J. WALKER McSPADDEN Copyright, MCMXIX by The World Syndicate Publishing Co. Printed in the United States of America...

So much has been written about the great soldiers of the world, that it is a matter of considerable hardihood to attempt to present another volume on the subject in any sense "new." But the Great War has not only brought to the center of the stage a new group of martial figures—it has also intensified and revivified our interest in those of a bygone day. The springs of history rise far back. We can the better appreciate our leaders of today and their problems, by comparing them with the leaders

"Turn your guns around on them! Stop them!" The command was given in peremptory tones to a demoralized group of soldiers. Not waiting for them to carry out his orders, the young officer who gave them leaped from his horse, and with his own hands turned one of the guns upon the advancing foe. Had it been the Argonne Forest, and the year 1918, it would have been a machine gun that the officer manned. But the time was over a century and a half earlier than this—and the weapon a light brass field-pi

"Can a man 'come back'?" This is a question one frequently hears nowadays; and the answer is, more often than not, a shrug of the shoulders. For the man who has once failed—or even passed his first chance of success—is not considered seriously in this busy day and time. He is a "down-and-outer"; he cannot "come back." But there are exceptions to every rule, and one of the most striking ones in all history, to the above adage, is furnished by the man who led the Union forces to victory in the Ame

  1822. April 27. Ulysses Simpson Grant born.   1839. Received appointment to U. S. Military Academy, West Point.   1843. Graduated.   1845. Went as second-lieutenant to join Taylor's forces in Mexico.   1848. Brevetted captain for gallantry.   1848. Married Julia T. Dent.   1854. Resigned his army commission.   1861. Re-entered army at outbreak of Civil War. Commissioned          colonel, then brigadier-general.   1863. Made major-general.   1864. Given supreme command of the Union forces, with

A gray-haired college president sat talking kindly with a young sophomore who had fallen behind in his studies. "My boy," he said, "you must study if you would succeed. Only patience and industry will prevent your failure here and your failure in after life." "But, General, you failed," replied the sophomore with an amazing impertinence. "I hope that you may be more fortunate than I," was the quiet answer. Literature contains nothing finer than that by way of the retort courteous. The speaker wa

"Hayseed! hayseed!" Thus mocked a group of schoolboys of a mate who stood moodily by and glowered upon them. Although their words were not English, "Hayseed!" was what they meant by the punning French phrase. This boy from the South who did not speak as they did, or act as they did, and wore cheaper clothes, was the butt of their ridicule. "He calls himself 'Napoleone,'" they said. "He means 'La paille au nez' (straw-nose)." And the way they rattled it off sounded like his name turned round. No

Of all the curious parallels of history, none is stranger than that of Napoleon and Wellington, who were to meet as rivals on the fatal field of Waterloo. They were born in the same year, 1769, and in each case the exact date is somewhat uncertain. Wellington in later life always celebrated the first of May, but was not sure that it was his rightful birthday. Both were born upon islands—the one in Corsica, the other in Ireland—which islands, by the way, were constantly striving to achieve their

The name, Gordon, brings to mind the warrior—perchance the Highland laddie who with bagpipes fiercely blowing charges down the rocky slope against the enemy. "Chinese" Gordon, as one of this warlike clan will be known for all time, came indeed of a race of warriors, and was born in martial surroundings; but the man himself was far from being of that stern stuff that glories in a fight. As boy and man, he was quiet, lovable, and of intensely religious nature. Gordon means a "spear," and the name

When one is picking out soldiers, one usually chooses big men. You see a strapping fellow going by in regimentals, and you say, "My, what a dandy soldier!" Well, there have been some big men in stature who have been big soldiers—such as Washington—but it is interesting to note that many of our great generals have been undersized. Such were Grant, Wellington, and Napoleon. Such was Lord Roberts who became Earl and Marshal, and was one of the best-loved leaders that England has produced. He was as

When Chinese Gordon lost his life in Khartoum, Egypt, in 1884, because the British relief force reached him two days too late, a young officer accompanying the expedition was getting his first glimpse of a land that was destined to make him famous. "Kitchener of Khartoum" was to become as widely known in a later generation as Chinese Gordon was in his own. Each won his spurs in a foreign land. Kitchener was then a cavalry officer of thirty-five, and did not seem destined to get much higher in ar

"There goes young Haig. He says he intends to be a soldier." The speaker was a young student at Oxford University, as he jerked his thumb in the direction of a slight but well-set-up fellow, a classmate, who went cantering past. The chance remark, made more than once during the college days of Field Marshal Haig, struck the keynote of his career. From early boyhood Douglas Haig was going to be a soldier; and he stuck to his guns in a quiet, systematic way until he won out. The story of Haig's li

"Let's name him Joseph," said Gilles Joffre to his wife, as they viewed their first child with much pride. "That doesn't seem to be enough," responded Mme. Joffre. So unusual a baby deserved better treatment, she thought. "Then how about Joseph Jacques? That's a good, sensible sounding name." "That sounds well," she admitted, "but still it lacks something. I'll tell you. Let's call him Joseph Jacques Césaire." "Sounds like a soldier," said the father. "Well, who knows? Perhaps he will be a gener

To wait until one is sixty-three years old before even smelling powder—and then to find oneself in command of the greatest allied army that the world has ever seen—such is the remarkable story of the French General, Ferdinand Foch. His life, like that of more than one famous soldier is a bundle of paradoxes, or contradictions, but prove once again that "truth is stranger than fiction." Those of us who know and love Dumas's swashbuckling hero, D'Artagnan, will remember that he was a Gascon and al

It was a historic moment, on that June day, in the third year of the World War. On the landing stage at the French harbor of Boulogne was drawn up a company of French soldiers, who looked eagerly at the approaching steamer. They were not dress parade soldiers nor smart cadets—only battle-scarred veterans home from the trenches, with the tired look of war in their eyes. For three years they had been hoping and praying that the Americans would come—and here they were at last! As the steamer slowly