went back in spirit to Ottawa and remembered how I had spoken of the
triumph of the flag of France: "The red, white, and blue--the red of
the flag of France a little deeper hue than in time of peace, since it
was dyed with the blood of her sons, the blood in which a new history of
France is being written, volume on volume, page on page, of deeds of
heroism, some pages completed and signed, others where the pen has
dropped from the faltering hands and which posterity must needs finish.
The white of the flag of France, not quite so white as in time of peace,
since thousands of her sons had taken it in their hands and pressed it
to their lips before they went forward to die for it, yet without stain,
since in all the record of the war there is no blot on the escutcheon of
France. And the blue of the flag of France, true blue, torn and tattered
with the marks of the bullets and the shrapnel, yet unfurling proudly in
the breeze whilst the very holes were patched by the blue of the sky,
since surely Heaven stands behind the flag of France."

The men of Verdun were full of admiration for the glorious Commander of
the Fort de Vaux. They told me that the fort was held, or rather the
ruins of the fort, until the Germans were actually on the top and firing
on the French beneath.

I discussed with my neighbour the fact that the Germans had more hatred
for us than for the French. He said the whole world would ridicule the
Germans for the manner in which they had exploited the phrase "Gott
strafe England," writing it even on the walls anywhere and everywhere.
He added laughingly that it should not worry the English comrades. "When
they read 'Gott strafe England,' all they needed to reply was 'Ypres,
Ypres--Hurrah!'"

He told me that he had been stationed for some time with his regiment