the war, manufactured far from the front--crude Epinal
images, grotesque and false--they give us the stern face of truth, they
show us the martyrdom of young men slaughtering one another to gratify
the frenzy of criminal elders.

I wish to-day to make known another of these voices, more acerb, more
virile, more vengeful, than the stoical bitterness of Husson and the
despairing tenderness of Delemer. It is that of our friend Maurice
Wullens, editor of "Les Humbles, the literary review of the primary
school teachers."

He was severely wounded, and has just been given the war cross with the
following honourable mention:

"Wullens (Maurice), soldier of the second class in the eighth company of
the seventy-third infantry regiment, a good soldier to whom fear was
unknown, dangerously wounded during the defence, against a superior
force, of a post which had been entrusted to him."

In "demain," for August, 1917, we find the wonderful story of the fight
in which this man was wounded and was then given brotherly help by the
German soldiers. As he lay gasping, in expectation of the death-blow, a
lad leaned over him smiling, holding out a hand, and saying in German,
"Comrade, how do you feel?" And when the wounded man doubted his enemy's
sincerity, the latter went on: "Oh, it's all right, comrade! We'll be
good comrades! Yes, yes, good comrades." The tale is dedicated:

"To my brother, the anonymous Wuertemberg soldier who, in Grurie Wood, on
December 30, 1914, withheld his hand when about to slay me, generously
saved my life;

"To the (enemy) friend who, in Darmstadt hospital, cared for me like a
father;

"And to the comrades E., K., and B., who spoke to me as man to man."

* * * * *

This soldier without fear and without reproach, returning to France,
discovered there the braggart army of the scribblers at the rear. Their
venom and their stupidity infuriated him. But instead of taking refuge,
like many of his comrades, in disdainful silence, he did what he had
always done, and turned bravely to the attack upon "a superior force."
In May, 1916, he became editor of a small magazine, entitled "Les
Humbles," but which somewhat belies its name by the ruggedness of its
accents and by its refusal to allow its voice to be stifled. He boldly
declares:

"Emerged from the whirlwind of the war, but still struggling in its
eddies, we do not propose to resign ourselves to the environing
mediocrity,