St Anthony High School - Tattler Yearbook (St Anthony, ID)

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T H E T A T T L E R The Musings of a Marine By Ben Adams, U. S. Marine Corps Every day and night I’m thinking Of the things I left behind; Yet I’m loath to put on paper What is running through my mind. But I think I’ll feel much better. So I guess I’ll take a chance Ere the Regiment is ordered To the shores of sunny France. i We have dug a million trenches; Cleared ten thousand miles of ground: A busier place in all this world I know is never found. We’ve drilled in dust and scorching sun. In mud and driving rain. Till our eyes and ears, our legs and arms Were yelling loud with pain. But there still is consolation — Gather closely while I tell — When we die we’re bound for heaven, “ ‘Cause they done their ‘ hitch in hell!’ ” We’ve built a thousand mess halls, For cooks to stew our beans; We’ve stood a hundred guard mounts And cleaned the camp latrines; We’ve washed a million mess kits, And peeled a million spuds. We’ve rolled a million blanket rolls And cleaned a million duds. The number of parades we ? ve made, Is awfully hard to tell; But we’ll not parade in heaven, For we paraded here in hell. We’ve marched a hundred thousand miles. And made a thousand camps; We have pulled a million cactus thorns From out our well-worn pants. So when our work on earth is done. Our friends behind will tell: ‘‘When they died they went to heaven, ’Cause they done their ‘ hitch in hell!’ ” The “slum” and coffee we have cussed. Likewise the “Willie” canned; We’ve damned the gentle gusts of wind. That filled the air with sand. Page Twenty-eight

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THE TATTLER eight hundred pound gray horse, dead as the dry limbs around him, with a bullet lodged in bis brain. Jay fainted and Frank and Wayne carried him back to camp, where he lay for three hours practically unconscious. In the meantime the other fellows arrived, but none of them had anything except Frank Wilson. He carried a small black bird, and was very proud of it, too. The bird was examined, and it was found that it had a broken wing and had been shot through the head also. This very plainly showed how Frank had got his game. He had been wandering along when suddenly he noticed a small, crippled bird hopping toward him. He became excited at seeing such game be- fore his eyes. Getting behind a tree he put the gun an inch from the bird’s bead and fired. Tbe first shot missed, but the next one took effect, and Frank picked up his game and proudly marched to camp. At last Jay became conscious and said he wanted to go home. Wayne and John were both homesick, and it was quickly decided that they, on the next morn- ing, would take the one remaining horse and go home. The next morning everyone was up early and hurrying with the work, so they could get home as soon as possible. Jav went after his horse, hunted for an hour, and returned with the de- spairing news that the horse could not be found. The only way for them now was to pull the wagon. All the boys were glad to help, but when they had gone about a half mile, Wayne and John gave out and insisted on being hauled. When another half mile had been traveled Jay started to complain about being- tired. so he was put in the wagon with the other little boys, leaving Wilson and Swartz to pull the load. They were big, husky fellows, and didn’t mind that a bit. John said that was much quicker and safer than with lay’s old horses anyway. When good old St. A. was finally reached, Wayne and John ran for home, Swartz and Wilson for the Joint to get some candy, and Jay carried the harness of the lost horses into the stable and there, to his surprise, was his horse that he had failed to find in the park, quietly eating the few leaves of hay left in the manger . — By Kenneth Rosenlof, ' 20. Page Twenty-seven

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THE TATTLER W e’ve taken the injections Ten million times or more. And the vaccine scratched upon our arms Has made them very sore. With all these things that get our goats; We are here just to tell. When the order comes t o cross the pond We’ll give the Germans hell. W hen the final taps are sounded. And we lay aside life’s cares. And we do the last and gloried drill, On heaven s shining stairs. And the Angels bid us welcome W hile the harps begin to play, W e can draw a million canteen checks And spend them in a day. It is then we’ll hear St. Peter Tell us gladly, with a yell: Take front seats, all your brave Marines, You’ve done your ‘ hitch in hell!’ ”