Plattsburg Training Camp - Plattsburger Yearbook (Plattsburgh, NY)

Page 9 text:

THE SERVICE 'A ' E' HOSE who play the military game to the Kftf-f kgfiff limit, those who run true to form, do not Je, call their profession the profession of 45 5' 'fpggig arms, nor do they refer to their position ierf,..i Tfiilvl of leadership. They honor their life work and themselves by calling it The Service. The pageantry of The Service quickens the pulse of every normal man. The cavalry galloping past, the artillery swinging into action front, and the long drab infantry col- umn rouse in him something that is part of his virility. But to the men of the Plattsburg Camp there has been extended a greater privilege. They have been taken into the inner shrine of The Service, and have been shown the secret symbols, earnestness, fidelity and discipline. On serving a brief novitiate, those who are found worthy will be permitted to become members of-The Service. And only when they realize that it is a Service will they ring true. 7 V ' This book is intended as as testimonial of appreciation to the Service, from the members of the Plattsburg Training Camp. The profits will be 'used as the foundation of anew fund, patterned upon the French I-Iero Fund. The latter, started by,Americans previous to the entrance of the United States into the war, is being devoted to the education of- the children of French ofiicers killed in action. The American Hero Fund will perform a similar service for the children of American ofiicers. The'Plattsburger profits will of course be small, compar- atively speaking, but they should afford sufficient impetus to the Wide national support which this great purpose deserves. l9l

Page 8 text:

THE PLATTSBURGER JOSEPH A. BAEIQ MAJOR ACAVALRY, U. S. A., ADJUTANT ISI

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REVEILLE By ARISTIDES E. PHOUTRIDES OW when the sacred tires of the autumn burn, Filling the forests with reveling Hames of gold, Now when the migrant birds from their wanderings t Seeking a homeland far from the winter's hold, Tell me, ye legions of men in battle array, Waves of the men whom the winds of the morning Clad in the silver green of the olive gray, Whither the path that ye tread ere nightfall will le There are myrtle boughs For your youthful brows! And the blush of the rose and the source Of the gladdening visions is yours! And the amber wine of your morning dreams Is seething with life's unlimited gleams ' In the banquet halls of action and thought That the makers and masters of ages have wrought ! Yet your temples adorn The sad crowns of thorn! For the blush of the rose you will light The red altars of blood with your might! And the amber wine of your morning dreams Will be crimson red with the sunset gleams Of a sun that dies in the dark and a day That is spent like a candle and fiickers away! Sons of a country mighty in freedom are we, Risen to battle for her at the break of day, When, in the midst of the calm on the world's great s Driven by winds that blew in a maddened fray, Races and nations lifted the sword of blood, L1l'l'l have frtcrl ad P ea, Filled with the vengeance and wrath of the ages past, Yet we have risen to battle for light that will last, Light that will raise into life a world from the Hood! .l10l -