The Log of a Noncombatant 
 
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Log of a Noncombatant, by 
Horace Green This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost 
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Title: The Log of a Noncombatant 
Author: Horace Green 
Release Date: February 3, 2004 [EBook #10918] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ASCII 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LOG 
OF A NONCOMBATANT *** 
 
THE LOG OF A NONCOMBATANT 
by Horace Green 
Staff Correspondent of the New York Evening Post Special 
Correspondent of the Boston Journal 
1915 
 
Preface 
In the following pages the ego is thickly spread. Their publication is the 
result of persuasion from many sources that, before returning to the war 
zone, I should put into connected form my personal experiences as 
correspondent during the first year of the War of Nations. A few of 
these adventures were mentioned in news letters from the Continent, 
where I limited myself so far as possible to descriptions of armies at
war and peoples in time of stress; but the greater part of them were 
merely jotted down from time to time for my own benefit in "The Log 
of a Noncombatant." 
 
Contents 
I. From Broadway To Ghent II. The Second Bombardment Of 
Termonde III. Captive IV. A Clog Dance On The Scheldt V. The 
Bombardment Of Antwerp VI. The Surrender Of Antwerp VII. Spying 
On Spies VIII. The Sorrow Of The People 
Appendix: Atrocities 
 
The Log Of A Noncombatant 
 
Chapter I 
From Broadway To Ghent 
 
When the war broke out in August, 1914, I was at work in the City 
Room of the "New York Evening Post." One morning, during the first 
week of activities, the copy boy handed me a telegram which was 
signed "Luther, Boston," and contained the rather cryptic message: 
--"How about this fight?" 
It was some moments before I could recall the time, more than two 
years before, when I had last seen the writer, Willard B. Luther, Boston 
lawyer, devotee of some, and critic of many kinds of sport. 
We had been sitting on that previous occasion--a crowd of college 
fellows, including Luther and myself--in a certain room in Cambridge, 
Massachusetts, not far from the University in that neighborhood where 
Luther had attended the Law School and the rest of us, on our 
respective graduation days, had received valuable pieces of parchment 
with the presidential signature attached. The conversation had already 
run through the question of Votes for Women, progressive politics, and 
prize-fights, and before the card game began it had settled on the 
last-named, chiefly because of my own vainglorious description of 
adventures at Reno, Nevada, at the time of the Jeffries-Johnson battle
for the heavyweight championship of the world. I remember telling 
with some gusto of my first newspaper interview--one with "Bob" 
Fitzsimmons, then the Old Man of the ring, and "Gentleman" Jim 
Corbett, who was Jeffries' trainer at Reno. 
"I had always wanted to see that performance," said Luther, "and would 
have gone in a flash if I could have got any one to make the trip with 
me. But remember this fact: whenever the next big fight is held I'm 
going with you." Later in the evening we shook hands on the 
proposition. 
At the time that Luther's telegram came I was planning to start for the 
Continent as Staff Correspondent of the "New York Evening Post" and 
Special Correspondent of the "Boston Journal." Remembering that 
Cambridge agreement I immediately wired:-- 
"Yes. This fight will do." 
So that is how it came to pass that Luther and myself boarded the 
Campania together, landed in Liverpool, cast about for ways and means 
of getting into the scrimmage, and for the first month and a half of my 
four months of wandering on the Continent were brother conspirators, 
until the duties of partnership called my friend home and left me 
without a companion in adventure. 
In London we absorbed to some extent a heavy British fog and to a 
greater extent British public opinion. We marveled at the exterior calm 
of a nation plunged in the greatest of wars, yet fighting, so it seemed at 
the time, with its top hat on and its smile still undisturbed. Across the 
English Channel three days later the Dutch steam packet Princess 
Juliana carried us safely through mine fields and between lanes of 
British torpedo boats and torpedo boat destroyers. We landed on the 
Continent at Flushing. Thence we headed for The Hague, Holland, the 
neutral gateway of northern Europe, where we found the American 
Minister, Dr. Henry van Dyke, and his first secretary, Marshall 
Langhorne, shouldering the    
    
		
	
	
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