to t ransfer t Iiciii to ( 'alifoiiiia. I lu-y 88 CROSBY CHURCH WHITMAN have been buried, instead, in the Suresnes Cemetery, a plot of ground in Paris given by the French Government for the burial of American officers and men, fallen in the war. His patients in the ambulances came from all classes and all branches of the service. Letters received from men who returned to the front or to their homes breathe affection and gratitude. One cannot say which class was the most impressed with his per- sonality — the Algerian tirailleurs, the French soldiers, or the officers of high rank. He was a dutiful son, a loyal friend, and a devoted physician. To this narrative and estimate a few facts, drawn chiefly from Reports of the Class of 1886, should be added. On graduating at Harvard College, Whitman's first plan was to study law, and his name appears on the roll of the Har- vard Law School for the year of 1886-87. But his real oc- cupation from 1886 to 1895, according to his own record of his life, was the study of medicine in France and Ger- many. Much travel, in all parts of Europe, fell also within these years. In 1894 he took his medical degree at the Uni- versity of Paris, and in 1895 returned to the United States. For two years, until 1897, he served as first assistant to Dr. Osier at Johns Hopkins University. In 1898 he took up private practice in New York. His health then failed him, and in 1901 he wrote in a Class Report: "I should like to have a word with all those who smile and say neuras- thenia doesn't amount to much." In 1901 he went to Paris and became medical director in charge of the Paris office of the Equitable Life Insurance Company, besides engaging in private practice. In 1908 he was appointed physician to the New American Hospital of Paris in Neuilly. Of the place he made for himself in Paris, his friend Henry W. Hardon, of New York, of the Harvard Class of 84 CROSBY rni'RC II WHITMAN 188'2, wrote soon after his death: "His uiieoinnionly at- tractive ])ersonal quahties iiiacK' friends of all his ac<|Uaint- aiices. His unusual skill met with ready recognition. He had speedily a position really uniciue in Pari<, where iiis services were demanded !>> Frenchmen as well as hy foreigners. In the American eonnnunity he had aciinired an influential position." ^ This friend wrote further of Whitman: "About a year ago I made the roumls of his hospital with him. 'Courage, mon ami I (^a va deja mieux. Encore un pen tie temps et vous verrez. TenezI Y-a-t-il quelque chose ((ue vons voulez.^ J'ai ecrit a votre mere. Elle va veiiir." 'Merci, docteur ; rien pour le moment. Mais que vous etes bon ! ' "'(^ue vous etes bon! — AVho can say that Whitman, '86, has missed a career of great distinction.^" 1 See Harvard Alumni Bulletin, May 17, 191G. MERRILL STANTON GAUNT Andover 1914-16 M.ERRILL Stanton Gaunt was a graduate of Amherst, in the class of 1914, who came to Harvard in the autumn of that year to study for the ministry at the Andover Theo- logical Seminary. After the mid-year examinations in the winter of 1916, he sailed, February 16, for France to enter the ambulance service. He was sent immediately to the Verdun front with Section 5 of the Norton-Harjes Unit, 86 MERRILL STANTON (i.VlNT and after a few weeks of (lan»;eroii.s service, died. Aj)ril .'>. 191(), of cerebro-spiiial ineniiiijitis in li()>i)ital at Har-Io- IHic, where he was buried with Frrncli military lioiior^. He was born in BurrillvilKv Rhode Island, July l^i. 1S!)'2. the son of Henry and Mary L. daunt, ^retiuien, Massa- chusetts, became the iiome from which he went, in due course, to AVorcester Academy, Andierst, and IlarNanl. A schoolmate at ^fethuen and Worcester, who was also with him at Andierst, has described his most marked character- istics as enthusiasm and determination. He was a hard worker, rather than a brilliant student, in college, accom- plishing what he set out to do, including the playing of football and hockey on his class teams. He was a member of the Andierst chapter of the Chi Psi Fraternity. In the >ummer of 101 -2 he worked his way to Europe on a cattle steamer, and was influenced toward socialism by what he saw of the life of the British sailors. In the following sum- mer, in order to inform liimself more fully regarding that life, he shipped as a cook on a freighter to South America. He did not decide to enter the ministry till alter leaving Andierst. In his single summer vacation, while studying at the Andover Seminary, lie did missionary work in South Dakota, covering four small towns on horseback. In term- time at Harvard he managed boys' clubs in Waltham and Watertow n. and was in charge of eleven such clubs in Rox- bury. He also did settlement work in Boston, and was a director <»f the Alumni Social Scr\irc Rnrcan in that city. He was a nicinlx-i- of the ('osmo|)olilan ( hib ol llar\ard, and ol the Intcr'iiat ional Socialist (Inb. The school and college friend ah-eady cited sailed with him as a steerage passenger on tin- .\(ln(ilii\ a lew days S7 MERRILL STANTON GAUNT after the group of Harvard and other vokmteers for the ambulance service which they were to join sailed on a steamer of the French line. This friend relates that among the steerage passengers were many families of Canadian soldiers going to Europe to be near their men on leave, and that Gaunt made friends with many of them, whose pas- sage he cheered by playing the piano and in other ways. He made also an enemy of the purser of the ship by opening the port-hole in his stateroom, when the officers would not open the ventilators. This brought him and his comrade under suspicion as spies, with the result that they had to report at Scotland Yard on every day of their stay in Lon- don, on the way to Paris, pending the investigation of their credentials. From Paris they went to the front within a few days, arriving there early in March, at the height of the First Battle of Verdun, in which they saw immediate and exhausting service. Gaunt devised a new way of hanging blankets in the ambulance, which so commended itself to his superior officer that he insisted upon its general adop- tion. For the nature of the service in which Gaunt bore his brief part and won the Croix de Guerre, a General Order of the 11th French Army, signed by General Petain, April 3, 1916, making the following citation of Section 5 of the Norton-Harjes Ambulance LTnit, speaks with sufficient clearness. This unit, it says: ^ ... a assure pendant une periode de onze jours de combat, du 8 au 19 mars, avec un mepris absolu du danger, les evacuations dans une zone particulierement battue par I'artillerie ennemie. De plus, tout son personnel a fait preuve d'un devouement et d'une endurance remarquables en assurant, par un service nioyen de 19 heures par jour, le maximum de rendement de cette unite. 88 MERRIT.T. >TA\T(^X (^VUXT One of (iaiint's iiistriKtor> in tlir Andovcr St-niinary has recalled his lively interest in social service, and has said: "It was the hnnunu* rather than the specuhitive or scholastic view from which he i)repared for the ministry. He was a boy with a keen sense of hnman need and a very lovable mixture of scientific and romantic interest in trying to help it." The priiuii)al of the Worcester Academy durin'^ Gannt's term of study there. Dr. 1). W. Ahercromhie, of the Harvard Class of 187(),has written of him more fully, as follows: I fomid him singularly unaflfeeted and genuine. There was a rare reticence that marked the sincerity of his nature, as if he should say "don't e.\j)ect uuiny words from nie, let what I am about disclose what I am." And he was busy about many things, always "consuming his own smoke," nuiking no declarations, but finding his best self-expression in what he was doing, not in what he was saying. There was a look of determination on liis characterful face and in his quiet eyes that showed the power to arrive at the point proposed. He counted f(ir inucli in his eomnnmity by weight of eliaraeter and by resoluteness of jnupose. His life even as an Aeademy boy seemed an ordered life in its aims and in its methods as w(>ll. He had no thought for himself, and. apparently was clear in liis mind of tlic ways aiui means hy wliidi liis jjiirposcs were to he achieved. He liad a real interest in the school, in its student acti\ ities, as \\('\\ as in his studies. Weighing less than the average fellow who tried for the football team, he was \-er\' regular and faithful in being on the field in lii'^ siijl reat the n';^nlar ele\cn when many a fellow of greater weight and strength did not. So he pro\cd liv his spirit that he u i>>lied lo li<- a good yoiiii;; man l)\ liis fatlici'. Joliii Jay ("liapmaii. of the Harxard (lass of 18H4, a hio^'rapliy in lit th- w liidi miivl he connlcil. now and licn*- after, as one of tin- mcmoiaMr picco of writing' cNokcd liy 91 VICTOR EMMANUEL CHAPMAN the war. The attempt of the following paragraphs will be primarily to draw enough from the book of his letters, with his father's explications, to tell the essential story of the life and death of this first American aviator who gave his life for France — and perhaps to send some readers to the book itself. Victor Emmanuel Chapman was born in New York City, April 17, 1890. In his father's blood there was a vital strain of the New England abolitionist of the mid-nineteenth cen- tury ; in that of his mother (Minna Timmins, half -Italian, half -American) a Latin fervor, producing a blend of inheri- tances from which the more usual qualities of young Ameri- cans could hardly have been expected to emanate. In Victor Chapman there seems always to have been some- thing unusual — a capacity of brooding sorrow, quickened by the early death of his mother, a strong religious sense, carried from childhood through boyhood into manhood, a zeal for righteousness, a love for danger so positive that much of the best in him lay dormant until the provocation of peril stirred him into activity, a corresponding love for natural scenery and for animals, a devotion to younger brothers and to friends, especially when they needed him, that had a quality of knighthood in it. There was also much that was ungainly, inarticulate, and slowly maturing in both the boy and the man. Nearly all of these points are illustrated by concrete instances recalled by Chapman's father. Soon after his death a classmate told this character- istic story: "Just five and a half years ago, I think. Chap- man declined to follow me across some ice floes half a mile out to sea because the going was palpably unsafe, and in- side of ten minutes he had saved my life by returning and 92 VICTOR E^fMAXUEL CHAPMAN walking out to sea till he tiiially liookoil mo out from the ic-y water on the muzzle entl of a loaded and rocked rith\ iNothing could he more typical of him." Such an one he had already shown himself in college. His ])reparation for it was made at the Fay School, South- horough. St. Paul's School, Concord, in France and (ler- manv for a vear, and at the Stone School in Boston for his final year of schooling. He had no aptitude for .sports, .said his father, nor for books; and the ])assion for color and scenery which offset these lacks was not a gift to make him at all a consjiicuons figure in the college community. A letter of his own, after he had begun to fly in France, sug- gests at least one of his undergraduate plea.sures: "It is easier to pilot an aeroplane than drive an auto when you get on, and far less dangerous than the autoing I used to do daily at Cambridge." By ways of his own he was develop- ing a force of character in keeping with the largeness and strength of his body. On graduating from College in 11)13 he went inunediately to Paris and entered an atelier for the preliminary studies in architecture which he was to pursue at the Beaux-Arts. He had thus been in France for about a year when the war began. It had la.sted hardly more than a month when he volunteered for service in the Foreign Legion of the French Army, and was accepted. l-'(tr IK ally a year he remained in the Legion, scr\iiig in the trenches at a jxiiiil, as iiis father says, "where I here were no attacks, but where inaction and the coiiliiiual 'sniping' .severely tried t lie iier\c>. K'ohii, an aeeoiiiplished Poli-h malliemal iciaii was shot, as lie and \ictor ueie ie.iiiiiig over t he /f////.v. He(lie ariii->. J-'oroNcr !i:i VICTOR EMMANUEL CHAPMAN one hundred consecutive days Victor was in the front trenches as aide-chargeur to a mitrail. He was sh'ghtly wounded once, and one-half of his squadron were either killed or seriously hurt." Through all this service he dis- played the greatest cheerfulness in the performance of ex- tremely miscellaneous tasks, the truest human kindness to his comrades, and an unfailing courage. The Legion, as Henry Farnsworth's letters have shown, brought together the most diverse types of men. In one of Chapman's let- ters a few of them pass in review: It might be of interest to you to know the names of the men in my squad. Markus, better class Russian Pole with French wife; Heredia, Malaga Spanish, writes for Spanish papers and has translated Mark Twain, etc.; Held, Swiss origin, born in Paris; Gabai, Turkish Jew, Constantinople, Spanish ancestry, cheap chemisier; Millet, Italian from near Monaco; Zimmermann, Alsatian, Strassburg, professional bicyclist, served as orderly to officer in Germany, speaks French with a vile accent; Ziidak, Russian Pole, very greedy, speaks considerable French; Chik- echki, ditto, speaks better French, a strong fellow; Bogdan, Aus- trian Pole, no French but German; Canbrai, miner, simple man, never gives trouble; Bajteck, Austrian Pole, greedy. These Poles are by far the best material physically for soldiers; and though not very bright, they do not give trouble. Gabai, the Turk, is all the time talking and getting into most heated arguments when- ever anyone will talk to him, in fact, his presence is always felt when he is in the room by his constant flow of language. Man- chiuski, the slight little Pole tailor, calls him the mitrailleuse. Recently Held got himself changed to the kitchen; the reason he gave me was that he could not stand the constant yelling and cursing. Victor Chapman had not been in the Legion a month when he related the following incident, with its unconscious 94 VICTOR EMMAXIET. ( II APMAX revelation of wliat lie was beginning to iiu^in to his com- panions in arms: I made a sentimental /«».r-;)(f.s' at Hfuilly Casoriic oiu' ni^ht. It was after taps l)ut the lamj) was still hurniiifj:. I lay trying' to sleep with my head to the midclK- of the rooiii. In fad I was al- most asleep. There was a tall in the room. I afterwards learned that the unfortunate Germans were called to be .sent to Morocco. Some one said, '"Oj/ eff Chapman?" and the next thinj^ I knew some one embraced me. I thought it was some joke, and liftiuii my leg pu.shed him across the room. A voice whimpered " San^ blague, c^esi adieu. " It was a j)oor fellow I had seen a few times, who. though really French, was born in Cermauy and had put his name down as German. Then he hurried off, but I was nuich touched hy his kiss for I hardly knew him and never heard his name. A fellow Lajiounairc has told another story, of .signifi- cance: One day a miiraiUeur came up to him saying, "I'm sick. The major has ordered me to drink milk for tMo weeks; but there isn't any here. They 're going to send me to the rear, and I'm bored with the notion." "Good," said Victor. "Stay where you are; I'll settle it." At dinner time Chapman disappeared. That eve- ning the section saw him returning accomj)anied by a cow wliich lie was dragging behind him. "I bought lier so that yon conld get your milk," said lie to the sick mitruilUur. "Now you can .stay with us." Chaj)nian was the Maecenas of llie rcginieni, I lie master of re\('ls, the friend of all. Mnch of the life in tlie trciiclics was tedious in the ex- treme to \icl()r ( liapmaii. He ''kej)! liim>elf going." j)er- hap.s most of all. through intcrol in the liuiiiaii ix'iiigs about him. Occasional meetings with Alan Sccger anw(»rl li were noted with jdea-^ure. "I g(> to .see VICTOR EMMANUEL CHAPMAN Farnsworth daily" — he wrote, April 12, 1915 — "and catch myself making estimates as to how he keeps up his interest ... I must say I come back feeling gayer after see- ing him." He turned for comfort also to books — Lamb, the Autocrat, Hamlet, Galsworthy, Emerson, a new vol- ume of his father's, read with pride and delight, the Bible. He made water-color sketches, with an increasingly skilful hand, when he could, and betrayed the architect's eye by comments, in his letters, upon the ruined buildings of Northern France. He saw the beauties of nature about him: "Apple trees are now in bloom," he wrote in May of 1915, "and when the nights are not too windy birds chirp all through them. I have not yet, however, heard anything to resemble my conception of a nightingale's voice. Last night, after the disturbing influence of the artillery, both sides sent up occasional rockets, short flickering stars which rose, bobbed a moment, and went out, showing up only the black silhouette of trees and feathery clouds banked upon one another. Did I tell you that in my night watches I have taken particular interest in the stars .f^ — like the an- cient shepherds, — and have made some shrewd guesses as to the Zodiac constellations." In spite of all these interests the comparatively inactive lot which happened to befall Chapman in the Legion be- came most irksome to him. "The boring part of this life" — he wrote to his father in February, 1915 — "is that it is only ideal for a boy of fifteen. Constructing houses with- out boards ; camping out with its hardships and difiiculties to be overcome; generally living a happy-go-lucky, hand- to-mouth existence; losing things right and left, if they are abundant; ^ — I have lost, I fear, almost entirely my per- 96 VICTOR KM MAM EL ( TIAr:\rAX spective of the oiitsielo world." A few inoiiths later, while still in the Legion, he wrote: "I feel that this is a most ex- cellent ai)i)renticesliii) for the job of tending a light-house or light-ship. At first when the ])lace is new, the work is interesting, the events (storms, etc.) are exciting; then one loses more and more the outside ])oint of view. The fine sunsets ami sunrises get monotonous, the people one thought ]>icturesque and amusing at first sight, lose their interest, and you have recourse to books, magazines, and newspapers. Of course here I do a little more. Give Eng- lish lessons, for instance." As time wore on, Chapman be- came more and more disgusted with having "neither helped the French, nor injured the CJermans," as he put it, and when the opportunity came to join the Lafayette Escadrille of American aviators in the French Army, a corps cV elite organized l)y Norman Prince (Harvard, '08), Frazier Curtis (Harvard, 'f)S), and Klliot C. Cowdin (Harvard, '09), he seized it with avidity. His only regret appears to have been that he was not with it from its very inception. "Victor's entry into thcAmerican Aviation was, to him," says his father, "like being made a Knight. Tt transformed — one might almost say — transfigured him. Thai the univer.se should have sui)i)lied this sj)iril with the consum- mation which it had sought from infancy and should lia\ c gi\(ii, in a few weeks, conii)lct(' ha])piness and (■om|)lete fullilliiicnt, — the crown of a life to which one can imagine no other perfect ending, — is one of the mysteries oi this divine age." In August. lf)l."). his traii>l'cr to the A\ iaiion Corp> was etfectcd. 'Hicn followed months of training, first as milrdiUciir <»r homlnirclier, then as pilolr. A graphic 97 VICTOR EMMANUEL CHAPMAN letter of August 25, describes his first successful raid into Germany, and his own joy at seeing the aerial bomb which he launched land on a railroad track, and not on civilian houses. In the spring he was ready to go to the front, and May 23 he wrote from Verdun: "We are really settling down to work, and I begin to feel that I am actively saving France and no longer toying with her expensive utensils." How much of a game it still was the following paragraph from a letter of June 1 will tell : This morning we all started off at three, and, not having made concise enough arrangements, got separated in the morning mist. I found Prince, however, and we went to Douaumont where we found two German reglage machines unprotected and fell upon them. A skirmish, a spitting of guns, and we drew away. It had been badly executed, that manoeuvre. But ho! Another Boche heading for Verdun! Taking the direction stick between my knees I tussled and fought with the mitrailleuse and finally charged the rouleau, all the while eyeing my Boche and moving across Vaux towards Etain. I had no altitude with which to overtake him, but a little more speed. So I got behind his tail and spit till he dived into his own territory. Having lost Nor- man, I made a tour to the Argonne and on the way back saw an- other fat Boche. " No protection machine in sight. " I swooped, swerved to the right, to the left, almost lost, but then came up under his lee keel by the stern. (It's the one position they cannot shoot from.) I seemed a dory alongside a schooner. I pulled up my nose to let him have it. Crr-Crr-Crr — a cartridge jammed in the barrel. He jumped like a frog and fled down to his grounds. Later in the morning I made another stroll along the lines. Met a flock of Nieuports, and saw across the way a squad of white- winged L. V. G. How like a game of prisoner's base it all is ! I scurry out in company, and they run away. They come into my territory and I being alone, take to my heels. They did come after me once too ! Faster they are than I, but I had height so 98 VICTOR EMMAXT'KT. (■TTAP^rA\ they could but leer up at jne with their ilead-white wiii^s and black crosses like sharks, and they returned to their own donuiin. In this and other letters there are vivid little pictures of the scenes that constantly gave i)leasure to his eyes. "Everyone says they get tired of flying. 'It's monotonous.' I don't see it," he wrote on June .5. continuined and wind-blow n clouds this evening that I should like to go out and examine them; but it's a bore for my mechatiic, and I d(iiil)l if" I could ^o hi<,'h enon^'h to warrant crossing tlif lines. i'lic (/(ludiinii (■I'rltiiiiinis was joined with all ol (liap- man's cu joxiiieiit of l)caul\', for lie was couslaulK' in com- Itat with (icrmaii macliiiu's. and landing with injuries to liimx-lf and lii> i)lanc. yet eager to lake wing again at the earliest ()j)p(>rtunily. It irked liim ^Mcally not to be con- stantly at it — .seeing eleai'ly at I he same t inie I he Immors 99 VICTOR EMMANUEL CHAPMAN of the notice his exploits were attracting. Only a few weeks before his death he wrote: It seems an exceptional chance for getting into the public eye, though, I must say it's too bad I'm not going into politics after the war so that I could make use of all this free advertising. I might almost run for the Assembly so as not to lose such a golden opportunity. Anyway, Conrad and Chanler [his younger broth- ers] are benefiting. I take it they will be pointed out at the Military Camps: "Hist! Dat guy has a brudder in the real war. He kills Chermans every mornin' like sparrers." Meanwhile, I sit in an open window with waves of leaden clouds drifting by, and the indefatigable graphophone churns out some vulgar tune below, and the other "heroes " play poker, and the Captain prac- tises scales on the piano. It is disintegrating to mind and body, — this continued inertia. The inertia was never of long continuance, or other than under compulsion, as it was at this very time, because of a head wound received in action. A few days later a fellow- member of the Escadrille, Clyde Balsley, was wounded and taken to a hospital behind Verdun. Before long it was found that champagne or oranges would hasten his re- covery. Chapman at once made provision for the cham- pagne, and, as soon as he was permitted to fly again him- self, began taking oranges to his friend. This he designed to do on the day of his death, June 23, 1916. Indeed the basket of oranges was placed in the machine in which he followed his captain, Thenault, Norman Prince, and Raoul Lufbery, when they set forth to go over the lines early in the afternoon. Chapman's purpose was to fly after them for a time, and then land at the hospital with the oranges for Balsley. But the captain. Prince, and Lufbery, seeing and attacking two German planes, were soon attacked by 100 VICTOR EM^IAXrEL CHArMAX two or lliivo more, turning the odds aj;ain>t them. Chap- man saw the situation, and rushed into the fight, unseen by his three friends, who believing tliemselves liopelessly out- numbered, started for their own lines. The reversed odds were now hopeless indeed — four or five against one. That one was seen — not by his own comrades, who supposed all the while that he was visiting his frientl in hospital, but by quite another observer — to dash to the ground, with his machine at full speed and uncontrolled. This report did not reach the Escadrille for a week after the event. "A glorious death" — wrote Norman Prince when the news came — '\f(icc a Vcnncnii and for a great cause and to save a friend I" From an unexpected angle Victor Chapman may be seen only a few days before his epical death — - at the bedside of Clyde Balsley in the hospital at Vatlincourt. This glimpse of him appears in a narrative, "'Severely Wounded,* The Story of a Wounded American in a French Hospital, Tran- scribed by Ruth Dunbar," which was printed in the (Jcn- iury Magazine for February, 1919. It is Balsley's own story, in which, after describing his intense longing for water, as he lay, greatly suffering, in the hosi)ital, he says: So violent was this one longing that I was actually hliiided. I did not at first see a man standing beside iii\- Ited. They eanie to me one by one ^ the heavy, black hair, the great arms, and the sincerest eyes ill the world. When I put tlicin all together, I gave a groan of joy. It was \ icior ("liai)rnaii, flown over from Har-Ic-I)uc. "Hello, old t.(.y," lie was saying. "Hen's voiir torusli." He was lioldin;: it on! in lii^ i^r,-,.;,| paw, and I lliiiik I realize(| even then how liariiur tlu' oiitbivak i)l llio war has public sentiment been more (lee|)ly aroused." On ^Fay '■24 Victor ('hai)man had l»een projjosed for ■ser- geant and for the ( 'roi.r dc (iiicrrf. The papers were passed, and reached tlie Kscaiirille two days after his cK'ath; but ('liai)man learned on the morning of ids last Might that they were coming. The McdaiUc Mllitdiir would also ha\e reached him in July had the necessary i)ai)ers been signeil, according to rule, before his tieath. I'he following citation appeared in the Journal ()(firitl for October 7, 1})1(>: Cliapnian (Victor) sergent pilote a rescadrille X. l'"24: pilote de ehasse qui etait uii niodele (raiidacc. d'eiu'rifit' et (reiitrain et faisait radmiration de ses cainarades d'e.seadrillc. Serieuseinent blesse ii la tete le 17 juiii, a (icinaiide a ne pas intorroinpre son service. Quelques j\)urs plus tard, s'etant lance Ti I'attaciiie de I)lusieurs a\i()iis (nuuMuis, a trouve uuv iiiort i^loriousc an {-ours a i)U[)il at the Arniichile School, it i> i-clated tliat nii one occasion, after the military cailets of the school had saluted the l?riti>h c(tl(tr>. ( lyde Maxwell ])roduced an American fla*; and, spreadin<,' the stars and stripes to the breeze, called out "Now. boys, ril show you something worthy of your lionor." The xonng colonials fortunatelv took it all in good ])art. gave the cheer for which the half-American lu)j)ed. and thenceforth called him "Doodles." Coming to Harvard (|uite without friends in the College, he soon made them there. Soccer was the only college sport he knew, and as a freshman he became a substitute on the ^ar^■aroj)honioi"e and his senior year, which was foi- him a half-ycai-. at t he end of w hicli he com- pleted the studies culitling him to a liachcloi's (fegree. The wai" licgaii hardly more than a inontli alter the graduation of ^Ll\w<■l^s clas>. lie sailed at once toi' iaig- land and eiiteicd training as an iufauti-y ofiicer. \N lieu his regiment . t he .Ninth Ivssev, was about to start for t he front. the condit ion of his healt h obliged him to ask toi' siek lea\ e. This la > ted for a year, in I he course of w Inch he lieeauie en- gaged to lie married. Laily in June, l!>ll words he had said to his father before leaviu<; En^dand. riiis lie did. in a maimer amply justifying the character- ization of him in the Second Report of the Class of l!)14: "^Lixwell was a man of the hi»;hest ideals. \ery modest and unassuming, with a sense of duty which would Lrook no shirkint;. Those whom he called friends were always warm friends, and these he never failed and never lost." ALAN SEEGER Class of 1910 i)E CAUSE Alan Seeger was a writer, and a writer who commanded serious attention, there is ample material for a more detailed memoir of him than this can possibly be. A thorough treatment of the subject would involve a careful study of origins and influences, ancestral and individual, with special reference to the more formative years of the 108 A LAN SEECiER young poet's life. Here it must sutHcr to give the essential facts of his brief hut fruitful career, drawing frei-ly upon words of his own to record his attitude towards life and some of his dealings witli it. He was horn in New ^'()rk. .luuc 2^^, ISJSS, the son of Cliarles Louis Sccger. and EUic Adams) Seeger. The fact that a part of lii> boyhood was sjjcnt in Mexico, where his father had business interests and sometimes li\-ed. taken together with his somewhat exotic api)earance, due to ])ictnres(iue clothing and a cons])icuous mat or thatch of black hair. ga\e the impression in College that his strange- ness was something racial and complete. As a matter of fact his blood was chiefly that of New England, anil except for the few years in Mexico, w ith its many cosmopolitan in- fluences, his vacations in the New Hampshire hills, and a winter in Southern ("alifornia. his boyhood was subjected to influences no more remote than those of New York City, Staten Island, and 'I'arrytown, New York, where he was ])re])ared at Hackley School to enter Harvard ( 'ollege. \ et all these spots were sj)ots of beauty places in which the eye might take a \arious delight and school itself to the Uses of art in w liate\t'r ft)rm. Especially of the poet it may be said : "As what he sees is, so lun'c his t houghts been.*' 'I'he poet and the child ha\'e this in coimnon, that they are contimially j)assing through "phases.*" In college Seeger j)asse(l through the alternate |)hases of loathing and lo\'ing the whole thing. In the second stage, his mother has w ritten, "he was in pegion who had once been a student in Harvard College. The following passages from two letters which Seeger wrote from ^Mexico in the sunnner vacation of !!)()}) to his friend and classmate, Edward Eyre Hunt. show how clearly conscious of his poetic ambitions Seeger was even before his college years were done: 4a DE HuMBoi.uT i'i. City of Mexico. Mex. August ^U, 1900. Dkak III NT : . . . My j)ur{)t)sc in writing you a^ain so soon is a tciitatixc one; I should like to have your opinion on an idea tliat occurred to nie a while ago. Now I suppose all of us who are at present devoting ourselves to poetical expression, "scorning delights and living la- l)orious days," are doing so with the intention sooner or later of collecting what seem to us the best of our })roductions and pub- lishing them as a first venture. It goes without saying that indi- \i(iually wc already have a certain amount of accomplishment that seems fit for such a collection, though perhaps not enouf,'ii of the l)cs| to I'onu a N'olume. lint I thought. wli\' would it not ]>(• a pleasant tiling if a lialf-do/cn or so of us should couihiuc what seemed to us t he Ixst of our work of this kind, w hich is also too loii;i fftr the connuoii standard of the college papers, and pub- lish it in a sintric \oluuic, as the achievement of the i)est talent of the Class of IfllO? And not oidy this, hut call it \'ol. Land affix to it a |)rcfacc, stating the nature and purpose of the wink, and exi)ressin^ the hope that it he eoiit uiued in ensuing years. \\ duld not this he soincthinji like the .Nbisenalmauachs of (lerinan Ho- niant ieisni? 'I'Im- ad\anta;:cs of the jilan secui to me to he these: First , and most nnporlani , it would undiinl)te(|ly piocun- a much wider euenia t i( in, and eonse(|ii<>nl reeo^Mnlion, of our work than ALAN SEEGER any individual publication would. Secondly, the expense would be mutual, and we would thereby be enabled to issue it according to our own taste, and in fitting style. To ensure a certain amount of circulation and returns, we could resort, if necessary, to pro- spectus and subscription. Thirdly, it would not preclude the possibility of including the same material in our later collections, should we wish to do so. Fourthly, it would be an inestimable stimulus to serious literary effort among undergraduates, would be an added bond between men of such tastes, and in the event of anything resembling a " school " rising in our midst, this would be its proper organ. As for a host of minor advantages, such as the pleasure of the undertaking, these need not be dwelt upon. Personally the idea appeals to me strongly. The contributors, as I fancy it, would be solely members of the graduating class, though this need not be insisted on. The work, as I said before, would be the best individual effort of a kind too long for the magazines; its eligibility would be passed on by the majority of those interested. The problem of finding an audience is much more difficult to- day than it was a hundred years ago, for today there is practi- cally no public for poetry as there was in those beloved times when sentimental females hung upon the prolific muse of Byron and Moore, and people watched the press with as eager an inter- est as today they watch the stock-exchange. Indeed, what more thankless undertaking than to publish a volume of verse now-a- days.^ I should never think of doing so except privately printed. Happy was Keats whose early work was loaded with contumely, compared with the modern bard whose work is simply ignored or else damned with the faint praise of an incompetent reviewer. Revilement is better than total disregard. The Chatterton whom Vigny pictures in his garret is really more fortunate than his present-day counterpart who would not even be able to raise a ripple of excitement on the stagnant waters of modern literary enervation. True, the poet's utterance should be perfectly spon- taneous, unpurposive, without a moment's consideration of the 112 ALAN SEEGER world's opinion, its admiration or neglect; and yet even Shelley. I believe, is authority for the discouragement it is to a m riter who believes himself j)ossessed of something worth saying, and never an ear to listen. Now this plan I have been speaking of seems to me the best solution, for here we could have at once just the audi- ence we desire. A\'liile in a j)erfectly disinterested way. it a])i)eals to me as the starting of a tradition whiih would always be a source of delight and might have nnthought-of consequences. If this interests you, impart the idea to some of the other men. Write me too and say what you think of it. . . . 4a DE Humboldt i'i, City of Mexico, 7-3()-09. Dear Hint: ... 1 am going to l)e in an attic ilown on Ash St. — \o. Hi — next year, and I hope you will come around sometime. It has neither heat nor light, exccjjt what I can furnish myself, l)ut it has a beautiful view of the eastern sky and is perfectly quiet, which are far more important. Do come around sometime and let us talk over the prospects of the impecunious poet, who hates everything .sordid and material, and would prefer a gypsy life to being chained down to an office-desk — in Gaza of the Philis- tines. You, of course, with your reputation, have, no doul)t, plenty of good oj)enings; certainly you could be a "young in- structor" f(tr the asking. But as for me . . . well — forward, tho I canna see, I guess and fear. Seeger's entrance into the life of the College through his later years there took the form especially of freciuent and extensive contributions of verse to the Harvard Moiifhli/. 'I'his j)erio(lical. no longer extant, was then i)a>^ing through a time when its young poet.s were .scorning cai)ital letters foi- tlic bcginin'ng of tlicir lines unless caj)ilals would liaA'c l»(<'n rr(|iiir«(l in pidx-. Sccgci- lent liini>rn', probably with ALAN SEEGER enthusiasm, to this bizarrerie of print, which disappears even from the verses of undergraduate days included in the vol- ume of "Poems," for there they are, three original pieces of verse placed with the surprisingly mature "Juvenilia" and a Canto of Dante's "Inferno" among the "Transla- tions." It is all the work of an ardent lover of beauty as an end in itself, and possesses to a striking degree that sensu- ous quality of beauty which marks the whole body of See- ger's poetic writing. This contribution of poetry to the college life of Seeger's undergraduate years was not one that commanded popularity or prominence, but it was the thing he had to give, and he gave it in abundant measure. The value of the gift is much clearer now than it was in 1910. A college contemporary of Seeger's, John Hall Wheelock, of the Harvard Class of 1908, has told in the anonymous "Point of View " of Scribners Magazine for January, 1917, of Seeger's utter indifference to the usual incentives, even of young poets. Large as his acknowledged output was, he was constantly reputed to be tearing up verses, unseen by his friends, because he had not satisfied himself with them. A publisher who offered to print his poems soon after he left college is said to have received not even so much as a reply. Mr. Wheelock's descriptions of his first and his last meeting with Seeger present something both of the out- ward and of the inward aspect of the man: Seeger was of striking appearance. The writer recalls his first glimpse of him at a rather voluble meeting of one of the literary societies at Harvard where both were at that time undergradu- ates. Tall and rather sparely built, with a pale, but forceful and strangely immobile and mask-like face, straight black hair cut 114 ALAN SEEGER square across the forehead, and remote eyes, he sat through the entire evenini; in ahsohite silence, hardly deif^ning as much as a reply to questions directly put. At first this might have been at- tributed to either affectation t)r shyness, but a certain candor coui)led with entire self-possession soon eliminated both solu- tions. ( )n being questioned l)y a frieiui at the close of the di.scus- sion as to his extraordinary behavior, he announced with entire naturalness that the conversation had not appealed to him, and added that he was by nature not interested in trivial talk. This episode was characteristic of the man and, incredible as it may .seem, carried with it no suggestion of conceit or pose. The final meeting was three or four years later, riius Mr. ^^llcelock records it: I recall now our last talk. It was during the sunuuer before his (h'parture for Fraiu-e in 1!)!':.' and on a perfect moon-clear August niglit. I recall the familiar fatalism that he then gave voice to. the fierce discontent and hunger of the man, as of one who seeks bliiuily something greater than him.self, whereby he nuiy be lil)erated, through which he may reveal himself, to which he may con.secrate and surrender his entire soul. I recall then the sudden realization, new to me at that moment, that for .some spirits the every-day j)re,ssure of life is not sufficient, the every- day demands of life not large nor heroic enough in tlicir claim. As for death - — well, I recall also his favorite Indian phrase, re- |)eat<'d that evening, and which sums up beautifully his own atti- tude: " I?l•^ll,•lll;dl. De.'ifli is a transient tin'iigl" lielween leaving college in 1!)1() and going to Paris in 101 '2 Se<'gcr a])pcars to have led what would commonly be reganh'd a> a life of nuich futility — refusing to "become imi)licate(l in any kind of a job," seennng nu'rely, as ^Fr. Wlieelock has exj)resse(l it, "well on the way toward be- coming a complete dih'ttante." Seeger himself knew well 1 l.'> ALAN SEEGER enough that he was not laying the foundations of the ''suc- cess" he was wont to scorn. A letter written at this time to a college official with whom he was on terms of friend- ship contained a curiously revealing and prophetic sen- tence: "My only salvation will be to die young and to leave some monument which being, if such is possible, more beautiful than the life it commemorates may seem to pos- terity an only and adequate excuse for that life having been." A friend of young poets, who saw much of him during this New York period, has written: Alan was consistently medieval, and although his criticism of any form of art was surprisingly keen he seemed completely ignorant, or, let me say, unconscious of everything that had been written during recent years. I do not think there was any pose about this, and I always remember with amusement a Sunday afternoon when he and B both dropped in unexpectedly to supper. One kept asking if I had seen the latest sonnet by so- and-so which was quite worthy of Keats, and the other was quot- ing from the Cantique de Soleil of St. Francis and Claudion's De Raptu Persephone. Neither of my guests seemed to have the slightest comprehension of what the other was talking about and the supper was an amusing affair. . . . We used to think there was nothing human in the boy, but one night when fire engines passed he threw open the window and put out his head, after which we commenced to have hope of him. The fact that he made such a disagreeable impression on many people was due, I think, to his unconscious rudeness. He was a consistent hedonist and if someone who did not seem to him beautiful, either mentally or physically, happened to come in while he was with us he would take a book and read until that person left. Of course his life abroad and particularly his life during the war changed and developed him greatly. 116 ALAN SEE(.ER As "a consistent liedonist " Alan Seeger found in Paris through the two years before tlie war abundant opportu- nity to bear his part in the vie de Bohemc wliicli finds its re- flections in his *' Poems." But this was not all. "In Paris," says ^Ir. AVlieelock, he was happier than he had ever l>een before, lie made many congenial friends, and a number of distinguished and even cele- brated figures in the world of art and letters were strangely drawn to the silent young American, who accepted this recog- nition with his usual calm and poise as something quite to be ex- pected. Again, he was said to be writing much, but again made no efforts to publish, and his work was hardly shown even to his closest friends. He was still uncertain of himself and his aims, still waiting for that destiny which he felt every day more clearly and steadfastly was somehow in preparation for him. Seeger's own account of himself when a "devotee of Learning for Learning's sake" has already been quoted. In the same letter he refers to his apostasy from Learning, his following in the path of those, "obsessed by the burn- ing vision of ITa])piness," who "left the quiet groves of the Academy and went down into the city in search of it." The innnediately ensuing passage from the same letter, written, let us remember, after a year and a half of soldier- ing, is needed to complete Seeger's portrait of himself: It li;i> bccri the lii>t()ry of many young men, no douhl. I^iit iii\- licddiii^in. if -ikIi il in;iy lie called, was not .superficial like lliat of so iiiau^\-, to wIkum I lie einolional means ()iil\- (lie sexual. I was snl)limely consislni ol" my indi\'idual being I saw tlie emolional life e<|Ually tlixided l)etween tliese two cardinal j)rinci])les. Tlie dedieal ion lo bo\ c al(»ne, as ()\ id prel- 117 ALAN SEEGER tily confesses his own in more than one elegy, is good as far as it goes, but it only goes half way, and my aspiration was to go all the gamut, to "drink life to the lees." My interest in life was passion, my object to experience it in all rare and refined, in all intense and violent forms. The war having broken out, then, it was natural that I should have staked my life on learning what it alone could teach me. How could I have let millions of other men know an emotion that I remained ignorant of.'' Could not the least of them, then, talk about the thing that interested me most with more authority than I? You see, the course I have taken was inevitable. It is the less reason to lament if it leads me to destruction. The things one poignantly regrets are those which seem to us unnecessary, which, we think, might have been different. This is not my case. My being here is not an accident. It is the inevitable consequence, as you see, of a direction de- liberately chosen. The summer of 1914 found Seeger in London, where he vainly sought a publisher for his poems. On his way back to Paris, when war became a certainty, he left his manu- script with a printer in Bruges — not the most prudent choice for safe-keeping — expecting soon to reclaim it for publication. On August 20 he left Bruges to enlist in Paris, and on the 24th enlisted in the Foreign Legion. Near the end of the next month he wrote to his mother from Tou- louse, where his regiment of the Legion was drilling: I hope you see the thing as I do and think that I have done well, being without responsibilities and with no one to suffer ma- terially by my decision, in taking upon my shoulders, too, the burden that so much of humanity is suffering under and, rather than stand ingloriously aside when the opportunity was given me, doing my share for the side that I think right. Gratitude to Paris for all it had meant to him was a powerfully impelling motive. "To me the matter of su- 118 ALAN SEEGER preme importance." he wrote in iiis diary after nearly a year in the army, "is not to be on the winning side, bnt on the side where my sympathies lie. . . . Let it always be un- derstood that I never took arms ont of any hatred against Germany or the Germans, but j)urely out of love for France." In another ])lace the motive is given a little dif- ferently in Seeger's own accounting for the young noIuu- teers of foreign birth who rushed to the French colors: "Why did you enlist.''" In every case the answer was the same. That memorable day in August came. Suddenly, the old haunts were desolate, the boon companions had gone. It was un- thinkable to leave the danger to them and accept only the i)leas- ures oneself, to go on enjoying the sweet things of life in defence of which they were perhaps even then shedding their blood in the north. Some day they would return, and with honor — not all, but some. The old order of things would have irrevocably van- ished. There would be a new companionsiiip whose bond would be the common danger run, the common sufferings borne, the common glory shared. "And where have you been all the time, and what have you been doing.' " The very question would be a reproach, though none were intended. How could they endure it.' Seeger's "Letters" are as much to be read as his "Poems" for any adefjuate understanding of the wholly pagan and fatalistic philosopliy which dominated this dis- ciple of I he absolute in beauty and freedom. In liic lir>L October of the war he was looking, like the rest of the world, for ils early Icrmination: "I think you can count on seeing me at Fairlea next summer, for I shall certainly return afl<'r the war to see you all and recuperate." Before the cud of the year lie was writing in his tliary: "I'here will lie w.ir foi- iii.iiiy years to come in lOuropc ;iiid I sliall 111) ALAN SEEGER continue to be a soldier as long as there is war." As the months wore on it became clearer still that a long war lay ahead, but from Seeger came only words of happiness that he was where he was, doing what he did. That was con- tinually the hard work of a good soldier, living fully up to his belief that Strife played just as important a part in the world as Love. You must not be anxious [he wrote to his mother in June of 1915] about my not coming back. The chances are about ten to one that I will. But if I should not, you must be proud, like a Spartan mother, and feel that it is your contribution to the tri- umph of the cause whose righteousness you feel so keenly. Every- body should take part in this struggle which is to have so de- cisive an effect, not only on the nations engaged but on all humanity. There should be no neutrals but everyone should bear some part of the burden. If so large a part should fall to your share, you would be in so far superior to other women and should be correspondingly proud. There would be nothing to regret, for I could not have done otherwise than what I did and I think I could not have done better. Death is nothing terrible after all. It may mean something more wonderful than life. It cannot possibly mean anything worse to the good soldier. So do not be unhappy but no matter what happens walk with your head high and glory in your large share of whatever credit the world may give me. The quotations from Seeger's "Letters and Diary" might be extended indefinitely. They would show him with his eyes unfalteringly fixed on the true objects of the conflict, enjoying the loveliness of nature and the pleas- ures of human intercourse — such as the meetings with his fellow Harvard graduates and legionnaires, Victor Chapman and Henry Farnsworth, — reading, thinking, 120 ALAX SEEGER leading in general the life ont of whieli sueli poems as "Champagne (1914-15)," "I Have a Rendezvons with Death," and the "Ode in Memory of the American Volun- teers Fallen for France" could naturally proceed. In the matter of outward circumstances, he will be found in the front-line trenches of rham])agne before the end of Octo- ber. 1})14. on the Aisne, in Alsace, in the 1915-10 Battle of rhami)agne, sometimes en rcpos back of the lines, more often at the very front, slightly wounded in February, 1915, and, much later, invalided, through bronchitis, back to Biarritz, whence he wrote to his mother in March of 191(): I hope you got my letters from the hospital soon enough to be reassured about my not being at A'erdun. Of course, to me it is a matter of great regret and I take it as a piece of hard luck. . . . All climates are alike to me, but the best now are those that smell of powder in the day and are lit by the fusees eclairantes at night. Back at the Somme front he wrote significantly, to his marraine on June 1, 191(): The noticeal>lc young man you describe as liaving seen at Lavenue's was probably myself, for it was my pleasure in those days to be noticeal)le just as now it is exactly the opposite. Wliere once it was my object to be individual, it is now an even greater satisfaction to merjie into the whole, and feeling myself the smallest eog in the mi^Mity maciiinery that is grinding out tiie future of llie world, whatever that is to be. These woids were writ Icii innnediately after Seeger's en- tirely lium.iii and read in |)nblic lli^ "0(h' in Memory of the Ameri- can \(»luntcer.s I'allcn lor I'rance" — one of llic small ALAN SEEGER number of really beautiful poems brought forth by the war. Another poem, his last, a sonnet in which he looked beyond the days of war, was enclosed in a letter to his 7narraine written June 21, 1916, the day before his twenty- eighth birthday. He had been looking forward eagerly to participation in a great attack, and continued so to do. There was not long to wait. For several days he and his comrades were on the tiptoe of expectation. Seeger's friend and fellow legionnaire, Rif Baer, an Egyptian, has described the final scenes. This was the last of all: About four o'clock the order came to get ready for the attack. None could help thinking of what the next few hours would bring. One minute's anguish and then, once in the ranks, faces became calm and serene, a kind of gravity falling upon them, while on each could be read the determination and expectation of victory. Two battalions were to attack Belloy-en-Santerre, our company being the reserve of battalion. The companies forming the first wave were deployed on the plain. Bayonets glittered in the air above the corn, already quite tall. The first section (Alan's section) formed the right and van- guard of the company and mine formed the left wing. After the first bound forward, we lay flat on the ground, and I saw the first section advancing beyond us and making toward the extreme right of the village of Belloy-en-Santerre. I caught sight of See- ger and called to him, making a sign with my hand. He answered with a smile. How pale he was! His tall sil- houette stood out on the green of the cornfield. He was the tallest man in his section. His head erect, and pride in his eye, I saw him running forward, with bayonet fixed. Soon he disap- peared and that was the last time I saw my friend. The village of Belloy-en-Santerre was taken, though Seeger, fallen, July 4, 1916, among the first in the attack, could but cheer his comrades on as they dashed past the 122 A LAX SEEGER sj)ot whoro lie lay dyinji'. The fourth stroi)he of the Me- morial Day Ode which he ilid not read in Paris should be read when he and other American volunteers of the earlier days of the war are renienihered: () t'rifiujsl 1 know not >\\hv that war began From w liich no people nobly stands aloof If in all moments we have given proof Of virtues that were thought American. I know not if in all things done and said All has been well and good, Or if each one of us can hold his head As proudly as he should, ( )i\ from the pattern of those mighty dead Whose shades our country venerates today, If \ve'\e not somewhat fallen and somewhat gone astray. lint you to whom our land's good name is dear, W there be any here Who wonder if her manhood be decreased, Relaxed its sinews and its blood less red Than that at Shiloh and Antietam shed. Be proud of these, have joy in this at least. And (TV : "Xow heaven be praised That in that hour that most imperilled her. Menaced her liberty who foremost raised Euroi)e's bright flag of freedom, some there were A\'lio, not uiMuindfnl of the anti(|ue debt, (aine liack the generous path of Lafayette; And when of a most formidahle foe Slie eheeked each onset, arduous to stem — Foiled and frustrated thcin On those red fiehjs when' Mow with furious blow \\ii> countenMl. whether lli<- gigantic fray Itolled l>y the Meuse or at the Hois Sabot, Aeeents of ours were in the fierce melee; ALAN SEEGER And on those furthest rims of hallowed ground Where the forlorn, the gallant charge expires, When the slain bugler has long ceased to sound. And on the tangled wires The last wild rally staggers, crumbles, stops, Withered beneath the shrapnel's iron showers : — Now heaven be thanked, we gave a few brave drops; Now heaven be thanked, a few brave drops were ours. IIE\1{Y AT GISTI S COIT Class of 1910 xIenhy Augustus Coit, horn al Coiicortl, New Hainp- sliiro, "May '2('k 1H8S, was the only rln'ld of J()s('i)li TTowland Coit. president of tlic New "NOrk puhlisliin"^ lionse of Mof- fat, ^'ard and Company, antl Adeline (BalclO Coit. His father's father wa> tlic \{v\ . Henry A. Coit, fir.st rector of St. Paid's Sehool, Concord; his mother's father was the Rev. Canon Lewi.>. Halch, once rector of Si. liarlholo- HENRY AUGUSTUS COIT mew's Church, New York City, and for many years Secre- tary of the House of Bishops of the Protestant Episcopal Church. The boy received his preparation for Harvard College at St. Paul's, and in the autumn of 1906 entered college with the Class of 1910. He remained at Harvard only two years. In the first of these he was captain of the freshman crew, having brought with him from Concord the interest and skill in rowing which St. Paul's has done so much to de- velop. In the seven years between leaving college in 1908 and joining the British Army in Canada, Henry Coit was em- ployed in New Y^ork State and Pennsylvania, by the Long Island Railroad Company and the Good Roads Machinery Company, and on a ranch in Klickitat County, Washing- ton. In his turning from these pursuits to that of a soldier in the fight against Germany a succinct explanation is to be found in a letter to his mother from the "sister in charge" at the hospital in which he died: "I asked him once," wrote this Canadian nurse, "how it happened he was out fighting with us, coming from U.S.A." "Our fight, too," was his answer. His military record is brief. On December 15, 1915, he enlisted at Montreal as a private in the Fifth University Overseas Company of Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry — the only American in his company. From this date until March 15, 1916, he was in training at Montreal. On March 30 he sailed for England on the Olympic, con- voyed by British warships, with his company and five thou- sand other Canadian troops and eighty nurses. From April 10 to June 1 he was in training for the front at Shorncliffe K6 HENRY AlC.rSTrS C(UT — East and West Sancllin^'. From East SaiuUing- he wrote home on May ^7: "Today six of ns pottered about digging up httle bits of grass around the officers' quarters, and we varied the programme somewhat. l>y kilhng sixteen rats, but wlien one is longing to get to France, grass jMdling. rat kilhng, and baseball are hardly satisfactory." Again on May ;>] he wrote: "I'he officers we have met here are splendid fellows, most of them. It is my luck to be asked when I am going to get a conunission — but if you could see some of the young stiffs that have commissions, you would be tickled to death that I hadn't one, and I feel if I get recommended for a commission at the front, that's well and good — but T don't want it on pull. I think I would regret any step that separated me from my company, any- way, and it is one of the things I look forward to, fighting side by side with some of my pals to help put the Germans where they belong. And I won't put on paper where they should be. " I am longing to go to F^rance, and I '11 do my bit the best I can." From June 5 to Jidy .3 he served in the trenches at the front, exce])t for days in billet back of the line. On July ^2 he was struck by a motor lorry near Ypres, and "danger- ously wounded" through compound fractures of both knees. On July 5 he was taken to the Third Canadian Clearing Station at Remy Siding near Poperinghe. I Fere, .iflcr intense suffering, his right leg was amj)utat<'d on Augu>l 1. tlic earliest time at which the surgeons Ijclieved him strong enough to stand the operation. Here. : HENRY AUGUSTUS COIT When his parents in America heard of his injuries, they sailed at once for Europe, hoping to help him in person. In London they received bulletins of his condition, especially from a Church of England chaplain who was constantly seeing their son in the hospital. On August 3 he tele- graphed himself to his father a message of affection and pleasure that they were so near him. In London they re- ceived the news of his death. Since then they have printed a small volume containing a number of letters from the chaplain and others who ministered to Henry Coit in the last month of his life. If it was denied him to show his qualities in battle with the enemy, they were memorably displayed in his fight with suffering. This is what the "sister in charge" wrote, in part, about him: I want to tell you that among the wonderful, brave men that came to us here, your son stands almost preeminent. And every one that came in contact with him says the same thing. He ever had a ready smile and answer, and even at the worst moments never lost his courage or courtesy for a second. Only a few days ago, he said to me, "You will have to lunch or dine with me when we get back to New York, sister " (though a Ca- nadian, my nursing life was in New York City), "if you don't mind going somewhere with an old cripple." So often, when he was having a hard time, I have said I was sorry, or it was too bad, or some such thing, and he would answer with his winning smile, "Never mind, sister, it is all in the old game!" Never once did I hear him utter a complaint or regret. And we all loved the way, when we got him fruit or such, how he al- ways wanted to share it with the others. So many who passed through the ward when he was there have written to ask about him, and so many P. P. C. L. I.'s have called to inquire about him. 128 HENRY Arr.rsTUS COIT Anotlier l)it of testimony is found in an ''Extract from a letter from one of the staff attached to the Casualty Clearing Station": The boy, Coit, whom you mention was here with us for more than four weeks — from the time he was wounded. Every day I saw and spoke to him. He was the «;amest lad I have ever seen in all my experience with boys. He was a standing rebuke to those silly persons who siigfjjest that Americans are lacking in courage. Sisters, surgeons, all of us loved that lad. In spite of suffering he always smiled. There was never a complaint or grumble from his lips. . . . That lad had blood and breeding. I have never seen such another case of heroism as his. One night they thought he was dying, and 1 went into the ward where he was. Screens had been put about his bed. The chaplain sat by his side, holding his hand and repeating prayers. The nursing sister, who had been at the front from the first, was bathing his forehead, and weeping like a child. When the prayers ceased, Coit spoke about arrangements for his funeral. He was calmly heroic. He did not go then, but about two weeks later. . . Young Coit's parents have every reason to be proud of such a son. For the last three weeks of his life it was his soul that kept his body going. He had ab.solutely no fear of death. Yes, Coit was the bravest lad I have ever known. "Tie never regrett
    .s(jr (iiiindgenl . Ills letters fr(jui I lie lioiil .>ho\v ROBERT EDOUARD PELLISSIER that this was not his last piece of scholarly production. On July 19, 1915, he wrote: "Did you see my book? The Ox- ford Press, American Branch, New York, sent me a copy of it. My sister did all the proof-reading, so there are no mistakes in spelling. Thanks to her and to me the Great American Public has now a School Edition of Racine's Berenice. I may make five dollars on it, this coming aca- demic year; nothing like the prospect of great wealth to make life rosv." t- After a pleasure trip through France and Spain in the summer of 1913, Pellissier entered again upon the teaching of Romance Languages at Leland Stanford Jr., and had performed this work for a year and received his appoint- ment as Assistant Professor when the war came. The spirit in which he took the responsibilities it imposed upon him has already been indicated. On leave of absence from the University, extended to cover the brief remainder of his life, he offered himself for military service in France just as soon as the long journey from California would per- mit. Two months of military drill at Besangon, in his na- tive department of Doubs, placed him in the Fifth Bat- talion of the chasseurs a pied — an elite branch of the French Army, distinguished from the line infantry, the pilous, who were expected to march about eighteen miles a day, by a corresponding expectation, as he once ex- pressed it, "to go as much as thirty with the whole load." Though not trained, like the chasseurs alpins, primarily for mountain service, the regiment of "Blue Devils" to which Pellissier belonged was ordered at once to the Vosges, a region in which his early delight in the novels of Erckmann- Chatrian gave him a special interest. Here he took part in 134 ROHERT EDOr.VRD PELLTSSIER trench warfare of the most exacting nature until, at the end of January, 1915, near Steinhach, lie was wounded in the shoulder. 'IMiough his wound was healed after four months in liospital. the condition of his shoulder would not permit him to carry a knapsack. Accordin«i;ly. he determined to ])repare himself for a counnission, passed the examinations for the ofhcers' trainin() possible that I may not. I am writing to my brother •John, a letter of general interest. If I should not come baek, you wouhl tell him, that to tlic last my thoughts were with him and with our taiiiily in .Vmerica and also that I do not regret the <-hoicc I made in returning to France. This will .seem very foolish if tomorrow or the da.\' after I slioidd return as usual, liul you \\\\\ cerlaiiilx nnd<-rstand that at this time I cannot retrain IVom lo<»king at all the possihililies and he sih-nl. l.'J.> ROBERT EDOUARD PELLISSIER It was not "tomorrow," but early in the morning of "the day after" that he received the wound from which he died before night. His battahon had been relieved, and to him was assigned the task, usually an officer's, of remaining in the sector when all his comrades had left and giving the countersign to those who were to take their places. While thus alone he was shot through the chest by the ball of a mitrailleuse, fulfilling his duty in a post of trust. This brave soldier was primarily an intellectual, and a humanist. The volume of "Letters from a Chasseur a Pied: Robert Pellissier," printed for his sister. Miss Adeline Pel- lissier in 1917, reveals him clearly in this light. It contains many passages describing life in the French Army as many other soldiers saw it. It discloses also the individual point of view of a thoughtful, cultivated man, and the few quo- tations from it for which a place may here be found are chosen with this end in view: September U, 1914. Several hundred thousand men have just been killed or are exposed to imminent death. Yet the thousands who remain are calm and follow their daily routine. I understand why a great patriotic drama is hardly ever immortalized through an artistic interpretation at the time it took place. Did the poets of the fifteenth century have any inkling of what Joan of Arc was to mean to posterity.? Perspective is lacking. It is only later, much later, that people come to realize that the fate of a nation de- pended upon a certain event. October 12, 19U. Everything would be satisfactory were it not that yesterday while taking a leap, the last one in the drill, I hurt my knee, bruising it badly; now it is swollen. The medical examiner hav- ing sent me to the infirmary, I witnessed the cleaning of a wound. I had to leave the ward and on reaching the corridor I fainted, 136 ROBERT EDOIARD PELLISSIER falling' on the floor full length. The worst of it is that this acci- dent has taken away my self-confidence — my knee, the rain, the straw, the rememl)rance of my mishap, — all these things depress me more than I can tell. What shall I do in the trenches? Christmas, 191 If. Men become religious in war time. On Christmas day our officers went to mass in state and style. Yesterday I had some fun watching \arious kinds of chasseurs and dragoons and nuile- teers and artillery men sneaking into the church, coming by the back way and progressing cautiously and .somewhat sheei)ishly towards the church, opening the door .stealthily and entering crab fashion. Bold l)ad boys in ordinary times and weather, but made meek by the events. January IJf, 1915. I am glad you heard Brieux. I have read about ten of his plays. I always liked him because of his virility. He stands in fine contrast with a good many of our modern writers who are altogether too supple. From a moral standpoint I hate flabbi- ness. I am more of a Huguenot than most people think. January '2S, lUlo. The French are a pretty brave race, believe me, and the only real darn f(M)ls in the lot are those who ^w'xie novels about them. If I ever get back to Stanford I shall give a course on the French novel with a view to rclial)ilitating the race. I am putting all manner of curious and interesting facts in my diary, which one hundred years from now should be worth millions of dollars from an historical standjjoiiit. February 7, l'.H.'>. Since I have been liere tlie (ieniians attacked twice, and got I heir-, richly eacli I iiiie. The lii'^t liiiM' was on I lie Kaiser's birth- (l;iy ;in(| I liey came up by fours, shouting drunk and izol cleaned ont. Tlie ^-ccond time tliey caMK' in hordes, rushed two trenches and pincliccl ;i rajiid lire i:nn, w liereii|)i)ii our conunaiider came along, drew his re\ ol\ cr and my friemls charged w it li him, kicked 137 ROBERT EDOUARD PELLISSIER the Dutch out of the trenches, got hold of the machine gun and made a lot of prisoners. I have been told that the ground in front of the trenches is gray with German uniforms. One of our captains wept when he saw the slaughter of Germans, for young men are young men, even when they are Germans. These slaugh- ters take place at dusk or at night. Such is war, Tim! February 11, 1915. For a decadent race, the French are doing well; but good Heavens, what a futile and a criminal thing war is. No one who has not seen it can realize how wicked it is. Only an ass or a bandit can talk about the necessity or the beauty of war. {March, 1915.) Anatole France, Bourget, and Barres are men of morbid tem- perament. In support of their weakness they place all the re- sources of a skillful dialectic which used in favor of a good cause might do much good and people come to think that it is freedom of thought which has created such a temperament while as a matter of fact it is their temperament which has given a twist to their minds. ... I always felt that these writers were in no way the leaders of French thought. From a moral viewpoint, they are the WTctched descendants, the last heirs of a long line of fast esthetes, which have for a common ancestor Chateaubriand, as he appears in the Genie du Christianisme. These people cannot teach anything to the young men of modern France. As leaders of the new generation, they have made a dismal failure. Barres especially, who at one time had high pretensions in this respect. Young men turned to other writers like R. Rolland and Brieux, who were not obliged to display so much art in defense of tem- peramental weakness. April 22, 1915. The one decent thing that may come out of this horrible mess may be the final discrediting of war in Europe, and perhaps else- where. It's an idea which keeps up French soldiers at present. 138 ROBERT EDOIARD PELLISSIER One often hears them say, "Well, whatever hapj>ens to us, our children at least \\ ill he freed fntni tlu> curse of uiilitarisiu and all allied curses!" Scpfniihcr /J, I'Jl'i. Xo, don't l)elie\e what Miss Addains is telling,' or rather what slie has been told. Ereneh soldiers don't <:et drunk each time they go into a bayonet charly praying lliat something ridiculous may happen to their betters. .\(ininlnr .'I. I'Jl'i. I don't bciicNc that your country would los«' \cry nnicli by lia\ing xiinclhing of an armed force. Tiie rich must be strong, fliey uiunI !)<• willing to sacritice sonu'thiug to remain ricli. If Franc*' were a poor country, the himgry (lermans wlio \\i\\v grow u loo f;ist for t lieir ow n good and for t li.it (if t lieir neighbors, would not be bot lieriiig U-. t'roui I )unker(|ue to ( lallipoli. I don't 1.39 ROBERT EDOUARD PELLISSIER believe that armies bring about war. If a man has a dollar he puts it in his pocket, if he has several hundred he puts them in a reenforced concrete, iron-clad, steel-rimmed, double-bottom bank and burglars immediately surround the bank and get busy with dynamite and all kinds of jimmies. {January, 1916.) If I pull out of this long drawn out scrape, I shall have gained one inestimable thing, absolute faith in the soundness of our race. How utterly ridiculous the decadence yarn seems, in the face of facts, of deeds. When the Germans attack us they are often drunk as drunk can be; they howl and shriek; they come in hordes. Our men go at it in the full control of their faculties and without the imperious need of feeling the comforting touch of the elbows of neighbors. March 6, 1916. No, I do not hate wholesale fashion. I even believe that I do not hate at all in the literal sense of the word. If on a fine night when crossing the campus on my way back from Palo Alto, I should encounter a hold-up man, thrusting his revolver at me, I should do my best to smash his face, but once the deed was ac- complished, I should be perfectly willing to have him taken at my expense to the Peninsula Hospital. It is the kind of feeling I have when fighting the Boches. Against the Bodies taken singly, I have no grudge, but I am perfectly determined not to allow my linguistic and idealistic family group to be swallowed up by theirs, which at the present time is certainly far from showing moral superiority. Have you read "Above the Strife," by Ro- main Rolland? I have not, but the title appeals to me and the author has been attacked so unanimously by the most sensa- tional newspapers that I dare say he must have voiced some kind of truth in a vigorous manner. The Boches, however, are discon- certing to a degree when it comes to knavery and fanaticism. Well, what I ask of you is not to consider me a blind monster, for it is not with joy that I put my finger on the trigger but I go through with that motion, whether I like it or not, and I shall 140 ROBERT EDOrARD TELLISSIER continue to do so. It is a disgusting' jt)l), l)ut it lias to l)e done — so help nie (iodi — if in so doiiii: I ineur everlastintr condennia- tion. August n, I'.iir,. In spite of the Lufiitania, Wilson may loom big yet in the his- tory of the world. I abst)lutely refuse to put a small dingy politi- cal motive back of his foreign policy. It seems to me that he acted logically as representing a nation made uj) largely of con- vinced pacifists. It is not time to talk j)eace now in France, but after the war it will be a shame if all the fine and generous move- ments for general peace which were at the bottom of most politi- cal di.scussions are not taken up again and with more vigor. After two years of this fighting business I can't agree with those who sav that there will alwavs be war, and anv man who has the generosity to fight for peace enrers et centre fou.s .seems to me most resj)ectable. It's very easy for a Roosevelt to be popular. All one needs to do is to appeal to the cowardice of those who are afraid and to the passions of those who are, above all, proud or vain or greedy, ^^'ilson could have been innnensely popular with California, New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado and a good part of the Mississipi)i Valley simply by getting hold of a few ^Mexican border states, giving poor downtrodden promoters a chance to get fatter. Roniain Rolhiud is getting danmed up and down because he keeps airing his belief that in spite of all things done, there may yet l>e a few good (iermans in the world. He is very nuich more creditable to liis nation tliau that ass of Saint-Saens, who since the liclgiaii and .\orthcrii atrocities, has discovered that AN'agiicr had no iiiusical sense at all. It would l»e too bad for France if there were a dozen Hoinain Hollands writing and talking, l)ut it would be a sign of mortal disea.se in tlie nation if all thinkers and all professional men were of the Saint-Saens stripe. .V eoufirnied uiiabashe(l, uutractablc idealist here and there is a beacon light, no matter liow dot ni«l i\ c lii^ I licoiio would lie il" applied w it li- on t diM-rinnnat Kiu. It seems td ni<' I li;il \\ il>on i> a I'uritaiiical 141 ROBERT EDOUARD PELLISSIER idealist whose mistakes will be more than made up for by the new orientation which foreign affairs in the United States may get from his principles of patience and forbearance. What made me write out this "tartine" is the fact that I have often to ex- plain the United States to the men here who, being ill informed and not analytical, think that the United States were afraid to fight Germany ! As foolish an opinion of you as so many of your bourgeois had of us ante helium. It remains to be said that the Journal Officiel of October 14, 1916, recorded in the following terms the award of the MSdaille Militaire, together with the Croix de Guerre avec palme to "Robert Edouard Pellissier, M^^ 04682, sergent a la 1'^ compagnie du o'"*^ bataillon de chasseurs a pied: Sous-officier d'une bravoure et d'un sang- froid remarquables. La section ayant ete soumise pendant plusieurs jours a un violent bombardement, n'a cesse d'ex- alter le moral de ses hommes et de porter secours aux blesses. A ete atteint d'une tres grave blessure lors d'une releve particulierement difficile." Two ambulances sent to the front commemorated the affection in which he was held by American friends: one from Bridgewater State Normal School, another from Le- land Stanford Jr. University. At Stanford the mere an- nouncement that contributions would be received was enough to secure the requisite fund, to which nobody was asked to contribute. JOHN rrTIIHKRT STAIRS Law 1!) 1:5-14 Joiix CuTliBERT Stamps was horn at Halifax, Xova Scotia, December 3, IHiH, a son of (ieor^e and Melon Kliza- l)eth (Mackenzie) Stairs, and ^n-aduated a( Dalhousie Col- lege in 1!)1'2. ^^'llil(' an iinder lidd tlicin. He .•iMciidcd Ijic H;ii"\;ird Law Scliool U)V OIK" yc;ii' only. \\ lien t lie war ln'okc out lie was ill ( al^'arw wlicrc lie cxjx'ctod lo ^ain a snmnier'.s ex- jxTiciicc in the law ofiicc of a triciid. hiil rdnrned al once to Ilahfax lo if|)()it lo liiv iiiilil ia rc^iiiiciil . I he (KH h Prin- cess lyonisr I''nsih'crs, and voliinl fcrcd in Aii^nisl, l!)14,for overseas s(T\i(c. Aflcr xixin^ as licul<'iiaiil al a iiarhor 11:5 JOHN CUTHBERT STAIRS post near Halifax from August to November, he received orders to report to the 25th Nova Scotia Battalion, just formed for service overseas, and in May, 1915, sailed for England as a lieutenant in this battalion. His training in England lasted through the summer; in September he went to France with his regiment. In the fighting at Ypres he took an immediate part, and in October was so severely wounded in the leg that he was obliged to return to England for convalescence. In March, 1916, he went back to France, where he saw fighting at St. Eloi and was mentioned in despatches. Then his old bat- talion, the 25th, was marched to the Somme. In the action of September 15, in which the battalion captured the vil- lage of Courcelotte, and won for itself many honors. Stairs, now holding the rank of captain, was killed. He was buried behind the lines in a Canadian cemetery at Albert. On the same day a brother of Captain Stairs, fighting also at Courcelotte, won the Military Cross. Another brother had been killed at Ypres, April 24, 1915. Five first cousins of these young men gave their lives in the war. Such has been the toll of Canada. DILLWYX PARRISH STARR Class of 1908 l)\ LT. Starr, as he was known in that pubHc faniiharlty whicli attaches to conspicuous pUiyers of college footl)all, came to Harvard from (Iroton School in the autumn of 1!K)4. At (iroton lie had been cai)tain of the School eleven. '"I remember Dill witli nuich affection during his Groton days." wrote the Rector of the School soon after his former j)iipir> death. "lie was 'all hoy' then. Simple and straight- forward and afraid of nothing. I fanc>' he kei)t tliese l)oy- i-h (|iialities to the cud." So indeed he ai)i)ears to liave done, for "The War Story of Dillwyii Parrisli Starr," l)riiit(d Ity lii> father in IIH? for j)rivate distribution, re- veab a young soldier to wliom the terms that titled the \h>\ may mo>t a|)tly be appheil. 14.3 DILLAYYN PARRISH STARR They fitted him also during his four years in college as a member of the Class of 1908. He was still "all boy" — to the extent of not taking his studies seriously enough to win him his bachelor's degree. In the social and athletic pursuits of undergraduates his personal charm and his prowess carried him far. He was a member of the Institute of 1770, the Kalumet, Round Table, Hasty Pudding, and Porcellian Clubs. But it was as a football player that he really made his name in College. In each of his four college years he was a member of the University eleven, as quar- ter-back when a freshman and a sophomore, as right end when a junior, and left end in his senior year — "all boy" and "afraid of nothing." A reminiscence of his college days carries with it a suggestion of the spirit which ani- mated his playing of football, and at the same time fore- shadows, as if in prophecy, the end that awaited him. When it came a classmate wrote: "There is one comforting thought and that is that I am sure he died as he would wish to die. On the wall of the breakfast-room at the Club at Cambridge there is a picture of a cavalry charge with an officer, with sword upraised, leading his men on gallantly. Dill and I would often get seats at dinner opposite this picture; would discuss the splendid sensations such a man must have under the circumstances, and we would always agree that if we might choose the kind of death we would have, we should choose such an ending." Starr's home was in Philadelphia, where he was born October 3, 1884, the son of Dr. Louis Starr, a widely known specialist in children's diseases, long a professor in the Medical School of the University of Pennsylvania, and Mary (Parrish) Starr. Both English and French blood 140 DILLWYX PARRISII STARR were transmitted to liini from earlier irenerations, aiul tlie Quaker inheritanees which l)eloii<^ to many true IVnnsyl- vanians. After leaving eollege Starr was employed in business offices in IMiiladeljjiiia and New York, At the outbreak of the war he was passing his sunnner holiday with his family at Islesboro, Maine. Late in August he went tt) New ^"ork. where foreign affairs seemed less re- mote, and "on Labor Day," to ((Uote the words of his father, "while lying on the sands at Long Beach reading the war reports, he suddenly told the friends who were with liiin that he had determined 'to see the war.'" 'I'he oj)])ortnnity so to do was speedily sought and found. ( )ii September LS, 11)14, he sailed from New York as one of the crew of the Red ( "ross ship Hamburg, carrying medical supplies and a cori)s of surgeons and nurses to France. The eleveiilh-hoiir substitution of an untrained crew for the Germans who iiad previously manned the vessel made the voyage both uncomfortable and perilous. But Starr made frientls with the chief engineer, and, bearing a signed cer- tificate of ability and character from him, was permitted to leave the ship at Falmouth. Thence he went direct to Ivondon where, within a few days, he met Richard Norton, then establishing his "American \ olunteer ^^otor Ambu- lance ( 'orj)>, " and offered himself for the service of this or- gani/.at ioii. I lie otVci" was accei)ted, and, after a short period of >i)ecial tiaiiiiiig for the work of the Corps and securing hi> outht, he Icfl I>ondoii for the front, Octo- ber 1!). Slarr'> coiiiicct Ion with Richai'd Norton's motor corps last<. in that time he did good work a> an aniltiiiancc di-j\ cr, and had his eytvs inlly oi)ened 147 DILLWYN PARRISH STARR to the realities of the war for those who were fighting it. "I know that from the very first," his father has written, "he disHked the idea of being protected by a red cross on his sleeve, while so many about him were enlisted to do soldiers' work." It is not surprising, therefore, that when the opportunity came to him early in December to enter a more active service he seized it, and enlisted, with his friend Walter G. Oakman, Jr., of the Harvard Class of 1907, in the British Armoured Motor Car Division, a branch — one does not see just why — of the Royal Naval Air Service. It was at this point in his war record that his father says "the conviction grew strong within him that the place for a free man was on the side of the Allies fight- ing for liberty, justice, civilization — the world's cause; and he began to feel, too, the importance of the issue to his own country." From early in December until March 1, 1915, Starr was under constant training in England for the work of the Armoured Motor Corps Division. On March 1 he left London for the front, in a squadron commanded by the Duke of Westminster, and made up of twelve light and three heavy cars, several supply cars, and twenty-four motor-cycles for dispatch work. There were eight officers and one hundred and twenty men. Each car had a name of its own, and Starr's was called the "Black Joke." They sailed from Dover, March 6, and disembarked at Dunkirk the next day. Again Starr was to have about two months of continu- ous service in France. In the course of it he took part in a number of actions, including the Battle of Neuve Chapelle. There were alternations of perilous service and fatigue 148 DILLWYX PARRTSII STARR duty. Of the first he wrote one day in liis diary : ** Thinking of going in gives one tlie same feehng as l^efore a football match." It may well have been during his performance of fatigue duty that he recorded his unflatt(>ring opinion of one of his fellows with whom he had disagreed, and fol- lowed it up by an entry which his father has preserved as illustrating his sweetness of disi)osition: "I suppose I'm a chuni]) for writing this but it relieves my mind." After a few days he added : "Here and now I take back all I said of . I have been with him under fire and he was cool as a cucumber. But I will leave it in just to show what a goat I '5 am. Ut' liad not been making any such im])ression upon his superior, for on A I ay 10 the Duke of Westminster told Starr, and Oakman, that they had been ])romoted, and were to report in London. This they did, a week later, and in another ten days Starr was gazetted sub-lieutenant, Royal Xavy \ oiunteer Reserves, corresponding in rank with that of full lieutenant in the army. At this time he received an offer for dut>- in Gallipoli, where two Armoured Car Scjuadrons had already gone, and accepted it with en- thusiasm for the prospect of active service which it afforded. On June 7 he sailed to join the ill-fated exjiedition to the Dardanelles, the onl\- man on the Harvard Roll of Honor who bore a i)art in tlii> tragic experience. Starr had about four acli\(" luontlisof it. He did not r<'acii ( 'i;i\\\\)(}V\ t ill ;ifl(i- t he middle of July, and left it Xo- \rnib letters wiitteu in tin's ])eri()d eonfii-in the general impression of the griiujiess and iioiror of the situa- tion at the i)ar(hineih's. He saw hard lighting in and out of the trenches — and such sights as this glimpse recorded 11!) DILLWYN PARRISH STARR after three weeks on the Peninsula suggests: "A man went mad on the beach today, and began shooting about, and they had to kill him. It's a cheerful life, isn't it?" A little later he wrote: "I am constantly in hot water about home as all here know I am an American, and the notes about the Lusitcmia aren't making us any too popular. Although my commander is friendly, I sometimes get furious." Nor were the conditions of his service wholly agreeable, "We hear again," he wrote on September 9, "that the Armoured Cars are going to be disbanded. Word has come that there are no more reserves for us and that when our numbers are exhausted by sickness and wounds we are to turn our guns over to the army. You can see how discouraging it is, and I really don't think it worth our while sitting here all winter doing nothing. The Army doesn't recognize us because we belong to the R.N.A.S., neither does the Navy, because we are acting on land." Frequent swims in the delicious water reminding him of home, in spite of sharks, yielded some en- joyment, but discouragement and discontent with the management of military matters, both at home and at the front, gave the period their own sombre color. Evidently, Starr was again rendering a good account of himself ; at the beginning of November he received an offer of transfer to an army brigade from the general commanding it, with a promise of a captaincy in the near future. But this would not have meant France, where Starr by this time was hop- ing to serve again. A few days later, incapacitated by dysentery, he was sent to a base hospital, and here on November 12 he received an Admiralty order to report in London. The next day he sailed for England, his question of further service on the Peninsula solved for him. 150 DILLWYX PARRISIl STARR His family, awaitiiiii' liini in London, found liini chanijed. "He seemed to have dropped much of his youth- fuhiess. and ti> liave become more serious and possessed hy a more ])urposeful energy. Tliese changes showed in his manner and in tlie expression of his face, whik' his stead- fast eyes looked as if tlicy had seen many grave sights, an well enough, but as a (Oldsti'cam (iuardsman he still had much to leani. and from January .5 to July II. l!)l(!. he remained in Kngland. Then, with foui-olhei- ('oldstream officers, he went to I he lioiil . I*'<»r t he reiiiaiiider ol" July, for all of August and a poi't ion of Septeiiiltrr. Slarr"> let ler> >ho\\ him in I he front line and re.scr\e I r<-iie|ic>. aiid back of t he line. He w rilcN of a ^\\ nn DILLWYN PARRISH STARR in the Somme, and a game of football with the Grenadiers, in which, he says, "I was lucky enough to make a goal for our side in the last thirty seconds." It was soccer, of which he had written the day before, "I don't know the first thing about it"; but his colonel said afterwards, "He was the best football player I ever saw." These were the inter- ludes. The names of Albert and other places synonymous with bitter fighting spot the pages of his letters. In the last of them, dated September 12, 1916, he wrote, "We are going up in the line tomorrow or next day, so if you don't hear from me for a few days, don't worry." The point in the line to be attacked by the Second Battalion of the Coldstream Guards was at Ginchy, where the Germans held a strong position, the breaking of which was a matter of serious moment. Starr was chosen to lead a company of two platoons, his own. Number 12, and another, because "his men were certain to follow him anywhere." The desire which he had felt as a collegian to lead a charge in battle had frequently recurred in the two years of wartime. At last the moment was come. The following passage from Dr. Starr's narrative depicts the scene and the brave death that ended his son's part in it: It was understood that at 5.40 o'clock on the morning of the fifteenth a squadron of "Tanks" were to advance from the rear along the sunken road and silence the machine-guns there. At 6.20 the Guards were to "go over." True to the appointed time the "Tanks" were heard to start and, under heavy gun-fire, to come on a little way. Then they stopped ! Every man in the Coldstream trench realized the im- port of this failure. One of the non-commissioned officers spoke to Dillwyn about it and was answered "I know, but we will go on without them." From this time, piecing together the bits of the 152 DILT,WY\ rVRRISH STARR storv as tliev have reaclu'd ur-, 1 can picture him as the fixed moment appnnielied, full of eagerness and suppressed energy and without the slightest traee of fear, standing with one foot so placed in a niche in the trench that he could leap to the toj) and over at the instant time was up, and hear him say, "five minutes more, men," "one minute more, men," and "time's up." Then, they tell me, he sprang on to the parapet, revolver in hand, and wa\ing his stick and shouting, "(\)me on, twelve platoon, come im," leapt o\-er anaw it, "as steadily as though they were walking down Ihc Mall" — wa.s a >|)lcndid c\ainj)lc of the s|)irit of this regiment . and filled all Knglaiid w itli i)ridc. Starr's pari in it rccci\-c(l the highest |)raisc from his fellow -olliccrs and his men. A hculcnant of the regiment ami to llii> rank, il should lie saifj. Stair himscll" was promoted hy seniority at the Ncry time of his death wr'otc of him a foi-tnight aftci- th<> action: "(Xiiccrs and men were e(|ually fond of him. and DILLWYN PARRISH STARR they all felt that before he was an officer, before he was an American, before anything, he was a Man, and a man whom they could trust." His body lies where he fell in France. Soon after his death his fellow-members of the Porcellian Club undertook the maintenance of an endowed bed in the American Am- bulance Hospital in Paris, and placed over it a brass tablet with the inscription: SUPPORTED BY THE PORCELLIAN CLUB IN MEMORY OF DILLWYN PARRISH STARR. He and his comrades, officers and men, of the Coldstream Guards who fell in the Battle of the Somme were com- memorated in a special service at Holy Trinity Church, Sloane Street, London, on October 5. A service in memory of Starr alone was held in Trinity Church, New York City, three days earlier. After this service the flowers sent by friends were laid on the graves in Trinity Churchyard, especially on those of soldiers in the American Revolution. WILLIAM ST()( KS LACEY D.M.l). i!)i:5 W iLLiA.M Stocks La( kv was hum in IltTtford, Eng- land. Aj)ril 4, 1887, the only son of William J. ^f. Lacey, a dental snrgt'on in Hertford, and Llizal)etli Mary (Stock.s) Lacey. He entered tJie Harvard Dental Seliool in 1J)1'2, from (iuy's Hospital, London, with the l^ritish appellations of L.R.C.P., London, ^LH.C.S.. Knoh.nd. and L.D.S., Lnglalid. He r('r-('i\"c(l lii> decree of Doctor of 1 )cnlal Med- icinc at Hai'\ard in 1!)1.'>. hi Octolx-i- of that \-car lie niai*- ried in Kngland the only danghlcr of ALijor ami Mrs. Thomas Harher of Hertford. Hi>^ rank in t lie lirit i^li Army, w liieli lie joined Jannary 1 , ]!M WILLIAM STOCKS LACEY temporarily attached to the 11th Battahon, Royal West Kent Regiment, at the time of his death. This occurred October 11, 1916, at the 38th Casualty Clearing Station, France, in consequence of wounds received in action on the Somme two days before. His father has written as follows of his final deeds of courage and mercy: "My son was wounded whilst attend- ing to wounded soldiers on the field, out in the open. From what we have been told it appears that a large number of men had been wounded but could not be brought in. It was necessary for someone to give immediate help to the sufferers. This duty was performed by my son. He ren- dered it possible for all the wounded to be removed to dressing stations, when he was struck by a fragment of a shell which penetrated the lower part of the abdomen. He walked two miles to a dressing station, where an operation was performed. *Gas gangrene' supervened and a second operation was necessary, after which he lived but a few hours." He is buried at Heilly Station Cemetery, INIericourt I'Abbe, France. XOK.MAX IM{IX('K Class of 1908 ^ou.M \\ l*i{i\(i; \\a> Ixnii al I'ridc s ( 'rossiii^-, Massa- ^•InisctU. Aiii;ii>l .'!1, ISS7, llic scfond ol" llic two sons of J'Vcdciick llciiry ami Al)i<,Mil (Xoniiaii) Prince. Mis name i two i^i-aiidlat licrs, h'rcdcrick O. I'lincr, oner Mavoi" ol lioston. and (icoi^c II. Norman, a i:>7 NORMAN PRINCE well-known citizen of Newport, Rhode Island. A notable energy, both of mind and of body, was evident in him as a bo^^ When he was about eleven he needed a tutor in Latin, and undertook the task of securing one for himself. He wanted to find somebody who would pilot him through six books of Virgil in two weeks. Interviewing the man he thought capable of this feat, he asked him how fast he could translate Virgil, and on receiving an estimate of "ten lines a minute," inquired eagerly, as he pulled out a stop watch, "May I time you, Sir.^ " This he did, with re- sults so satisfactory that he insisted on persuading the tutor, somewhat against his will, to give him lessons be- tween seven and eight in the morning and nine and ten at night. Several years later, while he was a pupil at Grot on School, the chance to spend what would normally have been his sixth form year at school in Europe with his brother suddenly presented itself, and with the consent of the Groton and Harvard authorities he offered himself for the college entrance examinations, which he passed, with- out conditions, at the age of fifteen. This enabled him to study both in Germany and at Oxford before entering Har- vard when the Class of 1908, with which he took his degree of A.B., cum laude, was beginning its sophomore year. In 1911 he graduated from the Harvard Law School. His physical energy found an early outlet on the hunting field. He began riding to the hounds at Myopia when he was only seven. Before he and his brother went to Groton, their father forbade them one day to go to the meet, as it was raining hard and the riding was dangerous. They dis- obeyed him, and, besides hunting, raced their ponies, which collided and threw the boys so violently that one broke his 158 XORMAX rRTXCE thigh, the otlier liis folhir-hoiic. I'ho older l)rothoi' re- gained consciousness first, and soon Iieard Xt)rnian. with the hroken thigh, saying. "Fred. I think T am dead. How do ^•ou feel ? ' ' To such a hoy. grown somewhat older, aviation was hound to appeal. When he finished his law studies it was with difficulty that hi^ family |)ersua(led him to take up the j)ractice of his profession, for he was already beconn'ng a skilful aA'iator. and cared foi- nothing else so nuich as for fiying. For some time, indeed, after studying this science with the Wright hrothers in Ohio and Starling Burgess at Marhlehead, he was fiying at high altitudes under an as- sumed name, l^oth to escape notoriety and to avoid con- tentions with his family over the object of his lieart's desire. In the summer of 1911 he entered the employ of the law firm of Winston, Payne, Strawn. and Shaw in Chicago, where he remained until the summer of 1})1'3. Then, he- cause of trouble \\\i\\ his eyes, he droj)ped his legal work, and passed the year before the war at his father's lionse in Massae]uis(^tts. and at Pan. Tie had been much in F^rance before, and t he oiitbicak of t he fight found him ready to do whatever he could for a conntrx' he loxcd like his own. Obviously the best wa.\- for him to help France was as an a\iat(ii-. This he did, not only as an intrc])id individual flyer, bnt a> the prime nio\cr in the oi'gamzaliou of the Lafaycl tc |-Ncadrillc of I he l''i-<'nch Army, I hat s(|uadron of Amciican a\ialoi'> to whom fell the honor of carrynig the Anicricjin flag first of all into I he light ing at t he front . ( )ne of hi> nioxt a<'t i\(' collcagnc^ m t he formal ion of t hi'^ nnil . I'Vazicr ( iirl i^. of the Ilarxanl (■|a^^of IS!)S. Iia> writ ten; "j'hc fir^l tunc I he idea of an American l'!>cadrillc came NORMAN PRINCE to Norman was probably at Marbleliead in November, 1914, when he suggested it to me as we were flying to- gether." In the following month Prince sailed for France, and in January volunteered for service in the French Army — jusquau bout. He was sent to a military aviation school at Pau for training, and in February telegraphed to Curtis, who by that time was flying in England, asking him to come to Paris and help in forwarding the plans for an American Escadrille which he had proposed to the French War Office. Curtis immediately met him in Paris, and with Elliot C. Cowdin (Harvard, '09), and others joined in the endeavor to make a reality of Prince's cherished idea. The obstacles that had to be overcome, and the deferred accom- plishment of the plan in its fullness were related by Cowdin in the Harvard Alumni Bulletin of March 7, 1918, with a hearty recognition of Prince's leadership in the enterprise. "To Norman Prince," Curtis has also written, " is due the credit for the idea of an American Escadrille and for its or- ganization under very discouraging circumstances." It would be superfluous to relate them in detail in this place. They illustrated the same energy and tenacity of purpose which made Prince the brilliant aviator he was. He was not a writer of letters describing his experiences and sensations in the air. But on one occasion, when he returned to America for a brief holiday at the Christmas season of 1915, he made a speech in the Tavern Club of Boston, at a dinner given in his honor, and fortunately his words were preserved. Some of them are quoted here from the commemorative volume, "Norman Prince, a Volun- teer Who Died for the Cause He Loved, with a Memoir by George F. Babbitt" (Harvard, '7'-2). The two passages 160 XORMAX PRINCE tliat follow doscrilx" his first l)onil)in<; expedff ion and a later cxjiorieiice : 1 lune a vivid renieinl)rance of my first l)oml)arding expedi- tion. The action tookphieeat a jxtint not far witiiin the enemy's lines. I was sent with (wo or three members of my squadron to homhartl a station where ainmunilion was Ix-iiii; iiiiloadecL It takes ahont forty minutes for a hkk liine heavily loaded with bombs to ^'et to a suffieient hei}j;ht to cross the lines. Tla* mini- nnim liei>,dit at which we erossed was about seven thousand feet. I saw my comrades eross ahead of me and noted they were being lieavily shelled by tlie enemy. Aeeordingly, I decided to go a little higher before crossing. When I found I had only sufficient gasoline left to make my l)oml)arthnent and return to m^• l)ase, I started oxer. I was soon to experi(Mice w hat I may call my bap- tism of fire. The impression made ui)on mc 1)\" tiie terrible racket and the spectacle of shells aimed at me and exploding near by made me shiver for a moment. Though I was confident and una- fraid, my limi)s began to tremi)le. Still I kept straight on my course. I would not have changed it for the world. My legs were so wol)l)ly from nervous excitement that T tried to hide them from my observer, who was an old hand at the game. I confess to a feeling of relief when I reached the \nH\ii where our bombs were to be tlirown over. Having discharged this duty I was glad to return to my starting-point with the motoi- running at slow speed, and knowing that I was soon to be out of range of the enemy's deadly fire. ( )nc day six drrmau luacliiiics. fullN' c(|ui|)|)<'(l, bombardcil Nancy and our a\ialioii field. To retaliate, iny scpiadron was .sent out to boiiib.ird llieir lield on the same afternoon. We started with thirty machines to a desigiuited rende/.N'ous and fifty nnnut<'s later, after g<-tting grouped, we proceeded to oiu' ulti- mate (lotinalion. I liali()\\s him as the aviator who, besides t'orniing and eontinuin^' to inspire the Lafayette Escadrille, won by liis own fearless service the successive ranks of ser'^eant, adjutant, and heutenant. and was decorated in turn with the Croix de Guerre (with one star and three pahns), tlie Mrddillc Milifdirr, and the (roLi dc hi Lnjioii d'llonnciir. of which the hist was pinned on liis l)reast as lie lay on his deathbed in tlie Vosges. A record of ]'22 aerial en^aii'enients stootl to his credit — with the destruction of five (ierman planes officially, and four others unofhciallv, ascribed to him. The circumstances which brought this remarkable ser- vice to an end may best be described through a direct quo- tation from Mr. Babbitt's memoir: ( )ii the morning of Thur.* machine was overturned and wrecked and he was thrown xKilcnily t was .subserjuenf ly fmind, lie had >u>taine(| a fraet ure of t he >kull. lie was rarrierl to the n<'ij;hhoring hospital at (ierarduK-r, w h«'re for a time he mauifesl<'d tlie undaiuilecj cniirai;*' liiat In- had always shown under ad\er>e coudit loii'^, eheertiilly re(|ne^tiii^ llie at- tend ui;.' >iir;_'eon-> w ho were set t in;,' I he liones ot" lii> Itroken le;4s to 1C3 NORMAN PRINCE be careful not to make one shorter than the other! The skull fracture was not discovered until later, and it was as a result of this latter injury that Norman died from cerebral hemorrhage on the following Sunday morning, October 15. His comrades gathered around his bedside when he became finally unconscious, in the vain hope of detecting symptoms of renewed vitality, but he passed away peacefully as in a sleep. Those of his near rela- tives who had been summoned from Paris arrived at his bedside too late to find him alive. The dead hero was given all the honors of a military funeral, which was held in the Luxeuil aviation field, where the body rested on a caisson draped with the American and French flags. The services, which were conducted by a French regimental chaplain, were attended by a large representation of the Allied military divisions, including French and English officers of high rank, as well as a full representation of the American Escadrille and pilots from the neighboring aviation camps. During the funeral, instead of the customary firing of cannon as a salutation to the dead, a squadron of aeroplanes circled in midair over the field in honor of the departed aviator, showering down myriads of flowers. The body was borne to a neighboring chapel, there to rest until the end of the war, in accordance with the military regulations governing the temporary disposition of the remains of those dying at the battle-fronts. A memorial service, held on the following Sunday in the American Church in Paris, was described by those present as one of the most impressive ever witnessed in that sanctuary. The American colony came in full numbers to testify their admira- tion and appreciation of their fellow-countryman's valor and sacrifice. The President of the French Republic, the heads of the executive and legislative branches of the Government, the Army and Navy and the Diplomatic Corps were represented by their most distinguished members, and the emblems of mourning con- tributed to a scene that was as beautiful as it was significant and memorable. 164 XORMAX PRINCE One of liis conirades in [\iv Kscadrillo, J. H. Mc( "oiiiioll, who himself was soon to fall in an air fiyhl with the enemy, wrote to a friend, not lon»; after Xorman Prinee's death, in a letter deseribing it, these words hitherto unj)iil)lished: "He was very brave, and san^ on the way to the hospital. Poor old boy — bnt then, I don't think he minded going. He'd done his work and was satisfied." EDWARD CARTER SORTWELL Class of 1911 iiiDWAjiD Carter Sort well was a native of Cam- bridge, of which his father, Alvin Foye Sortwell was mayor. His mother, Gertrude W. Sortwell, now a widow, is a resi- dent of Cambridge. He was born March 25, 1889, and prepared for college at St. Paul's School, Concord, New Hampshire. He studied at Harvard for three years, leaving college, before the graduation of his class, on his father's death. He then entered the employ of the Ludlow Manu- facturing Associates, and in the pursuit of this firm's transactions in jute was sent to Calcutta. Here he had been at work for three years when, in the spring of 1916, he started for home, via Europe. Stopping over in Paris he encountered an opportunity to join the American Ambulance Field Service, and enrolled for a term of six 166 EDWARD CARTER SORTWELL months. From ^lay till Septemhrr he sorved with Section 8 of the Service in France. Then came an opi)ortunity to join Section 3 and go with it to Salonica; late in September he volnnteered and was accepted for this duty. In a letter written hy one of Sortwell's Ambulance com- rades both in France and at Salonica, Thomas B. Hutiiim (Harvard '1(0, the work of the Section, first in Cham- pagne, then at \ crdun, is described in some detail. A single i)assage, dealing with experiences in the Verdun neighborhood, and with Sortwell's conduct, will speak suf- ficientlv for the nature of this service, for which his section received a citation: From the hill above the town there was a fine view of Verdun itself and the hills around it. It was a most impressive sight that evening to watch the thousands of flashes from the guns flicker- ing up and down the valley below us and from the hills on the other side. The next morning at dawn we each rode up to Fort Tavannes in a car of the French Amlnilance Section we were re- placing. This was so we could learn the road. For most of us it was our first experience under heavy shell firing. It was a pretty exciting nui, but it was nothing to what we were going to get later, ^^e crossed the river a})ove \'erdun, passed through the outskirts of the towii and then up I lie hill on the road to Etain. This went u]) (piite a long hill. Al the lop we turned off at Relle- vue Farm and went through a wood to Fort Tavannes. This wood was the worst part of the run. It was always being shelled. The road was full of shell holes and lined with dead and dying horses, smashed wagons, eais.sons and automobiles. In the early liglit of dawn it was the most ghastly looking wood 1 have ever .seen. 'I'here wasn't nuich shelling goin«^ (Ui al that lime in the morning except np around I lie I'^rl. There was a sort di" lumirl just inside the ^alc where the ears stood wiiiN- Mie,\ were Ix-ing loaded up. There was only rooui l< >v I lui-e a t a I une. so I he ot hers 167 EDWARD CARTER SORTWELL had to wait way down on the side of the hill under the shelter of the bank until one of the cars had passed on the way down. Lots of times they had to wait there for hours on account of the Fort being so heavily bombarded that the cars in it could not leave. Well, that night we tried the road for ourselves for the first time. Each one of us had to make about three trips, for we were taking up the new staff for the poste de secours there, brancardiers, doc- tors, etc. The road was being shelled almost the whole way up, for it is at night that most of the traffic goes on. It was very dark and what wdth all the confusion and excitement, a lot of us got lost and fell into huge shell holes and were run down by big trucks or galloping artillery. It is certainly driving under the most trying circumstances I can think of, something like driving down Fifth Avenue on one of its most crowded days in pitch darkness, with no lights except that from bursting shells or cannon going off right in your ear, which was w^orse than no light at all. One of the hardest things w^as dodging artillery, which would come galloping on to the road from some little side road or open field. I remember coming out of the entrance to the Fort on the first trip. They were shelling the road with shrapnel and it was breaking uncomfortably near, right over head. Ed and an- other fellow were just ahead of me. We were empty, so we started off as fast as we could. What was our sorrow when we found a big convoy of wagons blocking the road. They were bringing up bags to the Fort and the drivers had all beat it inside until the bombardment slowed up a little. I remember that Ed was the coolest one of us. I know I was dropping down flat on the ground every time a shell would break. After a delay which seemed like hours to us, we finally got a way cleared so that we could get our cars by. When we got to Bellevue Farm we found they were shelling the cross-roads there heavily, so we had to jump out of our cars again and run do^ai into an abri. It w^as pretty well crowded already, but we managed to squeeze in. Al- though very close and uncomfortable we had to stay there about a half hour while each shell seemed to land right on top of us. 168 EDWARD CARTER SORTAVEEE Wlieii we came out we tliiln't exjieel to liiul iiiiythiiit;- left ot" our cars, but they were still there. We juniptii in and just tore back the rest of the way. After the hrdiicanliers had all been carried up, we returned to uur schetlukHl morning' run at dawn, which was a great relief, but t)n June 'U the (iernians must have started an unusually big attack right on our sector. The roads were just raked with shells, and soon the wounded came pouring in. Eor the next four or five days we were carrying them back just as fast as we could make the trij), at all hours of the day and night, eating and sleeping whenever we could get the chance. Some of our cars were riddled with pieces of shell, one of them was almost buried by earth and stones from the explosion of a 380, but we came through with the most wonderful luck. After AVrduii there was a quieter term of .service at Soin- niedieii, to the right of the Verdun sector. Of Sortwell's transfer to Section .'5 and his journey to Salonica he wrote to his mother on November 3, lOKi, when the hard journey was done: On September -2'2nd when our section was near Nancy en repos, we had a telegram asking for volunteers to go to Salonica with another section. Ten of us sent our names in, and then we heard nothing for four days when another message came .saying that myself and two others were to report in Paris. We went into Paris the next day, and I sent my cable right oif to you. We ex- pected to leave Paris in two days, but were delayed and (hd not get away until October 4tli. I was awfidly l)Usy while in Paris l)uying things, working on the cars, etc. There are twenty-five -Vmericans in this section with thirty ambulances. I knew ((nitc a ininibcr of the men who arc uilli n^ before, including l^ovcring Hill [IIar\anl, '10| who is the .section leader, Charlie Haird (Harvard, "I 1|, ^iraham Carey [Harvard, '14|, from Cambridge. John Miniroe IIIarNard, 'I.'>| who wciil to \Viscassel once and I )an took linn to Bool h bay on Sliaearers. A French Protestant niinistcr cctiKhictcd the scr\ ice. I "he aulotiiolnlc ser- vice wa> rejiresenled by a cnloiicl and alxiiit Iwcnix' men. ^^ e were all present e.xcejit li\c. I was to he a pall-bearer, as was Hlumenthal, l)iit onI\' t"our were necess;ir_\ . laddie lies in a sol- dier's gra\-e with a wooden cross oxer it with his name Imrut in the cross piece jiist as the soldiers an-. Fddie was working in India up until last spring when he decided to go jiome ami see his family'. Kn rontr he decided to jnni the ambulance lUr si\ 171 EDWARD CARTER SORTWELL months and get home this fall. Then, when his time was up, he couldn't resist coming out here with us. That meant he wouldn't get to Cambridge till next summer. And here he was, one of the nicest fellows in the section ; and here he lies until the end of the war, and possibly forevermore. Covering his coffin is a French flag and also an American flag. There is a wreath with his name and an inscription, de Section Sanitaire Americaine 3. There are many other bunches of flowers laid there by the fellows. Eddie's death hit me hard for I liked him and he always had a glad hand for me. To Sortwell's mother Mr. A. Piatt Andrew, Director General of the American Ambulance Field Service, wrote from Paris on November 28 : Your son has left in the memory of all of those who were asso- ciated with him, both in the section with which he first went to the front and the section to which he was transferred, as well as with us of the base staff, a fine record of arduous and in many cases dangerous work, eagerly and courageously performed; an example of manly endurance in the performance of duty which will not be forgotten. He was always ready for whatever task was assigned to him. He never hesitated and never shirked be- fore a dangerous mission. He is the third of our American volunteers to give his life in the service of France in her great hours of peril, and in his sacri- fice he has added one more link to the bonds of friendship which have bound our two countries since their earliest days. EDGAR ALLEN LOW SIIOUTT Class of 1917 JjORN at Staten Island, A])ril 17, ISJXI, Edward AlltMi Low Shortt was one of those for the dav of wliose deatli oiilv a tentative (hite can he ^iven. He was reeonhMl "missing" December 10, l!)l(i. and it \\a> more than three vears hiter that the tragic hick of fnrtlicr information (•<)mpell(Hl his enrolment among the "IIai-\ard Dead." His father, tiic late ^^i^ia^l Allaire Short!, a New ^'ork lawyer, a son of an Episcopal clergyman of Irish hirth. edu- cated at the I nix'er.sity of I )nl)lin. and reet oi- of parishes in the I iiited States and ( iuiada. was himself a graduate of 'l'oroiit(> I ni\crsity. Ai an uiider^^raduate he was a ser- geant III t lie (^ueeir> ( )\\ II ha 1 1 alioii of t lie ( a liadiaii lilili- 17.'{ EDGAR ALLEN LOW SHORTT tia, and to service with this regiment he returned when the second Riel Rebellion broke out, after his admission to the New York bar. It was through enlistment with the Canadian forces many years later that his son entered the great war. Allen Shortt's mother was Lucy Elizabeth (Low) Shortt, a daughter of Edward Allen Low, a China merchant, of the New England family transplanted to New York and Brooklyn, and an uncle of the Hon. Seth Low. The bov was taught to speak French before he learned his native tongue, and retained a proficiency in the language which stood him in good stead when he became a soldier. The love of nature which was a marked characteristic of his youth also served a valuable purpose in the training of those powers of observation which must have helped him later to become an intelligence officer. After a trip to Cali- fornia when he was nine vears old his father, who was his companion, reported that he must have seen "out of the back of his head," so unfailing was his perception of birds and their species. His formal schooling was conducted at the Staten Island Academy, broken by a year of study at Rome and Cassel, Germany. In the autumn of 1913 he entered Harvard. Here, through his knowledge of languages, he became a councillor of the Cercle Fran(^ais, vice-president of the Cir- colo Italiano, and a member of the Deutsche Verein. He was also a member of the Canadian Club. Since the age of thirteen he had been a member of the New York Fencers' Club, and at Harvard he made the fencing team. In 1914 he was also attached to the rowing squad, until incapaci- tated by an operation for appendicitis. 174 EDGAR AL1>EX LOW SlIOKTT Of his war service llie record that foHows is taken ahnost verbatim from a statement })ro\ ich'd l>y his family for the present pnrpose. ^^ hen war hroke out in l!)14. Short t*> family was in Canada, where he had s])ent all hut three of his sunnners. He wi>hed to join the army at once, hut his father, jndtetl in the Machint> ( inn ( \)mi)any. Sth Infantry, Massachusetts National (iuard, from which he resigned in the following s])rinu\ Before his father'> death in 1015 Sliortt oti'cretl his services to Canada, l)nt they were refused, for he was then in a neutral country. In the sunnner of 1J)1.), having gone, as usual, to spend his vacation in Canada, he again otiered his services, claim- ing his grandfather's Irish hirth as a (|naIiHcation to tight for the Allies. He received a i)rovisional lieutenancy, was sent to an Oliiccrs' School, and attached to the 59lh Bat- talion, 4th Division, Canadian Expeditionary Force. Be- cau.se he s])oke French with fluency he was detailed to Quebec on recruiting duty. At the end of lhi> duty he re- turned to lii> hattalion at Biockville, Ontario, and shortly aftcrwai"ds was luaiiicd to Mi>> Marie ( "re\'olin Clark, of Columliu>. Ohio, in Kingston. Ontario. Not long aft('rwai'(l> lie rcc('i\('(l Iii> ap])oiulment as a .^u])<'rnuiiMTai'y. Iia\ing prcxiou^ly only heen " at ladicd. " When the ( anadiau War Aiiiii>try, a week later, cut olV sup('i'iiuincraii('> he rctiuc^trd peiMuission lo gi\(' up his rank of liiv^t liculcnanl and (•iili>l as a |>i-i\al(' in the M.icliiiic ( lUii ( oi-|)s,>(j that lie might go oNci'x-aN with his own iiirii. 'i"lii> |)(riiii~->ii (11 was grant<'(|. and on or al»oiit April I. lifhi. Ik- sailed fui- England willi lli■^ orgaiii/.at ion. 175 EDGAR ALLEN LOW SHORTT In fifteen days he was made a sergeant. Measles broke out among the contingent and a number of his fellow-sergeants were taken ill. As a result he overworked, and was himself later taken ill with measles, mumps, and pneumonia at the same time. In less than two months from the time he left Canada he received his commission as first lieutenant again, his colonel remarking upon the magnificent spirit he had shown. Granted a leave of absence owing to his illness, he became so ill at the home of a cousin in England that his wife and mother were sent for. Upon his recovery he went to France. For gallantry in action on the Somme, October 8, 1916, he was awarded the Military Cross and made Intelligence Officer of the 58th Battalion, Third Division, Canadians. On December 10, 1916, he led a raid of forty men against the German trenches at Neuville-St. Vaast near Vimy Ridge. For this he had planned and trained the men en- tirely himself. After the raid, Shortt, a sergeant, and a private were reported missing. According to his superior officers, it was said that during the raid a German sprang up behind Shortt, who called out to his men, "Get him, boys," and rushed after him into an adjoining trench. The sergeant following Shortt, and the private, were shot entering the trench. The Germans reported the sergeant as having died of wounds. The private received a head wound, was sent to a German hospital, and later repatri- ated. But he could furnish no information. Of Shortt nothing definite has been heard. There was a mud hole at the entrance to the trench into which he ran after the Ger- man. It was believed that he slipped and fell in the mud 176 EDGAR ALLEN LOW SHORTT hole and was taken prisoner. It was reported aLso by pris- oners taken hy the hattalion on the K»ft of the oStli that an officer and non-com were taken })risoncrs in that trench, and that the officer had expressed himself as <;ratefnl for the treatment hv liad received. It has also been reported that Shortt was .sent in. I>y orders, without liis identificatii)n (Use, and that therefore he would never have <;iven liis name or otlier information. HENRY RICHARD DEIGHTON SIMPSON Class of 1918 Simpson's first name was that of his father, Henry Wil- liams Simpson, a graduate of Harvard College in the Class of 1885, a lawyer in New York City. Richard Deighton was the name of his mother's maternal grandfather, whose daughter Mrs. Doria Deighton Jones, a native of Scotland, bore an important part in the boy's education and outlook. His mother, Constance Deighton (Jones) Simpson, was, in the words of another son, the friend, constant companion, and inspiration of his whole life. He was born in New York City, January 12, 1895, had his preparation for college at private schools in and near New York, and at Eton, where he took an active part in the life of the school. His record 178 HENRY RICHARD DEIC.HTOX SIMPSOX there, liis hriet' stay at Harvard, liis military service and his deatli, have l)een (U'seribed as t'oUows l)y a surviving brother: At Eton he distinguished himself at work and at play, showing partieuiar ability at science. He was twice "Stiit u]) for (iood" (i.e., sent jxr.sonally to the Headmaster for particularly t'xcclleut work) and Jiftcr his first year took a "Doulilc Remove," mean- ing tiiat he did so wt'lj in examinations tli;il lie was placed ahead two forms instead of the usual one. He was good all round at sports, but especially at rowing ;ind showed promise of becoming a notable oarsman. Early in 11)14 he took his '* Eittle do," the entrance examina- tion for Caml)ridge University and was entered for King's Col- lege. \\ the l)eginning of August he returned to this country for the sunnner vacation, intending to go to Cambridge in the fall. On the 4th of August. England went to war and Cambridge I niversity became a liosj)ital and training station. It was then decided that he should enter Harxard. He took up residence in Weld in Sejjtember, Kut renuiined less than three weeks. The fact that his friends and companions of Eton days had answered England's call to a man and that he felt his place to l»e with them, fighting for the same princij^les and itieals of right which formed so definite a i)art of his character, pro\-e(l too strong an apjK'al to !»<■ re>i>lcd. knowing that he would liaxc to m(H>t strong oj)j)o.sition shouhl lie express his \iews to his tauiily. he packet hand the ii>uall\' unseen workings of a luier. Eor two (la_\s he worked with the stokers in >hifts of foiu' hours on and four hours oil', later woi'king in t he engine room and other parts of tlie ship. Mrs. Simpson managed to sail on a j-'rciich hmr I lie day after she receixed jii.s letter and arri\ed in I-]n;^land harelv in time to HENRY RICHARD DEIGHTON SIMPSON prevent his enlisting as a private. Very shortly a nomination for the Royal Military College at Sandhurst was obtained for him and a special Army Council called to pass on his nomination, making it possible for him to become naturalized in less than one week's time, an unprecedented thing. At the termination of his course he was gazetted to the Sixth (Inniskilling) Dragoons as a second lieutenant. Finding that at that time the cavalry was more or less inactive, he applied to be transferred to the Royal Flying Corps. His application was ap- proved and he was ordered to Shoreham in Sussex for preliminary training. Here he qualified and obtained his "ticket" or pilot's license. He was then transferred to Upavon in Wiltshire, for further training. From the first he showed marked ability in aviation work and this with his great enthusiasm, energy, and great-hearted wholesomeness made him a marked and trusted man among the officers and students at these stations. In August, 1915, he received orders to go to the front and shortly was given a machine to take with him. This he accom- plished by flying it to Dover and, refueling there, across the Channel to France. While over the Straits a heavy fog came up, causing him to lose direction, and, relying on instinct alone (the machine had not yet been fitted with instruments), he landed in France some miles from his objective. Finding his position, he flew on and joined his command, the Sixteenth Squadron, R.F.C., then stationed near Amiens. On one occasion, returning from a reconnaissance behind the German line he happened to look back and saw that a comrade in another machine, the engine of which was behaving badly, was being attacked by five enemy planes. He turned back and he and his observer by their combined machine-gun fire, downed one of the Huns and drove the other four off, escorting the crip- pled plane to safety. His observer was badly wounded and un- able to turn in his report. Consequently it was with some sur- prise that he learned that the observer had reported this action while in the hospital, and that as a result he himself had been 180 HENRY RICHARD DEIGHTOX sniPSOX mentioned in Sir John Freneli's dispatches of Jainiarv 1st, l!)l(i, for "^raHant and distinguished conduct in the fieUl." On a subsequent occasion his ohse^^•^r was again wounded and all his controls shot away. Fortunately the plane was headed for the British lines and, being a reconnaissance machine was "in- herently stal^le." It assumed a correct gliding angle and a slight crash was tiie worst accident to be expected. A short distance from the ground, however, the extreme .section of one of the wings collapsed and threw the machine into a dangerous side slip. By climbing out to the end of the other wing he managed to right the machine just before landing. The worst damage effected was a broken landing carriage. By some coincidence a Canadian General Staff was passing through the field he landed in, and, after his wounded ol)server had been carried off, he was called over to give the details of the accident to the Officer Command- ing. His action had been noted with interest and .some apprehen- sion from the ground and the presence of mind that had saved the life of his ob.server and him.self was suital)ly commented on. For this he was again mentioned in dispatches. After .some months' active service at the front, during which he flew almost every day, with the exception of a few weeks spent in a hospital at Boulogne recovering from injuries received in stopping the runaway horse of a comrade, he was recalled to Eng- land to conduct a .series of experiments on fast fighting planes of anew tyjx'. He had previously flown the first Fokker captured intact from the enemy, and was recognized b\- the War Office as an exjMTt on machines designed es.sentially for speed ami fight- ing. He later returnecl lot he front and joined tlie Ninth S(iuadron, R.F.C., remaining there until t he hit ter part of 1!)1(» ulieii lie was iii\ah(le(l trt London suffering from d\sentery and general deltil- it\-. While still (■on\ales(ing he was aske(| to \-olunte«'r his mm- \iees in testing a new type of plane which w as ealeulated to proNc faster than any ot lier I lien in existence, lie aiji-eed to do I lii-^ and on l)eeeinli ^'radiial loii al I )ail iiioiil li ( Ollc^'c w it h t lit- ( lass (il II>hi, of wliicli lie ua> a popiilai' and coiiNpiciKius nirrii- l»<-i-. Ili> fallMi-, l)r. Mi-ii<'^t Ilowai'd l>iins, now of Paris, foiliii-rly of N f\\ ^ oik, was a I )ail iiioii I li man In loir liini. \H'.i HOWARD BURCHARD LINES He graduated there in 1882, and took his M.D. degree at Columbia in 1886. Elizabeth Lindsay (James) Lines, a native of Burlington, New Jersey, was the mother of their only son, born in New York, March 5, 1890. In 1900 Dr. Lines and his family moved to Paris, where he became medical director of the New York Life Insur- ance Company. In Paris his son prepared for Dartmouth College at the Anglo-Saxon School. The scope of this preparation is suggested by the fact that in 1908 he passed the haccalcmreat examination in Latin ei langues vivantes at the Sorbonne with honorable mention. Through mem- bership in the social organizations of Dartmouth, where, moreover, he was manager of the Gun Club, circulation manager of one publication and editor of another, and, through the persistence with which his college nickname of "Rainy" clung to him — always a friendly sign — the attractive personal qualities to which his friends bear wit- ness are also suggested. His legal studies at Harvard lacked a year of completion when the war began. He was then dissuaded from acting upon his immediate impulse to go to France and offer him- self in her defense. In the summer of 1915, once he had gained the degree of LL.B. for which he had been working, he felt himself free, and set out at once for Paris, where in September, 1915, he volunteered for the American Ambu- lance Field Service, to which he was attached continuously except for a brief holiday visit to the United States in the spring of 1916, until his death in the Argonne on Decem- ber 23 of that year. After his visit to America he underwent, at Paris, an operation for appendicitis and an abdominal injury due to 184 HOWARD BrRCIIAHD LINES the lifting of heavy weiglits in his anihuhinoe work, and be- sides, spent several weeks in hospital suti'ering both from chicken pox and from grij)])e. By September of IDIO he was able to leave Paris for the front "at the helm of a three- ton White truck" — as he wrote to a friend — "with a trailer consisting of a completely equipped field kitchen." To another friend lie wrote. October (I: " ^t'sd'rday was a real day. ^^ hile on a round for sick I struck a floodeil road. In spots there was a foot of water and (piite some con- siderable current. There were six of us in the car and full equipment of four soldiers — but my faith in a Ford was justified and we pulled through, though once or twice I had a terrible sinking feeling as the motor nearly died and I had to stop antl kid it along. . . . Three miles of it was de- cidedlv sufficient, but when it was over it was a most amus- ing experience to look back on." On Xovember '■2!), Tvines wrote to the same friend: "This morning one of the most peculiar things I have ever seen happened. A shell froju a field gun hit a tree near the post. The shell failed to ex- plode, but split the trunk of the tree for about half its height, went in. tlieu turned and went a couj)le of feet down. At present it is perfectly visible in the nuddle of the trunk, the sides of which are holding it like a \ise." 'I'hese letters to frieiid> barely touch upon his personal exjjhjit.^, which caux-d hiui to be reconiuiended for- 1 he ^ roix de Ciiirrrr >liorlly before his death, on December 'l\\, IDlfi. I'hi^ \\a> due to cei-ebral uieiniigitis following acute pneu- monia, and was so clearly recognized by the military au- t horif ies a> t he result of lii> ambulance work t hat an Army ( it at ion (»f January f. 1I>I 7. described him in t hoe t<'rms: " ( 'ondiiclci/r (h'lour tt coiirdt/ni.r, rraciir mir pnnnh'fjDis 185 HOWARD BURCHARD LINES est revenu an front, a contracte dans le service line maladie grave et est mort pour la France.''' A comrade in the Ambulance unit, Paul Borda Kurtz (Harvard, '16), who met his own death as an American aviator in May of 1918, wrote to his mother on Christmas Day of 1916, a letter describing the burial of Lines at La Grange aux Bois, a village in the Argonne, near Verdun, about ten miles from the trenches. The letter does not give the facts, reported elsewhere, that the Croix de Guerre, awarded too late for his own wearing, was pinned to his coffin, and that, besides the French flag which covered it, an American flag was folded within by Lines's comrades as a pillow for his head. This is what Paul Kurtz wrote: Christmas, 1916. Dear Mother: Howard Lines, who had been ill with pneumonia, died sud- denly Saturday afternoon, and was buried this morning. He was as nice a boy as you could meet and was to be made sous-chef in a few days. Luckily his family, who live in Paris, were able to get out here for the funeral, which was quite impressive. It was raining and blowing hard when we got up this morning, but to- wards nine o'clock it began to clear off and for a while we had a little sunshine. One of the cars was sent off to another camp for the Protestant minister, a regular brancardier who was to read the service. All the officers who are connected with our service and those who are quartered in the village were present, as well as a number of men from other sections of the Ambulance who were near enough to get here. With three others who were with the section last year I helped to carry the coffin, which was draped in the French colors and covered with flowers, from the mortuary to the doorway of the hospital where the simple services were held. We four, Dr. and Mrs. Lines and Miss Lines, stood just inside the doorway. On 186 HOWARD HrR( HARD I.IXES either side of tho door were three soKhers, the ^aiard of honor. who stood with rifles presented wliile the minister read the ser- vices and nuuie a short and very apjjpopriate speech. ()utsi(h> were Mr. Amlrewand former Anihassador Bacon, who had ronu- up from Paris, all the officers and a lunnher of soldiers, w ho stood with bared heads until it was over. Then we lifted the cofKn and put it in the walic(| in Lines's memory at the American And)ulaiice Hospital in Paris; a McdaiUe Coimnemorative of I-'rancc docs him furl her honor. This decoration wa.s bestowed also upon his father. Dr. I^ines, in 1917, and in I!)1S he was made a ( 'lic\alicr of I he Leion of the British lied Cross Society. His record in war was as creditahK' as in peac<'. ^^ lien lie fell in action near ^ j)res, January 1(>. 1!>17. lie liad ^eeii twentv-two months of continuous service in France and Bel<,n'um. He was then major of the !)th Battery. 7th Lon- don liri held in England nuiy be iid'erred from the fact that shortly before hi^ death he was chosen to second tlu' King's speech at the opening of the House of I>ords a cere- mony in wliieh he did not li\'e [o |)articipale. Of llic manner of L(»rd (i()reir> death, reported nuM'e minutely to lia\'e occui'i"ed at t he Railway ( iit t ing bel ween lii> battery position at Lankliof j-'arm and tlu' front neai"- bv, hi^ uncle lias w i il ten : It was at Lanklinf j-'arin. I w ciily-lix c liiiiiijird yarlnnk li_\' a ^lirjl. lie \\a~« taken l> of a hri^ht, sinii)le, and strong spirit, of one who did his (hity. whatever it might he, witii a certain grace and winning gaiety, with modesty and ahicrity . ( )nly a few weeks ago when home on leave for some days - — he had In^en abroad continuously for nearly two Ncars — he spoke of the "mystery" of the strug^U' in which so many of his friends had fallen, but with calm assurance as to what it was for him to do. Among the nian\ . (luty-Io\ing and faithful, w hom the insatiable battlefield keeps, none will be missed more than he. The second was from a Harvard friend, Major Francis T. Colby, T'.S.A., of the Class of 1905, serving as lieutenant in the LStli liclgian Field Artill(M-y. ILK.F., al llic linicliis tribute to Lord (lorell ai)})earc(l in the llarrurd Ahiiinii Bulletin of ALirch ^l\), 1})17: Harvartl has l(»st another of her sons and oui- of the noblest of her race: Major Lord (lon'll, D.S.O., was killed in action on January IG. He fell after two years of war, commanding the same l)attery that he commanded at the outbreak of hostilities. Tiie friends whom he made at Harvard are many and lifelong, as was the warndiearted friendship which he ga\-e to them in re- turn. Those of us who knew and loxcd him as Henry (lorell Barnes during his life at the University will remember him with a clearness which the \-ears cannot alter. Jlis warm, highly re- fincfl. and unselfish personality made liiiii at once our friend, al- though he came to Har\ ard a foreigner from our niother-eonnt ry, while his splendid clia racier con una nde< I our res|)C(| . J le showed even then abo\'e all other (|uali ties llic power and \ igoron- energy of his mind, w hich later enabled liim to rise w it li >n( h rapidil.x in liis profession of the law, to s<-r\c with >ucli well recogni/ed efii- ciency as his father's secretary on llic Koval l)i\orce ("onunis- sion and in oilier e\eculi\'e and legal jxisitious ol nn|»orlancc. When, after his fallicr's dcjitli, lie t(.ok his |)lacc on liie ( 'ro.ss ]{ene of I ,i ir(b ,i > ,i I'ecr of I^nglaiid, his marked LORD GORELL abilities and earnest application quickly gained for him the re- spect of the House, and it became clear that in him was to be found one of the future men of the Empire. To those of us who have knoTVTi him in France and Belgium during the past two years of war another side of his remarkable personality was shown. His highly trained judicial mind was ap- plied to the soldier's profession, and with it was coupled the man of action and of tireless physical energy. He combined strangely the many, often conflicting, qualities which make up a good bat- tery commander. His battery was splendidly organized, trained, and disciplined, and he was intensely loved by his officers and men. He was an excellent horseman and horsemaster. His fire was delivered with speed and accuracy, and his gun positions were always carefully prepared. The day before his death he showed me a nearly invisible gunpit which had resisted two direct hits. He was decorated with the Distinguished Service Order for a most daring and highly successful reconnaissance between the hostile lines at the battle of the Somme. As we carried him on our shoulders to his last resting place in a foreign land, for whose defense he had given his life, and buried him with full military honors, we felt that his loss was not the least of England's sacrifices. ADDISON T.1:K(H BLISS Class of 1914 ± H K war record of Addison Leecli Jiliss is cxtroiuoly hricl'. Early in January. 1!)17, lie rcsifrnod a husincss position in Pittsburgh to enter tlie American Anihnlance Field Sci- vice. He sailetorniy \oyage, he contracted a cold fioni which j)nciiiiioina dcxclopcd. He was taken to the American Hos|)ital at Nciiilly. and I here died I^'ehi-iiary ',',*. 1I»I 7, lr» I jian a mont h after taking sliip from t he I niled States. M\< father was ( 'hestei- W illi.iiii Hli>s, df Host on, a iiiciii- Iter of I lie [I;ii-\ ard ( 'la>s of ISS I-. ;i son of \\ illi.iiii Hli>~- and Margaret (('ha|)in) Hliss. of Springhi'ld. M.i--saeliii-et I s. Ili^ mot lie;- \\a> Isadora 'Leech) Rlis>. a nati\eol Leeeli- ADDISON LEECH BLISS borough, Pennsylvania. Their son, the subject of this memoir, was born in Springfield, November 21, 1891. From early schooling in Springfield, he passed to the Fay School and St. Mark's at Southborough, Massachusetts. At St. Mark's he was captain of the football team in his sixth form year, and at Harvard, which he entered in the autumn of 1910, was a member of the freshman eleven. Here, too, he belonged to the Institute of 1770, the Hasty Pudding, Sphinx, and Polo Clubs. His second undergradu- ate year was passed at Haverf ord College, his third entirely at Harvard; at Christmas of his fourth year he left college and entered the employ of the Ellsworth Collieries Com- pany, at Ellsworth, Pennsylvania, and then of the Union Collieries Company, of Pittsburgh. Of this company he was a director, concerned especially with installation work. From this employment he went direct to France, and his death. Between the lines of this short story much may be read in the light of two sentences found in the Class Report of 1914 next following his death: "There was no member of the Class of 1914 whose loss would be more deeply grieved. His generosity, geniality, and whole-heart edness made him one of the most lovable men it is given us to know." IIENin .MONTr.OMKKV sr( KLKY Class of 1!)1() OUCKLKV was iKiiiicd lor lii> prandial licr, llic Kc\. I)r. ITcnry K^linton Montiroiiicry. second rcclor of I lie ( Imrcli ol' I Ik- Iiicarnal ion. New ^ oik (ity. Al a >»'i-\ic(' in mem- ory o I" Il(in\\" Sucklcy the picx nl rector of I )r. Mon(^M)in- try's |)aris|i defined Ins |)redec<'s>or as ;i man ol nnhoniuied \ilalily, of (pnCk and impidsixc syinjjalliy, of ardeni pa- HENRY MONTGOMERY SUCKLEY triotism, and possessed of a very genius for friendship; and went on to say: "it is natural to look for these traits in his grandson, and take satisfaction in seeing their interplay in the formation of a new character," The boy was born in Orange, New Jersey, February 18, 1887, the son of Robert Bowne Suckley, and Elizabeth (Montgomery) Suckley of Rhinebeck, New York. Here on the Hudson and at schools in Switzerland and Germany, Suckley was prepared for the one year of special prepara- tion to enter Harvard which he received at Phillips-Exeter Academy. From 1906 to 1910, when he took his A.B. de- gree, he was a student at Cambridge. Here he played on the soccer football team, and belonged to the Cercle Fran- Qais, and the Aero, Freshman Debating, Institute, D.K.E., Hasty Pudding, and Zeta Psi Clubs. On graduating from college he travelled in Europe, and then entered business in New Y^ork, where he was at work when the war came. He must be counted among the Americans who gave the earliest heed to the call from Europe, for he was one of the thirty-three college men who sailed with Mr. A. Piatt An- drew in November of 1914 to enter the American Ambu- lance Field Service. Through the ensuing winter he served with Section 3 of that service, in the Vosges Mountains, driving an ambulance provided by St. Paul's School. "His letters to the school," said the Rev. Howard C. Robbins in the address already quoted, "afforded unconsciously an insight into his character. He is continually expressing solicitude for the wounded men under his care. Every jolt over the rough roads is, he knows, anguish to them, and his letters show how lively his sympathies were, and how assid- uous his care." During the German attack in the Vosges 196 HEXRV MONTGOMERY SUCKLEY liis l)i-a\n'ry in action won In'ni \]\c Croix dc (lurrrc and pro- motion to suus-livutcnuitt under Iiis classmate, l^ovcrin^' Hill. Ilokling this rank he served w ith Section '> at ^Talze- ville. ^'erdll^. and Pont-a-^Fonsson, and constantly dis- tin^nisheil himself l)y execnti\-e ahilily and coolness undei" shell-fire. The citation he recci\cd wl'ilc in the \'osges tes- tified to lii> (jualities in the following tcrni>: Citation a hi (Kicine Oixisioii Le Conducteur Sl'CKLEY, II.. de la Section Sanitaire Ame- ricaine No. '■2, sujet Aniericain: A de nonveau fait preuve (run devouemcnt di^Mie des plus grands eioges en assurant nuit et jour, j)endant tjuinze jours, avec un parfait niepris du dan^'cr, Tevacuation de ii()nil)reux l)lesses sur une route de niontagne constamnient Imttue ])ar des projectiles ennemis. In Sef)tend)er of 1J)1() he returned to America to recruit and organize a new section for the Ambulance Field Ser- vice, for which his uncle, Mr, Henry Montgomery of New York, secured from memb(^rs of the Xew ^'ork Stock Ex- change the fuiid> re(juired for twenty uew and)ulances. When he i-etui'iied to France in NoN-cmher this uin't was placed under hi- command and ordered to Saloniea. ifei-e he served until his death, March !!>. I!)I7, from I lie ell'ects of l)ond)ing by an enemy airplaue. Ili> conduel on lliis front had caused (ienerai Sarrail to pi-ojxysc hiin. before liis death, foi' the Eegion of Honor, aiid won from an ollieial of the I''iel >er\iee (hiring the pa>l t w o years, lie w as one nl the I hree or four (III w honi \\c most depended, and w ho was most hketj and tni>led b\ lho>e who wdrked with him and for him." 1!> HEXRY MONTGOMERY SUCKLEY The circumstances of his death at Koritza in Albania on March 19 from wounds received the previous day at Zem- lak, nearby, are related in a letter from Gordon Ware (Harvard, '08), whose account of the capture of the avi- ator responsible for Suckley's death must be given for its picture of the conditions under which our ambulance men were working: On March 18 came the news that Henry Suckley, our chef, had been hit by an avion, and on the 19th he died in the hospital at K. It took place at Z., our former camp forty kilos from here, where he had gone to see about some supplies, etc. They were in the dining-tent at one o'clock, Henry and R. Outside was W. cleaning his car. At the first explosion Henry went outside to in- vestigate, and the second bomb struck him, shattering his hip. R. threw himself flat and escaped injury. Henry lay there smil- ing and said in French: "I am hit." " Je suis touche aussi," said the lieutenant's chauffeur, who had received a slight wound. An Albanian and a Frenchman were killed outright, the kitchen was riddled, and the cook wounded in the leg. Pieces of eclat went into W.'s car, missing him. D. had his wrist scratched and S. had a hole in his coat. Two more bombs fell near our imocciipied sleeping tent. W. cranked up his car and took Henry, smiling and smoking, to K. "If I'm going to pass out, I'll have a cigarette first," he said, the calmest of the lot. The lieutenant's chauffeur, who is the butt of every one, proved himself a real hero and refused aid and transportation until Henry had been attended to. At K. everything possible was done for him, but only his strong consti- tution enabled him to last the night, an artery having been severed. He suffered little and was always conscious, not realiz- ing until the end that he was going. Bright and cheerful, even the doctor broke down when he went. It gives an idea of the man's charm that he could so grip strangers, and it is difficult to 198 HENRY .MONTGOMERY SlC'KLEY measure our regard for him after thrtn* montlis' close association. As a section-leader he worked like a dojj. and asked nothinon who conducted the funeral l)ack to the advanced post. lie was a thoroughbred. Re- ing the only Protestant hereabouts — a Frenchman — he had come down on horseback from the first line of trenches and (»f- fered his services. He described the funeral at which the French accorded our dead every honor. . . . Early this morning, the iJochi' a\ion appeared- (he one which killed Suckley - — and about eleven it was sighted flying low over the mountains to the east. In fact he was very low , and downi the road came the snap of rifle-fire as they took j)ot-shots at him. Nearer and nearer he flew, following the road; .so it seemed that it must be his object to mifraiUeuse the camj). Following orders, we were heading for the abris, when it became perfectly evident that he must be in trouble. He was not more than one hundred feet up aiul de.scendinge\('ry niiniile. as if in seardi of a landing-place. It ((tuJd no! be otherwise, as he was too good a target for the rifle-fire. Vnwv hundred yards from us lie chose a fi<'ld, swoojx'd down apparently always in j)erfect control of his machine - fill, at tiic niorncnl of alighting, a sliarj* turn of tli( wlicel capsized her and she la\' on her side, the Mack crosses on lier l»cll_\- staring at us. The rush tot lie nhris slopped and t lie rate to the luachitie, which was bla/.itig briskly, lteg:in. The rec<»llect ion of our own frage(j\- was loo fresji to make us wish anything but liarin to the occupants, and it was more like a Southern l\iicliing mob I lian a lied ( f nss seel inii t jial s| reamc<| <)\er till- field in the \-an of a tlioi|s,ind i-"reiielimeii yelling with jo\ at I he pIlLjIll of I lie a\ ioll. li*;» HENRY MONTGOMERY SUCKLEY It wasn't pretty, but to give what credit can be given, I think we were all relieved to see the two men emerge more frightened than hurt and approach the on-coming mob with raised hands, crying, "Kamerad, Kamerad." They were instantly surrounded by a jostling throng, more curious than ugly, though it was neces- sary for them to appeal to a French officer to stop the soldiers from cutting off their buttons as souvenirs. As the officers seemed inclined to do little, I'm glad to say it was an American who finally shamed the mob into letting them alone — and I hope this will be scored to the credit of our own memento-seeking tourists. The men were white and frightened, uncertain as to their reception. As their French was not good they could hardly have been reassured by a lieutenant's threat to shoot them — emphasizing the point with drawn revolver — should their de- nial that there were bombs in the machine prove false. The offi- cer was a good-looking young chap with a keen, American-like face. His non-com was of the caricatured Prussian type, bull- necked, bullet-headed, and brutal in appearance. The officer had three decorations, including the inevitable Iron Cross, "ie moteur est — est — en panne," he said hesitatingly, and claimed that it had been going badly all the morning and at length, catch- ing fire, had forced his descent, accidentally unsuccessful. I think he deliberately capsized it so as to destroy it. Meanwhile the burning machine was given a wide berth by the crowd, as the fire had reached the ammunition and constant crackling of cartridges resulted. Half a dozen signal-rockets like- wise exploded in a half-hearted manner. The camera fiends were the first to enter the danger zone, and the ruins were still smoul- dering when the souvenir hunters swooped down like Albanians on a dead horse. I found myself in a tug-of-war with a Chasseur d'Afrique for a bit of canvas with the black cross on it. He won. In an incredibly short time fire and scavengers had left nothing but the big motor standing. The prisoners were marched off to headquarters. They were the pair who had killed Henry Suckley.' ' Harvard Alumni Bulletin, May 24, 1917. PRINTED AT THE HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS CAMBRIDGE, MASS., U.S.A. b3^ -J 1 THE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA Santa Barbara THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW. Series 9482 UC S01.'''HER\ nf GtO*<*L UBRARV FACILITY AA 000 295 473 o I'tff'fM* Mt