An American Crusader at Verdun

XXI

Afterthoughts

So now my story is told and as I close the pages of the book I pause to think and wonder if ever again I shall see France. I wonder if again I shall walk along the quays of the River Seine or up the sloping tree-lined Champs Elysées, or wander with friends around to the Café de la Paix, or if again I shall pass through the desolate villages at the front and hear the shrieking shells, the aeroplanes overhead singing in the night “Guerre, guerre, guerre,” their monotonous song of death. I wonder if again I shall see those noble, weary people of our Sister Country fighting bravely against the Iron Hand; whether I shall go back to see our own flag being carried on to final victory; and rejoice that America at last has ridden into the field full armed, the Savior of France, as was once the Maid of Orleans.

I wonder if I shall resist or follow that invisible finger beckoning to me—whether I shall listen to that voice whispering and saying to me, “Come back”?

I wonder if again I shall see the towers of Rheims Cathedral or stand upon the hill beside the resting place of Norton?

I wonder if again some day I shall walk into the peaceful town of Aillianville and sit down by the crackling fire and visit my friend Tourgant, the boar hunter, and his wife; whether I shall some evening step in the “Cheval Blanc” and to Madame Julie and the patron, say, as I have said before: “Bon soir, Madame, bon soir, Monsieur”; whether sometime I shall sit with Marie and her husband, who will wear the Croix de Guerre upon his breast, and with them talk about the war. I wonder if I shall again go in the “Lion d’Or,” and, in happy memory, hear the music as I did before, and if perhaps I shall see again my friends of Section One in France?

I wonder if I shall answer that voice which whispers to me as I walk along the crowded streets, which whispers as I lie awake at night, which whispers in my sleep and says to me—“Come back.”

FINIS