In the now happily distant days of August, 1914, the people of the United States found themselves facing an opaque wall of neutrality. But we are an emotional people; and the rape of Belgium had hit us emotionally. Though we were asked not to applaud the pictures of Allied soldiers that flashed across the screen in every motion-picture theatre of the country, we did clap our hands; and, what is more, we valiantly hissed the Kaiser when he strutted before our view. Let the American people ever rejoice that in those first tragic days they had eyes of the heart. Oh, those months of shame for us who felt that the cause of England and France and Belgium was the cause of the United States of America! They have passed now, thank God; and the man of vision who first brought home to us what Belgium’s sorrow meant, was Louis Raemaekers. Each line he drew was a full platoon of soldiers advancing toward Berlin. His vivid, ironic pencil was a gun thrust at Prussian autocracy. His art opened the door in that opaque wall I have spoken of; and it was a garden that we looked upon--though a garden filled only with red flowers: the poppies of everlasting sleep; crimson blooms that spoke of the blood so nobly shed in the name of national honor; fiery blossoms that burst upon our gaze through the smoke of German guns; dark passion-flowers that breathed pain, but never despair. The sad garden of Belgium--this it was that one man of genius revealed to us, in all its pity and sorrow. And America looked, and wept, and sent messengers into that place of desolation. For never for an instant had we been neutral, never had we really dreamed of standing by and letting this agony go on. Had we done so, the years to be would have held only grief for us. We could not have lifted up our heads in the world of nations if we had not seized our splendid opportunity. Who has ever doubted the integrity of the American people? As one man we rose when war was at last declared, and as one man we will fight, in the name of Democracy, in the name of Humanity, until the Prussian yoke is lifted from the Belgium we love and reverence. A task lies before us of unbelievable magnitude. But we shall not falter, we shall not fail; for if we fail, life itself must crumble in ashes on the hearthstone of the world. With a triumphant Kaiser, existence would be unbearable. The pacifists lay all the emphasis on mere living. They forget that most of us do not wish to live on a Prussian-ruled earth. Surely it is not much to die for a principle that is higher than the stars. Louis Raemaekers, you have opened a door on life. You have brought news to thousands who had not heard and seen. And great is your reward. CHARLES HANSON TOWNE. [Illustration] _The End of the Hindenburg Line_