The Western Comrade, v. 2, no. 6/7 - Marxist History.org

• virons
colony, which, by the way, while not the Co-operative
Commonwealth, is a mighty long step in that direc-
tion. Yesterday he worked competitively. Today he
works co-operatively- Does the mere crossing of this
boundary line enable him to completely change his
mental attitude Can he, in a day, throw off the
habits acquired in a lifetime under capitalistic en-
? He certainly cannot. He, of course, upon en-
tering this new atmosphere, feels a great change. His
spirits lighten, and his heart swells with emotion. His
resolves are higher, his determination firm, yet, he
will have a struggle to keep, inviolate these exalted
resolutions. He will find it difficult to accept assign-
ments to work that is not just suited to his inclinations.
The food set before him may not all be exactly to his
taste, yet, I must say, after having partaken of it, that
it is very good, very wholesome, and far above that
which is spread out on the average working man's
table. There may be, and very probably will be, many
little things about which he feels, when he forgets
himself, that he has a "kick" coming. But this is
only his transitory stage from competition to co-opera-
tion, and even here, by girding himself, he will be able
to keep his resolves, in the main, and as the days pass,
the necessary effort to do so will become less and less.
And when he comes to fully realize, and appreciate
THERE
butchery.
The Western Comrade 27
The Colony
Is a Paradise for
the Children
Little
Charlotte Earle and
Her Pets
the fact, that he owns an equal interest with all other
workers in this rich empire he is helping to build, its
green fields, its orchards, its water, its machinery, its
live stock and the beautiful white city that will arise,
peace and contentment and joy will occupy his soul.
He will be ready to work where his work will count
for most. He will co-operate indeed and in truth with
all his comrades. He will stretch out his hand and
"lift up," not "press down."
THE REAL BATTLEFIELD
By GEORGE R' LUNN
is before me a picture which reveals better
than words the unspeakable horrors of human
It is a picture of the real battlefield.
I see a home where starvation is ruling with ghastly
iron hand.
The cupboard in the poverty stricken home is not
burdened with even a crust of bread.
On the kitchen table lays the baby of the household
•sleeping the sleep from which there is no earthly awak-
ening, a tiny victim of starvation.
Kneeling with her head buried in her hands which
rest on the table is the grief-stricken mother.
To her right a little girl of about eight years attempting
to rise but too famished to walk.
Behind, holding on to his mother's dress, is a boy
of five years, thin, emaciated and so pitiful, looking
frightfully toward the door.
This is a picture of the real ravages of war.
Always in the foodless, fatherless home the battle
of life and death is fought to the bitter end.
It is a battle without hope for no star illumines the
shadow of that struggle.
No bands are playing, no drums are beating, no
trumpets are sounding on this battlefield.
The father is gone, sent, he knows not why, to be
murdered.
The helpless mother and fatherless children are left
behind; left to fight hopelessly against starvation and
death.
Here is where we see the real war, war in all its
hideous nakedness.
Not on the plain or sea where the thousands are
nerved to action by the brutal excitement of death's
carnage, but in the homes where slow starvation grips
the innocent children and where the pitiful sight of
the dead babe brings collapse of courage to the
wretched mother, is the real battlefield.
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