Then there’s the jealous fool—­the fool who in England will see no reason why this book should have been published.  His line of argument will be, “We’ve been in this war for more than three years.  We’ve done everything that America is doing; because she’s new to the game, we’re doing it much better.  We don’t want any one to appreciate us, so why go praising her?” Precisely.  Why be decent?  Why seek out affections?  Why be polite or kindly?  Why not be automatons?  I suppose the answer is, “Because we happen to be men, and are privileged temporarily to be playing in the role of heroes.  The heroic spirit rather educates one to hold out the hand of friendship to new arrivals of the same sort.”

There is one type of fool, exclusively American, whose stupidity arises from love and tenderness.  Very often she is a woman.  She has been responsible for the arrival in France of a number of narrow-minded and well-intentioned persons; their errand is to investigate vice-conditions in the U.S.  Army.  This suspicion of the women at home concerning the conduct of their men in the field, is directly traceable to reports of the debasing influences of war set in circulation by the anti-militarists.  I want to say emphatically that cleaner, more earnest, better protected troops than those from the United States are not to be found in Europe.  Both in Great Britain and on the Continent their puritanism has created a deep impression.  By their idealism they have made their power felt; they are men with a vision in their eyes, who have travelled three thousand miles to keep a rendezvous with death.  That those for whom they are prepared to die should suspect them is a degrading disloyalty.  That trackers should be sent after them from home to pick up clues to their unworthiness is sheerly damnable.  To disparage the heroism of other nations is bad enough; to distrust the heroes of your own flesh and blood, attributing to them lower than civilian moral standards, is to be guilty of the meanest treachery and ingratitude.

Here, then, are some of the sample fools to whom this preface is addressed.  The list could be indefinitely lengthened.  “The fool hath said in his heart, ’There is no God’.”  He says it in many ways and takes a long while in saying it; but the denying of God is usually the beginning and the end of his conversation.  He denies the vision of God in his fellow-men and fellow-nations, even when the spikes of the cross are visibly tearing wounds in their feet and hands.

Life has swung back to a primitive decision since the war commenced.  The decision is the same for both men and nations.  They can choose the world or achieve their own souls.  They can cast mercenary lots for the raiment of a crucified righteousness or take up their martyrdom as disciples.  Those men and nations who have been disciples together can scarcely fail to remain friends when the tragedy is ended.  What the fool says in his heart at this present is not of any lasting importance.  There will always be those who mock, offering vinegar in the hour of agony and taunting, “If thou be what thou sayest....”  But in the comradeship of the twilit walk to Emmaus neither the fool nor the mocker are remembered.