See--a huge howitzer shell explodes right among them. The young man whom you were to marry on his return from the war was standing on the verge of the crater when the explosion came, and he is now lying there, with both eyes blown out by the awful blast and hanging on his cheeks. There are visions of you in the blasted eyes, and there are thoughts of you in the dazed brain, and his dying breath is a whisper of your name. Will you continue to think thoughts and speak words which may drive him to that awful death? The picture is horrible. That of the blasted eyes is revolting. True, and for this reason it may not come within the artistic, as outlined in the philosophy of Longinus; but it is not my purpose here to be artistic. My very purpose is to visualize the horrible, because the only way for the people of this country to prevent this on-coming horror is to make the necessary military preparations for national defense. But, young lady, this is not the end of the dreadful picture: Let us look into your home. The awful news comes--our men are beaten with enormous slaughter; father, brother, sweetheart--all your home's defenders--are dead. The invaders who have murdered them are in the street outside. There comes a summons at the door. A certain number of the enemy have been billeted to your house, and you must play the genial hostess. Though they get drunk, and ill-treat you beyond the power of words to tell, there remains no remedy. Your dear ones, who were your natural defenders, have been sacrificed on the altar of false faith in defenselessness as a deterrent of war. CHAPTER V THE NEEDS OF OUR ARMY * * * * * LETTER FROM GENERAL LEONARD WOOD GOVERNOR'S ISLAND, N. Y., _February 6th, 1915._ _Dear Mr. Maxim:_