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Foreword from "Rank and File," by Colonel (now General) Theodore Roosevelt, published by Charles Scribners, 1928.

The days of small professional armies are past. Now entire nations go to war, and therefore, the army is the replica of the country itself. Our Army in France was more representative of the United States than in the national Congress. The strength and weakness of the nation were shown in it. In the ranks were cowards as well as brave men. Anyone who ever saw active service knows that in every company some men flinched or tried to run away. It is as idle to say that no Americans were cowards as it is to say there are no thieves or criminals in our large cities. What we can say is that the record of the American soldiers as a whole is one of which we may well be proud. "For Valor" is the simple inscription of the most prized of all American decorations, the Medal of Honor. Generally the deed which won it is recorded in a condensed, bald statement reading like a definition in a dictionary. Generally that is all that remains by which it is possible to visualize some action that forms a part of the tradition which is the United States.

Histories concern themselves with laws, constitutions and wars. The individuals of whom they speak are the great statesmen or generals. When they describe battles they pay little attention to the junior officers or enlisted men.

I believe that a nation is mirrored in war by the rank and file of its soldiers, not by any individual strategist; just as I believe that it is mirrored in peace by its ordinary every-day citizens rather than by some brilliant statesman.

Every racial stock and strain that go to make our country furnished its deeds of heroism. Colonel Vidmer, who commanded the 307th Infantry, was leading his men through the tangled wilderness of the Argonne Forest. On the wood roads the Germans had placed machine-guns which mowed down the Americans when they burst out of the brush. As Vidmer and his adjutant were crossing one of these roads they came on eight dead Americans lying where the storm of battle had smitted them. The Colonel told his adjutant to take their names from their identification tags. After the battle he looked over the penciled list. Each of the eight dead soldiers came from a different racial stock, from a different country in Europe.

In the ranks of the regiment with which I served were men born in Italy, Germany, Poland, France, Ireland and Greece, who played their part with the greatest gallantry.

Though the army was made up in the main of young men, the older men volunteered and served also. The dashing gallantry of youth was equalled by the determined courage of the older man. These men took the war as a duty of citizenship. They did their turn at the wheel, came back to this country, and took up the work they had left.

All branches of the service contributed their heroes. The dough-boys and fliers naturally furnished the largest number, for their men had the greatest opportunities. The rest, however, had their proportionate quota. This holds true of certain services which did not actually fight. Unfortunately, too, men in these services did not receive much recognition at the hands of the general public, for it was difficult for the ordinary man to visualize a hero that was not fighting. Such were the mess-sergeants and cooks. I have seen an old sergeant taking the food forward to the men along a road which the Germans were strafing. I have seen some of his mules fall dead, hit by a shell. I have seen the sergeant cut them from the traces and lead the train on. The front line troops must be fed.

The Medical Corps furnished a constant succession of heroes who are now back practicing in St. Louis or Boston, Cold Spring or Zenith. It is difficult for those who have never fought in a war to visualize or understand the attitude of mind it begets. Death is so common that it loses much of the horror that is associated with it in ordinary life. That is particularly true in the case of the Regular whose profession is arms. He gets a reputation for being hard-boiled, because what strikes the civilian as horrible seems to him merely ordinary.

There was a grim instance of this when the First Division was in the trenches near Montsec. One squad of the 28th Infantry was sent each night as an outpost to a very exposed position near the German lines. It was feared that during the day the Boches might find their way to this place by an old communication trench which led toward their position. Because of this the corporal in charge was told, in order to prevent identification by the enemy, to bring back the body of any of his squad who might get killed.

One night after a very sharp bombardment, in the grey dawn the company commander was inspecting the lines and noticed this squad filing back. As they drew near he saw the corporal was carrying a man's leg under his arm. When the soldier saw his captain he stopped, saluted, and said, "Sir, Private Jones got hit by a shell. I have brought him back as the captain ordered. This is his leg. Brown is carrying the rest in a poncho."

The commonness of death in war which causes such incidents makes a more effective preachment of immortality than ever was made from a pulpit. Serving side by side through back-breaking labor and constant danger, men learn to care more deeply than is possible in the sheltered comfort of every-day life at home. The closest of friendships are formed only to be severed in an instant by a bullet or shell, for death is constantly at the elbows of soldiers in the front lines. The buddy with whom the soldier is sharing his last cigarette, before that cigarette is finished is a torn mass of blood, mud and khaki. Instinct tells the survivor that what lies at his feet is not his comrade. Something has gone, and, what is more, that something is indestructible. 

It has been my experience that the men who cherish the least rancor after a war are those who did the fighting. From its very nature war lends itself to misunderstanding. Naturally the enemy are abused. This is partly because it is normal to believe ill of the enemy, and partly for propaganda purposes. All kinds of lies are told about them, which as a rule leave a most lasting impression on those who did not serve at the front.

A typical lie of the last war was the constantly reiterated statement, both in the United States and Great Britain that the Germans were cowards.

Of course this is untrue. If their officers and men had not been fighters, they would not have been able, with greatly inferior numbers, to hold the Allies at bay for so long and all but win the struggle. The soldiers who served against them can recall many instances of splendid bravery on their part. Major Von Santvoord Merle-Smith was commanding a battalion of the old 69th. It was fighting in Champagne. The Germans had been delivering a series of strong counter-attacks. The Americans had repulsed them. Suddenly, from the clouds of smoke and dust that covered the terrain where the Major and his men were holding the trench, appeared a figure. It was close to them before they saw it, it was completely alone. Surprised by its solitariness, they held their fire. Toward them it stalked, until they were able to see it was a German Officer, a monocle in his eye. All of his men had been killed or wounded.

Through the wire he picked his way and jumped into our trench. Near by stood a burly sergeant. Clubbing his rifle he shouted. "Surrender". The Boche turned on him, eyed him insolently, and said, "Schwinehund!" The Sergeant brought his rifle down and knocked him out.

Those days left an indelible mark on the minds of the men who served. Of the many vivid impressions stamped on the mind, none was more lasting than the way unessentials were swept aside and men clove to first principles. Differences that loomed up in peace shredded away in war-like mist from the Atlantic headlands.

At home, in the comfortable days of peace, rich man and poor man, Protestant, Catholic and Jew, are far too conscious of the differences between them. When lives are at stake the consciousness disappears and each accepts the other on individual character. 

Nowhere is this more evident than in the question of religious dogma. The soldiers neither knew nor cared what the faith of their side-partners might be. This did not mean that they lacked

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---------- Reopened for Editing 2024-02-13 19:14:54 ---------- Reopened for Editing 2024-02-15 13:07:26 ---------- Reopened for Editing 2024-02-15 15:46:31 pgph 3. tot he, to the pgph 7. fet, to fed the rest is ok. back to review. ---------- Reopened for Editing 2024-02-15 21:22:20