h will assuredly take its place with that
of the Marne as one of the greatest combats of the greatest war. Through
the middle of it flows the great river, passing from the east to the
west. The banks of the river here are very steep. Above the plain, which
sweeps away from the northern bank, rises the "massif" of Laon. It is an
ideal area for great movements and for artillery work directed upon the
valley of the river. Passing eastward a little, there are the heights
behind the city of Rheims and above the Vesle, a tributary of the Aisne.
Here again nature has builded a stronghold easy to defend, difficult
exceedingly to attack.

"I know of heroic work against these great lines, work that will live
with the most momentous of this struggle. I know of smashing attacks the
thought of which takes one's breath away. I have heard narratives of the
trenches and of the bridges--these engineers, French and English, have
indeed 'played the game'--which no man can hear unmoved; how the columns
went down again and again to the blazing death of the valley, and how
men worked, building and girding in a very inferno--worked with the
furious speed of those whose time of work is short.

HEROISM IN THE TRENCHES

"And in the trenches, too, the tale of heroism unfolds itself hour by
hour. Here is an example, one among ten thousand, the story of a wounded
private: 'We lay together, my friend and I...The order to fire came. We
shot and shot till our rifles burned us. Still they swarmed on towards
us. We took careful aim all the while. "Ah, good, did you see that?" I
turned to my friend and as I did so heard a terrible dull sound like a
spade striking upon newly turned earth. His head was fallen forward. I
spoke, I called him by name. He was moaning a little. Then I turned to
my work again. They are advancing quickly now. Ah! how cool I was. I
shot so slowly,...so very slowly.

"'And then--do you know what it feels like to be wounded? I rose just
a little too high on my elbow. A sting that pierces my arm like a hot
wire--too sharp almost to be sore. I felt my arm go away from me--it
seemed like that--and then my rifle fell. I believe I was a little
dazed. I looked at my friend presently. He was dead.'

THE GRIM STORY OF SENLIS

"So, on these green river banks and across these fair wooded plains the
Germans make their great stand--the stand that if they are defeated will
be their last in France. And meanwhile behind them lie the wasted f