For death—a harvest, For buzzards—a banquet, For the grave—victory, For worms—a feast, For nations—debts, For justice—nothing, For “Thou shalt not kill”—boisterous laughter, For literature—the realism of the slaughter house, For the painter—the immortalization of wholesale murder, For the public park—a famous butcher in stone or bronze, For Roosevelts—opportunity to strut and brag of blood, and win a “war record” for political purposes, For Bryans—a military title and a “war record” for political purposes, For Christ—contempt, For “Put up thy sword”—a sneer, For preachers, on both sides,—ferocious prayers for victory, For Sunday-school teachers—blood-steaming stories for tender children and helplessly impressible boys, For bankers—bonds, interest (and working class substitutes), For big manufacturers—business, profits (and working class substitutes), For big business men of all sorts—“good times” (and working-class substitutes), For leading business men, for leading politicians, for leading preachers, for leading educators, for leading editors, for leading lecturers—for all of these windy patriots who talk bravely of war, who talk heroically of the flag, who talk finely of national honor and talk and talk of the glory of battle—for all these yawping talkers—never positions as privates in the infantry on the firing line _up close_ where they are really likely to get their delicately perfumed flesh torn to pieces. Thus war is hell for the WORKING class.[5] It is, of course, true that in ancient times the leading citizens did much of the fighting—but that was very long ago, in the days when the machine-gun had not yet been dreamed of. Even two thousand years ago the plutocratic snobs were beginning to show traces of intelligence sufficient to avoid going to hell voluntarily—afoot. Says Professor E. A. Ross:[6] “Service in the Roman cavalry, originally obligatory on all who could furnish two horses, became after a time a badge of superiority. ‘Young men of rank more and more withdrew from the infantry, and the legionary cavalry became a close aristocratic corps’.... Finally the rich came to feel that wealth ought to buy its possessors clear of every onerous duty. In Caesar’s time ‘in the soldiery not a trace of the better classes could any longer be discovered ... the levy took place in the most irregular and unfair manner. Numerous persons liable to serve were wholly passed over.... The Roman burgess cavalry now merely vegetated as a sort of mounted noble guard, whose perfumed cavaliers and exquisite high-bred horses only played a part in the festivals of the capital; the so-called burgess infantry was a troop of mercenaries, swept together from the lowest ranks of the burgess population.’”