they burned the boy scout shirt. Then they locked him up, but
they did not find his message.
All day he lay in duress, and part of the night. Perhaps he shed a few
tears. He was very young, and things looked black for him. Boy scouts
were being shot, remember! But it never occurred to him to destroy the
message that meant his death if discovered.
He was clever with locks and such things, after the manner of boys,
and for most of the night he worked with the window and shutter lock.
Perhaps he had a nail in his pocket, or some wire. Most boys have. And
just before dawn he got window and shutter opened, and dropped, a long
drop, to the ground. He lay there for a while, getting his breath and
listening. Then, on his stomach, he slid away into the darkest hour
that is just before the dawn.
Later on that day a footsore and weary but triumphant youngster
presented himself at the headquarters of the Belgian Army in Antwerp
and insisted on seeing the minister of war. Being at last admitted, he
turned up a very travel-stained and weary little boy's foot and
proceeded to strip a piece of adhesive plaster from the sole.
Underneath the plaster was the message!
* * * * *
War is a thing of fearful and curious anomalies. It has shown that
humane units may comprise a brutal whole; that civilisation is a shirt
over a coat of mail. It has shown that hatred and love are kindred
emotions, boon companions, friends. It has shown that in every man
there are two men, devil and saint; that there are two courages, that
of the mind, which is bravest, that of the heart, which is greatest.
It has shown that government by men only is not an appeal to reason,
but an appeal to arms; that on women, without a voice to protest, must
fall the burden. It is easier to die than to send a son to death.
It has shown that a single hatred may infect a world, but it has shown
that mercy too may spread among nations. That love is greater than
cannon, greater than hate, greater than vengeance; that it triumphs
over wrath, as good triumphs over evil.
Direct descendant of the cross of the Christian faith, the Red Cross
carries onto every battlefield the words of the Man of Mercy:
"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy."
On a day in March I went back to England. March in England is spring.
Masses of snowdrops lined the paths in Hyde Park. The grass was green,
the roads hard and dry under the eager
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