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Davisstories which emphasized an egotism and self…assertiveness
which； if they ever existed； had happily ceased to be obtrusive
by the time I got to know him。
He was a different Davis from the Davis whom I had expected to
find； and I can imagine no more charming and delightful companion
than he was in Vera Cruz。 There was no evidence of those
qualities which I feared to find； and his attitude was one of
unfailing kindness； considerateness； and generosity。
In the many talks I had with him； I was always struck by his
evident devotion to a fixed code of personal conduct。 In his writings
he was the interpreter of chivalrous； well…bred youth； and his heroes
were young； clean…thinking college men； heroic big…game hunters；
war correspondents； and idealized men about town； who always did
the noble thing； disdaining the unworthy in act or motive。 It seemed
to me that he was modelling his own life； perhaps unconsciously；
after the favored types which his imagination had created for his
stories。 In a certain sense he was living a life of make…believe；
wherein he was the hero of the story； and in which he was bound
by his ideals always to act as he would have the hero of his
story act。 It was a quality which only one could have who had
preserved a fresh youthfulness of outlook in spite of the
hardening processes of maturity。
His power of observation was extraordinarily keen； and he not
only had the rare gift of sensing the vital elements of a
situation； but also had； to an unrivalled degree； the ability to
describe them vividly。 I don't know how many of those men at Verz
Cruz tried to describe the kaleidoscopic life of the city during
the American occupation； but I know that Davis's story was far
and away the most faithful and satisfying picture。 The story was
photographic； even to the sounds and smells。
The last I saw of him in Vera Cruz was when； on the Utah； he
steamed past the flagship Wyoming； upon which I was quartered；
and started for New York。 The Battenberg cup race had just been
rowed； and the Utah and Florida crews had tied。 As the Utah was
sailing immediately after the race； there was no time in which to
row off the tie。 So it was decided that the names of both ships
should be engraved on the cup； and that the Florida crew should
defend the title against a challenging crew from the British
Admiral Craddock's flagship。
By the end of June； the public interest in Vera Cruz had waned；
and the corps of correspondents dwindled until there were only a
few left。
Frederick Palmer and I went up to join Carranza and Villa； and on
the 26th of July we were in Monterey waiting to start with the
triumphal march of Carranza's army toward Mexico City。 There was
no sign of serious trouble abroad。 That night ominous telegrams
came； and at ten o'clock on the following morning we were on a
train headed for the States。
Palmer and Davis caught the Lusitania； sailing August 4 from New
York； and I followed on the Saint Paul； leaving three days later。
On the 17th of August I reached Brussels； and it seemed the most
natural thing in the world to find Davis already there。 He was at
the Palace Hotel； where a number of American and English
correspondents were quartered。
Things moved quickly。 On the 19th Irvin Cobb； Will Irwin； Arno
Dosch； and I were caught between the Belgian and German lines in
Louvain； our retreat to Brussels was cut； and for three days；
while the vast German army moved through the city； we were
detained。 Then； the army having passed； we were allowed to go
back to the capital。
In the meantime Davis was in Brussels。 The Germans reached the
outskirts of the city on the morning of the 20th； and the
correspondents who had remained in Brussels were feverishly
writing despatches describing the imminent fall of the city。 One
of them； Harry Hansen； of the Chicago Daily News； tells the
following story； which I give in his words：
〃While we were writing；〃 says Hansen； 〃Richard Harding Davis
walked into the writing…room of the Palace Hotel with a bunch of
manuscript in his hand。 With an amused expression he surveyed
the three correspondents filling white paper。
〃'I say； men；' said Davis； 'do you know when the next train
leaves？'
〃'There is one at three o'clock；' said a correspondent； looking
up。
〃'That looks like our only chance to get a story out；' said
Davis。 'Well； we'll trust to that。'
〃The story was the German invasion of Brussels； and the train
mentioned was considered the forlorn hope of the correspondents
to connect with the outside worldthat is； every correspondent
thought it to be the other man's hope。 Secretly each had prepared
to outwit the other； and secretly Davis had already sent his
story to Ostend。 He meant to emulate Archibald Forbes； who
despatched a courier with his real manuscript； and next day
publicly dropped a bulky package in the mail…bag。
〃Davis had sensed the news in the occupation of Brussels long
before it happened。 With dawn he went out to the Louvain road；
where the German army stood； prepared to smash the capital if
negotiations failed。 His observant eye took in all the details。
Before noon he had written a comprehensive sketch of the
occupation； and when word was received that it was under way； he
trusted his copy to an old Flemish woman； who spoke not a word of
English； and saw her safely on board the train that pulled out
under Belgian auspices for Ostend。〃
With passes which the German commandant in Brussels gave us the
correspondents immediately started out to see how far those
passes would carry us。 A number of us left on the afternoon of
August 23 for Waterloo； where it was expected that the great
clash between the German and the Anglo…French forces would occur。
We had planned to be back the same evening； and went prepared
only for an afternoon's drive in a couple of hired street
carriages。 It was seven weeks before we again saw Brussels。
On the following day （August 24） Davis started for Mons。 He wore
the khaki uniform which he had worn in many campaigns。 Across his
breast was a narrow bar of silk ribbon indicating the campaigns
in which he had served as a correspondent。 He so much resembled a
British officer that he was arrested as a British derelict and was informed
that he would be shot at once。
He escaped only by offering to walk to Brand Whitlock； in Brussels；
reporting to each officer he met on the way。 His plan was approved；
and as a hostage on parole he appeared before the American minister；
who quickly established his identity as an American of good standing；
to the satisfaction of the Germans。
In the following few months our trails were widely separated。 I read
of his arrest by German officers on the road to Mons； later I
read the story of his departure from Brussels by train to
Hollanda trip which carried him through Louvain while the town
still was burning； and still later I read that he was with the
few lucky men who were in Rheims during one of the early
bombardments that damaged the cathedral。 By amazing luck；
combined with a natural news sense which drew him instinctively
to critical places at the psychological m