ally
and stand of the French armies about Nancy, escaped the fame it
earned. Only in legend, in the romance of the Kaiser with his cavalry
waiting on the hills to enter the Lorraine capital, did the battle
live.

When I went to France one of the hopes I had cherished was that I
might be permitted to visit this battlefield, to see the ground on
which a great battle had been fought, that was still unknown country,
in the main, for those who have written on the war. The Lorraine field
was the field on which France and Germany had planned for a generation
to fight. Had the Germans respected the neutrality of Belgium, it is
by Nancy, by the gap between the Vosges and the hills of the Meuse,
that they must have broken into France. The Marne was a battlefield
which was reached by chance and fought over by hazard, but every foot
of the Lorraine country had been studied for the fight long years in
advance. Here war followed the natural course, followed the plans of
the general staff prepared years in advance. Indeed, I had treasured
over years a plan of the Battle of Nancy, contained in a French book
written years ago, which might serve as the basis for a history of
what happened, as it was written as a prophecy of what was to come.

When the Great General Staff was pleased to grant my request to see
the battlefield of Nancy I was advised to travel by train to that
town accompanied by an officer from the General Staff, and informed
that I should there meet an officer of the garrison, who would conduct
me to all points of interest and explain in detail the various phases
of the conflict. Thus it fell out, and I have to thank Commandant
Leroux for the courtesy and consideration which made this excursion
successful.

In peace time one goes from Paris to Nancy in five hours, and the
distance is about that from New York to Boston, by Springfield. In war
all is different, and the time almost doubled. Yet there are
compensations. Think of the New York-Boston trip as bringing you
beyond New Haven to the exact rear of battle, of battle but fifteen
miles away, with the guns booming in the distance and the aeroplanes
and balloons in full view. Think also of this same trip, which from
Hartford to Worchester follows the line of a battle not yet two years
old, a battle that has left its traces in ruined villages, in
shattered houses. On either side of the railroad track the graves
descend to meet the embankments; you can mark the advance