Page:Ruth of the U.S.A. (IA ruthofusa00balm).pdf/363

 "The Americans are coming! Our men are here! Our Americans! The Yanks—the Yanks are coming!" she shouted it in the rhythm of the song.

What had seized her that day upon the Ribot when she saw the Starke come up and Gerry told her it was American; what had thrilled through her that night she arrived in France; what had stirred throughout her that morning near Mirevaux when the English officer called out to her, "Good old America," and she watched the English march off to die; what had come when the French at last arrived before Amiens; even that ecstasy of the bombs bursting over Mannheim when she had sung The Star-Spangled Banner and Gerry Hull had found her; all those together surged through her combined and intensified a thousand-fold.

And this came not to her alone. It had come, too, to the French—the French who had been falling back in flight—yes, in flight, one could say it now—knowing that the Americans were behind them, but expecting nothing of those Americans. Why they had expected nothing, they did not know. At this moment it was incredible that—only the instant before—they had been in total despair.

The Yanks are coming; the Yanks are coming!

They were marines who were coming; they were so close that Ruth could see their uniforms; American marines, who marched past her singing—swinging—on their way to kill and to die! For they were going to kill—and to die. They knew it; that was why they sang as