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HSIaSRM I Illi i Ya a | UhS. zjffl gS| > K' jil' ■ IjL BF w I 1/ i ■ HJil ma II 1 p I H iit i i £XuO Page 6 When the Regiment Left Home / When the band is playing gayly, And when it plays Tramp, Tramp; My thoughts go far a wandering, And are miles away from camp. • Many things cross my vision, Many familiar objects I see; But they always turn back to Mother, Father, Sister, Brother and Thee. When last I saw them plainly, Well will I remember the day; it was at old Camp. Ricketts, at Pitts ton, When we were preparing to go away. Trucks and teams were hauling our baggage, Men were hustling everywhere; But. in all the din and bustle, Mother, Father, Sister, Brother and you were there. The boys were chatting happily, Tho’ through each brave man’s heart, Many a pang and pain was passing, At the thought of being forced apart. Weil did they know what was coming, Well were they willing to face the foe; Even when they heard the bugle calling And knew that it was time to go. Fi: st came the bugle Bike the bolt out of the sky; Next came the Sergeant’s ‘‘Fall In” They all were saying good-bye. A moment of confusion was apparent, While men kissed them all; “Attention” came like a roar of thun der, And he stood so stately and tall. “Sqtiads Right” was next in order And they were right-on the dot; The boys who were going away, Seme coming back.. —and some not. They swept past the crowd with a swing, That brought cheer after cheer to the lips; So stately and tall were they marching. All wished them God-speed on their trip. Down the Avenue they swung. Keeping in step with the band; Passing through a lane of masses, Going to fight for God and land. And when they climbed into the coaches, And the noise and the din left be hind; And they thought no one was watbhing, A cloud came over their mind. A lump was mounting in their throat, And to swallow was very hard; And to keep up his spirits, Each man joked with his pard. The train bore them away smiling, With nothing for them to regret; And left an impression everlasting, That none of them will ever forget. And now they are waiting for orders, Camping in Dixie’s sand; Waiting and fuming and fretting and training, • For the fight in a foreign land. It matters not, where we are sent, My thoughts will always roam: And go back to that time at Camp Ricketts, When the regiment and boys left home. —Dusk D. Brown, 109th Field Artil lery Medical Corps. AUGUSTADREAMS Dear girl. Old Glory’s flying ’Neath the Georgia skies so blue, And a soldier lad is sighing. For his thoughts are all of you. Beneath the silver moonlight. Bathing pyram’ds of brown. You make aladdie’s heart bright, Ris fancies wander to the town. Where a little girl is yearning With a. heart that’s strong and true, For her soldier boy’s returning When this war of right is thru. When their hearts will beat together, Safe in love that’s pure and right, That is why brave lads are dreaming ’Neath the Georgia Pines tonight. —Deo D. Carroll, Co. D, 110th Inf. THE ARMY. You may talk about the army And the navy just as well But when it comes to hikes and drilling It’s the army boys that tell, When Reveille has sounded And you hear the command fall in It’s a hard life you imagine Though you do it with a grin. When you’re out upon the drill grounds And they give you double time Just think about the loved ones You left so far behind Its for them and human rights. You answered your country’s call Y’our cause is just, for freedom’s right So grin and bear it with all your might And when you’re going over the top Give them HEDD and make it hot When you’re fighting with victory on your mind Never give up till the mission is gained Then when ’’Old Glory” is floating over the Rhine Yours will be a victory“’famed. HARRY A. FENIAS, Co. I. 109th U. S. Inf. Thrift that does not take into partner ship honesty of character develops into covetousness and avarice. TRENCH AND CA M > OUR FIRST! (Written in memory of the three who were the first to die in France.) Read o'er anew the illumined page, Heroes and martyrs of every age; Statesman, poet, leader of clan, Warrior who died for his fellow man; Pioneer conqueror of of wilderness West; Puritan, faithful to Diberty blest; Dast of the. names —we engrave them today— - Enright, Gresham and Hay. First of our blood to be spilled in France, Reading the charge in war’s grim advance; Wrapped in our flag, holy winding sheet, Dying, yet never tasting defeat. Cradled, entombed on an alien shore, A nation mourns that they are no more. Heroes! they gave us their all in one day— Enright, Gresham and Hay. Sing of, their charge in a battle hymn. Till the stars in eternity’s morn grow dim. May the child yet unborn, at mother's knee, Disp their names in a world made free. Our banner boasts of their priceless blood, The ground is holy ..whereon they stood; Honor is theirs, first blood of the fray— Enright, Gresham and Hay. —Bynum T. Hartley, 103 d Trench Mortar Battery. i Training In Georgia (Tune —Marching Through Georgia.) DUCIDDE BROWN FIDDINGER TO THE BOYS IN CAMP HANCOCK. • Bring the good old bugle boys, we’ll sing another song About the good old U. S. A., the land where we belong, For we’re Uncle Sammies’ nephews who are young and brave and strong; That’s why we’re training in Georgia. CHORUS. Hurrah! Hurrah! We’re going o’er the sea, Hurrah! Hurrah! We'll win a victory. We are soldiers in the making—for a scrap that is to be, While we are training in Georgia. Sing about a banner that has never known defeat, Sing about a nation that is mighty hard to beat. Sing of mothers, wives and sweet hearts, who are fair, and true, and sweet, Whil ewe are training in Georgia. When the war is over, and the kaiser has been canned, And all the other despots have been made to understand That Uncle Sam’s a winner, when e’er he takes a band, Then we’ll come back to old Georgia. Ralston, Pa. HELL AND GERMANY. What can 1 do—What can I do To help the Red, the White, and Blue; To keep m.y country on the map And show the Germans where they’re at? I can’t do wonders —-.very true. But what I can do, that I'll do; And if all others help as. much We'll heat the pants right off these "Dutch.” I'm only one—l know 1 am. But then, you know, each added man Fills up the ranks; he's just one more Than what the army had before. Perhaps I am—perhaps I ain’t A great big guy, a giant gent; They tell me that I’m too damned slow, Still,, if I’m needed —sure I’ll go. I might get shot—but what’s the diff? We’ve got to get this Kaiser-stiff; He must be caged; it’s for the best, For your land, my land and the rest. I know full well —it’s not all fun In faring forth to shoot a gun. But when that gun protects your own— It’s lots more fun than stayin’ home. Then, too, you know—l’ve often thought I’d sooner die by cannon shot, Than hear ’em say both day and night I wasn’t man enough to fight. War may be hell—but times are suert That—give me hell—to too much "Dutch;” For should this scrap by “Dutch” be be won— The worst of hell is yet to come. —G. Irwin Strawbridge., Sergt. Co. 'a, 4th ln€., Augusta. Ga. (Now Co. B, 108th M. G. Battalion.) A LETTER FROMOLD PA When its night-way in Dixie, And the sun has gone to rest, Then my thoughts begin a drifting Back to the one I love the best. How my spirit it did quicken, When the sergeant said today. Here, old top. you get a letter From a friend in old Pa. Then I went off by my lonesome, From my friends 1 turned away Because I knew you wrote the letter When the post mark said Pa. When I read the dear old letter From you so far away, Sure it made my soul much better ’Cause it came from old Pa. Then in my bosom I tucked it, And its there that it will stay Till the ruthless sneaking Kaiser Damns the day we left Pa. —Corp. George G. Fluty. Co. D, Il2th U. S. Inf. Truth is the conformity of expression to thought. The expression of truth is simplicity. LAND SPRITES (By Oswald Smith, Box 259, Merion, Pa., Nov. 29, 1917.) The nimble banks indulge their pranks, With gleeful might and main, In leaps and lopes like antelopes Cavorting 'Cross the plain. Through walls they race; from place to place They swiftly work their way, And often face the killing pace Os seven miles a day. With smoothers born of parts well worn Each playful, speedy hunt, In far-flung crash, proceeds to smash All records at the front. Dike hippopotami they look Across the trench-wierd land, And soon would nvin to Hun Berlin If the strain could stand. Merion, Pa. Oswald Smith. WE ARE COMING (Written for the Soldier Boys by Rev. T. E. Duffield). We are coming. Woody, coming. From the North, South, East and West; We have heard your righteous call For the cause that is the be»t; We have left the homes we love Are marching to the battle. For the God that is above. CHORUS. ' We are coming, Woody, coming, Coming, coming, at your call; Coming with the royal Banner That was never known to fall. All the land our march is humming, Coming, coming, millions strong, We are coming Woody, coming. , We are coming, Woody, coming, To fight against the wrong; With no malice in our hearts But with love that’s pure and strong For humanity oppressed By the Tyrant’s cruel heel, Till all nations shall be blessed. We are coming, Woody, coming, To join the armies of the Free That are fighting for the Dord In the lands across the sea; A good account we’ll surely give When we shall meet the Hun And Freedom's cause shall ever live. Gatesboro, Pa. THE VOLUNTEERS OF THE 108TH, U. S. F. A. On April sixth war was declared; Our ecßjntry then was not prepared, But Uncle Sam never feared For hundreds of men volunteered. The moments passed like hours, For they were anxious to go Out into the open field To learn to- fight the foe. On Sunday morn they marched away From the Armory on Broad street Each one in his uniform. They certainly did look neat. And when they reached dear old Jenkin town They pitched their camp nearby. Here they stayed for a month or so Till the day they said good-bye. They all are honest, brave and true, Now which of them are dearest to you? If the say was left to me, I certainly would prefer Battery C. There’s Washington, Grant and General Deo Who all fought for our liberty; They were all Volunteer men. Rook at the honor given to them. And if by chance you are called to France And cross the ocean blue Remember that your motto is, We’re honest, brave and true. When the boys come home how happy they’ll be Because they fought for our liberty. May the Star Spangled Banner forever wave O’er the Rand of the Free and the Home of the Brave.” —Private Paul Traub, Battery C, 108th U. S. F. A. Dec. 12, 1917. The Red, White and Blue and You f (Copyright 1917.) (These Words have been arranged for song purposes and it is quite probable the 109th Band may play the song soon.) If my coutry calls me away from you To go and fight for the Red, White and Blue I would have to say good bye to you Even though it made you cry. War is just as Sherman said With its battefields dyed red But what else could anyone do And to his country still be true But fight for the Red, White and Blue and you. I may never return to you Marching with the colors and soldiers true There’ll be other sweethearts returning, For their dear loved one’s yearning Would they make you sigh for me Would they make you cry for me If you knew that I had been killed While fighting on the battlefield For the dear old Red, White and Blue and you. Chorus. The Red, White and Blue and you, dear Are the things that I love most. And I’ll always have your vision near If I’m on some lonely post. Think of the other boys in olive-drab They have sweethearts too who are sad But some day we may all be glad For there is not one who would not do Anything to show that he is true To the Red, White and Blue and vou. —HENRY D. COX, Headquarters Co. 109th U. S. Inf. THE RED TRIANGLE (By Daniel M. Henderson.) Dist up the Red Triangle Beside the thundering guns— A friend, a shield, a solace To our ten million sons! Go build a hut or dugout By millet or by trench— A shelter from the horror, The cold, the filth, the stench! Where boys we love, returning From out the gory loam San sight the Red Triangle And find a bit of home! Dist up the Red Triangle ’Gainst things that mar and maim: It conquers Booze, the wreckers! It kills the House of Shame! Go make a friendly corner, So lads can take the pen And get in touch -.with mother And God’s clean things again! Where Hell’s destroying forces Are leagued with Potsdan’s crew, Dist up the Red Triangle— And help the boys “come through!’* IF WE ONLY GET OUR CHANCE. I’m only one of ten million more That pledged his life to win this war And leave the luxuries of life Back home with mother, sweetheart, or wife, But if we’re to have a country free ' We’ll have to beat old Germany And show the Kaiser and his staff Just what this country's driving at. For no finer fighting men are they Than come from the state of old Pa. They are training hard and wait their chance To receive an order to sail for France And help Pershing’s men, who are over there, Fighting in this great world affair, And in each attack keep saying that We’ll drive those Boches off the map. I think it plainly to be seen We have the drop on the submarine, And if we do get our chance yet, We’ll get the Kaiser’s scalp, you bet. And make this country swell with pride To think we’re on the other side, To help our Allies this war to cease And have an everlasting-peace. —Sergeant Chas. R. Evans, Battery B, 109th Field Artillery. THE CALL. The American man of war has heard that call, as he goes marching on. And his heart is filled with pain To think that the eventful day haa dawned When he must wipe out that immortal stain Who caused it? Ah, yes, we know, And what has the kaiser to say? He fights, he swears that the day will come When all the world will be under his thumb. But yet in his own heart he feels that something is coming to pass, For America has answers that call of the allies at last. She thought she would quail at his own power:: / And ’-eave them to their fate. But he forgot that we are for liberty, for one, for all, Says the American soldier as he marches on to answer that pleading call. —David C. Stratton, Co. C, 112th Reg. DO IT NOW. If yop have a bit of news, Send it in. Or a joke that will amuse, Send it in. A story that is true. An incident that’s new, We want to hear from you! Send " in. Will your story make us laugh? Send it in. Send along a photograph? Send it in? Never mind about your style, If it’s worth the while And will make the reader smile. Send it in.