Part 30 (1/2)

And Congress did respond. The Senate on April 4, and the House on April 6, by overwhelming majorities, pa.s.sed a resolution in full accordance with the President's recommendation, declaring that a state of war had been thrust upon the United States by the German government, and authorizing and directing the President ”to employ the entire naval and military forces of the United States, and the resources of the government, to carry on war against the Imperial German government.”

Colonel Richard Butler was at last content.

”I am proud of my country,” he declared, ”and of my President and Congress. I have cabled the congressman from my district to tender my congratulations to Mr. Wilson, and to offer my services anew in whatever capacity my government can use them.”

If he had favored the Allied cause before going abroad he was now thrice the partisan that he had been. For he had seen France. He had seen her, bled white in her heroic endeavor to drive the invader from her soil. He had seen her ruined homes, and cities, and temples of art. He had seen her women and her aged fathers and her young children doing the work of her able-bodied men who were on the fighting line, replacing those hundreds of thousands who were lying in heroes'

graves. He had been, by special favor, taken to the front, where he had seen the still grimmer visage of war, had caught a glimpse of life in the trenches, of death on the field, and had heard the sweep and the rattle and the roar of unceasing conflict. And in his eyes and voice as he walked up and down the aisles of the hospital near Rouen, or sat at the bedside of his grandson, was always a reflection of these things that he himself had seen and heard.

And he was a favorite in the wards. Not alone because he so often came with his one arm laden with little material things to cheer and comfort them, but because these men with the pierced and broken and mutilated bodies admired and liked him. Whenever they saw the familiar figure, tall, soldierly, the sternly benevolent countenance with its white moustache and kindling eyes, enter at the hospital doors and walk up between the long rows of cots, their faces would light up with pleasure and admiration, and the friendliness of their greetings would be hearty and unalloyed.

Somehow they seemed to look upon him as the symbol and representative of his country, the very embodiment of the spirit of his own United States. And now that his government had definitely entered into the war, he was in their eyes, thrice the hero and the benefactor that he had been before.

When he entered the hospital the morning after news of America's war declaration had been received, and turned to march up the aisle toward his grandson's alcove, he was surprised and delighted to see from every cot in the ward, and from every nurse on the floor, a hand thrust up holding a tiny American flag. It was the hospital's greeting to the American colonel, in honor of his country. He stood, for a moment, thrilled and amazed. The demonstration struck so deeply into his big and patriotic heart that his voice choked and his eyes filled with tears as he pa.s.sed up the long aisle.

There were many greetings as he went by.

”Hurrah for the President!”

”Vive l'Amerique!”

And one deep-throated Briton, in a voice that rolled from end to end of the ward shouted:

”G.o.d bless the United States!”

[Ill.u.s.tration: The French Hospital's Greeting To the American Colonel]

But perhaps no one was more rejoiced over the fact of America's entrance into the war than was Penfield Butler. From the moment when he heard the news of the President's message he seemed to take on new life. And as each day's paper recorded the developing movements, and the almost universal sentiment of the American people in sustaining the government at Was.h.i.+ngton, his pulses thrilled, color came into his blanched face, and new light into eyes that not long before had looked for many weeks at material things and had seen them not.

He was sitting up in his bed that morning, and had seen his grandfather come up the aisle amid the forest of little flags and the sound of cheering voices.

Grouped around him were' his mother, his Aunt Millicent, the _medecin-chef_, and his devoted nurse, the American girl, Miss Byron.

She was waving a small, silk American flag that had long been one of her cherished possessions.

”We are so proud of America to-day, Colonel Butler,” she exclaimed, ”that we can't help cheering and waving flags.”

And the _medecin-chef_ shouted joyously: