Lincoln High School - Lincolnian Yearbook (Tacoma, WA)

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24 THE LINCOLNIAN l us that the slacgsefri 'gwere choosing the harder route of-the two. ' So the days passed'and the time drew near for our entrainment for the east. On the morning of our de- parture l was in the most sober mood that l had ever up to that time ex- perienced. l felt very sad when l told my mother goodby: not only my own sorrow opprossed me, but the suffering which l knew she felt then and would feel later though she tried bravely not to let me know. For my father, also, while he said but little, l knew that it was a great trial for him. As the train pulled out from the station, my native town, a great lump rose in my throat and an invisible weight seemed to be slowly crushing in my chest. indeed the first day on the crowded train was one of the most gloomy parts of my army experience. Most of us were busy with our thoughts and did not care to listen to those feel like talking. But soon the mist of to clear away and with ful buoyance of youth to our former optimism few who did gloom began all the hope- we returned and thought- lessness, sang songs, told yarns, and thumbed a rather dog-eared deck of cards to speed the dragging hours on their way. We arrived at Camp Mills a very weary, dirty, but tran- quilly cheerful lot of men after nearly a week in the passing. Circumstances were somewhat diflierent in the cos- mopolitan city of war, but everything bustled and moved with such a vim that we could not but feel the vi- tality of the great city which lay so near us. l managed to make several excursions about New York and was greatly impressed by its magnitude. its splender, and r-ish: its great ca- pacity for doing things. Here, too, the feeling among most of the men was to see some life be- fore we left, and every opportunity found us in' the swing of the city to have one more purple passage while chances were good. We were not destined to remain long at Camp Mills, however, and the end of a few weeks found us ready to pass down the gang plank to transport for over-seas. Of that trip l can say but little: leaving New York did not have a similar effect to our departure from home. .We were anxious to be on our way and see what lay before us. Then, too, it was the first ocean trip for many and the novelty of the experience relieved the situation of the monotany of our long train trip. We made a brief stay in England though we managed to see but very little of the country and soon we found ourselves in the realm of the Royal Lilies. Here it was rather damp and seemed to put in a good share of the time raining, but as no one there seemed to bother about the rain we set our faces and tried to make the best of it. lt was grim business here, no child's play to be sureg we drilled steadily during our brief stay of six weeks, often under the supervision of French officers. But what gave us the greatest feeling of reality was the rumbling of the far-off, growling thunder away to the east and north: the voice of the great war calling out to us to prepare for a terrible tomorrow. We were moved again, this time into a rear-guard station among the reserves. We were seeing signs of war now and beginning to realize the vast scale on which battles were be- ing fought. From the few papers that we managed to lay hands on and from talking with the other Lnen we learned that the enemy had, since spring, been driving into the heart of France with all the desperation of a dying hope of chance. We also learned that by means of the timely

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The Soldier Speaks T last it is over and we have come homel It has been a mighty experience--one that a will never forget, but which stand out in his mind, to his fortune or misfortune, a towering crag above the uninteresting plane of the commonplace. l was a drafted man. Not for the reason that l was uninterested in progress or that l was necessarily a coward fl was really a very average young fellowj, but because l had 111811 must some dependents relying on me and was deeply engrossed in my own al- fairs. But after l had registered and when my questionnaire arrived l cheerfully signed away all claim to exemption and waited, not entirely without eagerness, for my call to the service. There is something about it that grips men's souls. It is not the kill- ing nor the being killed, but it is the thought that one is doing his bit in the great sacrifice: that he is helping out a great ideal. You feel the com- raddship of all the nations and the friendship of every person as you meet them. lt seems that one is making humanity his debtor instead of being always the creditor, and it is a great feeling. And so we went ot the camps. The life there was far from easy: it was grim work, deadly business: and to watch the men drill with the rifles bayoneting the dummies gave me a ghastly feeling of the realistic. But l was used to the rough life. I had been raised in the hills and the long hikes and tiring toil held few terrors for me. l would finish up a day's drill in fresh good spirits when many another less fortunate youth was in the last stages of exhaustion. l was no Hercules, but l really had remark- able endurance for a young fellow of my age. Those months of drill changed me but very little. l was more quick to execute an order and probably more mechanically smooth in execution, but l had still the same youthful mind, the easy cheerfulness and lack of re- sponsibility which had been my early characteristic. Now and then an uncomfortable thought would lodge itself in my brain that whispered that possibly l should never come back. It stuck presistently several times, but l would throw all that to the winds and try to occupy myself with work. On Saturdays we would always flock into town and liven things up a trilie. We did not want to think, the general feeling of the young fellows was to see some life now, really live, for soon it might be too late. T The older men were mostly more quiet and thoughtful than we. They were not afraid to think as we were and the men with families were often silent and grim. A few were unruly and were not pleased with the situa- tion, and it was rumored that there had been an execution of one too independent an unfortunate. l re- member, also, a few who called them- selves conscientious objectorsn-the officers said they were merely pro- German or just afraid to get into the great mix. One grave, strong-faced man l remember who refused even to work in a military capacity. He was court-marshaled and given twenty years in a federal prison as an ex- ample. just before he started on his term he was offered a last chance to come back, but he refused it. l saw him just before he left to serve his term and there was a strange luster in his eyes and it struck me that he did not look like a man to be afraid. We younger fellows, however, just laughed and bucked in: it seemed to

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THE LINCOLNIAN 25 aid of the American forces the tide had been checked and that we had fallen heir to the task of starting it back again. Well l remember the night before we first went into action-there could be no mistaking such preparation. It was to be our great experiment and we hoped that we would not fail. Up to this time l had been a man of my only little reflection. For months thought had been live and to take my chances, face death with a laugh: if l came through all well and good, if l went west it could not be helped and l would not be alone. But as l lay there in the darkness and quietude of the night my carefully erected stoicism of feeling and immunity to thought began to melt and give way before the onrush of new emotions. -My mind reached out and in an instant spanned the five thousand miles between myself and home. l thought of my mother and the care- free smile died on my lips. There are those who invest their time and efforts, their very lives in the making of money or in some similar pursuit until it becomes all that they care for: but my mother had devoted and consecrated herself to the raising of her boys. Her willingness and desire to sacrifice her own pleasures and comforts for their benefit was due to the fact that she lived not for herself but for them and to see them happy and well supplied with every advant- age possible. If some cause should arise which would call the men who live to gather riches to give up their lives' accumulation for a principle, most of them would fail to come for- ward to the sacrifice and if forced would surely raise a sorry din: but my mother had given what she had spent her life in carefully molding and more. Many people can see what they have worked for vanish and stoop and build it up with worn- out tools but she had not only given her life's produce but her ideal: and when the ideal is gone life is a blank. l looked also at my father, he who had never been so eternally youthful, so cheerful, and full of hopes. But he was growing old and in his hair there were streaks of silver and as l looked his shoulders seemed to stoop a trifle more, his gray head bowed while all the careful plans and specu- lations which we were to finish on my return faded dim, and l choked and shut my eyes on a little house- hold shrouded in the terrible shadow of gloom. As l lay there with the far-off din of the high explosives rolling to my feverish ear it seemed to me that l was a coward going laughing into battle and possibly to an easeful death while my old parents suffered many times the pangs of death and stood alone, weakened, to fight the great battles of life that should have been mine. Then my mind's eye turned in up- on myself and l began to wonder if l were really what I had believed my- self to be. Was l ready to face death? Had l lived long enough in this life to be ready to leave it now? Was l as carefree and fearless as l had tried to make myself believe? Then my thought drifted to religion and l wondered what my religion really was. As I have said l had been a man of little contemplation and tho during all my life l had been trained along the orthodox path it had been merely a form with me and had had no deep effect, as is true, l believe, in many more cases than we usually suspect. Suddenly the question presented itself: How do I know but that this thumb-wom re- ligion of ours may be but a form of revised mythology, for while we are trained to believe one, yet stripped of its halo of undoubtability one seems as absurd as the other. How was I