Voices of Silence
Page 33
And with ears stopped by his ego, hears not yonder ominous tread.
Coldly on a suffering nation he has turned a murderer’s glance.
God in heaven, speed the soldiers in the American advance!
Like the whirlwind and the fire sweeping o’er some doomèd town,
May they sweep o’er hellish forces – courage crushing ‘kultur’ down.
Let none idly stand indifferent, eyeing them with looks askance,
For the gods themselves are longing for the American advance.
In the name of all that’s holy, in the nobleness of right,
They will charge, these Western vikings, toward the forces of the Night,
And eternal laws will hold them, dauntless through all battle shock,
For their fight is based on mercy, which is an eternal rock.
O ye boys of hopes and ideals! O ye modern minute-men!
Ne’er before has such call sounded in the ages of our ken.
Well ye’ve answered, grim preparing, leaving nothing unto chance.
Now in rightness and in justice – oh, Americans – ADVANCE!
Clelland J. Ball
Slacker, Think it Over!
Slacker, you sit in your easy-chair,
Thanking the Lord you’re not over there,
Where the cannons roar and the brave men die,
And, dying, perhaps unburied lie;
You may have purchased a bond or two
And imagine that is enough to do.
But some day, after the war is done
And victory by the brave is won,
You’ll see men sneer as they pass you by,
And you’ll wish you had not been afraid to die,
For what is the life of a coward worth
When he hasn’t a friend on the lonely earth?
But the world may consent to forget some day,
And when it has done so, what will you say
To the grandson sitting upon your knee,
As he shows you his book, saying, ‘Grandpa, see!
Here is where in the great world war
We lost a thousand soldiers or more’.
And when he turns and looks up at you,
Saying, ‘Tell me, grandpa, what did you do?’
Slacker, you’ll sit in your big arm-chair,
Wishing that you had been over there,
And you’d give you life for the right to say,
‘I fought for God and the U.S.A.’
Ralph J. Hall
The Crusader
Sailing for France! My heart beats high to-day:
I’ve reached the crossroads, and have made the choice,
I’ve donned the new, and cast the old away;
Yes, DIEU LE VOLT, I, too have heard the voice.
Brave spirit of the past, thy words are true,
Guide thou my sword, for I have donned the new.
Arthur Sprague
To the Recruitin’ Sergeant
‘Oh, this army life’s the candy for the guy that wants it soft,
And the uniforms is free and so’s the eats.
Just sign your name right here, please. We’ll take you ’round the earth.
For the wise ones, it’s the life that can’t be beat.’
But! Did you ever cross the ‘briny’ in a transport?
Was you among the guys that went to France?
Did you ever sleep belowdecks when the ‘subs’ was all around
And your life-belt was your one and only chance?
Did you ever go a-tourin’ in a third-class English train,
With the girls a-wavin’ howdy from the street,
And land somewhere at midnight with our legs all tied in knots,
And have to march three miles before you eat?
Did you ever come a-crawlin’ from a leaky, soakin’ tent,
When the sergeant called sometime before the dawn,
And help to guy a mess-tent that was blowin’ all to smash,
And all your next day’s rations soaked and gone?
Did you ever cross the Channel in an antique side-wheel tub,
And freeze all night upon a heavin’ deck,
And land ‘Somewhere in France’ next day unshaven and unshorn,
And the old high-water mark around our neck?
Did you ever spend a fortnight in an alleged restin’-camp,
And listen to a thousand tales or more,
About the Somme and Vimy Ridge, the Marne, and other scraps,
And wonder why in hell you came to war?
Did you ever ride a ‘rattler’ on the old Chemin de Fer
In a car marked ‘Eight Chevaux or Forty Hommes’,
And finally hit the trenches with your guts up in your throat,
When you heard the Lewis barkin’ and the bombs?
Did you ever see the star-shells flamin’ ghastly in the sky?
Did the shrapnel ever dent your tin chapeau?
Did you ever pass your canteen just to help your ‘buddy’ die,
When the gas come down and caught the ‘Blighter’ slow?
‘Oh, this army life’s the candy for the guy that wants it soft,
And the uniforms is free and so’s the eats.
Just sign your name right here, please. We’ll take you ’round the earth.
For the wise ones, it’s the life that can’t be beat.’
George C. Dawson
Somewhere in France (1)
Some streets that are crooked, and houses of stone,
A very small room that the peasants call home,
A cow in the stable and soldats above,
With many war weapons you’ve often heard of;
Some little old women with great shoes of wood,
Old men who would go to the front if they could,
Tame geese on the highway in columns of file,
The dirt in the gutter all scraped in a pile;
Some girls who will give you a smile when you’re blue,
A town hall, a square, and a large fountain, too,
A brook running by with its water so clear,
That comes from the hill situated right near;
Some trees, an old church with its bells in the tower,
Which ring out for those who desire the hour,
A very small boy with a patch on his pants,
Is my first impression of ‘Somewhere in France’.
Stuart Cutler
Somewhere
It’s a sizable place, this Somewhere –
As big as the whole battle zone.
We eat it, we sleep it, we breathe it,
It causes us many a groan.
We left from the port of Somewhere
And we traveled Somewhere on sea
’Til we landed again at Somewhere,
And it sounds mighty funny to me.
We boarded trains Somewhere for Somewhere,
And we’re camping Somewhere for a spell.
It’s so that when one mentions Somewhere
We’re almost tempted to yell.
There’s a Somewhere in France and in England,
And Somewhere else at the front.
It was Somewhere the boys were in battle –
Just Somewhere bearing the brunt.
It’s Somewhere the censor is cutting
Somewhere from the letters we write;
It seems we’ve been Somewhere forever.
At its mention we’re ready to fight.
At night we no longer have nightmares;
We dream one continuous trip
From Somewhere back home to Somewhere.
When we sleep into Somewhere we slip.
Geography’s gone to the races,
The faces of maps all are changed.
Somewhere in Somewhere by Somewhere
And our minds are completely deranged.
Ye gods! Is the world mad completely?
Will sanity e’er reign again?
Will we ever get bac
k from Somewhere to earth?
If so, O Lord, tell us when.
Earle H. Tostevin
Passed as Censored
Received your parcel to-day, Mae.
Gee! but those Meccas was prime!
And ain’t you the swell little knitter!
That sweater come through just in time.
The gum made me think of the movies;
The candy’s the first that I’ve had
Since that Sunday we walked to the Breakers
And you thought I thought you was mad.
Well, how’s things now at the office?
Give my regards to the Boss.
And, say, Mae, you needn’t worry –
I haven’t written to Floss.
What’s happened to Willie Fitzgibbons?
I hope he ain’t seein’ you home.
It seems about time he got drafted;
That guy’s got no sense in his dome.
As for me, Mae, I’m working my head off.
They drills us from morning to night.
The officers calls it ‘intensive’,
And they come pretty near bein’ right.
But we’re gettin’ good eats all the time, Mae,
And the boys are in dandy shape, too.
When they give us a chance at the Kaiser
I’ll hand him a wallop for you.
And say, Mae, drop me a line, please.
I’ll write you again in a while,
But we haven’t got much time for writing
And letters ain’t much in my style.
Here’s hoping that this find you well, Mae,
As I am, who love you, you know,
And thank you again for the parcel.
Good night. Taps has started to blow.
Harold Amory
Der Tag
When eau de cologne comes from limberger cheese,
When the jelly fish swallows the whale;
When kangaroos roost on gooseberry trees
And grasshoppers feed upon quail;
When the laws of gravity cease to exist
And the rivers all run up hill;
When young Americans no more enlist
To shoot at ‘All Highest Bill’;
When bumblebees whistle ‘Die Wacht Am Rhine’;
When feathers are found upon frogs,
When the mule is blessed with a voice divine
And humming birds prey upon hogs;
When submarines swim through the air at night;
When powder won’t burn in our guns –
Then maybe our allies will give up the fight
And the world will be ruled by the Huns.
Eugene E. Wilson
NINETEEN
The Final Year
England in 1918, hardships, the German assault of 21 March 1918, near defeat and anxiety, the reversal, thoughts on post-war, the Kaiser abdicates
By the beginning of 1918 anxiety, exhaustion and shortage of food were taking their toll on those at home. But worse was to come, for early on the morning of 21 March the Germans launched a massive assault against the British and French on the Western Front. They chose this moment for several reasons: the strong Allied blockade meant that many German civilians were suffering to the point of starvation; following the collapse of the army after the revolution, Russia had sued for a separate peace, which meant that the German High Command could now move its men from the Eastern to the Western Front; and it knew that if it were to have any chance of defeating the French and British it would need to attack before the Americans arrived in France in large numbers.
Using new shock tactics, the Germans broke through the Allied line and forced the armies into retreat and disarray as they advanced up to 40 miles. As they pushed on towards the vital railhead of Amiens, crossing the ravaged countryside of 1917 and the old battlefields of the Somme, the situation became desperate. As trench warfare gave way to open fighting, the Allies were threatened with defeat. On 26 March, all the Allied forces came under a single command when General Foch was appointed military supremo.
On 11 April Haig issued a Special Order of the Day: ‘Three weeks ago to-day the enemy began his terrific attacks against us on a fifty-mile front. His objects are to separate us from the French, to take the Channel Ports and destroy the British Army [. . .] Many among us now are tired. To them I would say that Victory will belong to the side which holds out the longest [. . .] There is no other course open to us but to fight it out. Every position must be held to the last man: there must be no retirement. With our backs to the wall and believing in the justice of our cause each one of us must fight on to the end.’
It was a turning point. The British and French rallied and counter-attacked with brilliantly carried-out strategy, and although the Germans attempted further assaults, their energy was spent. Then, in a series of fierce battles during what became known as the Last Hundred Days, the experienced, war-weathered Allied troops began remorselessly to push them back across the old battlefields. On 8 August they broke through the German lines and advanced 7 miles; the German Commander, Ludendorff, described this as ‘the black day of the German Army’. Fighting was to continue for another three months, but the German High Command knew that it was all over.
The end, when it came, was more speedy than anyone had expected. With unrest and revolution spreading at home, caused partly by the effectiveness of the Allied naval blockade, early in November the Germans requested an armistice. On 9 November the Kaiser abdicated and fled to Holland. At dawn on the morning of 11 November the 3rd Canadian Division entered Mons, the town where the British war had begun. Hostilities ceased at 11 a.m.
But, though retreating, the German army in the field had not been defeated. This was to have huge significance in the years to come as the idea grew that they had been ‘stabbed in the back’ by those who had betrayed them at home.
[How doth the little busy wife]
How doth the little busy wife
Improve each shining hour?
She shops and cooks and works all day,
The best within her power.
How carefully she cuts the bread,
How thin she spreads the jam!
That’s all she has for breakfast now,
Instead of eggs and ham.
In dealing with the tradesmen, she
Is frightened at the prices,
For meat and fish have both gone up,
And butter too, and rice has.
Each thing seems dearer ev’ry week,
It’s really most distressing,
Why can’t we live on love and air?
It would be such a blessing!
Nina Macdonald
Chairman Rhymes
(Regular advertisements for Chairman cigarettes appeared in the Daily Chronicle.)
The doctors say our national waste
Is largely due to too much taste.
We ought at once to form the habit
Of thinking something else is rabbit,
And never, when the meat is coarse,
Demand if it is cow or horse.
So long as hunger’s satisfied,
Let’s keep our palates to decide
Between a CHAIRMAN and the rest,
Which cigarette we find the best.
I bow before the butcher-man,
I grovel to the grocer,
I swallow all the saucy airs
With which they answer ‘No, sir!’
But what a change, to go next door
And there with head erect,
To buy some CHAIRMAN cigarettes
And a little self-respect!
Food Control
Monday – we’ll say is our ‘Heatless Day’,
One cinder, one flicker, one coal.
Tuesday – well – this is our ‘Meatless Day’,
One oyster, one herring, one sole.
Wednesday – oh, this is our ‘Wheatless Day’,
One seed cake, one pancake, one scone.
Thursday – we must have a ‘Sweetless Day’,
One pickle, one lemon, one bone.
Friday – will make a good ‘Eatless Day’,
One cheerful and glorious fast.
Saturday – call it a ‘Treatless Day’,
For all reciprocity’s past.
But Sunday – may Ole Clynes forgive us, we pray,
If we should all happen to feel
A little more hungry than usual to-day
And once again eat a square meal.
Economy ad Insaniam
A thrifty old lady of Hull,
Whose intellect seemed rather dull,
When reading at night,
To economise light,
Put luminous paint on her skull.
The Soul of a Nation
The little things of which we lately chattered –
The dearth of taxis or the dawn of spring;
Themes we discussed as though they really mattered,
Like rationed meat or raiders on the wing; –
How thin it seems to-day, this vacant prattle,
Drowned by the thunder rolling in the West,
Voice of the great arbitrament of battle
That puts our temper to the final test.
Thither our eyes are turned, our hearts are straining,
Where those we love, whose courage laughs at fear,
Amid the storm of steel around them raining,
Go to their death for all we hold most dear.
New-born of this supremest hour of trial,
In quiet confidence shall be our strength,
Fixed on a faith that will not take denial
Nor doubt that we have found our soul at length.
O England, staunch of nerve and strong of sinew,
Best when you face the odds and stand at bay,
Now show a watching world what stuff is in you!
Now make your soldiers proud of you to-day!
Owen Seaman
Watch and Pray!
There’s a hush upon the city, and its jarring voices cease;