54 The Great War On land, Libau, Bona and Liege were in flames, on the Meuse and the Moselle hundreds of thou- sands of men were fighting or drawing close. The Low Countries were once more invaded, the echoes of William IPs cannon were heard not far from the field of Waterloo, the Prussian Uhlans were again on the field of Mars-la-Tour. By land, by sea, even by air, where the dirigibles and the aeroplanes were doing deadly battle, nations were struggling. All the things that men had dreamed of, discussed in their dry-as-dust pamphlets, soberly prophesied without ever believing, had sud- denly been translated into reality. Had a daring author ventured to describe the ravages of an air- craft of war hurling down destruction upon a de- fenceless town, behold it was realized at Luneville on August 4. All the familiar things of fiction lived again. " Uncle Toby " and his sieges, Henry Esmond in the Low Countries, the Prisoner of Zenda in his Ruritania, which was Servia, the mar- vels of H. G. Wells's latest version of world war- fare, were translated into fact and history. In central Africa millions of blacks were already the gauge of battle and empires like the Congo Free State were proclaimed the victor's prize. In Asia fleets were gathering and Japan preparing to enter the struggle. Above all, from every corner and quarter of the earth men of all nations and races and conditions were caught in the mad vortex and drawn irresistibly Into conflict.