In many campaigns of the past, disease has slain its thousands where bullets and shells have killed hundreds, and even the twentieth century with its marvelous science of sanitation has not defeated the direful common enemies of allies and foes. Why disease should attack masses of men in the prime of life, living in the open air, and on the whole well fed and clothed, at first sight seems strange, but when we remember that modern fighting begets an intolerable thirst, which the soldier is naturally tempted to slake as best he can and when he can, at least one reason is not hard to find. All modern armies, since the striking experience of Japan in the Manchurian campaign, pay special attention to the drinking water, and with good results. But an irremovable source of disease remains in the typhus-carrying vermin, in the myriads of flies bred in the rotting carcases of men and horses and in the filth that inevitably collects around perpetually shifting camps and bivouacs. As everyone now knows, these insects are ceaseless and tireless carriers of infection, and it is difficult to see how, under conditions of war, the plague of them can be utterly wiped out. SCOURGES OF MODERN WARFARE Of the diseases which assail an army in the field, a few stand out so prominently that all others may practically be neglected. These are cholera, typhus, typhoid fever, dysentery, and pneumonia; and they have this in common, that they are all caused by specific bacilli. Thus cholera is the child, so to speak, of the dreaded vibrio, and pneumonia that of the pneumococcus; while typhus, typhoid and dysentery have each their own special microbe. The modes of attack are, however, different, for the pneumococcus can enter the organism by the nose and mouth only; typhoid and dysentery through the alimentary canal; while the way in which cholera is propagated is at present unknown. All have this in common, that while the microbes causing them are probably always present--that of cholera being a doubtful exception--they seem only to assault a subject previously weakened by exposure, bad food, or intemperance. RAVAGES OF TYPHUS IN SERVIA The dread aftermaths of war made their first visitations upon the Servian nation. One read with dismay that Belgium was later outdone by Poland, and Poland seemed almost fortunate beside Servia. The account sent by Captain E. N. Bennett, Commissioner in Servia for the British Red Cross Society, of the conditions prevailing in Servian hospitals and prisoners’ camps filled the whole world with dread. “Fires are needed to clear Servia of typhus, just as fires were needed to stop the great plague in London,” reported Sir Thomas Lipton, who spent considerable time in that country. He said: