You men of Germany from East and West, forced to shed your blood in the defence of your homeland, through England's infamous envy and hatred of Germany's progress, feed the flame that burns in your souls. We have but one War Cry: "God punish England!" Hiss this one to another in the trenches, in the charge; hiss as it were the sound of licking flames. Behold in every dead comrade a sacrifice forced from you by this accursed people. Take tenfold vengeance for each hero's death! You German people at home, feed this fire of hate! You mothers, engrave this in the heart of the babe at your breast! You thousands of teachers to whom millions of German children look up with eyes and hearts, teach Hate, unquenchable Hate! You homes of German learning, pile up the fuel on this fire. Tell the nation that this hate is not un-German, that it is not poison for our people. Write in letters of fire the name of our bitterest enemy. You guardians of the truth, feed this sacred hate! You German fathers, lead your children up to the high hills of our homeland, at the feet of our dear country bathed in sunshine. Your women and children shall starve: bestial, devilish conception. England wills it! Surely all that is in you rises against such infamy! Listen to the ceaseless song of the German forest, behold the fruitful fields like rolling seas, then will your love for this wondrous land find the right words, "Hate, unquenchable Hate! Germany, Germany above all!" Let it be inculcated in your children, and it will grow like a landslide, irresistible, from generation to generation. You fathers, proclaim it aloud over the billowing fields, that the toiling peasant below may hear you, that the birds of the forest may fly away with the message: into the land that echoes from German cliffs send it reverberating like the clanging of bells from tower to tower throughout the country side: "Hate, Hate, the accursed English, Hate!" You masters, carry the flame to your workshops. Axe and hammer will fall the heavier when arms are nerved by this Hate. You peasants, guard this flame, fan it anew in the hearts of your toilers that the hand may rest heavy on the plough that throws up the soil of our homeland. What CARTHAGE was to ROME, ENGLAND is to GERMANY. For ROME as for us it is a question of "to be or not to be." May our people find a faithful mentor like Cato. HIS CETERUM CENSEO, CARTHAGINEM ESSE DELENDAM for us means "GOD PUNISH ENGLAND." Some people laud the "thoroughness" of the German Army. I wonder if they laud the "thoroughness" of its hate.