France

Observation Post, Volume 1, Issue 28, 27 November 1942, Page 2

France

1 NOVEMBER, 1942 i A weakly boy that once was strong Fell on the king’s highway; A giant plucked him from the back And set him forward in his track Donner und blitzen, run along, This road you take is wholly wrong, Your feet have gone astray. I am not weak, the youngling said, But only sad and lone; To. earn my bread I had to roam, Leaving my precious toys at home, 'hl.y guns, my ships, my aeroplanes Uton the Southern sunny plains, - 'But now my strength is gone. 1 will Re surety for your toys, The having giant shouted; Your aeroplanes 'and ships, Even the boSS-jWon the slips, I have them all wi'bin my care, To steal them njej.dy would dare, .......Or quickly tllfc ’-.be routed.

Just then a straUge? hove in view, Another mighty giant; Upon his head a helmet shone, His face was good to look upon; His sword was sharp and bright and new, His banner in the breezes flew, •fv-’ His manner suave and pliant. Whither away, my little one? And who’s that nasty fellow That pushes you along the road, Carrying such a clanking load? He looks a beast of blood and bone, His heart, be sure, is hard as stone, His voice a bullock’s bellow. My aeroplanes! my ships! my guns! The plaintive boy replied. He wants them all, my pretty toys; He does not understand that boys Love that which flies, that sails, that runs Upon the ground with noise that stuns; They are his very pride! Nay, come with me, the stranger said, I’ll show you something fine; A Man shall you become to wield A sword to make the devil yield; A fleet of ships, and overhead More aeroplanes than you could spread A hundred miles in line. Between the two the boy confused Stood impotent, yet proud. His heart was with the stranger, but His fear-filled eyes he could not shut Against the fiend that reared so loud, Around his head a thunder-cloud, With lightning interfused. And so to-day we wonder where — His faltering steps will lead him; Whether to choose tne weaker part And sacrifice his head and heart, Or independently declare His pride to suffer and to share The lot of those that need him. H. E. GUNTER. SWITCHED OVER ; On visitors’ day at the local A.I.F. amp, a woman was telling another in no uncertain tones that her dear son William /“Pinky’’ to the mob), had given up a good job in the Government to join the A.I.F. This got under “Pinky’s’’ skin, and he said in a gruff voice: “I didn’t throw it up, mum.’’ Mother looked at him as if he taken leave of his senses. “No, I just shifted to ■ another de partment, ’ ’ he said. THE ONLY OBJECTION Weary voice from the doorway: “Mj dear sir, I have no objection to you; coming here and sitting up half th< night- with my daughter, nor even t< your standing on the doorstep for tw< hours saying goodnight. But out o 1 consideration for the rest of the house ' hold who wish to get to sleep, will yor 1 kindly take your elbow off the bel push?” _

WHERE IS GENERAL FOCH? | G.H.Q., Somewhere in. France. The matter is urgent. M. Poincare, President of the .Republic waits, and the Generalissimo cannot be found. Officers scatter everywhereand one turns towards the little village church. Sure enough Foch was there kneeling before the Altar, deep in his devotions. As he made no move the junior officer knelt beside him and endeavoured to worship with his Chief. 'Time went on and on until at last the liaison officer, bent over and whispered. ‘‘lMon General, we are making M. Poindare wait.” Foch made no reply but continued steadfastly in prayer. There was a long silence and then at last the - Generalissimo of the Allied Armies acrose,\and turning to the stall officer, said: “What do you mean—‘making M. Poincare wait?’ Am.l expected, then, to say to our Saviour: ‘•Sorry, there is somebody more important than You outside. I’ll finish praying another time when it is more convenient.’ ” Thus did General Foch pay supreme homage to God.

lion of the spirit of Jesus Christ. However we look at it, each one who calls himself a man, must have a deep loathing for the conflict that has brought chaos to the human-heart, and to the world at large. If that is true for us, what must war mean to God? Take all the misery of men and women throughout the world and it is small compared with the bitter anguish that God endures when His children suffer, and when He sees them pouring death and destruction upon each other. ,Jesus wept for a friend, and a strong man tears spring from an intensity of love and sympathy. What then must He feel to-day? THE ALTERNATIVE Well then, is the Christian Pacifist right? Must a Christian man, if he is to remain a Christian, have nothing tc do with this horrible thing called war? I For a long time, even after war broke | out I thought I could never take up arms without denying my Lord, ali though I was ready at any time to take up non-combatant service to do what I could to help man in need. But as time went on, I felt more and more that the only alternative to war was something even more horrible to contemplate. If the system of living against whici our nation stands was to dominate the world it would enslave all peoples foi generations. Its harvest of miserj would far exceed even that of war. The highest and noblest things of our civi lisation would all but perish. This en slavement would not last forever—-J have too much iaith in God even' lb bylieve that it wo ALEXANDER' TURNBULL