Page:The Czechoslovak Review, vol4, 1920.pdf/333

Given a skull, a few bones, a primitive implement, domestic utensil or article of adornment, the archeologist is able to reconstruct the life of the cave man or cliff dweller.

Between the life of the cave man and that of a modern city lies a vast stretch of many centuries. Nevertheless, the Great War and its aftermath have left but skeletonized cities and civilization in many parts of the world, as, for example, in the north of France. In many other places, not in the war zone, the pulse of modern life is but faintly beating. The vital organs are just functioning; that is all. Restoration to function is, therefore, the work of the social doctors, as they may be called. Food, shelter, transportation and communication are to a community what the arterial system is to the human machine. Without this regenerating current, the heart and brain become impaired, to say the least.

Coming to Brno, the principal city in Moravia and the second of importance in the new Republic of Czechoslovakia, one is impressed by the significance of the fact that this city is awakening to after-war activity under the very shadow of the oldprison of Spielberg, which stands upon the nearby hill—an arch symbol of the most iniquitous political and religious persecution known in history; also, that in contradistinction to the method of saving souls by diabolical torture, so popular in Brno in the Middle Ages, the “Y” hut is, today, a shining example of Twentieth Century ideals of humanitarian service.

Brno may be considered one of the strategic points of activity for the “Y” which was requested by the government of Czechoslovakia to continue within the Republic the work which it had done for Czech soldiers during the War. The Army Bill, recently adopted by the National Assembly calls for a standing army of 150,000 men, for the infant Republic must protect itself against the enemies who press against its frontiers.

Nearly every European city has a city within itself. Ancient walls, towers and dwellings, narrow and devious streets are to be found in the heart of many a modern metropolis. At Brno, this inner city might be called the barrack city. Here, from 10,000 to 12,000 soldiers are garrisoned. The first impression is one of neatness and order. The barracks, or kasárna, are stained a tobacco brown, an excellent foil for the spring verdure of the nearby hills.

During, and even after the war, a welfare hut, at the best, was but provisional. Its atmosphere was one of emergency. Mr. A. K. Jennings, Director of the “Y” work in the Moravian division, with headquarters at Brno, was fortunate in having his hut built for him by the Army and according to his own ideas of effective service. It occupies the center of the entrance to the barracks. The portal of the hut, a large barrack suitably partitioned into a number of rooms, bears the Red Triangle, framed in a setting of bright but artistic colors. Distinctive and attractive, from the day of its opening, it has made a hit with the soldiers.

Entering the business offices of the hut secretary, one is impressed by the military neatness and order everywhere in evidence. The class rooms, reading and writing rooms seem more like those belonging to a school or college building than to a recreation center for soldiers. Nevertheless, the atmosphere is homelike and promises much in the way of relaxation and entertainment. There is a room for the playing of games and of billiards, as well as large auditorium, for concerts, cinema and theatrical performances.

At a recent Saturday night entertainment, the auditorium was crowded to capacity by more than 2,000 soldiers. The program was one of mass singing, varied by a few vaudeville skits contributed by amateur actors. To our request for some of their national folk songs and ballads, the soldiers responded most generously. The harmony of the 2,000 voices singing the plaintive melodies expressing the oppression of hundreds of years, or swelling into paeans of victory and exultation over newly-won independence, made a profound impression. If that crowd of soldier-singers could make a concert tour of the