The Bridge At Meaux



The Bridge at Meaux, destroyed in the course of the German
retreat, has not yet been entirely repaired. Beneath it rushes the
Marne and the river sings in triumph, as it passes, that it is carrying
away the soil that has been desecrated by the steps of the
invader, and that day by day it is washing clean the land of France.

In the fields where the corn is standing, the tiny crosses marking
the last resting places of the men are entirely hidden, but where
the grain has been gathered the graves, stand out distinctly
marked not only by a cross, but also by the tall bunches of corn
which have been left growing on these small patches of holy
ground. It has always been said that France has two harvests
each year. Certainly in the fields of the Marne there is not only the
harvest of bread; there is also springing up the harvest of security
and peace.

The peasants as they point out the graves always add: "We of the
people know that those men sacrificed their lives that our children
might live. Those who have died in vain for an unjust cause may
well envy the men of France who have poured out their blood for
the benefit of humanity."

Looking on the crosses on the battlefield of the Marne, I realised to
the fullest extent the sacrifices, borne with such bravery, of the