. The Varsity war supplement 1916. iedfor them, and died a hero! I know only that his regiment, theGrenadiers, was decimated. My poor little boy! God pityus all, and save martyred Belgium! In a second letter: I inclose my dear little boys obituary notice. He diedat the head of his company and five hundred and seventy-fourof his Grenadiers went down with him. Their regimenteffectively checked the German advance, and in recognitionGeneral joffre pinned the Cross of the Legion of Honour tohis regimental colours. But we are left to mourn—though Ido not begrudge my share of sorrow. The pain is awfu
. The Varsity war supplement 1916. iedfor them, and died a hero! I know only that his regiment, theGrenadiers, was decimated. My poor little boy! God pityus all, and save martyred Belgium! In a second letter: I inclose my dear little boys obituary notice. He diedat the head of his company and five hundred and seventy-fourof his Grenadiers went down with him. Their regimenteffectively checked the German advance, and in recognitionGeneral joffre pinned the Cross of the Legion of Honour tohis regimental colours. But we are left to mourn—though Ido not begrudge my share of sorrow. The pain is awful, andI pray that by the grace of God you may never know what itmeans. For King and Country! The only leaven in this black picture of war as I haveseen it, as it has touched me, has been the scarlet of theRed Cross. To a faith that the terrible scenes at the fronthad almost destroyed, came every now and then again theflash of the emblem of mercy. Hope, then, was not were hands to soothe and labour, as well as hands to. The sorrow of blindness is the portion of many kill. There was still brotherly love in the world. There wascourage that was not of hate. There was a patience thatwas not a lying in wait. There was a flag that was not ofone nation, but of all the world; a flag that needed no re-cruiting station, for the ranks it led were always full to over-flowing; a flag that stood between the wounded soldier anddeath; that knew no defeat but surrender to the will of theGod of Battles. And that flag I followed. To the front, to the field hos-pitals behind the trenches, to railway stations, to hospitaltrains and ships, to great base hospitals. I watched itsambulances on shelled roads. I followed its brassards astheir wearers, walking gently, carried stretchers with theirgroaning burdens. And, whatever may have failed in thiswar—treaties, ammunition, elaborate strategies, even someof the humanities—the Red Cross as a symbol of servicehas never failed. I was a crit
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