with delight. "Fix bayonets," rang out the command. The officer drew his sword to salute the men who were about to die.

While the enemy aeroplane in a long trail of purple fell vertically into the sea the order came: Present!"

66

Mme. Carton de Wiart, whose arrest and imprisonment by the Germans was widely commented upon, recently told her experiences to a Paris newspaper:

I

WAS immediately given over to the examining Magistrate, if that title can be applied to the military bungler who made me endure about twenty hours of cross-examination. What an examination it was! Every paper found in my house was the object of a hundred questions. They meant to prove that I was in direct relations with the Entente armies, and that, consequently, I was sending them information regarding the exact situation of the German armies in Belgium.

This singular Magistrate determined to implicate me in the imaginary plot against the life of von Bissing, had the cellars of the Ministry searched again and again, and wished to know how long ago the furnace had been constructed. Think of it! That furnace might conceal a tunnel through which assassins could slip in and be near the Governor General. It was droll.

The examination took a grotesque turn. This thought of Talleyrand: "It is easy to militarize a civilian; it is impossible to civilize a military man," had been discovered in a little notebook found in my home. The examining Magistrate saw in that phrase an allusion to a pretended organization of free-shooters imputed to the Belgian Government.

"What is Talleyrand?" he demanded of me.

"A Minister."

"Ah! A Minister. What Minister?" "A French Minister."

"So, Madame, you admit that you have had communication with a French Minister?"

"I admit nothing at all. I am answering the question."

"Of what department is this Minister?"

"Why, of Foreign Affairs."

"Ah, ah!" my Judge triumphs, "you are joking; the French Minister of Foreign Affairs is Delcassé."

"I did not say he was the present Minister."

"He is a former Minister?"

"Very much so-a Minister of the King of France."

"Madame, you are mocking German justice!"

[Condemned to three and a half months in prison, she was then deported to Germany.]

They drove me from my country, as they thought, forever. My departure was fixed for the next day. The lively protestation which I represented in Brussels was going to disappear. I demanded the right to take with me my young children and one of my domestics. I was met with a pitiless refusal. I demanded that my children should brought to me before my departure; I wished to embrace them. An absolute refusal. I confess that my courage melted before such cruelty, and, when I was alone, I broke into sobs.

*

*

be

In Berlin I lived four days in the Hotel Metropole, on the Friedrichstrasse, scarcely a prisoner, simply watched. I had to present myself twice a day to the Commissary cf Police, but, beyond that obligation, I could go and come freely in Berlin from 8 in the morning to 7 in the evening. It is probable that policemen followed me step by step, but I did not notice them. It was a transitory situaItion which could not last.

My decree of condemnation arrived,

and two detectives in plain clothes searched me and took me to the Moabit Prison, where I was immediately put into the common régime, the separate cell régime. I would not have wished anything else, for, I repeat it, the slightest favor from those people would have taken the heart out of me. That is so true that when M. Polo de Barnabé, the Spanish Minister, intervened in the name of King Alfonso XIII. to lighten my sentence, I informed him of my declaration to the War Council.

During a visit to me in prison he told me that the German Government had attacked that reply of mine in its first diplomatic note: "Mme. Carton de Wiart has confessed her fault. By re

fusing to have recourse to the clemency of the Kaiser she acknowledged that her punishment was in due proportion to the infractions she had committed." That is how those people interpreted the patriotic sentiments of a woman!

I refused even to turn over a cent a day to my jailers for a régime of luxury. Thus, day for day, I did my three months and a half in prison, exactly like the German women who were expiating crimes at Moabit, going to mass with them in the same drugget prison clothes.

[At the end of her imprisonment Mme. Carton de Wiart was banished from German territory and later found her children at Havre.]

THE

HE results of our torpedo boat raids along the eastern coast of Turkish Anatolia are already known from the telegrams; more than 200 Turkish transports were sunk by us in that corner of the Black Sea, and about half of these ships carried freight. This raid, which we made when our turn came, our torpedo boats accomplished under extremely trying circumstances.

Generally speaking, the present Winter is not spoiling us soldiers with too much good weather; it is a long time since there have been so many storms. We had to forget, all our cheerful ideas about the warm Anatolian sun. At this time last year, to sail along the Turkish shores of the Black Sea was sheer delight. After our Crimean frosts and icy winds and rain, our sailors felt as if they had come to a seaside resort. With the experience of last year in their minds,

our sailors, when, on leaving the home waters, they ran into a fierce storm, consoled themselves with the thought that on the Anatolian coast everything would be all right. * *

*

No one who has not himself sailed on a torpedo boat can imagine what happens on board one of them in a storm. A cruise in a ship of the line seems a mere joke in comparison with a trip on a torpedo boat. On deck you don't know where to catch hold; water, wet, damp, cold, everywhere. Then you see that the water does not reach the torpedo apparatus. Here, on the platform, you can find a place that is not particularly risky and, even more important, there is something to hold on to.

The crew make their way about the deck in " rushes," choosing a convenient moment. If science does not recognize a "ninth wave," still there are certain waves, perhaps the "tenth" or the "eleventh," or some other number, be tween which are spaces of comparative calm; the boat pitches less; you don't feel as if you were going to turn a somersault. The sailors take advantage of these moments of quiet. Waiting in a cramped corner, where there is some

thing to hold on to, through the worst pitching of the boat-as much as fifty degrees to either side-the sailors carefully make their way to the next stopping place. The ways are narrow, and if you lose your balance as the boat pitches it is pretty hard to keep hold of the thin handrail. You feel disinclined to leave your favorite corner beside the torpedo apparatus; here, at any rate, you feel yourself comparatively safe. But the wave comes, sweeps along the deck, and finds you out even there. Your legs are soaked up to the knees. You feel cold in the wind. You must change and get on your wading boots.

You make your way below, down the light trap ladder. Everything all around you is creaking. Every cabin is signaling by the knocks of various objects; glass is rattling; water is gurgling somewhere close at hand. Down the half dark passageway the sailors of the watch below are sleeping in their clothes on the warm hatchways in different attitudes.

Almost crawling, catching at door handles, you make your way to your own cabin and tumble hopelessly on your bunk; to change your clothes looks almost impossible. Your trunk has traveled under your writing table, and it groans and wabbles crazily there. You try to get at it, but the deck suddenly sinks away beneath your feet and you try to turn a somersault. Water keeps spurting from the wash basin, the pitcher skids about the floor, splashing water all over the cabin.

One is struck, at first, with the good and even friendly relations that exist, on a torpedo boat, between the officers and the crew and the directness of their relations with each other. All form a single family. Of course, you feel that there are older and younger members, but all are one family.

Under the lee of the Turkish coast the wind at first lulled; then it suddenly came on to blow again from the opposite direction, with the same mad gusts. The old and new rollers met in unimaginable confusion. The air was full of spray; rain was falling, mingled with wet snow. The shores were hid in the mist. order to make an examination of the coast the torpedo boats had to poke their noses into every crevice.

In

As the reports of the General Staff described, our torpedo boats examined every nook along the Anatolian coast, from the frontier of the Russian Caucasus to Sinope; that is, a distance of about 500 versts, (330 miles.) The movement of Turkish ships throughout this whole region almost ceased. You see, in one year the Turks lost more than 4,000 sailing ships sunk by our sailors.

You no longer meet big flotillas of sailing ships the system which the Germans at one time industriously practiced, on the calculation that where there were large numbers of ships some at any rate might count on getting safely away. But this system only increased the number of our trophies.

The Turks say that there is now no possibility of sending large flotillas of sailing ships to sea. There is no place to build them in. Most of the docks have been destroyed by our bombardments, set on fire on the stocks by our shells. According to the information of the Turks there is no longer any organized movement of ships anywhere on the Black Sea.

All supplies for the Turkish Army in the Caucasus go by road, through the interior of the country.

And, in fact, many of the cargoes of the ships we captured astonished you

their insignificance bread and nuts, which are now given to the soldiers as rations. Yet close to the shore of the Black Sea lies the exceedingly rich district of Samsun, which alone could feed an army with tastes more exacting than those of the Turkish Ashers. And on the majority of the sailing ships there were no cargoes at all, while supplies for the crews were extremely limited. On such supplies as we found the crew could only exist in a state of semi-starvation.

The Turks complained that every one along the coast was equally destitute. Unheard-of high prices reduced to a minimum even the demands of the rich. Sugar, for example, is a luxury which very many cannot allow themselves even on holidays. Sugar has long reached the price of a ruble a pound, but under present conditions it is not always obtainable even at that price.

And here it must be remarked that before the war Anatolia was distinguished by its extremely patriarchal conditions; the cost of living was very low, and the population did not need much money.

Because of the foggy weather our torpedo boats kept in close to the banks, so that the panic which spread through the villages could be observed, the inhabitants running off to the mountains. Such details generally escape observation altogether because of distance. But even under these circumstances it was not possible to discover even a sign of industrial life. In one place, it is true, we noticed three wharves, where sailing ships of wood were being built. We immediately destroyed these wharves and burned the ships. But only a year ago the whole

coast of Anatolia was almost a continuous wharf. Not a convenient creek, but you saw the ribs of ships a-building sticking up.

In the absence of convenient roads on land, the sea was everything for this coast. Without the sea, without sea communication, the Sanjaks and Vilayets of Anatolia (the smaller and larger districts) are almost deprived of all communication with each other.

They tell us, for instance, that in Sinope mail is no longer received, and it looks like the truth.

In Samsun our torpedo boats bombarded some port fortifications and, among other things, burned the Custom House. At Inieh we came on several sailing ships loading, the crews of which quickly fled inland. These sailing ships we, of course, destroyed. Two piers at which they were loading were likewise destroyed. At Fatis a large brickyard was discovered, evidently established by Germans. This brickyard was also destroyed.

After this first survey of the coast the torpedo boats made a second search. The sea was found to be almost deserted. Our torpedo boats destroyed two Turkish motor boats. The sailing boats we met could be counted by units.

Along the coast hung the same impenetrable fog; a pitiable picture of a rich country ruined by war. The desolation was redoubled by fog and storm. Nature seemed to be weeping over the greatness that had disappeared.

Leaving behind the now inhospitable shore of picturesque Anatolia, the torpedo boats ran into a fierce storm, with icy rain and sleet. * *

MARINE.

ONE

NE of the many novel features of the great war is the work of the 2,500 trained dogs that are doing hospital service in the German Army. These "sanitätshunde," as they are called, are sent out after a battle to

search for wounded soldiers left on the field. They are taught to distinguish between the dead and the wounded, and, according to the official reports printed in the North German Gazette, they have not been taught to avoid the enemy

wounded, as it is charged the Belgian Red Cross dogs have been trained.

At a recent meeting of the German Society for Hospital Dogs held in the Hotel Bristol in Berlin, the Grand Duke of Oldenburg, the head of the society, described how the service had been begun with eight dogs shortly after the outbreak of the war and estimated that up to date at least 8,000 wounded men had been picked up on the battlefield through the aid of the war dogs. Since this meeting it has been announced that convalescent soldiers at Jena have built a special hospital in which wounded war dogs are being treated. Among the official bodies represented at the Berlin gathering were the War Ministers of Prussia and Württemberg, the field hospital service on the eastern front, the General Quartermaster's Department, the Prussian and Saxon Ministers of the Interior, and the Berlin Police Department.

The official reports on the dogs' activities said in part:

"Early in the morning six dogs were sent out with the stretcher bearers on a search for wounded men. The nature of the battlefield made the finding of the wounded particularly difficult, as it was in part swamps and woods and in part hilly fields of stubble, covered with bundles of grain, and here the dogs did excellent service. They located many wounded men in the shocks of corn and brought helmets, caps, and handkerchiefs to show the result of their search.

"Toward the end of the work a dog brought to his guide a piece of the cloth cover of a canteen which he had found on a wounded soldier who was lying under his cloak and a piece of tent, motionless and apparently abandoned as dead by his comrades. At first the guide could find no signs of life and passed on. But the dog insisted upon again leading him to where the wounded man lay, and, after a long examination, it turned out that the soldier was not dead after all.

Following the battle at D. six dog trainers were ordered to search the field abandoned by the Russians. After a long trip, one of the dogs brought back a piece of a Russian infantryman's blouse and

led his guide to the ruins of a Russian fortification from which projected a man's foot and a piece of an army coat. The guide found a man, completely covered with mud and seemingly lifeless, as he lay quite still and did not heed the shouts of his would-be rescuer. The guide then started to leave the spot, but the dog would not abandon his find and barked and scratched so vigorously that the guide finally cleared away all the rubbish and dug out an unconscious but far from dead Russian."

The dogs are trained to take along some sort of an object to show that they have found a wounded man, but in many cases there is nothing on the soldier which they can tear loose. This problem the dogs have solved for themselves by digging up a piece of sod or biting off a twig and bringing these evidences of their discovery to their guides.

Sometimes the fallen soldiers of the hostile armies fail to recognize the peaceful missions of the "sanitätshunde" and try to drive them away, as is shown by the following excerpt from the report of a commander of a field hospital com

pany:

"All the Germans had been picked up, but there were still a great many wounded Russians scattered over the field, most of them hidden in the long grasses. The dogs began their work with the greatest assurance, but it was soon noticed that the Russians struck at them with their caps, haversacks, canteens, and other objects and, in some cases, even tried to kick the dogs. Consequently, before the day was over three of our dogs refused to approach the wounded Russians. That day, with the aid of the dogs, we saved twenty-one wounded Russians."

In closing its account of the work of the "sanitätshunde," the North German Gazette gives the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals of Holland as its authority for the charge that the Belgian hospital dogs are trained not to aid wounded Germans, and quotes as follows from a pamphlet issued by the Dutch society on the use of dogs in the

war:

"Close to one of the trenches Dic