Have you ever been to war? Unless you can boast of the Civil War or the Spanish-American War this question may sound futile.

Have you ever seen a manoeuvre? Unless you have been an invited guest at one of the French or German manoeuvres you have but a faint idea of what a gigantic review for active military service is.

Have you ever seen a mobilization? Probably not, unless you were one of those who rallied around our flag in the Spanish-American War or in the late Mexican crisis.

Much as you may have read how the European countries have been gathering their forces, it is all a faint picture compared with the actual gigantic work that has been taking place during the early periods of the war.

Until I had seen a small part of this tremendous work, I had always thought of mobilization as the task of gathering a certain number of regiments led by their officers, and sending them off with their horses, cannon and provisions to a point of attack. Though these are all a small part of a great undertaking, mobilization is a gigantic, living, breathing, throbbing force, where millions of men may act in concerted action and still every individual must play a small part in this melodramatic action.

I was fortunate enough to have been in Germany when the word was sounded that Russia was mobilizing, and that Germany would do the same unless Russia gave her some satisfactory explanation for her aggressive action.

When no answer came, at least no satisfactory reply, a declaration was made that Germany was mobilizing. What did this mean? It meant the bringing together of the most perfectly trained and equipped military force of modern times. For just as England has seen to it that she may retain the proud title of "Commander of the Seas," Germany has been equally proud of her magnificently equipped military forces.

It may take years to answer the question whether this army was being organized and trained for aggression to make other nations bow to Germany's will, or whether the intelligence of the German nation realized that the issue at stake during the Franco-Prussian War had not been threshed out and would have to be answered later. For, as Bismarck said in a conversation with the interviewer, W. B. Richmond, "Germany is a new empire and it must be protected from possible assault by one or two or both powers, one to the east, the other to the west of us. You must remember that the next war between France and Germany must mean extinction for one. We lie between two lines of fire; France is our bitter enemy and Russia I do not trust. Peace may be far more dishonorable than war, and for war we must be prepared. Therefore, while Germany's very life as a nation is at stake, I cannot give the attention that I would otherwise wish to as regards the encouragements of the arts of peace, however much I may believe them to be, as you say, necessary to the highest development of the nation as a whole."

The German people of all classes were familiar with this prophecy, therefore they were not surprised, and more, they were prepared, when Russia and France in turn threw down the gauntlet of war. In most of the cities and towns you heard the familiar words spoken by men of all ranks, "Well, it doesn't matter much; it had to come, today or tomorrow, only the allies had planned to wait three years longer; then the French soldiers would have their three years' service and the Russian Army would have been reorganized. The allies thought that we might be found napping, but we are pretty well awake, and it is to be a fight to a finish."

Therefore, when the word mobilization was spoken throughout Germany it was more than a call. It meant that every boy and man capable of carrying a gun was more than ready—he was dead anxious to join his regiment and die for his country. Whatever a man's rank might be, whatever his daily occupation was, and however responsible the work, he forgot it all in the eagerness to go to the front. One day I happened to be in a large bank in Berlin when the president received his call. He read it as though he were getting an an invitation to a Bankers' Association banquet instead of its being a call to go to the front. He had all his affairs in shape to go, and after a short talk with some of the directors and a friendly goodbye to his associates, he closed his large rolltop desk, put his hat upon his head and was off.

I chanced to be in a restaurant in Berlin one day when I noticed a group of soldiers already dressed in their dark gray uniforms drinking their afternoon coffee and smoking their cigars leisurely. Between the puffs of smoke, I heard the following conversation: "Shooting down Frenchmen will be rather different work than singing Sigfried and Tannhauser at a thousand dollars a night."

"You musn't be so mercenary," answered another. "A campfire and a bed on the ground will make me appreciate the comforts of a New York hotel another season, more than the other, while sauerkraut and Wiener wurst are fair exchange for lobster À la Newburg and chicken patties."

While a third piped up, "I know I will have a more enthusiastic audience when I sing the Wacht am Rhine to my regiment than I have when I sing Rigoletto on first nights in New York."

The same enthusiasm was shown by painters, sculptors and writers of all kinds. What was a thought on paper, on canvas or in stone now compared with the privilege of doing service for one's country!

While the first regiments were being called out, more than one million reserves had offered themselves freiwillig. They were willing to go and take any place, even the most dangerous, in any regiment, just as long as they could serve their country.

One day I met a hairdresser who had two sons; the one had been called into service and the other had enlisted and was to be called out in two weeks. When I asked the father if he did not object to having both sons leave he said, "It is better to have them go than to have them grumbling every day at home because they cannot help the fatherland."

A few days later I met two young men on a train. They were tired, dirty and impatient. The explanation for all this was that they had offered themselves at a neighboring ministry of war and were refused because there were too many reserves on hand.

About the same time a young girl told me seven of her relatives had been called into service. One of her brothers-in-law was disqualified, for he had been hurt while doing his one year military service. Still he was determined to go, and applied at six different ministries of war before he was finally accepted to help build up the Landsturm.

More than two-thirds of the great physicians and surgeons of Germany are in the war. Many of these are volunteers. Those who are too old for active service are doing their duty in hospitals or in the Red Cross field. But many who could do this lighter work are fighting in their regiments. As one well-known German physician said to me, "No, indeed, I want to go with my regiment. When my country is at peace I am willing to look after the sick, but now it is time for me to fight. I wish it were today, for two days seems like two months when a man is ready to go."

I saw another physician work all day until nine o'clock in the evening; though he had received his commission at seven, he continued his work as though nothing had happened. Then he gathered a small package of papers which probably contained important letters and money, which he handed over to the physician in the institute. He then hurried to his room and put on his military clothes—they were those of a third-class military officer. The change in costume seemed to make a different man of him. He was no longer a physician but a war hero. He bade each one goodbye in turn, even to the scrub-women, saying he hoped that they would all meet again next year, and then he hurried to his room to get a few hours of sleep as he had to leave at five next morning. The only care he had on his breast was what would become of his mother—a dear old lady of seventy, whom he loved very much—if anything should happen to him.

One day while walking across the country road, I stepped up to a farmer and said: "When do you go to the war?"

"Next week," came the blunt reply.

"And who will do your work while you are gone?"

"What's a buxom wife and four sturdy children good for if they can't do a man's work when he is off at war?"

The same readiness to go before they were called was as paramount among university students as it was among the farmers and merchants. A corps of young Heidelberg students offered themselves and asked that they be taken in one regiment. This wish was sent to the Emperor and was granted them. Even the younger students were too much fired by the desire to help to stay at home. One day I came across a young boy seventeen years old, hurrying with full might to get to Kiel, where he had an appointment on a naval boat. He was a handsome, sturdy lad of fine feeling, but he felt it was necessary to fight, and if need be to die for his country. He explained that he was the only son of a widowed mother, but even his great love for her could not check him.

Even the younger boys ranging from the age of fourteen to sixteen felt that they were shirking their duty because they could not go. I heard one young boy say to his grandmother, "Isn't it too bad I am only fourteen; if I were only two years older I might do something for my country."

"Be patient, and your turn will come," said the old lady, good-naturedly.

This eagerness to go was a great aid in hurrying the mobilization. Hundreds of officers who were off on their summer vacation hurried back without an instant's delay. In all the cities, and even in the small towns and villages, the commons and kurgartens were turned into training-grounds for the reservists, and meeting-places for those enlisted.

Though I saw more than fifty thousand men called out in one Bavarian center, in two weeks' time every man was there to take the oath and to get his military clothes at the very minute appointed. As they donned their blue military uniform, they had no idea that another special suit was awaiting them when they should get into active service.

There were hundreds of thousands of earth-colored uniforms kept in reserve that no one knew anything about, except the ministry and the highest German officials. There was no disorder, no wasting of time, no asking of foolish questions—every man was a unit in a great whole. From a common soldier to the highest officer, they were ready to do their work intelligently and enthusiastically. The only emotion they showed was an impatient enthusiasm to get across the German frontier and into active service as soon as possible. They knew that this war was to be one of life and death and a fight to the finish, but all fear was forgotten in a hope of being able to do something for their country. They often explained the situation by drawing two circles, one within the other—one very large, and one extremely small—as they said, "When you come again Germany is bound to look like one of these circles."

When the mobilization was ordered, every farmer brought his horses to the town, where they were inspected. The horses found strong enough for battle were taken, and the others were sent back to the farm. The same thing happened to the automobiles—they were taken without a word of notice—the government kept those that they wanted and returned the others.

Though hurrahs, songs and laughter mingled with the tramp of feet as fifty thousand soldiers formed in line and hurried to the front, this was only a small part of a great picture. All day long in Berlin we saw officers flying along in automobiles hurrying to the ministry of war to get their instructions, and then hastening off to the front. They all seemed ready and self-reliant.

The nights were not wasted in Berlin, where they were used for manoeuvres to try out the forty or more Zeppelins which Germany owns. Even the passenger Zeppelins, known to many Americans for the trips they made through the Black forest, have been turned into war dirigibles. Count Zeppelin himself had offered his personal services to take charge of his invention. It was said new factories were being opened to turn out two new air-crafts each month. Though the Krupp works at Essen had been working right along making new siege-guns and special bombs for Germany, it was said that the factory had put on a large force of men who were working night and day to make an added supply of ammunition. On my way from Bavaria to Prussia I saw a number of automobiles flying across the country carrying their officers to the front. Now and then a Zeppelin flew overhead practicing before it should venture into France or Russia.

Most interesting of all were the military trains, forty-two in number, packed with soldiers and their officers. Though some of them were wedged so tight they had little moving space, they laughed, smoked, and waved good-naturedly as they were being hurried across the frontier.

I saw many regiments hurried, at meal-time, into depots. They were led across into open fields where large, wooden houses with many wooden benches had been erected. The work was being done under contract, and in this way thousands of soldiers were fed in a short time.

The baggage cars were crowded with cavalrymen and their horses. Though their horses and the straw in the car were immaculately clean, these soldiers were less well off than the infantrymen in the third-class coupÉs, for it seemed to me that the horses were getting more than their share of the room.

Besides these regular coupÉs, there were many freight cars which carried all kinds of canned goods and other provisions. Others carried a great number of small collapsible boats, which are used as pontoons in crossing rivers. More interesting than all this were the cannons. Some of these were the common cannons, while now and then loomed a great siege-gun.

I was told that the cannon-balls, bombs and other explosives were carried into the country at night, as they did not want to take any chance of igniting and killing the soldiers.

Besides those designed for active warfare, many were used to carry messages over the battlefields and for the Red Cross service. I saw dozens and dozens of handsome automobiles lined up on these car-trucks carrying messengers and doctors across the frontier.

But German mobilization means every precaution possible for their country as well as foreign aggression. Now and then I passed gangs of workmen making ditches and trenches, repairing railroad tracks and laying new ones. Every station was guarded by one or more sentries, according to its size. They kept their eyes on every passenger who went in and out of the station, and when they were the least bit doubtful they asked for one's passport on short notice. I shall never forget a picture of the morning I breakfasted at six o'clock in Erfurt. I and some friends were just seated at table when a sentry approached us and asked for our passports. He scrutinized each one carefully, and when he was satisfied we were not spies he left us and approached a group of Russians. They looked as exhausted as they were frightened as they explained they had gotten permission to go home. When they reached the frontier they were told they could not go across, and they found so many of their countrymen on the border that there was not half room enough for them, and they were on their way back.

Everywhere there were vigilant watchers looking for spies. Some were so alert that they tried to make Russians out of harmless American refugees, while others went so far as to accuse them of being spies. I myself was sometimes accused of being a Russian, and had hard work to prove my identity. Those Americans who had the daring to venture out in their automobiles got the worst of it. The soldiers on watch thought nothing of shooting at their cars and taking the innocent occupants prisoners. A gentleman and his wife who went from Baden-Baden in the Black Forest to Bad Kissingen were shot at and arrested five times before they got there. Word was brought to the village that some French spies were coming and that they should wait for them. The mob was there to greet them with pitchforks and axes, and when they saw the French car the peasants were sure that these were the people they were after.

The case became more complicated, as none of the party, including the chauffeur, could speak German, and only understood their gesticulations—not their threats and volleys. They were only saved from being shot by the appearance of two officers who, after examining their pockets carefully, found some American papers and letters. Still, these officers did not wish to rely on their own judgment, and so they took their prisoners to the burgomeister. He explained that he could not give any opinion until he took their films from their kodak and had them developed. Their innocence rested on the kind of pictures they had taken. As the woman told her story, she said, "It was only a miracle that her husband hadn't taken pictures of soldiers, as that was his favorite kind of photography."

Next day the burgomeister returned the kodak and the developed films, explaining he was sorry he had detained them, and he did not see any reason why they should not go on. So he sent the soldier who had been guarding them day and night to act as their protector.

They had only gone a short way when they were arrested in another town, and they had to go through another trial to prove their innocence. They said that their experience in being arrested was becoming commonplace by the time they reached their destination. Some of these guards were so vigilant that they lost their heads completely and accused innocent women of all ages as spies.

I was traveling on a train one day when I heard a terrible noise in a neighboring coupÉ. Word had been telegraphed that there was a Russian spy dressed as a German officer. In his coupÉ there sat an American man and his wife and a German friend, and they were accused of being his accomplices. Some of the mob boarded the train, leveled revolvers in their faces, and were ready to drag them all off, when they were stopped by some higher officials. After half an hour's questioning and searching of pockets, the Americans were let go, and the foreigner was taken off and shot as a spy.

Vigilant as were the officials about catching every spy, they were equally anxious to protect the lives of every innocent man and woman, especially the Americans. At night our trains were never allowed to start off until the rails had been carefully inspected, to see that there were no bombs on the track, and not the smallest bridge was left unguarded.

After the regular army was called out, there was a lull for ten days, and then came the starting of the Landsturm. These included the young boys and those ordinarily considered too old for active service. Some of these were sent right to the front, and others were put into six weeks' training ready to fill in the gaps when they should be needed.

There is no feeling of rivalry in the Germany army, for every man feels he has a post to fill and that he can do a small part in winning a real victory. As they love to explain, every man is equal on the battlefield, whether he be a prince or only a poor peasant boy, whether he be a general or a common soldier; as they march on to death or victory day after day, and week after week, they are inspired by the words: "Unser Gott, unser Vaterland, und unser Kaiser"—"Our God, our Fatherland, and our Emperor."

It was this inspiration that made the Reichstadt vote ninety million dollars at once. It was that which called the socialist party along with the democrats to arms. It was that which made the Emperor tell his people: "I forgive everything—we are all Germans." It has been this inspiration that changed small petty states into a large imperial government. It was this inspiration that changed a strong German horde into a people that loved culture, art and education. It was their patriotism that made them brandish the sword in one hand because they feared their enemies and still kept their other hand and brain free to work for social uplift. They have created cities of which they may well be proud, adorned with beautiful theatres, opera-houses, parks, statues and public gardens. Patriotism was the fount at which they drank, and it has created such master minds as Goethe, Schiller, Wagner and Gerard Hauptmann.

I believe that a nation that loves home and fireside and romance as much as do the Germans energized a great standing army for protection and not for war. I believe that their methods may have been wrong, but that their heart was right; for a nation that has faith in God, in their ruler, and in their country, a nation that spends its energy for music and beauty, may be misunderstood, but such a people cannot hate their fellow-men.