The next day was the one fixed for the Army to enter Germany. At last they were reaching the goal that they had aimed at ever since they had come to France. The arrogant country that had sought to enslave Europe was to feel the foot of the victor on her own soil, that she had so haughtily declared to be “sacred.” They reached the bridge that had been designated for the crossing. Then with bands crashing out their martial music and the Stars and Stripes floating proudly overhead, the American Army swung across the bridge and entered as conquerors on German soil. CHAPTER XXI AS FROM THE DEAD It was a good-sized city into which the army marched, and the streets were full of people. There were other thousands who peered from behind window curtains at the hated newcomers, these Americans, who, they had been told by their lying government, could never get to France, and who, if they did get there, would run at the sight of German uniforms. They _had_ run, but they had run after the Germans instead of away from them, and that trifling fact had made all the difference in the world. There was no demonstration of any kind. The people looked on in sullen silence. Only the children showed interest. They were too young to understand what the coming of the Americans meant to their elders, and the flying flags and stirring music appealed to them as a spectacle and delighted them. The American authorities took charge of the town and issued proclamations telling the people just how they were to conduct themselves under the American occupation. The ordinary business of the town was to go on as usual, and the civil authorities would not be interfered with as long as good order was maintained. After a certain hour at night, no citizen was to be allowed on the streets. American officers were to be saluted when they passed. Hats were to be lifted when the American flag appeared and when the American national air was played. The people were warned that the rules were to be strictly obeyed and that any disorder would be sharply and instantly repressed. “And they’re getting off mighty easy at that,” grumbled Tom. “What we ought to do is to give them a taste of their own medicine. We ought to post up the same regulations here that the Germans did in the towns of France and Belgium.” “We couldn’t do that,” objected Frank. “They were brutes and those things came natural to them. But we’re Americans.” “Of course, you’re right,” admitted Tom. “Just the same it makes my blood boil at the contrast between what they deserve and what they’re getting. Look at these streets and houses, not showing a mark of war, and then picture the towns of France and Belgium, where only heaps of rubbish mark the passage of the Hun.”