OUR SONS
AT WAR
by,
Lee McCollum
1940
War is a man-made holocaust fanned
into destructive flames from the ashes of past hatreds.
It devastates all that lies in its path, pushing mankind
backward to the dark ages, while each new war creates
fresh war scars that time will not heal. From the seeds
of these hatreds made by war, a newer, more scientific,
and deadlier war than the war preceding it, is fought by
every second generation of warring nations.
Throughout the history of mankind men have carried that
fear in their hearts, until the day comes when they march
to new wars made by the minority that rule them. Left to
his own devises man seeks only peace and security and a
means to escape the ever-present annihilation by war. To
gain this he continues his age-old quest for new lands
upon which the seeds of war-made hatreds have not yet
fallen.
Sailing uncharted seas he reaches out for new frontiers
in lands unknown, to build there a surety of life on
ideals of peace. From this source, new and peace-loving
nations have been created and are peopled today by a new
race. A race of the free-born, not contaminated by the
poisonous weeds of petty hatreds of their ancestral
heritage.
Such is the new nation of America, whose sons of today
have yet to learn the devastating and cancerous effects
of war-born hatreds. For this new nation has fought only
for its existence. It has never warred to take from its
neighbors. It has fought only for the right to live a
life free of the mistakes of its ancestors. It has fought
for a weaker neighbor, that the neighbor might live as
free-born peoples. In the World war of 1914-18, it
listened to the siren call of the lands of its ancestry
and sent the best of its manhood and gave of its great
re-sources to fight a war that was supposed to end wars.
The roaring voices of the madmen of Mars have sounded
again to direct the movements of great armies of men
engaged in mortal combat over the same century -old,
blood-stained battlefields. The frenzied insanity of all
wars has been brought to the surface once more and the
youth of today, who are the progenitors of tomorrow have
been sacrificed once again because hatreds born of war
will not die.
Those of us, who live in peace, want only peace, and
those of us who have tasted of war in those war- mad
countries want it no more. How best can we preserve this
peace which is our greatest possession today? Shall it be
by entangling ourselves in the threads of age-old hatreds
of the Old World? By strengthening our national defenses
to make ourselves impregnable te nations who will forever
be at war? Most certainly a strong defense is our
greatest assurance of continuing in the path of peaceful
pursuits. This defense cannot come alone from great air
flotillas, great navies and armies. Some of that defense
must come from what people think and from their attitude
toward the menace to national security.
What do the people of America really know of war? How
many have felt the full weight of war? Throughout the
nation today there are innumerable war-veteran fathers
listening to the same questions my son is now asking me
about war. No doubt every son is talking to his father in
the same vein, for it is the youth of today whose lives
are forfeited if we should act without wisdom.
How can one best answer the questions that youth is
asking today? The fear of our sons being sacrificed
because of the folly of an unjustified foreign war is
pounding in the heart of every adult in America. Whether
the youth of today shall go to war or not, they should be
mentally prepared for all of war's ugliness and
brutality.
They should know everything of war that those who have
experienced it can tell them. They can learn war's
futility from the lips of those who have seen and felt
its pain. They can learn of battlefields and what it is
like to bleed out one's life before the guns, only from
those who have seen it. Such knowledge and mental
preparedness for war is as vital a part of national
defense as is the armada of modern warfare.
Is this not the story that every veteran who "went
over the top," would tell his and his neighbor's
son?
SO YOU WANT TO BE A SOLDIER, SON?
Son of mine, I cannot tell all things I should to you,
I lack the words that describe what soldiers will go
through;
No words of mine can ever show fresh blood upon a field,
Where warring soldiers meet to fight and neither one will
yield.
For I know that war in your eyes is but a dress parade,
That it is a great adventure where heros brave are made;
I know I cannot make you see bodies maimed beyond repair,
Or make you feel the emptiness that comes with war's
despair.
I wish that I had words to tell of its filthy slaughter
mill,
Where you and all the youth of time has gone at someone's
will;
I wish that God would give me thoughts so here I could
express,
All that one can learn of war and its barren ugliness.
That you may know war as it is, how little each life
bought,
All the empty years that follow after each new war is
fought;
So listen son, and listen well, to those who know war's
cost,
There are no victors in a war for though they won they
lost.
Yesterday
THE blackness of the night cloaked the movements of
Lieutenant Snell as he crept closer to the enemy line.
When he was well forward, the ghastly light of enemy star
shells lit up No-Man's-Land in a dull, unnatural hue. The
lieutenant crouched low, his tense body hugging the
ground.
He prayed that he might be taken for some debris or tree,
rather than a mark for enemy sharpshooters. Hearing the
quick rat-tat-tat of machine gun fire directly ahead of
him, and the zinging sound of bullets close by, be knew
he was the target. Raising his eyes toward the sound of
the guns he could see barbed wire entanglements ahead.
Outlined against the flare-lit sky, they looked like
black strands of some giant cobweb.
The sound of whining bullets ceased. The sputtering
machine guns were silent. The flares poised in the air as
though festooned there by the hand of fate. The few
seconds of waiting time was an eternity to him. Slowly
the flares settled earthward. In their fast dimming glow
the lieutenant could see why his three missing night
raiders had not returned.
As the last gleam of light faded from the sky he crept
wearily from the ground and started back to his own
lines. No longer a commander of men, he was just a
college boy from home sobbing his heart out in the night.
YOU'RE IN THE ARMY NOW
I'm going to be a soldier tomorrow! Oh, boy! Soon I'll be
a lieutenant, or maybe a captain. Who knows? I might even
get to be a general! How I have waited for this day!
When war first broke out the marine guy told me I was too
short to get into the marines. Then the army man said I
was four pounds underweight. I argued that I'd come all
the way from Calgary, up in Canada, to enlist. He said it
didn't make a damn bit of difference if I had come from
Timbuctoo, they weren't taking any scrubs.
I shot back: "They are taking anything they can get
in Canada, and glad to get them. If the U.S.A. is in the
war long enough they will be glad to take anything they
can get too, even us scrubs."
Scrubs! The big mug! Who did he think he was? Just
because he had a couple of silver bars on the shoulder of
his uniform and spurs strapped on his big fancy boots.
I'd show him!
I started to tell him off for proper. Just then a big guy
with two stripes on his khaki coat came up and grabbed
me, and pulled me out of the line of other fellows trying
to enlist. He gave me a hard shove.
"On your way, punk," he said. "Can't you
see the captain's busy? He's got a lot on his mind,
fellow, a lot."
He gave me another shove. "Get going, punk."
I got, but I was boiling mad. The big tramp! If he didn't
have that uniform on, I'd show him!
Today - six months later - it's different. The smart old
army is glad to get me. Just like I said it would be.
They put my number in a bat and drew it out, along with a
few million other numbers. That business of enlisting was
a grand bust. Uncle Sam soon found out that everybody
wasn't so nuts to get in the Army as he thought they
would be.
I am going as an alternate. The guy who was supposed to
show up "forgot" to report, so they are sending
me instead. That is how I came to get in ahead of time.
Wait until I get into a uniform! I'll show that goateed
captain who called me a scrub! I'll show him! Boy, but I
hope he really is my captain! I'll make it tough for him.
The big egg, calling me a scrub! Well, every dog has his
day. So far I'm just a pup-but I'll grow.
Today they lined us all up at the armory. I took
a vow and signed some papers. Got shoved around a lot,
too. All those smart army guys yelling this and yelling
that at you. You would think a fellow didn't have any
rights at all. Then they told us to "fall in,"
and most of us didn't know what they meant. They had us
make a big line four men abreast, and started marching us
to the depot.
A swell band led the parade. We carried our suitcases as
we marched. A big, husky, loud-mouthed fellow who was in
the jewelry business was at the head of us marchers. I
thought he was going with us. Found out later he led all
the parades-as far as the depot. The sidewalks were lined
with people, most of them waving at us. It was just noon.
There were lots of girls from offices standing there.
Some of the people were yelling, "Bring back the
Kaiser-bring back the Kaiser." The band was playing
"Over There." Boy, were we stepping it! I saw a
lot of people I knew, and was I proud! Had a big silly
grin on my face. Then we got to the station I saw Mom and
Dad there. Dad ran over and shook my hand, patted me on
the back, and choked up when he said, "Good luck,
son, come back safe." Mom was crying to beat the
band. That took that grin off my face in a hurry.
Some soldier guy kept yelling,
"Get back in line, you guys . . . back in line don't
break rank stay in line ... you rookies."
Then we boarded the train and started for camp. Exit
civilian ... Entre soldat! (That "soldat" is a
new French word I've learned already.) Boy! I'm in the
Army now!
At nightfall we came to the camp and unloaded from the
train. It was raining to beat hell. Soaked to the skin,
we hiked a mile or two, passing a lot of new buildings.
Every few minutes we would hear some fellows yelling from
the windows. "How do you like it, soldier?"
"Step lively, rookie step lively or you'll get
sunburned." "Where you from, soldier?" We
would yell back where we were from . . . then they'd all
gang up and yell, "never heard of it!" And
laugh like hell. It wasn't any joke for us, though, and
we were soaked to the skin when someone finally yelled
"halt! "
We halted alongside a long army tent that missed the
ground by about two feet. It was well lighted, and you
could see men's legs from the knees down, shuffling
through the tent. The army fellow in charge of us kept
yelling out our names. As called, each would start
through the door of the tent. Pretty soon we heard a lot
of laughing from those who were going through.
Someone was saying in a monotonous drone: "Now say
ah! . . . say ah! . . . that's right . . . say it again .
. . ah!" Then we would hear someone else say . . .
"ah ... ah - . .". - . and start laughing.
Soaking wet, we stood there waiting our turn, getting
more and more curious about those constant
"ah's."
It wasn't long before I knew. Then it came my turn to go
through, and I learned that it was just the first of a
lot of physical examinations the army put you through
before they decided to keep you.
Just as I was coming out of the tent a sergeant at the
door said, "Got a cigar, buddy?"
I hesitated for a moment. I only had one.
He bellowed in a hard-boiled voice, "Come on, rooky,
give it to me."
I gave it to him. He was putting the old army bee on me
and I was too green to know it.
Finally we were taken to one of the new buildings that
turned out to be our barracks. Dog-tired, we rolled into
the line of army cots, without taking time to undress.
Wet as I was, I slept soundly, until awakened by a voice
with the roar of a cannon, "Come on, you rookies . .
. roll out . . . roll out you're in the army now!"
I rubbed my eyes and saw that it was not yet daylight.
We had breakfast, then started through a series of
physical tests. First they tested our eyes, then our
ears, then our teeth. They made all kinds of notes on
paper. I never did find out what for. Then they took us
into a room and ordered us to strip off. Without a stitch
on we started hopping around. First on one foot, then the
other. It was a stiff grind. As we finished they would
take our pulse and heart beat. We sure got a going over.
Many of the fellows failed to pass the test and we never
did see them any more.
If you passed the test and were pronounced fit and sound,
then you would swear allegiance to the flag and You were
in the "Army Grand." Oh, boy, what a grand and
glorious feeling! Bring on your Germans!
No sooner had they told me that I was in the army for
sure than two soldiers with tape measures grabbed me and
started measuring me. And bow they measured me! I'll bet
they measured my feet ten times. When I asked them why,
the sergeant said, "It's the most important part of
you, dummy." They never had any respect for us
rookies. They would take us out and drill us for hours
over rocky fields without even asking if we wanted a
rest.
If we complained they put us on some kind of
"duty." Mostly "fatigue" and
"policing up" duty. "Policing up"
meant chasing elusive bits of paper, burned out Fatimas,
Chesterfields, Camels, and Lucky Strikes around the big
grounds of our new home. I never picked up so damn many
cigarette and cigar butts in my life.
They gave us all kinds of shots in the arm. We would walk
down a long line of men with both arms bare to the
shoulder, and two soldiers would grab us, one on each
side, jab two needlefuls of some kind of germs into us,
to keep some other kind of germs out. Every time we
turned around for the first few days we would get another
shot in the arm. At reveille many a soldier standing
there fell flat on his face from the effects of these
shots. After the first week the effects wore off and we
were all right again.
By that time my tired and aching muscles were beginning
to harden a little. But I needed shoes badly. My patent
leather "bests" that I had worn to camp were
done for. So after all those careful foot measurements
they threw a pair of shoes at me two sizes too big, and
heavy as lead. I had got hold of a pair of army pants
about one size too big. Finally I got a coat. It was too
small. My arms popped out, with the end
of the sleeves about three inches above my wrists. And
the bat! That was murder! It sat on my head like a
peanut. If I wasn't a pretty sight when my folks and my
girl came over to see me!
Right away Susie said, "Well, where in the world did
you get that outfit ... !"
I felt like a plugged nickel.
We are getting a little "army wise" now. I am
getting so I can take it, and the army ain't so bad. The
sergeant made me an acting-corporal. I am the same as a
superintendent over seven other men. Boy, do I
make them rookies step! And how! We all wonder when we
are going overseas. In the meantime I have learned how to
play "black jack," and give the dice an
"army roll" on a blanket.
Every fifteen minutes there is a rumor in the army.
Most of them came from a long building that isn't the
guard house. The woods are full of those rumors. First we
hear that "we are going to leave for France
tomorrow" . . . then . . . "we are going to be
sent to the Spruce Division at Vancouver, to cut spruce
logs for making airplanes" . . . then . . . "we
are going to be shipped to France by the way of Russia.
Sailing orders are waiting for us to take the transports
from San Francisco to Vladivostok." Nothing happens,
except that they take us out on the field and drill hell
out of us each day.
Finally we do get moving orders. This time they are on
the level. We are to leave Camp Lewis in twenty-four
hours. I got word to my folks and they came over to tell
me goodbye. Then we were off on the train, but not for
France as we supposed. It is for another camp, Camp
Kearney, California. There we became a part of the 40th
Division-the Sunrise Division-in name as well as in fact.
They would get us up before the moon went to bed and
start us on long hikes. Once they sent us on a ten day
hike, over the scorching sands of Southern California.
I'll never forget that if I live to be a million.
IT AIN'T NO FUN IT AIN'T
It ain't no fun a-marching in the blistering white-hot
heat,
Keeping pace to sergeants' cadence with your tired and
aching feet;
With the sweat a-rolling from your brow, a pack upon your
shoulder,
And the sun a-beating down on you in a ball of red-hot
smolder.
It ain't no fun a-thinking of the girl you left behind,
With your mind a constant wonder if her love's the
lasting kind;
While all the time you're marching, toughening up to be a
soldier,
And with every step you're taking,
you feel ten or twelve years older.
It ain't no fun a-sleeping
'neath a sky that's wet and dreary
When you're bones are all a-creaking
and your body's sore and weary;
It ain't no fun a-learning
how to be a soldier true,
When all the time you're wishing
that the war was done and through.
It ain't no fun to do "K.P.,"
while other soldiers dance,
It ain't no fun a-wondering
if we'll ever get to France;
It ain't no fun to do things
that you never understand,
It ain't no fun a-soldiering
in the tough old "Army Grand."