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Major General Harry L. Rogers, U. S. Army, D.S.M., Quartermaster 
 General Director, Purchase 8$ Storage 
 
PHOTO BY HARRIS & EWING 
 
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 JUL -8 
 
 3CI.A530113 
 
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COMMITTEE 
 
 Major C. I. Wagner. . . , Chairman 
 
 Captain C. E. Graves Editor-in-Chief 
 
 Major H. D. Bargelt Editor Prose 
 
 Captain Wm. H. Buckley Editor Poetry 
 
 Lieut. O. T. Weaber Editor Censorship 
 
 Miss Jesse Dell , Editor Censorship 
 
 Mr. Garnet W. Jex Editor Art 
 
 Mr. Aaron Rachofsky Advisory Editor 
 
 Captain Clarence Lineberger Treasurer 
 
 Lieut. B. H. Walton Business Manager 
 
 Miss M. E. H. Dugent Secretary 
 
 ZONE COMMITTEE 
 
 Colonel H. B. Grant Boston, Mass. 
 
 Colonel E. R. Tompkins Philadelphia, Pa. 
 
 Lt. Colonel K. P. Williams St. Louis, Mo. 
 
 Major M. L. Gerstle San Francisco, Cal. 
 
 Major Z. H. Sturman Fort Logan, Colo. 
 
 Captain A. A. Stewart New York City 
 
 Captain W. C. Linthicum Baltimore, Md. 
 
 Captain Chas. W. Ballard Omaha, Nebr. 
 
 Captain James V. Mackey San Antonio, Tex. 
 
 Lieut. Harry S. Newirth New Orleans, La. 
 
 Lieut. H. F. Weckel ; Chicago, 111. 
 
 Sergeant Michael L. Samson New York 
 
 Mrs. A. A. Carroll Washington, D. C. 
 
 The Committee extends its thanks to all those who so cheerfully 
 contributed material, and regrets that limitation of space prohib- 
 ited the inclusion of everything so kindly submitted. 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 Co, little Book, 
 And seek a nook 
 
 In ev'ry genial heart! 
 The Q. M. C. 
 Has fashioned thee 
 
 And made thee what thou art. 
 
 And ev'ry page 
 Of versifiage, 
 
 Quip, sketch and merry jest, 
 We've culled with care, 
 That debonair 
 
 And bright thou shouldst be drest. 
 
 And, as we wrought, 
 We likewise sought 
 
 To see thy pages bore 
 No rhymes or skit 
 That was not writ 
 
 Save by the Q. M. Corps. 
 
 If here we erred, 
 Be it inferred 
 
 'Twas done with no intent, 
 Work by the ' ' Corps, " 
 And nothing more, 
 
 Our aim 'tis to present. 
 
 Many a taugh, 
 And genial chaff. 
 
 Within thee will be found; 
 No malice lurks 
 Within thy quirks — 
 
 Naught tedious or profound. 
 
 With cheery smile 
 Thou wilt beguile 
 
 The idle hours away, 
 For those who fought 
 And these who wrought 
 
 That Right might live this day. 
 
 So, little Book, 
 Go find a nook 
 
 In ev'ry genial heart; 
 OUR labor's done — 
 THINE has begun, 
 
 And thou must do thy part. 
 
 THE COMMITTEE. 
 
NOTE : — On the eve of the departure for "Somewhere in France" 
 of the much beloved Colonel Harry L. Rogers (now Major General) 
 — at that time the Department Quartermaster, Southern Depart- 
 ment, Fort Sam Houston, Mr. James Courtney Challiss, of the 
 Dep. Q. M. C, wrote the following poem and presented it to him 
 as expressing the sentiments of the American people, saying: 
 "Carry the spirit of this to the boys in the trenches." j^jp Mj 
 
 When the Colonel had finished reading it, he struck his desk with 
 his fist and said: "By God, I will!" He folded it up and placed it 
 in his pocket, stating that he would take it with him as an inspira- 
 tion. 
 
 OUR BOYS 
 
 Forth to service — every soldier — every patriotic son ! 
 
 All humanity is calling — there's a battle to be won, 
 
 A titanic, sanguine struggle for the freedom of the world — 
 
 For the safety of democracy. Let all your strength be hurled 
 
 Into action swift and mighty, making every bullet tell. 
 
 Blow the enemy to atoms — give 'em hell ! 
 
 Forth to service, men, with all the strength of body, brain and soul ! 
 Thus to serve is not to sacrifice ; there is no higher goal 
 Than to die contending for a cause for which the whole world fights. 
 For the cause of human liberty — for the cause of human rights. 
 Gird your armor — forward — forward! Mow them down with 
 
 shot and shell, 
 Hit them hard with sword and saber — give 'em hell ! 
 
 Forth to service — in the trenches — on the high seas — in the air ! 
 Despotism must be ended — every man must do his share. 
 They have broken every promise, trampled every human right ! 
 Murdered children, men and women, sinking neutral ships on sight ! 
 They have ruthlessly committed deeds too horrible to tell. 
 Snake-boats, undersea assassins — give 'em hell ! 
 
 Forth to service ! Not for vengeance, not for territorial gain, 
 But to free the world from tyrants — this the one transcendent aim ! 
 Forward — brave and unreluctant ! Help mankind to final peace — 
 To its permanent security. Let not the fighting cease 
 Till the task has been accomplished — till forever you expel 
 From the universe these vipers. Give 'em hell! 
 
 James Courtney Challiss. 
 Office Dep. Q. M., 
 Fort Sam Houston, Texas. 
 
THE GOVERNMENT CLERK 
 
 How dear to my heart are the scenes of the Office, 
 
 When the mountains of labor I mournfully view, 
 The papers and files and reports that are endless, 
 
 And all the punk stuff that I have to wade thru, 
 The folks back home think I am rolling in velvet, 
 
 How little they know of conditions that are 
 In the job of the clerk there is nothing to covet, 
 
 However rose-colored when viewed from afar — 
 The old stuffy office, the small crowded office, 
 
 The place where you bid ambition goodby. 
 
 I long for the fields and the woods and the streamlets, 
 
 And pensively heave a deep cavernous sigh, 
 As I think of the farmer girls counting their greenlets, 
 
 While I mournfully watch the promotions go by. 
 I long for a lawn with big trees growing on it, 
 
 A garden with flowers and eatables green, 
 Instead I've a hole in the wall near the sidewalk, 
 
 With a sad little yard that's ashamed to be seen. 
 The old gloomy office, the life tenure office, 
 
 It cannot compare with a job back at home. 
 
 Oh these flat chested houses, each just like the other, 
 All along the same street just as far as you can see, 
 
 You have to stay sober to find your own cover, 
 And identify yours by the fit of the key. 
 
 joyfully welcome the coming of pay-day 
 
 When the ghost walks around with the seeds and the bones, 
 But the butcher, the baker, the loan shark and faker, 
 
 Get the very last sou, not a cent is my own. 
 The old Civil Service, the ossified service, 
 
 With pay-roll secure, but hopelessly small. 
 
 1 would like an auto, at least a tin flivver, 
 
 To ride around town with companions so dear, 
 But alas for the lot of the Government worker, 
 
 Only those having pull can afford such things here, 
 So I bend to my work with such grace as is in me, 
 
 And hope that a better day quickly will dawn, 
 When the long promised pension roll really gets working. 
 
 And my name in big letters is written thereon. 
 The old stuffy office, the prison cell office, 
 
 The graveyard of hope for the government clerk. 
 
 H. Reissman, 
 Q.M.C. 
 
THE STENOGRAPHER'S ANSWER TO THE "GOVERN- 
 MENT CLERK'S" WAIL 
 
 I'm tired of beating and beating and beating 
 I'm tired of dictation and men and spittoons; 
 
 I'm mad with the click and insane with the filing, 
 They'll carry me soon to the home of the loons. 
 
 I've broken my finger-nails off on the key-board, 
 I've made myself cross-eyed transcribing my notes; 
 
 I wish I were out on my father's old homestead 
 A pailin' the cows and a swillin' the shoats. 
 
 I 'm tired of saving and saving and saving 
 
 I want fifty cents to blow in as I please; 
 I'd call all my friends for a grand celebration, 
 
 Then live for six months on rye bread and brick cheese. 
 
 I want a spring suit and a hat Tipperary, 
 A peek-a-boo waist and a pair of silk hose, 
 
 And then I'd not need brains nor beauty to have — 
 For beaux, flocks of beaux — ten cent beaux ! 
 
 I want to go out, miles away in the country, 
 And paddle in mud, and hear the water's low swish; 
 
 I want to string nice juicy worms on a fish-hook 
 And fish and to fish and to fish. 
 
 I want to be wrapped in a pink woolly blanket 
 And bury my head on a broad, manly breast ; 
 
 Of course, for this honor I'd have to support him, — 
 He'd furnish hot air and I'd do all the rest. 
 
 OH ! I wish I was dead and this legend above me 
 
 On a pine board befittingly cheap; 
 "Here lies a stenographer TICKLED TO DEATH 
 
 Just to sleep and to sleep and to sleep." 
 
 ANSWERING THE ANSWER TO THE GOVERNMENT 
 
 CLERK 
 
 If you wonder, my friend, why the clerk came here, 
 
 Why she gave up home and relatives dear, 
 
 Why she to this city a stranger should come 
 
 With wardrobe not crowded, and money, a small sum, 
 
To make her home in a city so great 
 
 And to take up a battle with the iron hand Fate. 
 
 If you want to know this and want to know too 
 
 Why she doesn't quit work and leave for you 
 
 All the work of the grand old Government to do, 
 
 I'll try to tell you in words of my own 
 
 Why the clerk came here and why she doesn't go home. 
 
 It wasn't, as you think, because of the pay 
 
 That she came here with intentions to stay. 
 
 No dreams of a fortune e'er bleared her eye 
 
 When she bid all her folks and her friends good-bye. 
 
 For the money she draws, without any fears, 
 
 Goes for room and for board and to profiteers. 
 
 And for your enlightenment I'll tell you, my friend 
 
 That when you're a boarder you've got to spend 
 
 Until your resources come to an end. 
 
 Oh, this is some life, the life of a clerk 
 
 From nine 'cil four-thirty we keep at our work. 
 
 I'm sorry you think, my honorable friend, 
 
 That when the clerk enters all pleasure should end, 
 
 That she should endure the dull, dreary routine 
 
 And be made a mechanical working machine, 
 
 You must not forget that with the Zone 
 
 Are human beings of flesh and bone. 
 
 You are very considerate and kind when you say 
 
 That the clerks should not want e'en for one day 
 
 A ride in an auto, or other pleasures as gay, 
 
 Oh, there are several things you will have to learn 
 
 In the depths of the soul of the clerk you discern. 
 
 A lot of your valuable time you have spent 
 
 In saying the clerk should not keep a cent. 
 
 I guess you forget the desire of mankind 
 
 Is to have a few nickels when she's old and blind. 
 
 Not many gold eagles have we hoarded away 
 
 With all the room rent and board bills to pay. 
 
 The clerk is here trying to do her bit, 
 
 In helping the Government and the Allies.too, 
 
 Until Bill the Kaiser says he is thru. 
 
 And that is the reason, bosom friend of my own 
 
 Why the clerk came here and why she doesn't go home. 
 
A MILLION SOLDIERS LIKE YOU 
 
 As I sit here and think of the world and the war, 
 
 And our boys so brave and so true, 
 May God bless you all, is the prayer in my heart 
 
 For a million good soldiers like you. 
 
 If this war we would win, we must fight with a will 
 
 As we did back in old '62! 
 For the day has now come when our freedom depends 
 
 On a million good soldiers like you. 
 
 There's a spring in your step, there's a smile on your lips 
 
 And your voice rings out strong and true ; 
 We know dear old France must be proud of the land 
 
 That produces good soldiers like you. 
 
 Here's a prayer for your valor, your strength and your fame 
 
 As you fight 'neath the Red, White and Blue. 
 It's great to be guarded, protected and loved 
 
 By a million good soldiers like you. 
 
 So I'm thinking just now, of the glorious day, 
 When we'll gaze o'er the ocean's deep blue 
 And welcome the ships that shall bring back to us 
 A million good soldiers like you. 
 
 Bessie E. Conger, 
 Q. M. C. 
 
 c«6" m\ve 
 
 WAW>W6r off 
 'WfS>V6-! 
 
 10 
 
DEFINITIONS OF FUNCTION 
 
 ADMINISTRATIVE : — To change the policy every morning at 
 eleven o'clock. 
 
 STATISTICAL: — To put everyting in writing; then add up the 
 car numbers, divide by the stock on hand on July 4th, and ask the 
 Depot to give the result. 
 
 STANDARDIZATION : — To devise something requiring special 
 machinery to make and which, when used, must be accompanied 
 by a book of directions and be of as little practical use as possible. 
 
 REQUIREMENTS: — To guess, then double it, multiply by 
 3 34 and divide by %; the result is for procurement to decipher. 
 
 PROCUREMENT: — To guess what are the requirements and 
 to place orders for merchandise, which in the regular routine of 
 procedure may be delivered in time for the next war. 
 
 CONTRACT: — To prepare lengthy documents which are not 
 to be sent out until goods are made up ; otherwise the manufacturer- 
 might know what was expected of him. 
 
 PRODUCTION & INSPECTION:— To know more of a con- 
 cern's business than the General Manager himself and to be sure 
 goods are not approved until a proper degree of inconvenience has 
 been occasioned. 
 
 DISTRIBUTION: — To conduct a game of "Button, Button, 
 who has the Button" with all commodities and if anyone finds any- 
 thing, to prove the finder wrong. 
 
 EMBARKATION: — To direct deliveries so that essential shall 
 not interfere with the orderly departure of non-essentials, or b\ 
 any chance arrive when wanted. 
 
 STORAGE: — To arrange so that nothing can be found when 
 wanted and to see how long goods have to be held before being 
 useless. 
 
 11 
 
THE MAN WHO WASN'T SENT 
 
 I 'dreamed a dream the other night, 
 N Oh I wish that the dream were true ; 
 I ^dreamed that the leader in many a fight 
 pb Was dealing out honors due. 
 And seeing me standing among the crowd 
 
 He bade me at once advance 
 And said, "You have much of which to be proud 
 
 Though your lot was not cast in France." 
 
 "Now, never blush for the part you've done — 
 
 You have surely done your bit, 
 For you've taught the soldiers to shoot the Hun 
 
 And you should be proud of it. 
 Of all the great legions, no more than a few 
 
 Could come to hand-grips with the foe, 
 But all had their duty to do 
 
 And you've done it completely, I know." 
 
 "No medals I pin on your manly breast, 
 
 No wreaths do I place on your brow, 
 But the knowledge that always you've done 
 
 Your best, will be glory enough, anyhow." 
 And he shook my hand with a clasp sincere, 
 
 While his voice with emotion broke, 
 But just as the spectators started to cheer 
 
 My hammock gave way and I woke. 
 
 TAKE THIS ROSE 
 
 Oh Western Winds that blow to the sea, 
 Take this rose that I hold in my hand — 
 Tell dear laddie it comes straight from me, 
 To lie on his grave in No Man's Land. 
 
 Linger a moment and talk with him there, 
 Whisper so softly his spirit must hear; 
 Say, 'tis a rose I wore in my hair, 
 And 'stead of a dewdrop, 'tis bathed in a tear. 
 
 Edith Fulton 
 Q. M. C. 
 
 12 
 
GERMANY'S SURRENDERED! 
 (Tune Yankee Doodle) 
 
 Blow the horn and toot the drum, — we got some dandy news, Sir, 
 Our boys will soon be coming home, — somehow it scarce seems 
 
 true, sir! 
 But sir, this ain't no idle rhyme, "we got 'em," Woodrow says this 
 
 time 
 And U. S., sir, spells you and me, cause U. S. stands for LIBERTY ! 
 
 'N Germany's surrendered ! — yessirree, — surrendered! 
 Germany's surrendered, — yessirree, surrendered ! 
 Woodrow Wilson says himself that Germany's surrendered! 
 
 Germany's beat 'n Belgiums' free 'n that's about the size, sir: — 
 We'll have no more iniquity because we have the Kaiser! 
 No such thing as "ME UND GOTT" — no sirree, — it's tommy-rot! 
 Cause Gott he didn't like the "ME" and so he quit the company! 
 
 'N Germany's surrendered. 
 Germany's surrendered ! — yessirree — surrendered! 
 Woodrow Wilson says himself that Germany's surrendered. 
 
 An' now we've beat, 'twixt you and me, what' 11 we do with the 
 
 Kaiser? 
 Charge a big indemnity, and that's about the size, sir. 
 And put him and his family where they can't do further harm you 
 
 see 
 And when that's done why should we fret; we'll not forgive the 
 
 brute, you bet, 
 
 Cause Germany's surrendered! 
 Germany's surrendered, — yessirree, — surrendered. 
 Woodrow Wilson says himself that Germany's surrendered ' 
 
 Rose E. Babcock, 
 Q. M. C. 
 
 SILVER THREADS AMONG THE GOLD 
 
 Darling, here's your warrior bold 
 Silver stripes instead of gold 
 Shine upon my arm today, 
 'Cause I never sailed away. 
 But my darling you must know, 
 'Twas not because I would not go, 
 Simply did what I was told, 
 Put on silver 'stead of gold. 
 
 14 
 
WE'RE IN THE ARMY NOW 
 and fed by the Q. M. C. 
 No more ham and eggs or grapefruit 
 
 When the bugle blows for "chow," 
 No more apple pies or dumplings, 
 
 For we're in the Army now. 
 And they feed us beans for breakfast, 
 
 And for lunch we have 'em too; 
 And at night they fill our tummies 
 
 With a good old Army stew. 
 
 No more fizzes, beers or highballs, 
 
 When we've got an awful thirst; 
 If you're thinking of enlisting, 
 
 Best get used to water first. 
 For the lid's on tight all over 
 
 And the drilling makes us warm, 
 But we can't cool off with liquor, 
 
 'Cause we wear the uniform. 
 
 No more shirts of silk or linen, 
 
 We all wear the O. D. stuff; 
 No more nightshirts or pajamas, 
 
 For our pants are good enough. 
 No more feather ticks or pillows, 
 
 But we're glad to thank the Lord 
 That we've got a cot and blanket 
 
 When we might have just a board. 
 
 For they feed us beans for breakfast, 
 
 And at noon we have them too; 
 And at night they feed our tummies 
 
 With a good old Army stew. 
 But, by jinks, we'll lick the Kaiser 
 
 When the sergeants teach us how, 
 For, hang him, he's the reason 
 
 That we're in the Army now. 
 
 15 
 
STANDING IN LINE 
 
 What you want to do — in Washington — is to stand in line, 
 and be counselled by friends during that harrowing period of 
 advice-giving which precedes any undertaking in one's life. 
 
 "That's the way they all get there. Pull is what counts down 
 there, " they sputteringly utter. "You've got to stand in with the 
 right people, with the big guns." 
 
 I ascertained that was precisely what I was destined to do from 
 the moment I caught sight of Union Station. I was going to stand 
 in with the big guns (and the small guns) in a regular get-together 
 movement. Everybody stands in line. 
 
 In restaurants I have stood in line, — a long, ravenous, impatient 
 line — with one eye focused covetously upon the last piece of near- 
 lemon-meringue-pie. The other eye warily bent on the clock. 
 Behind me, two callow youths carried on an impassioned argument 
 concerning the relative merits of two waitresses. Finally, just 
 as I was on the verge of a collapse from lack of sustenance and the 
 clock was striking the end of my lunch period, my turn at the lunch 
 counter came. I found that I was in time to discover the "sweet 
 young thing" with the beautiful eye-brows, making off with that 
 piece of lemon meringue. However, a despondent- looking piece of 
 raisin pie remained on the pie counter, and I seized it. After I 
 had guzzled it along with an ancient and venerable-looking cheese 
 sandwich and a feeble cup of hydrated cocoa (sans milk), I really 
 had a repast which the most unscrupulous free-lunch counter in 
 the country would blush to offer. 
 
 Then I stood in line with my check while the gentleman ahead 
 of me, who had been eating onions — quite a lot of onions, fragrant 
 and powerful — wrangled with the cashier over five cents, five 
 paltry cents, and I was losing a half hour of my annual leave. 
 
 I have stood in line at Keith's with twenty-eight cents in one 
 hand, and a firm determination to see the Human Nightingale in 
 the other. Darn the language! That is of course grammatically 
 incorrect, unless you follow the old maxim about the bird in the 
 hand. At that moment I struggled to maincain my dignity before 
 a second lieutenant who displayed a ten dollar bill and a box-seat 
 expression. I endeavored, by means of a tolerantly amused look, 
 to create an impression that I, too, usually sat in box seats, accom- 
 panied by dashing young officers, but that I was just then enjoying 
 a lark, a sort of seeing how the-other-half-lives excursion. 
 
 At last, I did reach the ticket window and the wretch behind 
 its glass airily told me the gallery was sold out. Of course, this, 
 was intensely embarrassing for me, the more so since I am by nature 
 of a shy and shrinking disposition; and at that time, possessed of 
 
 16 
 
only a car ticket and twenty-five cents. (It is quite unnecessary 
 to flaunt here my former wealth by mentioning that I had lost 
 fourteen, matching pennies at the office.) I withdrew, almost 
 paralyzed, not only with mortification, but with "Second Floor, 
 Middle TWO " and the crackle of that ten spot smiting my auditory 
 nerves. 
 
 I have stood in line, or more correctly speaking, in a hushed and 
 hopeless group calm of despair, on a street corner, and watched 
 seven jammed cars rock drunkenly by. Then, after a perfect 
 triumph in gymnastic gyrations, I regained my balance on the 
 second step of the eighth and was dragged up to the platform by a 
 sympathetic passenger, just in time to have the car door close 
 violently on my coat-tail. 
 
 I have stood in line with my laundry, at the post-office, with my 
 tooth brush at the wash bowl, with my bath towel on Saturday 
 night, with my liberty bond blank before the bank, with my pass 
 before the gate. And, "by gravy," I have stood in line even in 
 front of a church on the Sabbath, yes, and been turned away from 
 the entrance. 
 
 The only line I actually enjoyed standing in is the payroll line. 
 
 That bi-monthly occasion breaks up the office grouch. 
 
 17 
 
SOLDIERIN' 
 
 'War's over! Ain't I gladl" 
 
 "Fightin's over, and we licked the Hun!" 
 "Aw — you get me sore and mad! 
 
 WE!! What' ve / done? 
 What do I know of -the bloomin' war, 
 
 When all I did was push a pen ! 
 Was that what I enlisted for? 
 
 Gave me a uniform and then 
 Put in with girls — to write 
 
 Of what the soldiers do 'Out There;' 
 When my bloomin' heart just ached to fight — 
 
 To fight the Hun ! To do and dare, 
 To live in dugout or in mud — 
 
 To hear the rifle crack, or bursting shell, 
 But — War's over! Honest, 'Bud,' 
 
 Sherman said it, 'War's Hell.' 
 Hell ! When you long for the thick of the fight 
 
 And you don't give a damn if you're hurt, 
 And they gave me a PEN — and then told me to WRITE, 
 
 It's a wonder I didn't desert, — 
 And smuggle across with the rest o' the boys 
 
 Towards the deep blood-soaked field of France. 
 'Mid the whirr of the planes, and the din and the noise, 
 
 I'd have died — to have gotten the chance, 
 To show I'm a man — and there's blood in my veins, 
 
 I'd have given a limb for a Hun — 
 I'd a laughed at the hardships, the aches and the pains, 
 
 And now it's too late — for they're done. 
 'Course I did what I could and answered the call 
 
 When the Flag cried "I want you to fight." 
 Enlisted! Accepted! Got outfit and all — — 
 
 And then, d— n them ! They told me to W-R-I-T-E' '!!!!! 
 
 Sgt. M. M. Wanderman 
 
 There was a young man from Seicheprey 
 Who slept without sifting the hay; 
 
 He got quite a batch 
 
 Of young cooties, — and scratch ? 
 He's at it all night and all day. 
 
 18 
 
SINCE THOU HAST WENT AWAY 
 
 I ain't got nothin' much no more, 
 
 An* nothin' ain't no use to me, 
 Alone I pace the lonely shore, 
 
 'Cause I have saw the last of thee. 
 I seen a ship out on the deep, 
 
 While singing this sad lay — 
 I ain't done nothin' much but weep, 
 
 Since thou hast went away. 
 
 I uster like the picture shows, 
 
 Don't like 'em any more, 
 Can't find a man who int' rests me, 
 
 And everything's a bore. 
 I uster look as beautiful 
 
 As 'twas possible for me — 
 Now — I don't even powder, 
 
 Cause you ain't here to see. 
 
 So, I'll just stay around and mope 
 
 And have no fun at all, 
 'Less you decide to come right back, 
 
 I wanna die, — That's all. 
 The tears they keep a-comin', 
 
 Tho* I try to make them stay — 
 There ain't no use to nothin' 
 
 Since thou hast went away. 
 
 WILHELM'S FINISH 
 
 I have in mind a floral piece 
 
 To grace the Kaiser's tomb, 
 
 Of bleeding hearts and poisoned darts, 
 
 To keep his soul in gloom. 
 
 Those bleeding hearts afrid poisoned darts 
 Will be red, white, and blue, 
 And they will spell, "He's gone to Hell," 
 When Pershing's men get through. 
 
 19 
 
THE PEN AND PENCIL SOLDIER 
 
 We are pen and pencil soldiers in the "Service of the Rear." 
 We never heard a cannon and we never tasted beer; 
 We are needful model soldiers in the eyes of Uncle Sam, 
 But you cannot be a hero, far from "No Man's Land." 
 
 We came into the army to cross to sunny France ; 
 
 We never saw the ocean and we never got a chance. 
 
 We were K. P.'s in the kitchen, we were Corporals of the Guard, 
 
 And at daylight every morning we were policing up the yard. 
 
 When one day we went on shipboard and we hoped to go across, 
 We were loaded on the Reo which was covered with the frost. 
 Our joy was soon forgot though, as we left the Reo Four, 
 For we found ourselves a member of the Quartermaster Corps. 
 
 So we are pen and pencil soldiers in the Service of the Rear, 
 Although we've never smelled of powder (face?), but we all expect 
 
 to hear, 
 Someone calling us a slacker in no uncertain tone. 
 But we surely pushed our pencils and we've met the "LIBERTY 
 
 LOAN." 
 
 FAIR Me«8Efl <* \ 
 
 20 
 
WHEN A FELLER NEEDS A FRIEND. 
 
 "FLY" PAPER 
 Oh where, oh where, will my 
 little pay go? 
 And oh ! How long will it last ? 
 With its "5" cut short and its 
 "0" cut long, 
 It's bound to go mighty fast. 
 
 M. Jones 
 
 21 
 
THE PUZZLING PERSONNEL 
 
 I can calmly face a Gen'ral when I meet him on my way, 
 And with Colonels and with Majors, I can pass the time of day; 
 Nonchalantly I can enter any Branch-head's office door, 
 Saving one I pass by quickly — I shall never enter more. 
 
 "Personnel Administrative" — that's the name that it goes by; 
 When you see it on the door-pane, you had better quickly fly, 
 For the Goblins sure will get you, as they got me once before, 
 If you carelessly meander 'round about their haunted door. 
 
 Oh, the minds of men are many, and their ways are just the same ; 
 And to guess at all their motives is an interesting game; 
 But there sure is no solution (howsoe'er on it you dwell) 
 To the modus operandi of the puzzling "Personnel." 
 
 They're the fellows who assign us to the jobs we have to do; 
 How they reach their sad conclusions, I can't reason, nor can you. 
 Guess they throw our names together, all well shaken, in a hat, 
 And draw one for each position, and just let it go at that. 
 
 A gents' furnisher from Gotham is distributing hardware, 
 
 While a hardware guy from Omaha is buying underwear. 
 
 Raw materials are handled by a teacher from Duluth, 
 
 While a coal man's buying desks and chairs and station'ry, forsooth. 
 
 A lawyer's buying butter, and an undertaker cheese, 
 While a produce man's distributing machines for gassing fleas; 
 A cigar man's looking after goods for chemical warfare — 
 An abstainer is procuring all the "smokes" for "Over There." 
 
 A hosiery manufacturer is purchasing canned foods, 
 
 While a grocer's wildly striving to assemble cotton goods; 
 
 An attorney is endeavoring camp kitchens to equip, 
 
 While an innkeeper is "jugging" all the boys who try to skip. 
 
 A racing stud proprietor buys motor trucks and tools, 
 
 While an auto salesman's looking round for horses and for mules. 
 
 A "spirits" manufacturer gives lectures on morale — 
 
 A prohibitionist's engaged in buying alcohol. 
 
 An undertaker's now procuring every instrument 
 That's needed by the band of each and every regiment; 
 While a witty traveling salesman's ruddy cheeks were seen to blanch 
 When he found that he was buried in the Cemeterial Branch. 
 
 22 
 
A banker s running salvage, while a junkman's in "Finance " 
 A guy who never saw a boat totes messages to France- 
 A tango lizard runs the post exchange at Camp Uno 
 And army etiquette's denned by a jay from Kokom'o. 
 
 A chemist buys typewriting and stenotype machines- 
 A salesman of typewriters is procuring pork and beans- 
 w a ftlSt ^ d uty 'tis to see that sausages don't spoil 
 While a Chicago stockyards gink is buying paint and oil. 
 
 A farmer's in statistics, many records there to keep- 
 
 An accountant buys all cattle on the hoof and also sheep- 
 
 A baker handles blankets and mattresses and cots 
 
 While an upholsterer procures bake-ovens, pans, and pots. 
 
 And so it goes— such cases could well be multiplied 
 Where talents of a multitude have thus been misapplied 
 ix>, whate er be your ambition, let fears your hopes dispel— 
 hor the Goblins sure will get you— which means the "Personnel. 
 
 * * * 
 And since the war is over, now, my wonder grows apace 
 u?u u each PersonneI "misfit" made good in ev'ry case— 
 Which goes to prove the marvellous adaptability 
 Of each and ev'ry member of the busy Q. M. C. 
 
 C. E. Graves, 
 Capt., Q. M. C 
 
 AN ILLUSION 
 A match in my hand, 
 A pipe between my lips — 
 A light— and the smoke softly upwards slips; 
 And ever and anon in the hazy mist 
 I see the face of the girl who is, I wist, 
 Dearest to me in this wide universe, 
 With its good, its bad, its better and worse, 
 And, as each little puff encircles my head,' 
 It brings back fond memories I once thought dead — 
 bhe puckers her lips— for a kiss, no doubt, 
 And then— why then— my pipe goes out. 
 
 Florence M. Conner y, 
 Q. M. C. 
 
 23 
 
(In the Confederate Reunion parade at Washington, June 7, 
 1917, two thousand men from the Officers' Reserve Training Camp, 
 at Fort Myer, acted as rear guard to the veterans). 
 
 IN HEROES' WAKE THEY FOLLOW 
 
 Two thousand strong, they march along, 
 
 Their virile presence sending 
 To every heart a thrill of joy, 
 
 With love of country blending. 
 Their sturdy ranks present no show 
 
 Of splendors, vain and hollow; 
 For loved Columbia's high ideals 
 
 In heroes' wake they follow. 
 
 They come from patriotic sires 
 
 And more heroic mothers, 
 Who built on that eternal rock 
 
 That all shall live as brothers. 
 In Freedom's air they breathe the truth 
 
 That monarchs' claims are hollow; 
 For human liberty they stand — 
 
 In heroes' wake they follow. 
 
 Before that sturdy host there walk 
 
 The remnants of those legions, 
 That went with honor to defeat 
 
 In Dixie's sunny regions; 
 And as the boys in khaki march 
 
 Behind Gray ranks, now hollow, 
 Their brave, young hearts are filled with pride — 
 
 In heroes' wake they follow. 
 
 William L. K. Barrett, 
 1st. Lt., Q. M. C. 
 
 Colored soldier who was to be presented the following 
 day with the Croix de Guerre, said to his fellow squad- 
 man: 
 
 "Well Henry, tomorrow I'se to be presented with the 
 cross de gear." 
 
 Henry (woefully) — "Well so far as I 'se concerned, you 
 can have your old cross de gear, all I wants is a cross 
 de ocean." 
 
 24 
 
FINANCE 
 
 While the melancholy taps 
 
 Are blowing soldier boys to bed, 
 
 And the Barrack lights are blinking 
 Like the stars up over head. 
 
 All the camp is wrapped in silence, 
 Soon each one is sleeping hard, 
 
 As a sentry breaks the stillness 
 Calling "Corporal of the Guard." 
 
 There's a light that still is burning; 
 
 There's a clinking of the keys, 
 Typists' fingers nimbly plunking 
 
 Noisy sounds upon the breeze. 
 
 Do not wonder who is waking, 
 Tisn't worth your while to peep. 
 
 It is only Lordly Finance 
 A-working while you sleep. 
 
 Frank C. Doblin, 
 
 Corp., Q. M. C. 
 
 AN INCIDENT 
 
 Lanes of barracks, 
 Gray-white and rain-drenched, 
 Where ambulances, 
 Sag-end and mud-slathered, 
 Slosh their way past soldiers, 
 Venturing new health, 
 And the faded green band stand — 
 An island in a sea of cement. 
 
 Through the propped shutter 
 
 Of the information shack, 
 
 An orderly's voice saying : 
 
 "You wanted the dope on Sergeant Canfield? 
 
 He died this morning at seven-thirty." 
 
 John Pierre Roche, 
 Lt., Q. M. C. 
 
 25 
 
ELEGY WRITTEN IN OUR COUNTRY'S MUNITION 
 BUILDING, SIX P. M. 
 
 (With apologies to Gray) 
 
 The whistle sounds the knell of parting day. 
 
 Stenographers go slowly home to tea. 
 The watchman trudges on his weary way, 
 
 And leaves the room to darkness and to me. 
 
 Now fade the purchase orders on the sight, 
 And down to quietness the building tones. 
 
 Save when an airship wheels its droning flight, 
 And drowsy tinklings come from distant phones. 
 
 Within those cheap oak desks, those files arrayed, 
 Where papers heave in many a towering heap. 
 
 Each in forgotten place forever laid, 
 The office circulars and orders sleep. 
 
 To them no more young officers shall turn, 
 
 Or busy secretaries give them care, 
 No messengers their special rush will spurn, 
 
 And cause the chiefs to fume and softly swear. 
 
 Far from the madding clerks ignimble hands, 
 Their mimeographed pages learned to stray. 
 
 Where loosely held in clips and rubber bands, 
 They sleep the endless hours tucked safe away. 
 
 Let not ambition mock their humble style, 
 Their homely works and sentences obscure, 
 
 Nor grandeur hear with disdainful smile 
 Their composition and their English poor. 
 
 Full many a sheet of purest thought serene, 
 Their dark unfathomed desk recesses bear, 
 
 Full many a page is born to blush unseen, 
 And waste its wisdom in a file case there. 
 
 No farther seek their merits to disclose 
 
 Nor draw those papers from their dead abode, 
 
 There they abide in unthought-of repose, 
 Sweet calm eternal sleep on them bestowed. 
 
 ' 'Hard wear Mettles' ' 
 
 26 
 
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 5 
 
FROM A WAR WORKER'S DICTIONARY 
 
 APARTMENT: — An imaginary unit of rooms surrounded by- 
 landlords, sub-leases and outrageous rentals. 
 
 APPETITE: — An undesirable attribute which takes nearly all 
 of one's pay check to satisfy. 
 
 BREAD : — A more or less — mostly less — palatable mixture of 
 rice, oats, cornmeal and wheat, the virtues of which lie in bulk, 
 weight and relative cheapness. 
 
 DINING ROOM: — Any old residence between the Treasury 
 and your office, masquerading as a restaurant. The mustier the 
 more atmosphere. 
 
 CHIVALRY: — Something you brought with you to Washington 
 and used about two weeks in jammed street cars. 
 
 CAFETERIA: — The best place to eat if you draw three thou- 
 sand dollars per annum. Called by some officer friends the "Jesse 
 James" because it is such a hold-up. 
 
 CLERK, GOVERNMENT :— The ambitious girl from out West, 
 down South or up North arriving daily in Washington to help 
 win the war. 
 
 CAR SYSTEM: — There is none. No such animal. 
 
 FOOD ADMINISTRATION:— Where Hoover eats. Where 
 any one else who can bluff the door keeper can get a decent lunch- 
 eon for thirty-five cents. 
 
 HUNGER : — That gaunt feeling more indulged in at Washing- 
 ton than ever during the comfortable days back home. 
 
 LINE, STANDING: — That column of impatient Government 
 clerks and civilians prefacing all goals worth while; seen at lunch 
 rooms, movies, church parties, swimming pools, glove counters and 
 ten cent stores. 
 
 Q. M. C. OFFICERS: — Popular synonyms, typewriter heroes, 
 swivelian officers, desk cooties. In reality men who are spending 
 more than their incomes, jostled, ridiculed and overcharged, for the 
 privilege of performing prosaic and essential routine. 
 
 PAPER BAG: — Defined by a foreign diplomat as the most 
 striking feature of the daily procession of war workers. Contains 
 the inevitable sandwich, an orange and cookie. 
 
 POTOMAC PARK: — Facing War College, the cleverest strat- 
 egic spot in the world for lovers in motors. 
 
 ROOMS : — Next to impossible to locate, and impossible to exist 
 in when discovered. 
 
 UNIFORM : — Any sort of a tailored garment which can be worn 
 in this blase Capital without attracting a second glance. 
 
 WASHINGTON : — The melting pot of the United States. Head- 
 quarters of the world. 
 
 28 
 
SINCE YOU WENT AWAY 
 
 Since you went away, every gay sailor lad, 
 
 Every khaki-clad soldier I see 
 Has a place in my heart and a share in my thoughts 
 
 And belongs, just a little to me. 
 He's a comrade of yours, and is bearing his share 
 
 Of the burden that rests upon you ; 
 Both are doing the work that a nation has set 
 
 For its glorious manhood to do. 
 
 Since you went away, every fold in the flag 
 
 Has a message that's tender and true; 
 It has always meant Liberty, Freedom and Right; 
 
 It now means my country — and you. 
 Your honor is part of the deep azure field, 
 
 Your courage of each crimson bar, 
 And the soul of you, shining, resplendent and clear, 
 
 Is a part of each beautiful star. 
 
 Wives and Sweethearts 
 
 A COMPLAINT 
 
 Arrah, Eddie O'Connell ! An' what have I done to you 
 
 That you won't write to me, never a word? 
 Many's the kind thoughts of mine that have run to you 
 
 Since I became a Q. M. C. bird. 
 
 Sure, an* the war is over — an' thanks to me. 
 
 Just thirty days since I entered the fight. 
 When Wilhelm discovered that I'd joined the ranks, sez he: 
 
 "Gott can't be mitt uns. I guess it's good-night!" 
 
 But, tho' the war now is ended, I've got to be 
 Right on the job here, while Woodrow's away. 
 
 Otherwise everything'd go right to pot, you see, 
 With McAdoo out, and him over the say. 
 
 Write me, you divil, an' tell me the news you have. 
 
 How is the bowling? What's left of the beer? 
 Divil the tiniest bit of excuse you have 
 Not to raymimber me since I came here. 
 
 C. E. Graves, 
 Capt., Q. M. C. 
 
HEROES 
 
 Oh, the Col. or the Maj. or the Lieut. 
 
 Or the Gen. or the Adj. or the Cap. 
 May be proud of the spur on his foot 
 
 Or his badge and his braid and his strap; 
 Of his coat that is neat and is right, 
 
 Of his look that is brisk and alive; 
 But the men who will count in the fight 
 
 Are the Serg. and the Corp. and the Priv. 
 
 Oh, the Cap. and the Adj. and the Gen. 
 
 Oh, the Lieut, and the Col. and the Maj., 
 They will live through the might of the pen, 
 
 They will shine in the lore of the age. 
 In the tale of the war that is won, 
 
 In the song of the trench and the charge; 
 But the men who will do what is done 
 
 Are the Priv. and the Corp. and the Serg. 
 
 MY LESSON 
 
 From the Q. M. C. I have this lesson learned : 
 Success doesn't come by chance — it's earned 
 By pounding away. For good hard knocks 
 Will make stepping stones of the stumbling blocks. 
 
 I don't expect by a single stride 
 
 To jump to the front. I am satisfied 
 
 To do each day my level best; 
 
 And let the future take care of the rest. 
 
 I heard the voice of the Q. M. C. 
 
 Say: "You can make yourself what you want to be 
 
 If you're willing to work. So pitch right in, 
 
 For the person who STICKS can't help but win!" 
 
 (Original) Lutiant La Voye. 
 
 What did the proprietors of the downtown men's 
 shop mean when they displayed this sign: — 
 "Men in Uniform— 10% Off" 
 
 WlNTHROP P. ROSS, 
 
 Q. M. C. 
 
 30 
 

 PRIVATE INDey 
 VVlCrOrtV CHAIR, 
 
 |N A SORTIE 
 AFTER THr 
 
 wtkamarine 
 
 PWIP TO F|U_ 
 fEN HISAUNT 
 
 $t^r HW WE 
 
 PAY THE ARWtfTKE 
 
 Wail from the Subsistence Division 
 
 Oh ! that some inventive man 
 Would patent, make and sell 
 
 An onion with an onion taste — 
 But with a violet smell. 
 
 31 
 
THE AMERICAN LEGION 
 
 There was one time in France when the rigid discipline of the 
 American Expeditionary Force was relaxed, when generals forgot 
 their stars in the presence of privates, when corporals engaged in 
 heated debates with colonels and when sergeants greeted majors 
 with terms of affection, and where everybody slapped everybody 
 else on the back in a boylike spirit of fraternity and equality. 
 And this took place in the American Officers' Club too! That place 
 in Paris where every one with a bar on his shoulder had to stand up 
 almost every time a general shifted his shoulder on the bar ! 
 
 This amusing situation arose during the formation abroad of the 
 American Legion, the new organization for veterans of the army, 
 navy and marine corps, according to Lieutenant Colonel Eric Fisher 
 Wood, temporary secretary. He told of the difficulties of getting 
 the enlisted men to Paris, first on account of stringent rules against 
 granting leaves outside a specified leave area assigned to each divi- 
 sion and then also on account of the expense of travel. All the officer 
 delegates brought private delegates as orderlies and as many en- 
 listed men as possible were ordered to Paris on one pretext or 
 another, he said. As a result of this method 200 enlisted delegates 
 were present. It was agreed that all rank should be laid aside in the 
 meeting room. "A most interesting example of American adapt- 
 ability and one of the type which always caused the French and 
 British officers to marvel, was observed at the noon hour, " Colonel 
 Wood continued. "Just at that time a brigadier general and a 
 corporal were having a most heated discussion. Then came the call 
 for mess. A minute later in the street outside the same corporal 
 came to attention, clicked his heels together and rendered a per- 
 fect salute at the approach of this same brigadier from whom 
 he received a command which he acknowledged with a respectful 
 ' yes sir. 
 
 Lieutenant Colonels Theodore Roosevelt and Bennett Clark are 
 temporary chairman and vice chairman respectively of the legion. 
 There are also state chairmen and secretaries in every state in the 
 union. A letter addressed to the Temporary Committee, American 
 Legion, No. 19 West 44th Street, New York City, will be forwarded 
 to the secretary residing in the state of the writer and full in- 
 formation will be furnished. Remember, the Legion is primarily 
 an organization of enlisted men, at least sixty per cent of them 
 being on all committees while a similar percentage maintained at 
 the first National Caucus of the Legion, May 8, 9 and 10, at 
 St. Louis. 
 
 (Lt.) G. S. Wheat, 
 Ass't. Sect'y American Legion. 
 
 32 
 
PHOTO BY PEARL GRACE LOEHR, NEW YORK 
 
Brigadier General Robert E. Wood, U. S. Army, D.S.M., Acting Quar- 
 termaster General, Director of Purchase & Storage 
 
THEY ALSO SERVE 
 
 There's another group of soldiers, 
 
 Not the ones in khaki dressed, 
 Who responded to the colors 
 
 When the need for workers pressed. 
 They poured in from town and country, 
 
 All urged by their country's call, 
 Came in thousands to the city, — 
 
 Uncle Sam had need for all. 
 
 Now we trust that the war is over 
 
 For the Armistice is signed, 
 And the thousands of War Workers 
 
 Still work on or have resigned. 
 Theirs is not the wreath of victory 
 
 Nor the people's loud hurrahs, 
 Yet they feel a glow of glory 
 
 For they, too, worked for the cause. 
 
 CAMOUFLAGE 
 
 A natty little velvet hat, 
 
 An aching head held high, 
 A whisk of pink on cheeks too pale, 
 
 Sad eyes kept strangely dry. 
 
 The "latest" scarf to cover quite 
 A throat which throbs and throbs; 
 
 A voice that chatters foolishness, 
 (The way to keep down sobs). 
 
 A heart that scarcely beats behind 
 
 A sweater bravely bright. 
 And trembling fingers fluttering 
 
 An unused 'kerchief white. 
 
 All this as khaki ranks pass by 
 
 In last farewell parade; 
 Then — leaden feet for long home ways, 
 
 Dear little soldier maid! 
 
 33 
 
HUH-UH NOT ME! 
 
 Co'se Ah hain't sayin' Ah won'tfdo 
 Jes whut mah country want me^to; 
 But dey's one job ah fo'see 
 Ain't gwine to teach itself to me — 
 Huh-uh! not me! 
 
 Dat's dis heah ahplane stuff — No boss, 
 Ah' 11 beah some othah kin' ob cross 
 Lak drive a mule, or tote a gun — 
 But ah ain't flirtin' wif de sun — 
 Huh-uh! not me! 
 
 Ef ah mus' do a loop de loop 
 Let mine be roun' some chicken coop. 
 It ain't gwine be up whar de crows 
 Kin say ah's trampin' on dair toes — 
 Huh-uh! not me! 
 
 It sho' look sweet, ah don't deny, 
 To be copin' round de sky, 
 But dat's fo' folks dat's in de mood 
 To pass up luv, an' gin, and food — 
 Huh-uh! not me! 
 
 Down heah ah first saw light ob day, 
 Down heah am whah ah's gwine to stay; 
 Folks, ah don't keer to have ma feet 
 Get too proud to walk de street — 
 Huh-uh! not me! 
 
 An' ah am sayin' tain't no use 
 Flirtin' wif dis balloon juice; 
 S'posin dat ingin' die up in de sky, 
 Git out and crank 'er up, oh me, oh my— 
 Huh-uh! not me! 
 
 So, ah' 11 jes wait till Gabriel brings 
 Dem good ole fashion' angel wings; 
 Den, as ah pass de ahplanes by 
 In pity, ah'll look down and sigh — 
 Huh-uh! not me! 
 
 I'se for the Q. M. C. 
 
 34 
 
These two young ladies, fanatics on STYLE and the WALK TO 
 WORK fad, land at their desks about an hour late every morning, 
 and then have the nerve to tell the Chief Clerk, " I leave the house 
 at eight o'clock every morning, and I don't see why I should be 
 late." 
 
 35 
 
HE COULDN'T BUY A BOND 
 
 He couldn't buy a bond to help 
 
 His country win the war. 
 Said he, "I'm much in favor of 
 
 The cause we're fighting for, 
 But I've no money I can spare 
 
 To lend the Government ; 
 The cost of living's up so high 
 
 It calls for every cent." 
 
 And, having made this little speech, 
 
 He tossed out on the bar, 
 A ten, inviting all the boys, 
 
 To have a good cigar. 
 With that he bought a round of drinks, 
 
 And left in his machine 
 To dine at Grabitall's Cafe 
 
 With Mae, a chorus queen. 
 
 He couldn't buy a bond to help 
 
 His country in its plight, — 
 And yet he squandered fifty bones 
 
 For food and wine that night. 
 He couldn't buy a bond because — 
 
 Oh, golly what's the use? 
 A man like this should spend his days 
 
 Inside a calaboose. 
 
 A PROTEST 
 
 'Tis nicotine pollutes the air, 
 
 Some one is smoking over there — 
 Stogies, you know, five cents a pair — 
 
 And puffs away without a care. 
 
 What cares he if eyes do smart 
 Until, perchance, the tears may start, 
 
 Or if my nausea, in part 
 
 Is due to smoke? Oh, have a heart! 
 
 Sometimes their best intentions go astray — 
 When smoke goes drifting the ladies' way. 
 
 Now why, Oh man! do you linger longer? 
 Just step outside and smoke the stronger. 
 
 A Man Lover. 
 
 36 
 
"PUSHING" THE BOOK 
 
 From: The Undersigned. 
 
 To: Every Worker, Q. M. Corps, Zone Ten. 
 
 Subject: "Quips and Memoirs of the Corps." 
 
 1 . Your attention is invited, to the phrases that are cited in the 
 "New Prospectus" that's herewith enclosed. Therein it is re- 
 quested, that your wit and brain be tested, and your power as an 
 author be disclosed. 
 
 2. Anything you may have written that you now consider 
 "fitten" — any rhyme, or story; quip or jest or prose, that will do 
 for publication, send "Care Editor, this station," whom the Lord 
 have mercy on in all his woes. 
 
 3. There's a blank for your subscription, which contains a brief 
 description, of the book we know that you'll appreciate. So get 
 busy, every worker, don't "procrast" or be a shirker. Mail the 
 undersigned your bid, ere it's too late. 
 
 4. Your true co-operation is solicited; this station wants to 
 make as good showing as the rest. So beg, or swipe, or borrow, story, 
 verse, of joy or sorrow, and help this plan with interest and with 
 zest. 
 
 Joseph V. Mackey, 
 
 Captain, Q. M. Corps. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF NINETEENTH AND B 
 
 The Army of the Q. M. C. who kept this country free, 
 Were stationed in their swivel chairs at the battle of 
 
 Nineteenth and B. 
 Their pens were pushed with vigor and their hearts 
 
 Were filled with glee, 
 And the Government gave them service stripes for 
 
 Their wonderful brav-e-ry. 
 
 Typists to the right of them, 
 Spurs on the heels of them, 
 Heels on the desks of them, 
 At the battle of Nineteenth and B. 
 
 Colonels, Majors, Captains, Lieutenants, "Hully Gee" 
 The rank and file were out of it at the battle of 
 Nineteenth and B. 
 
 Anon. 
 
 37 
 
THE FIRST NIGHT AT FORT MYER 
 
 I'm here with two thin blankets, 
 
 As thin as a slice of ham, 
 A German spy was likely the guy 
 
 Who made 'em for Uncle Sam. 
 
 How did I sleep? Don't kid me! 
 
 My bedtick is filled with straw, 
 And lumps, and humps and big fat bumps 
 
 That punched me 'till I was raw. 
 
 Me and my two thin blankets 
 
 As thin as the last thin dime — 
 As thin, I guess, as a chorus girl's dress — 
 
 Well, I had one "Hell of a Time." 
 
 I'd pull 'em up from the bottom, 
 
 My nightie's were B. V. D's., 
 A couple of yanks to cover my shanks, 
 
 And then my dogs'd freeze. 
 
 You could use 'em for porous plasters, 
 
 Or maybe to strain the soup; 
 My pillow's my shoes when I tried to snooze — 
 
 And I've chilblains, cough, and croup. 
 
 Me, and my two thin blankets, 
 
 bundled up under my chin, — 
 Yes, a German spy was likely the guy, 
 
 And gosh! but he made 'em thin. 
 
 Now the very same two blankets 
 
 How snug and warm they seem. 
 I'm full of life and full of pep — 
 
 Their thinness was only a dream. 
 
 Private John F. Tracy. 
 
 Yankee soldier returning on a transport, gazing 
 directly at the fast approaching Goddess of Liberty, 
 said in enthusiastic voice, — 
 
 "Old lady, if you ever see me again, you'll sure have 
 to turn around." 
 
 38 
 
? 
 
 To this maiden most rare, 
 
 Just what does she care — 
 
 If a glimpse of her face, we are missing? 
 
 Is she blonde or brunette? 
 
 Are her curls gold or jet? 
 
 Is her mouth made for smiles and for kissing? 
 
 Jessie Dell. 
 
 40 
 
THE Q. M, C. 
 (As it looked the day after the Armistice) 
 
 In all my travel around the world, 
 
 Thru four score years or more, 
 I've never seen a business place, 
 
 Just like this one before. 
 
 At nine o'clock the clerks come in 
 
 Take off their coat and hat, 
 Sit down and as they fix their hair 
 
 Converse on this and that. 
 
 At ten the officers arrive, 
 
 To smoke a pipe or two, 
 At 10:30 cocoa is served, 
 
 There is nothing else to do. 
 
 Between that time and eleven o'clock, 
 
 They talk about the war 
 And whether this law will be passed, 
 
 And who they voted for. 
 
 From eleven, until half past 
 
 They visit to and fro, 
 And then they all go out to lunch— 
 
 The work fatigues them so. 
 
 By two o'clock most all are back; 
 
 Ah, to the grind again, 
 Another pipeful they must have, 
 
 Or they will work in vain. 
 
 Till three o'clock they talk about 
 
 The places they have been 
 And how their overcoats are cut, 
 
 And of the price of tin. 
 
 By four o'clock they have discussed 
 
 The best shows in the town, 
 And where the best dinners are served 
 
 In hotels of renown. 
 
 Then 4 :30 arrives at length, 
 
 And home at last they run 
 To rest and to amuse themselves — 
 A HARD DAY'S WORK IS DONE. 
 
 Annette Fisher, 
 Q.M. 
 
 41 
 
RULES AND REGULATIONS 
 
 1 . Conserve air by eliminating some of the unnecessary conver- 
 sation. 
 
 2. Conserve shoe leather by remaining at your desk; remember 
 you are supposed to be a draftsman — not a floor walker. 
 
 3. If you are hungry, go out and get something to eat — don't 
 stand around chewing the rag — you'll make us all hungry. 
 
 4. We have wheatless, meatless and eatless days, let us have feet- 
 less days — keep your feet on the floor — not on the desk. 
 
 5. Don't acquire the habit of saving to such an extent that you 
 go home every night with a pocket full of paper clips ; just because 
 you write shorthand — don't think you have to get light-handed. 
 
 6. If you feel that you must whistle during office hours, please 
 whistle something German, so that the rest of the office will have 
 an excuse for dropping a typewriter on your head. 
 
 7. Any person or persons having as a part of their lunch, limberger 
 cheese, will kindly adjourn to the roof until the ordeal is over; 
 there is a strong reason for this. 
 
 8 If you feel that you must take home a typewriter now and then, 
 please leave the desk; we can get new typewriters, but desks are 
 scarce and hard to get. 
 
 9. Just because they are using a lot of ammunition in Europe, 
 don't think that you have to powder your nose every minute. 
 
 10. As Abraham Lincoln said in his famous Gettysburg speech* 
 
 "Eight hours a day for the man who works, 
 Seven hours a day for the Government clerks." 
 
 11. Make the world safe for Democracy — stop throwing milk 
 bottles out of the windows. 
 
 12. Save a loaf a week. Just because you are a crust, don't say 
 you can loaf around this office, even if you are well bred. 
 
 13. Don't come in here with a bun, either. 
 
 By "Statistical Division." 
 
 SMILES 
 
 We have smiles for General Pershing, 
 We have smiles for General Foch, 
 We have smiles for the Allied Nations 
 Who have fought and set this old world free ; 
 We have smiles for all our soldier laddies, 
 And for sailors of the dark blue sea, 
 But the smiles we have for Woodrow Wilson, 
 Are the smiles of Democracy. 
 
 42 
 
WHEN THE WAR WILL END 
 
 Absolute knowledge have I none 
 
 But my aunt's sister's washerwoman's son 
 
 Heard a policeman on his beat 
 
 Say to a laborer in the street 
 
 That he had a letter just last week 
 
 That was written in the finest Greek 
 
 From a Chinese coolie in Timbuctoo 
 
 Who said that the negroes in Cuba knew 
 
 Of a colored man in a Texas town 
 
 Who got it straight from a circus clown 
 
 That a man in the Klondike heard the news 
 
 From a couple of South American Jews 
 
 That they knew a man in Borneo 
 
 Who heard of a man who claimed to know 
 
 Of a swell society female fake 
 
 Whose mother-in-law would undertake 
 
 To prove that her seventh husband's niece 
 
 Has stated in a printed piece 
 
 That she has a son who has a friend 
 
 Who certainly knows when the war will end. 
 
 OUR LAST LIEUT. 
 
 We shall meet, but we shall miss him — 
 
 At his desk, the vacant place 
 Will remind us of his pleasant 
 Winking, twinkling, grinning face. 
 
 Out into the world he'll wander 
 While we sit amidst our tears 
 
 And upon his fate we'll ponder 
 And our grief will age us years. 
 
 On the sea of matrimony 
 He'll set sail his fragile bark 
 
 With no fear of alimony 
 While he heeds the foghorn's "Hark!' 
 
 May good luck his footsteps follow — 
 And kind Fate her gifts bestow 
 
 And though we shall weep tomorrow- 
 Here's our blessing ere he go. 
 
 43 
 
MEMORANDUM 
 
 FROM : Claims Board, Office Director of Purchase. 
 TO: War Department Claims Board. 
 SUBJECT: Allowance to Contractors. 
 
 1 . The Claims Board, Office Director of Purchase, has received 
 a contractor's statement, setting forth his claim for compensation 
 for cancellation of his contract for tubular boilers. The claim for 
 overhead is carefully itemized and includes the following: 
 
 "Attention to speeches, $40.51." 
 
 This Board is in considerable doubt as to whether, under the 
 regulations, it may properly allow this item but is unanimously of 
 the opinion that it should be allowed. The individual members of 
 the Board have all their lives suffered from speeches and their ser- 
 vice to the Government has been rendered more onerous by the 
 fact that from time to time they have been called upon to attend 
 committees, boards, conferences, etc., and listen to speeches which 
 consumed their time and reduced their efficiency. They have no 
 doubt that this contractor has had the same experience and that he 
 should be compensated, particularly in view of the fact that he 
 swears that he actually gave attention to the speeches. 
 
 2. Possibly, the Board should require the contractor to itemize 
 the charge more clearly, setting forth the names of the speakers 
 and the amount of time consumed but the Board believes that this 
 is not necessary in view of the small amount charged and feels that 
 if any further inquiry is made of the contractor, he may be led to 
 brood over the speeches to which he has listened and to increase 
 his claim to a more substantial figure. 
 
 3. The Board, however, has noted with great interest the fact 
 that the claim is for the odd amount of $40.51. It appears from 
 the claim that the contractor gave attention to more than one 
 speech and it is a fair conclusion that the 51c is the charge for 
 listening to one particular speech. This Board believes that it is 
 its public duty to ascertain and publish the name of the speaker 
 who could so charm a man of this contractor's evident discrimina- 
 tion as to result in his making a charge of only 51c for the time 
 consumed in listening to the speech. 
 
 4. Assuming that the claim should be allowed, under which of 
 the general headings authorized by Supply Circular No. 1 1 1 should 
 it be charged? The contractor has called it "overhead." Possibly 
 this is correct but if it should appear that the speeches were made 
 during business hours, there is danger that the Auditor for the War 
 
 44 
 
Department would not pass the item on the ground that it was 
 already charged under the item "Salaries of Executives." 
 
 5. This Board believes that all doubt will be removed by in- 
 cluding the item as part of the "Inward handling charges on raw 
 materials" and recommends that this course may be pursued. 
 There may be a slight question as to whether the speeches were 
 material but, that they were raw, there can be no shadow of a 
 doubt. 
 
 6. The action of the War Department Claims Board on this 
 matter is awaited with great interest, this Board believing as it 
 does that the issue involved is one of national importance. 
 
 Claims Board, Office Director of Purchase. 
 
 By W. W. Pickard, Chairman- 
 WWP/LG. 
 
 ALLOTMENT EXTRACTS 
 
 I ain't received no pay since my husband gone away 
 from nowhere. 
 
 My husband at Brystal Beach. He has got a Furlo 
 and has been away on a mine sweeper. 
 
 We have your letter I am his grandfather and grand- 
 mother. He was born and brought up according to 
 your instructions. 
 
 You have changed my boy to a little girl. Will it 
 make any difference? 
 
 Will you please send my money as soon as possible. 
 I am walking around Boston like a bloody pauper. 
 
 If I don't receive my husbands pay will be compelled 
 to live an immortal life. 
 
 Please let me know if John has put in an application 
 for a wife and child. 
 
 You have taken my man away to " fit " and he was the 
 best I ever had. Now you will have to keep me, or 
 who in the will if you don't? 
 
 My Bill has been put in charge of a spittoon (platoon). 
 Will I get any more money? 
 
 45 
 
ALLOTMENT EXTRACTS 
 
 I'm left with a child seven months old and she is a 
 baby and can't work. 
 
 Please send me a wife's form. 
 
 Please send me money as I have a little baby and I 
 kneed it evey day. 
 
 Your relationship to the enlisted man — I am still his 
 beloved wife. 
 
 I ain't got no book learnin' and I am a writtin' you 
 for inflammation. 
 
 She is stayed at a dissapated house. 
 
 War Wrists Insurance. 
 
 Just a line to let you know I am a widow and four 
 children. 
 
 He was inducted into the surface. 
 
 I have a four months old baby and he is my only 
 support. 
 
 I remain and obliged. 
 
 A lond woman parsely dependent. 
 
 To pay off my depths. 
 
 Date of birth — Not yet but soon. 
 
 I did not know my husband had a moddle name and 
 if he has I don't believe it is none. 
 
 As I need his assistance to keep me enclosed. 
 
 Caring to my condition which I haven't walkedjin 
 for months from a broken leg. 
 
 Your relationship to him — Just a mere aunt and a 
 few cousins. 
 
 He left me with materially nothing to live on. He 
 beat me with no reason whatever. 
 
 Both sides of our parents are old and poor. 
 
 It is improbable for me to make a living without his 
 sport. 
 
 To whom it may consume. 
 
 As he was my best supported. 
 Kind sir or she. 
 
 I enclose lovingly yours. 
 
 46 
 
ALLOTMENT EXTRACTS 
 
 Hello Mr. War Risk Bureau, how are you I am well 
 and hope you are the same. 
 
 Dear Press : Don't put this letter down until you have 
 read it to the end. How do you expose me to live? 
 My husband was my sole support. Long live the war of 
 Loberty, Long die Germany. 
 
 I have not received my sons allotment and there are 
 no symptoms of the money. 
 
 Date of discharge — I don't know. 
 
 Reason — Thats what I want to know. 
 
 My son was discharged for physical abilities. 
 
 I have received no pay since my husband was con- 
 fined to a constipation camp in Germany. When he 
 was drafted he was in the employment of 18 per week. 
 
 This letter was written on oceans of love with every 
 waive a kiss. 
 
 Dear President please send me money or my husband. 
 Someone tole me to write to you and tell you of my 
 family history. 
 
 WEEK! WEEK! 
 
 We are out for work and not for fun, 
 And rise each morning with the 
 We'll get the Germans, everyone, 
 Take his life and use his 
 And just to drive away the blues, 
 We take our Huns in ones and 
 When it is over, enough is said, 
 Then we, our own Sweetheart will 
 That is, if nothing should occur, 
 And she will only say, yeth, 
 And as each Hun lays down to die, 
 We hope that he in H — L will 
 After the war as we sit and chat, 
 We'll know that we've in honor 
 
 47 
 
 SUN. 
 
 MON. 
 
 TUES. 
 
 WED. 
 
 THUR. 
 
 FRI. 
 
 SAT. 
 
THE "BEVOS" 
 
 There's a drink in arid districts that they try to put across 
 I o make up for the real thing, of which we feel the loss 
 Bevo, the substitute is called, and that is why, you see 
 The tantalizing name "Bevos" is giv'n the Q. M. C. 
 
 \v J?ar .?o er "~" Ne f Soldiers!'— do you get the application, now? 
 We re % Bevos, and that fancy name we will not disavow 
 hpr we re near them where'er they are— God bless each fighting bov' 
 Near soldiers are we all the time, and that's our proudest joy. 
 
 Near them we were on fighting line, amid the battle's heat: 
 Near them along the proud advance, and in the grim retreat • 
 And on the journey Overseas our hearts here just as gay— ' 
 And sorrowful as theirs were, when forced at home to stay. 
 
 We worked and toiled and slaved for them, with joyfulness and 
 pride: 
 
 We gloried in their victories, and grieved for those who died ; 
 We fed them and we clothed them, here at home and over sea- 
 Just Dad and Mother, rolled in one, was what we tried to be. 
 
 That they can fight, the "Bevo" lads have shown what they can do 
 hor, when the Huns near Amiens had all but broken thru- 
 Arid grim disaster seemed to set its seal on ev'ry soul 
 Twas bloomin" British "Bevos" stood, and stopt the bally 'ole. 
 
 S? -iPu^. kt t £ em cal1 us ' then — and "Bevos" we'll remain- 
 well hold it as affection s mark— not given in disdain* 
 And ev ry man whose throat is dry will add this to our score- 
 1 hat those who couldn't get "0'erseas,"did not get "half-seas o'er.' 
 
 C. E. Graves, 
 
 Capt., Q. M. C. 
 (One of the "Bevos".) 
 
 WHY? 
 
 Why do we come to Washington? 
 
 Why, for a change and a rest. 
 
 We give the change to the street car conductor, 
 
 And the rest to the landlady. 
 
 49 
 
AT THE BATTLE OF WASHINGTON 
 
 We were entrenched at Potomac Park, 
 We drilled and marched till it was dark, 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 We were Christian Scientists and then some 
 And how we beat the dirty Hun, 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 We backed the boys up over there, 
 Wearing itchy woolen underwear, 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 We learned to sew, we learned to knit, 
 We ate our lunch at the Greasy Mit, 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 The Pen is mightier than the Sword, 
 We pushed it hard and were not bored, 
 At the battle of Washington. 
 
 All day we listed to the pound 
 Of typewriters, played by some Cocoa Hound, 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 We filled pink papers every day 
 And were ashamed to take our pay, 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 We had them fat, we had them lean, 
 And many cripples I had seen, 
 At the battle of Washington. 
 
 We never had a roll in bed, 
 But had roll call each morn instead, 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 We carried papers by the score, 
 That would decide the bloody War, 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 We smoked all day till we were told, 
 
 To cut it out or the chief would scold, 
 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 We had recess time each day 
 To drive the Spanish Flu away, 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 We never threw a hand grenade 
 But drank pink tea and lemonade, 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 50 
 
We saluted day and night, 
 When an officer hove in sight, 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 We never saw a murderous Hun, 
 We didn't even have a gun, 
 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 When we have children and grow old, 
 Of our fighting we'll be told, 
 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 Had we but known this thing before, 
 
 They'd never have seen us in the War 
 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 But I have heard it won't be long 
 Before we sing another song. 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 Peace is coming I have heard, 
 And soon we hope to get the word, 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 You'll soon be going home again, 
 And leave behind your fighting pen, 
 At the Battle of Washington. 
 
 Private H. Scharmann 
 
 HOW TO TREAT THE KAISER 
 
 When we punish old Bill Kaiser, 
 Don't you think it would be wiser 
 Just to stop awhile and think a lot 
 Before we try a plan? 
 It would be humane to lynch him, 
 And 'twould never do to pinch him, 
 And no self-respecting tree would 
 Stand for hanging such a man; 
 
 But I'll make a wee suggestion, 
 As in answer to your question, 
 And I wish it might be tried on him 
 Before we seal his doom; 
 Here to Washington express him, 
 And in petticoats let's dress him, 
 Make a girl "War Worker" of him. 
 And then make him find a room. 
 
 51 
 
ORDNANCE PROPERTY 
 
 "Ordnance Property," Am I — 
 That's the name all know me by 
 In 0. P. R., where'er Men are. 
 My accountability 
 And my responsibility 
 Are most exacting. 
 
 Careful, careful, thou must be 
 Of paper work in handling me. 
 On my paper never an erasure make, 
 But use red ink for correction's sake. 
 
 "Accountability" evokes return eighteen, 
 Or similar forms pertaining; 
 "Responsibility" demands return of me, 
 A. R. six-fifty-seven, sustaining. 
 
 He that persistently passeth the buck 
 Eventually findeth himself "out of luck" — 
 So, pass it not. 
 
 Procure me by whatever rule outlined 
 
 At the station where you've been assigned. 
 
 Request me always on three-eight-six, 
 Or you'll find yourself in a sad fix. 
 Inspect me, certify me, receipt for me. 
 On ten-sixty-six W. D. 
 
 Pay for me on three-thirty- (a) 
 
 On which two signatures must agree, 
 
 With ten-sixty-six in similarity. 
 
 Transfer me, Invoice me, likewise receive me 
 On Six hundred A. G. O. (old multiplicity). 
 
 Let but this paper your signature bear, 
 Accountable and responsible thou wilt be 
 For such as thou didst sign for — so, beware! 
 
 Lend me on four-forty-eight. 
 Of that responsibility 
 Relieved thou art 
 Which the signer doth undertake. 
 
 52 
 
Four-forty-eight, good old M. R. 
 Could we do without you? 
 Perdu ! Tonnere ! Parbleu ! 
 
 A soldier with me equip, 
 Six-thirty-seven, never skip. 
 Should he lose me, old or new, 
 Charge me on six-hundred-and-two. 
 
 Ship me on one-fifty-three, four and six 
 B/L of the Q. M. C— 
 Full five copies must agree. 
 
 If Perchance, I'm lost, strayed, stolen, 
 
 Destroyed by fire or river swollen, 
 
 Am I obsolete or of no use, 
 
 Worn out in service, not by abuse, 
 
 Survey me on one-ninety-six 
 
 Then "I. & I" me on one I. G. D. 
 
 And maybe you'll get rid of me. 
 
 Spoil me in test, use or shoot me up, 
 Six-hundred-and-one me— That's the stuff!— 
 Tis Expendability. 
 
 Drop me, take me up, find me 
 Change my name or reclassify, 
 On abstract of transfer two-seventy-five 
 Remorselessly I still survive. 
 
 Sell me on one-forty-seven 
 
 And three-twenty-two, 
 
 According to A. R.— and There you are' 
 
 Then — 
 
 When all is done, 
 My balance noted, 
 Thou shouldst remember 
 Last day of June and of December, 
 Fixed dated to me devoted 
 In red tape and proper seal 
 Return me on eighteen, remembering that 
 You must not fold me, but return me FLAT! 
 Wm. F. Mahony 
 
 Capt. Ord. Dept., U. S. A. 
 Supply Officer, Eng. Div. 
 
 53 
 
/ DON'T 
 
 My mama told me not to smoke — 
 
 I don't. 
 Nor listen to a naughty joke — 
 
 I don't. 
 They made it clear I must not wink 
 At handsome men nor even think 
 About intoxicating drink — 
 
 I don't. 
 
 To dance and flirt is very wrong — 
 
 I don't. 
 Wild girls chase men, wine and song — 
 
 I don't. 
 I kiss no boys, not even one. 
 I do not know how it is done. 
 You wouldn't think I'd have much fun- 
 
 I don't. 
 
 Answer from the Q. M. C. 
 
 BUT— I DOUBT IT 
 
 When a pair of red lips are upturned to your own, 
 
 With none to gossip about it; 
 Do you pray for endurance and — leave them alone; 
 
 Well, maybe you do— BUT— I DOUBT IT. 
 
 When a shy little hand you're permitted to seize, 
 
 With a velvety softness about it; 
 Do you think you can drop it, with never a squeeze; 
 
 Well, maybe you do— BUT— I DOUBT IT. 
 
 When a tapering waist is in reach of your arm, 
 With a wonderful plumpness about it; 
 
 Do you argue the point 'twixt the good and the harm; 
 Well, maybe you do— BUT— I DOUBT IT. 
 
 55 
 
IN THE MESS HALL 
 
 You know how it is in the Mess Hall 
 
 When Daly says "Get in line 
 Don't run — just walk — and cut that talk 
 
 This mob must learn to DINE." 
 
 You know how it is in the Mess Hall 
 When the bunch sit down to "Chow;" 
 
 It's quite a trick to be real quick; 
 You'll starve if you don't know how. 
 
 You know how it is in the Mess Hall 
 
 When Schmitty comes in to speak 
 "Attention, men" — awhile and then — 
 
 The noisy "Chow" they seek. 
 
 You know how it is in the Mess Hall, 
 
 When Schmitty lays down the law; 
 You "Besser" do what he tells you to 
 
 Or you get a pass no more. 
 
 You know how it is in the Mess Hall 
 
 On Monday "Weenie Day." 
 The doggies, hark ! I hear them bark 
 
 As they lie there in the "hay." 
 
 You know how it is in the Mess Hall 
 
 Each Saturday noon I mean — 
 The pickles, pie, and onions lie, 
 
 To say nothing of the beans. 
 
 You know kow it is in the Mess Hall 
 
 Our "Every Friday Deal." 
 Those cakes of fish — we love that dish 
 
 That IS a "Hell of a meal." 
 
 You know how it is in the Mess Hall 
 
 When you have to do K. P. 
 You wipe and wish on every dish 
 For the time when you'll be free. 
 
 Frank C. Doblin, 
 Corp., Q. M. C. 
 
 56 
 
THE END OF A PERFECT ROLL 
 
 When you come to the end of a perfect roll, 
 
 And you sit all alone with your thoughts,' 
 And you see in the bank nothing but the hole 
 
 That your trip to Washington wrought; 
 Do you think of all the "Fives " and the "Tens " 
 
 And wish for the sight once more 
 Of your vanished "Green-back" leaves you broke 
 
 When you're glad the WAR is o'er? 
 
 Well, this is the end of a Perfect Roll- 
 Near the end of a journey, too; 
 
 And it leaves a thought that is big' and strong 
 For the coin that so quickly flew. 
 
 Now memory has painted this perfect roll 
 In colors that never fade, 
 
 And we find at the end we will need that dough 
 For the bills that are still unpaid. 
 
 57 
 
THE INCOMERS 
 
 Oh, some called us the "incomers" 
 
 And they criticised our walk; 
 They criticised our manners, 
 
 Our dress and our talk. 
 And when they sallied forth to town 
 
 Upon a crowded car 
 They blamed the poor "war-worker" 
 For every extra jar. 
 
 They thought we drawled our "r" too much 
 Or not enough our "o" 
 
 And remarks like these 
 Would greet our ears 
 
 No matter where we'd go. 
 
 "Oh, it's simply something awful, since these workers came to town" 
 (My dear, don't fear, the price of rooms will never be put down.) 
 "And it's so hard to live. — And everything's so dear!" 
 (Last month, by renting my four rooms — Two hundred dollars 
 
 clear.) 
 "The shops are now so jammed — One can't get in at all ! 
 (Yes, I get fifty dollars for that room off the hall !) 
 
 And what cared we? Perhaps some time 
 
 When they have thought it o'er, 
 They'll realize that often 
 
 Our lonely hearts were sore. 
 But we just smiled, for we all had 
 
 A mighty task to do 
 And in spite of all, 'twas up to us 
 
 To stay and see it through — 
 To help the Quartermaster Corps 
 
 With our best from day to day — 
 To make the Hun respect and fear 
 
 Our good old "U. S. A." 
 
 WHILE FILLING OUT QUESTIONNAIRE 
 
 Conscript No. 680121 — "No, Captain, I can't go to 
 war — I promised my mother I'd never join the Army. " 
 
 Captain — "That's all right, young man; I'll fix that; 
 I'll make you a private on the General Staff. " 
 
 58 
 
A. W. 0. L. 
 
 Gee, but we were scared that day — 
 Surely did expect some fray. 
 When we landed — boss just smiled ; 
 Looked as if he wasn't riled — 
 Sweet as flowers in May. 
 
 Say, you ought to know our boss. 
 Telegrams? They make him cross. 
 But just give him time to cool — 
 You'll see he's no April Fool; 
 Says our absence was no loss. 
 
 Wouldn't that just get your goat 
 After we had missed the boat? 
 Excuses? Had 'em by the peck; 
 But the boss just smiled, by heck — 
 Never thought him such a sport. 
 
 You can never, never tell. 
 Why — we thought we knew him well ; 
 Thought that he with wrath had b'iled, 
 But instead of frowns — he smiled ; 
 When we thought he'd give us (deleted). 
 
 E. Hall. 
 
 WHEN GENERAL LORD COMES IN 
 
 When General Lord comes in, 
 
 It sure is a funny sight 
 To see the clerks fly to their seats 
 
 And work with all their might. 
 
 Now he's a very great person, 
 
 But it surely would make you grin 
 To take a peek all over the room 
 
 When General Lord comes in. 
 
 We clerks are all a noisy bunch, 
 
 Altho we work with a vim. 
 But silence reigns supreme 
 When General Lord comes in. 
 
 Elizabeth P. Angle, 
 
 Q. M. C. 
 
 60 
 
BE WIDE AWAKE, AMERICA! 
 
 Be wide awake, America, lapse not into repose, 
 
 That made thee but an easy prey to wiles of cunning foes ; 
 
 Remember German treachery within thine arms did creep, 
 
 And struck its poisoned fangs into thy friendly bosom deep. 
 
 That viper liveth still today, with deadly venom filled, 
 
 And on the misplaced trust of men its strength will subtly build; 
 
 It liveth in its old retreats, its spawn infests the world, 
 
 And though it may seem harmless now, to strike again 'tis curled. 
 
 Aye, even in thy nurturing breast those serpents still abide, 
 
 And in their base disloyalty they have a secret pride, 
 
 But ill concealed, awaiting till thy vigilance relax 
 
 Ere they renew upon thy life their venomous attacks. 
 
 And in the open, ranting dogs, with alien dogma crazed, 
 
 To fill our land with discontent the crimson flag have raised. 
 
 Oh, make that law-defying mob of ingrates understand 
 
 That, though he's patient, Uncle Sam can strike with iron hand. 
 
 The German heart is just as black as it has ever been, 
 
 It has no pity for distress, no sorrow for its sin; 
 
 Within that bitter heart there is no feeling of remorse, 
 
 Its sole regret is for defeat of its unholy force. 
 
 It thrilled with rapturous delight, when souls in anguish cried, 
 
 And beat with fiendish, cruel joy, when tortured victims died ; 
 
 It never knew what honor was, or burned with honest shame, 
 
 When face to face with infamy was brought the German name. 
 
 Beware of contrite attitude assumed by those who fail 
 
 To catch the meaning of their fate, save through the fist of mail, 
 
 For insolence and arrogance can never form a part 
 
 Of that true spirit, which pervades the really contrite heart. 
 
 The Hun must learn that turpitude and German arms went down 
 
 Together 'neath the force of right that wears the victors' crown, 
 
 And that the Power, who rules the world with love and justice broad, 
 
 Hath plunged into Lethean depths their strange Teutonic god. 
 
 Pernicious doctrines of the Hun, which freemen all abhor, 
 Shall not the seeds of discord sow upon Columbia's shore, 
 Nor shall a blind and servile race, by teachers false misled, 
 Impose its vicious heresies on men in Freedom bred. 
 Two million Yanks have crossed the sea to battle in strange lands, 
 And countless legions ready stand to join those valiant bands; 
 The Yankee hosts are eager still for Liberty to fight — 
 The dead shall not have died in vain, for Right is ever Right. 
 
 William L. K. Barrett, 
 1st. Lieut., Q. M. C. 
 
 62 
 
THE SOCIETY MAN "K. P." 
 
 Sitting here in the kitchen peeling a bucket of spuds 
 Wearing a dirty apron to cover my khaki duds ; 
 A hundred thousand in the bank, "Society man" that's me- 
 Just because I was late at roll-call, they gave me a week's K. P. 
 
 Sitting here in the kitchen with a slip-all over my jeans 
 Picking rock and splinters out of a barrel of beans 
 My thoughts have gone to wandering to what I used to be 
 Before I missed the Post Car, that gave me a week's K. P. 
 
 I think of the nights I have squandered, doing the barroom stunt 
 Uee what a sissy I was, what a helpless, hopeless runt • 
 Oh I was there with the girls, boys, and they called me a lady's man 
 What would they say, if they saw me now, scraping a greasy pan. 
 
 The Mess Sergeant's a slaver, he gives no man a rest ■ 
 1 he first cook s a villain, but I have the second best 
 On, sure, boys, I enlisted to march away and fight 
 But they ve got me here in the kitchen, scrubbing from morn till 
 night. 
 
 A week policing the kitchen, watching the biscuits brown 
 Me, who used to boss two thousand men around 
 I wonder what that bunch would say, if they could see me now 
 Washing up hundreds of dishes, ready for six o'clock chow. ' 
 
 Two months ago in a green-house, I held Anita's hand 
 
 I old her that I had enlisted to fight for my native land 
 
 bhe leaned her head on my shoulder; said she was proud of me 
 
 She d be proud, all right, if she saw me now, doing a week's K.P. 
 
 Dumping the slush in the swill pan, scrubbing the kitchen'floor • 
 Swabbing the slimy mush-can, until my hands are sore • - 
 a IX ?5 u {3? sn for su PP er > putting the ice in tea- 
 Archibald Percival Knutty, "Society man,"— that's me. 
 
 LORRAINE LIMERICKS 
 
 There was a young fellow from Toul 
 Who trained his mustache on a spool; 
 
 It kept out of his way, 
 
 When he drank his cafe, 
 But it made him look more of a fool. 
 
 63 
 
THE STEEN HUNDRED 
 
 Foot-sore from searches vain 
 Pet corns that creak with pain, 
 "Renting Rooms" the one refrain, 
 
 Of the "Steen Hundred." 
 Houses to the right of them, 
 Houses to the left of them, 
 Cheap rooms in none of them, 
 
 For the "Steen Hundred." 
 
 Trolleys that will not speed, 
 Ads, far from what they read, 
 Tables that do not feed, 
 
 Vex the "Steen Hundred." 
 Flight after flight of stair 
 To see rooms almost bare, 
 Heated with outside air, 
 
 Greet the "Steen Hundred." 
 
 'Phones to the right of them, 
 'Phones to the left of them, 
 Service in none of them, 
 
 Moan the "Steen Hundred." 
 Theirs not to reason why, 
 Theirs not to simply die, 
 Then pay the prices high, 
 
 Helpless "Steen Hundred. 
 
 WHAT ARE "JERKINS?" 
 (Taken from the files) 
 
 May 10th, Domestic Distribution Division to the Zone Supply 
 Officer, Boston: 
 
 "Pack for oversea shipment, 150,000 jerkins." 
 
 May 1 1th, the following telegram from the Zone Supply Officer, 
 Boston, was directed to the Director of Purchase and Storage : 
 
 "Retel tenth, How many jerkins packed to the bale." 
 
 (This telegram instead of being delivered by the mailing depart- 
 ment to the Domestic Distribution Dvision, was erroneously 
 delivered to the Subsistence Division.) 
 
 May 12th, the Subsistence Division telegraphed to the zone 
 Supply Officer, Boston : 
 
 "Retel eleventh, Jerkins is pickels. They are barreled, not 
 baled." 
 
 64 
 
^M^^^J^' ^,;-",": ":;;>;; :v 
 
 PHOTO BY HARRIS & EWING 
 
Major General George W. Goethals, U. S. Army, D.S.M., Assistant 
 Chief of Staff, Director of Purchase, Storage & Traffic 
 
THE "OUT-O -LUCKS" 
 
 O, lucky comrades, leaning on your crutch and limping by, 
 And you with empty coat-sleeve that's fastened to your breast — 
 Our hearts flame forth to greet you ; fond envy marks the eye 
 Of ev'ry mother's son of us — elated, yet depressed. 
 O, lucky comrades (chosen from our Country's volunteers 
 To free the world from thraldom, and Liberty sustain) 
 To bear the marks of sacrifice, and live thro' all your years ' — 
 While, restive, ev'ry "Out-o'-Luck "longed for his chance, in vain. 
 For you the glory and the cheers — for us the silence grim ; 
 The lowly silver stripes for us — for you the blue and gold. 
 Naught can deprive you of your meed ; no cloud your valor dim — 
 The shadowed places we must seek, when deeds of War are told. 
 O, lucky comrades, maimed and scarred, no sympathy you need : 
 There's not an "Out-o'-Luck" your place who wouldn't gladly fill. 
 The luck was yours — to us denied, and bitter is our meed; 
 So give the " Out-o'-Lucks " a smile of friendship and good will. 
 
 C. E. Graves, 
 Capt. Q. M. C. 
 THE FLU 
 
 When your back is broke and your eyes are blurred, 
 
 And your shin bones knock and your tongue is furred, 
 
 And your tonsils squeak and your hair is dry, 
 
 And you're doggone sure that you're goin' to die, 
 
 But you're skeered you won't and you're 'fraid you will — 
 
 Just drag to bed and have your chill, 
 
 And pray the Lord to see you through, 
 
 Because, dear boy, you've got the Flu. 
 
 When your toes turn up and your belt goes flat, 
 
 And you're twice as mean as a Tom Cat, 
 
 And life is long and a dismal curse, 
 
 And your food all tastes like a hard boiled hearse, 
 
 When your lattice aches and your head's a-buzz, 
 
 And nothing is as it ever was, 
 
 Here are my sad regrets to you — 
 
 You've got the Flu — boy, you've got the Flu. 
 
 What is it like, this Spanish Flu? 
 
 Ask me brothers, for I've been through; 
 
 It is but misery out of despair; 
 
 It pulls your teeth and curls your hair; 
 
 It thins your blood and breaks your bones, 
 
 And fills your craw with moans and groans ; 
 
 And sometimes maybe, you get well — 
 
 Some call it Flu — I call it H — L ! 
 
 65 
 
TILL PEACE SHALL FILL THE EARTH 
 
 When Liberty on restless wings 
 
 Found refuge in the west, 
 She planted justice, truth and love 
 
 Within Columbia's breast; 
 She dedicated to herself 
 
 This land of noble birth, 
 To serve humanity and God 
 
 Till peace shall fill the earth. 
 
 In devastated, war-cursed lands, 
 
 Loud cries of bitter woe 
 Ring o'er the deep from lips of men, 
 
 Crushed by a brutal foe. 
 Columbia, stretch thy powerful arms 
 
 Around the world's wide girth, 
 And let no perils loose thy grasp 
 
 Till peace shall fill the earth. 
 
 Arise, thou slumbering, mighty giant, 
 
 Protected by wide seas, 
 Thou wast not born to live alone 
 
 In selfish joy and ease; 
 Thy service in thy Maker's cause 
 
 Must equal thy great worth; 
 Thou shalt not rest or turn aside 
 
 Till peace shall fill the earth. 
 
 William K. L. Barrett, 
 1st. Lt., Q. M. C. 
 
 A Q. M. C. PENCIL 
 
 I know not where thou art. 
 
 I only know that thou wert on my desk 
 
 Peaceful and contented — a moment back, 
 
 And as I turned my head 
 
 Some heartless_wretch 
 
 Went South with thee ; 
 
 I know not who he was, 
 
 Nor shall I investigate. 
 
 Perchance it may have been 
 
 The guy I stole thee from. 
 
 66 
 
HIAWATHA ON THE GENERAL STAFF 
 
 Hiawatha from Dakotah, 
 Best of all the mighty hunters, 
 Got the dandruff on his Coco; 
 Doctor says "Disease contagious, 
 Fit for only special service, 
 Heap big cripple with the dandruff, 
 Never fight the dirty Boche." 
 Me, big strong man from Dakotah, 
 Join the General Staff Detachment, 
 Wallop Underwood and Woodstock, 
 Run the errands for the Major, 
 Second Loot and nifty Colonel. 
 Polish off the plate-glass desk top, 
 Get all in from heap much labor. 
 Use up all um pep in right arm, 
 Have to go to Dis-pen-sary. 
 Holy Mackerel ! Me, big tough guy, 
 Only fit for special service. 
 
 Drill three nights each week on crutches, 
 
 Like the rest of the detachment, 
 
 Do squads left, squads right and so forth, 
 
 With the famous Staff Detachment; 
 
 Just because I have the dandruff 
 
 And not fit for general service. 
 
 Drill at night and trip on cobbles, 
 
 Stumble over man in front ; 
 
 Heap big mix-up over nothing. 
 
 Air is full of heap big curses, 
 
 Drill is jazzed up all to nothing. 
 
 And me, warrior from Dakotah, 
 
 Best of all the mighty hunters, 
 
 Just because I've got the dandruff, 
 
 And not fit for general service, 
 
 I must live in Washington 
 
 In that big unconscious city, 
 
 Pride of heap big hi-yu Nation 
 
 Where a crap game is the only, 
 
 Good time that a guy can have. 
 
 So said Hiawatha, warrior, 
 From the land of the Dakotah, 
 As he stumbled broken hearted, 
 To his little room on H street. 
 
 67 
 
[Note: — Inspired by the fact that as cocoa was served for the 
 girls only, the privates were compelled to depend upon the girls for 
 their supply and were not always successful. 
 
 COCOA-IT IS 
 
 You've heard of Pneumonia, 
 
 Of Grippe and Tonsilitis. 
 But did you ever hear, 
 
 Of the disease called Cocoa-itis? 
 
 It comes from drinking cocoa, 
 
 That sweet and girlish drink, 
 Sometimes it looks like chocolate, 
 
 Sometimes it looks like ink. 
 
 We get it in the morning, 
 
 And, at recess time, 
 You can see the pretty girlies, 
 
 With their cups, they stand in line. 
 
 They sip their cup of cocoa, 
 
 So sweet and daintily, 
 Their eyes begin to sparkle, 
 
 And brighten up with glee. 
 
 They hurry to the building, 
 
 For now they're full of pep. 
 And the forced animation, 
 
 Can be noticed in their step. 
 
 And when they're in the office, 
 
 You can hear the pound, 
 Of an Underwood or Woodstock, 
 
 Played by some cocoa-hound. 
 
 Perhaps you see some girlie, 
 
 No expression on her face. 
 She seems to be so far away, 
 
 She's gazing into space. 
 
 And as you look around you, 
 
 You see some other dame, 
 Who fell asleep, poor darling, 
 
 But she is not to blame. 
 (Continued on page 70) 
 
 68 
 
So take it from me, fellows, 
 
 Lay off that cocoa stuff, 
 Stick to your pipe and cigars, 
 
 And Copenhagen Snuff. 
 
 I've met a lot of lizards, 
 
 In this old fashioned town; 
 But never let them tell you 
 
 That you're a cocoa-hound. 
 
 They cut out your appendix, 
 
 To cure appendicitis; 
 So you cut out your cocoa, 
 
 And cure your cocoa-itis. 
 
 Private H. Scharmann. 
 
 THE "BULLET PROOFERS" 
 
 Hail to the bullet proof soldiers — 
 The Quartermaster Corps ; 
 
 The fellows who stay behind the lines 
 And help to win the war. 
 
 But what would you do, you fighters 
 
 If you didn't get your pay, 
 Your clothes, or your equipment, 
 Or your three meals every day? 
 
 Somebody has to do it — 
 
 The taking care of you ; 
 And there is no glory to it, 
 
 What the Q. M. fellows do. 
 
 THE NIGHT BEFORE PAY DAY 
 
 'Twas the night before pay-day and all thru my jeans 
 I searched but in vain for the price of some beans. 
 Not a quarter was stirring — not even a jit; 
 The coin was off duty — milled edges had quit. 
 Move forward ! move forward ! oh time in your flight, 
 Make it tomorrow — just for tonight ! 
 
 70 
 
THE WAR WORKER'S LOT 
 
 I rise each morning when seven bells 
 Ring out from my alarm; 
 I wait in line to wash my face 
 With a towel upon my arm. 
 
 I stand in line to comb my hair, 
 (Of room-mates I have three) 
 
 By the time I get to breakfast, 
 There is no room for me. 
 
 I wait in line outside the door 
 
 For the second table served 
 I reach the corner just to see 
 
 My car swing round the curve. 
 
 I chase a block to catch that car 
 
 And nearly break my neck; 
 Climb through the crowd, upon the step, 
 
 And gain the upper deck. 
 
 I "step forward in the aisle, please" 
 Till I see my skip-stop stand, 
 
 But by the time I reach the door, 
 'Tis a block beyond I land. 
 
 I wait in line at our building 
 
 The tardy list to sign, 
 And I weep for that "Efficiency" 
 
 Which never can be mine. 
 
 And when the shades of night descend, 
 
 In line I say my prayers; 
 I bet some time I'll wait in line 
 
 To climb the golden stairs. 
 
 I^wait in line for a doctor, 
 
 I wait in line for a nurse 
 And I suppose if I should die of the "flu" 
 
 I'd wait in line for the hearse. 
 
 And now that the war is over 
 And the war work badly mired 
 
 They expect me to hang around here 
 And wait in line to be fired. • 
 
 71 
 
MIT KAISERISM IN HELL 
 
 Ach, Gott, vat for you do dis ting ? 
 
 I thought you understoodt 
 Dot I should run die universe, 
 
 Vile you slept soundt und goodt. 
 But now you vent und bust mein plans, 
 
 Vich I haf laidt so veil, 
 Und venn I tink die vorld is mein, 
 
 Plunge Kaiserism in hell. 
 
 I tought you gafe mein U-boats power 
 
 To sweep die vaters clean; 
 I guess you yust vas foolin' me 
 
 Mit vat dey call "Pipe dream;" 
 For many ein Fritz und Heinie lies 
 
 Beneath die ocean's swell; 
 Dere souls haf gone to be at home 
 
 Mit Kaiserism in hell. 
 
 Now yust because ve sink some ships, 
 
 Dot Unkel Sam butt in 
 Und sent his soldiers cross die sea 
 
 To stay here till dey vin. 
 I didn't tought dot dey could fight 
 
 Or face mein shot und shell, 
 But efer since you let dem come, 
 
 Poor Kaiserism's in hell. 
 
 Mein soldiers glorified mein race 
 
 Mit bloody, ruthless arts; 
 Dey hadt no honor in dere souls, 
 
 No mercy in dere hearts ; 
 To put die Hohenzollerns up, 
 
 Ein million lifes dey'd sell; 
 But now dey shove dere ruler down 
 
 Mit Kaiserism in hell. 
 
 Yes, efen mighty Hindenburg 
 
 Und udders who don't stop 
 At any kindt of deeds to put 
 
 Die Vaterland on top — 
 So long as tings vent our vay, 
 
 Dey did mein business veil — 
 Dey're trying to be anchels now, 
 
 Mit Kaiserism in hell. 
 
 72 
 
Mein dynasty is going now 
 
 Vere it can better vork, 
 Und don't need you or Austrians, 
 
 Bulgarians or Turk. 
 I've done mein tamdtest here on earth 
 
 I bid you now farevell, 
 To serve mein own, true Master dere 
 
 Mit Kaiserism in hell. 
 
 I vunder if you efer vill 
 
 Be sorry, Gott, because 
 You gafe die Hohenzollerns up 
 
 Und smashed dere iron laws. 
 I couldn't feel dot I vas wrong 
 
 Or under evil spell ; 
 So I'll forgif you, though I sink 
 
 Mit Kaiserism in hell. 
 
 November 14, 1918. 
 
 William L. K. Barrett, 
 Lieut., Q. M. C. 
 
 73 
 
A FOOL THERE WAS 
 
 A fool there was, and she got a job, even as you and I — 
 
 As a Government Clerk in Washington; 
 
 She thought the work would be lots of fun, 
 
 But she didn't realize what she had done — even as you and I . 
 
 A fool there was and her wage she spent — even as you and I. 
 
 She didn't know how, but somehow it went 
 
 For three meals a day, and carfare and rent ; 
 
 But for her clothes she had not a cent — even as you and I. 
 
 The fool moved her room on each pay-day, even as you and I. 
 
 But each landlady would always say 
 
 "For patriotism' I let you stay!" 
 
 Though marvelous prices they made her pay — even as you and I. 
 
 And so she was cheated on every side — even as you and I. 
 
 In cafes her patience was sorely tried; 
 
 From the cars she was shoved so the "darkies" could ride; 
 
 So some of her lived but the most of her died — even as you and I. 
 
 But it wasn't the fact that she spent her all, 
 That hurt like a white hot brand; 
 It was knowing the Government never would know, 
 And Washingtonians never could know and never would under- 
 stand. 
 
 "Lady Baltimore" 
 
 OUR PERSONAL FRIENDS 
 
 Truth is stranger than fiction, so do not doubt these statements. 
 
 In the "Personal Files" we find such celebrities as Marc Anthony, 
 Oliver Johnson, a King and a Queen and Charles Lamb. We even 
 have Samples and a Toy. 
 
 Nature's musicians, the Hummingbird, Finch and Crowe enter- 
 tain us with their melodious tones. 
 
 Everyone has his Up's and Down's even the O. Q. M. G. filers. 
 
 Why should we worry about tired aching feet, when a Shoemaker 
 is near and we always have our Sandels with us. 
 
 The younger members enjoy the menagerie; here we find such 
 animals as the Wolfe, Fox, Bear, Fish and Minck. 
 
 We often suffer from the cold, but there's a very good reason, we 
 have a Mrs. Shivers with us. 
 
 To make a long story short we will add a few more easy names 
 which we find in the files; Celichowski, Bjorgo, Boette, Aagaard, 
 Wiltse, Wlenklinske, Marcinkiewicz, Quggle, Kiviotkocoski, Hotz, 
 and Sheetz. 
 
 74 
 
LOST! 
 
 As I passed through the building this morning, 
 
 A though occurred to me, 
 As I glanced upon the "Bill-Board" 
 
 The words up there to see. 
 In the center and near the top of the board, 
 
 On a black field traced in white, 
 Telling the fate of some article dear 
 
 "Lost" from the owner's sight. 
 
 Lost ! A little green handbag 
 
 With a powder-puff and handkerchief or two; 
 Lost sometime, somewhere, somehow, 
 
 Please return to "Mary" or "Sue." 
 Lost, a good umbrella; 
 
 Will someone please bring it back? 
 The handle was bent and a rib was gone, 
 
 Just notify "Jim" or "Jack." 
 
 Lost, sixty golden seconds 
 
 That make a minute so dear, 
 Lost right here in the building 
 
 In room (Nineteen-five) somewhere. 
 The Captain says I ran them off, 
 While the Major says "Nay, not so, 
 I was watching you all the while, my boy, 
 
 You just sat and let them go." 
 
 Lost, a chance for promotion 
 
 By idling away the time; 
 Always leaving a few minutes early 
 
 And reporting later than nine. 
 By never obeying orders 
 
 Just as they are given to do, 
 Then trying to charge others for failure 
 
 When the guilt lies only in you. 
 
 Lost, a chance to make good in life, 
 
 By a lack of knowledge, by fear, 
 Which means you'll never have, my boy, 
 
 The things you hold so dear. 
 Lost, the chance to reach the high goal, 
 
 The aim of your life's endeavor, 
 Because you left off the things you should do, 
 
 And did the things you should never. 
 
 A. J. Goodson., Q. M. C. 
 (Alabama) 
 
 75 
 
"THAT BOMB PROOF JOB, Q. M. C." 
 
 "Mother, take down your service flag 
 
 Your boy is in the Q. M. C." 
 Tis a song composed I understand 
 
 In our homes across the sea. 
 When first I heard this war-time song 
 
 I thought it struck the note, 
 But since that time my mind has changed 
 
 And those words "get my goat." 
 
 My views were changed somewhere in France 
 
 Just where I cannot say. 
 I drive a truck for the A. E. F. 
 
 And the good old U. S. A. 
 Now all the cars, you understand, 
 
 Are run by the Q. M. C. 
 Which is the Corps that some suppose 
 
 Is safe as safe can be. 
 
 The railhead where supplies are stored, 
 
 Whence starts the auto train, 
 Is shelled or gassed most every day 
 
 By gun or aeroplane. 
 And twice the bursting shrapnel 
 
 Rained 'round about my truck 
 Both times it clearly missed me — 
 
 Thank Heaven for my luck. 
 
 Each night we're bombed by aeroplanes, 
 
 And flee to dugouts deep, 
 And many a dark and rainy night 
 
 We're wakened from our sleep. 
 We hear the Sergeant's voice ring out 
 
 In accents far from happy, 
 "Wake up you Rookie ! Autos out, 
 
 Be quick now, make it snappy." 
 
 So toward the land of "kultur," 
 
 With no lights to guide the way, 
 We splash through mud and shell hole 
 
 To prepare the coming day. 
 The thundering guns grow nearer, 
 
 And the rookies' blood runs cold, 
 As the C. O. halts the detail, 
 
 The orders to unfold. 
 
 76 
 
Soon every truck is loaded 
 
 With khakied men who know 
 That death will stare them in the face 
 
 Where they are now to go. 
 Again enroute the lines we near 
 
 The job to string barbed wire, 
 When suddenly the Boche awakes 
 
 And opens with shell fire. 
 
 The shells burst all around us 
 
 For drivers at the wheel. 
 No dugouts now for safety — 
 
 Just one plain hat of steel. 
 The thrilling sirens warn us 
 
 Piercing loud through all the noise 
 That gas adds to the pleasure 
 
 That the Q. M. C. enjoys. 
 
 We have driven day and night my friend, 
 
 Through conditions such as told, 
 And many mealless days we had 
 
 To help us face the cold. 
 We hauled supplies on every front, 
 
 And ammunition, too. 
 On roads swept by machine-gun fire, 
 
 But the Q. M. C. went through. 
 
 Our hats are off to the Infantry, 
 
 Artillery, and the rest, 
 That make the U. S. Army 
 
 The bravest and the best. 
 They say our boys will cross the Rhine. 
 
 That fact is plain to me. 
 But last to cross the river wide 
 
 Won't be the Q. M. C. 
 
 We may be non-combatants 
 
 Or bomb-proof, just as well, 
 But if I am blown to pieces, 
 
 Or plainer words, to "Hell" 
 Look up the man who wrote this 
 
 And tell him this for me : 
 "Mother, keep up your service flag, 
 
 For your son's in the Q. M. C." 
 
 Sergeant Cote. 
 
 A. E. F. 
 
 77 
 
SONG OF THE FILES 
 
 There's a brook in Merry England, 
 
 That bickers down a valley, 
 And does a lot of turns and things, 
 
 And many a sudden sally; 
 But it couldbicker on a million years, 
 
 And just as many miles, 
 And then turn green with envy 
 
 At the story of the files. 
 
 Tennyson was a wise old guy, 
 
 And more than passing clever, 
 But he only had a faint idea 
 
 Of things going on forever; 
 For clerks may come, and clerks may go, 
 
 But filing never ceases, 
 And a clerk should be an Amazon, 
 
 Or is it a Nemesis ? 
 
 Limbs may ache, and backs may break, 
 
 And feet grow tired and weary, 
 Arms get weak, and necks get stiff, 
 
 And eyes grow dim and teary ; 
 But on and on, forever on 
 
 Just like the babbling bickerr, 
 And all the while the stacks to file 
 
 Are getting thick and thicker. 
 
 When Gabriel blows his horn of doom 
 
 To wake the silent sleepers, 
 And all the earth around about 
 
 Is filled with anguished weepers; 
 The file clerks of the Q. M. C. 
 
 Will be on hand and smiling, 
 For if records are kept in heaven, 
 
 They'll get the job of filing. 
 
 Edith Fulton, (Files Section) 
 
 Requisitions Division. 
 
 79 
 
A WAIL FROM NINETEENTH AND "B" 
 
 Today I got a letter from my "Buddy" over there, 
 
 And the things that I read in it would fairly raise your hair. 
 
 He's a "Looey" with the "Heavies," and he sure has seen some war, 
 
 Fightin' straight for thirty days, and he's a-lookin' for some more. 
 
 Thirty days without a let-up, fightin' — movin' — on the run, 
 
 Thirty days without his clothes off, thirty days behind his gun. 
 
 Not complainin' — says he's happy, sleepin' eight feet in the ground, 
 'Leven fellows share his dug-out, so there's comp'ny all around. 
 But, with all my "Buddy's" scraps, he hasn't got a thing on me — 
 I'm a veteran of the combat fought at Nineteenth Street and B. 
 Talk of battles! Boy! I've had 'em, battles dense with smoke 
 
 and gore, ' 
 Fought as only man can fight to keep the old wolf from the door. 
 
 Gas attacks? I've had a dozen, they don't scare me any more — 
 I've survived the jitney "Cremo's" of contractors by the score. 
 I've been trampled, cursed, and wounded by the enemy at dark 
 As I've tried to board a trolley from this old Potomac Park; 
 And as for mass formation, I deserve the Croix de Guerre, 
 The soup line at our lunch room's where they teach it, I declare. 
 
 Oh, my "Buddy" with his dug-out has his troubles, I opine, 
 But the "third floor back" I share with six is not so gosh darn fine. 
 Our machine guns are all Underwoods, they tattoo all the day, 
 A nerve-destroying drumming that awakes me from my hay; 
 And when I rise at dawn again, I wish that I were dead, 
 This war in Washington is all that Old Man Sherman said. 
 
 L. G. P. 
 
 LUCK AND PLUCK 
 
 Who talks of "Luck"?— 
 Tis HE, with PLUCK, 
 Who plucks the luck, that's lucky. 
 The duffer ducks — 
 The plugger plucks: 
 And Luck comes to the plucky. 
 
 C. E. Graves, 
 Capt. Q. M. C. 
 
 80 
 
SALUTE 
 
 Another song for the brave old flag, 
 
 As full-staff-high it flies 
 Whether a shot-torn, smoke-grimed rag 
 
 Or bright as the wintry skies. 
 
 We watched from the slips as the transport ships 
 
 Come plunging through the foam, 
 And mothers and dads hail the glorious lads 
 
 That bring the old flag home. 
 
 They bore it away in the morn's dim light, 
 
 With never a good-bye cheer, 
 For they stole to sea like a thief in the night 
 
 Lest the Hun of their course should hear. 
 
 But now in the breeze o'er the ransomed seas 
 
 The proud ships make their track, 
 And the sirens sing and the great bells ring 
 
 As they bring the old flag back. 
 
 There are stripes more red where our heroes bled; 
 
 Their memory gilds the stars; 
 But thanks we give for the lads that live 
 
 For the "doughboys" and the tars. 
 
 Oh, let them brag of their well served flag 
 
 Wherever their glad feet roam! 
 And let none be mute in the high salute 
 
 As they bring "Old Glory" home. 
 
 War Worker — (calling up Casualty Section) — "Have 
 you any official casualty report on Harry Warren of the 
 331st?" 
 
 Casualty (sympathetically) : — "Why, yes, our records 
 show he was blown up by a mine on November 15th, 
 killed on December 8th and died on December 12th." 
 
 War Worker: — "Oh, thank you so much. Do you 
 suppose he'll be back by Christmas time?" 
 
 L. M. Esch. 
 
 81 
 
"AFTER THE BALL' 
 
 Things ain't what they used to be — 
 
 Changes ev'ry day ; 
 People movin', others leavin' — 
 
 Taint nice this-a-way. 
 
 Just get so you like someone — 
 
 Know him a wee bit — 
 Then he gets the movin' bug, 
 
 Up and packs his kit. 
 
 Things ain't what they used to be, 
 
 Interest's on the wane, 
 People are a-losin' pep — 
 
 Days are dreadful tame. 
 
 Course we're glad the war has stopt — 
 
 Glad that peace has come ; 
 But the spirit ought to live 
 
 In war work at home. 
 
 Things ain't what they used to be — 
 
 Everything's so slow; 
 Lots of work, but not much vim — 
 
 Monotonous, you know. 
 
 Gee, we wish that something great 
 
 Would happen right away; 
 Make things move with the old hum, 
 And hustle of last May. 
 
 Bernice Patterson, 
 
 Washington, D. C. 
 
 JOKE ON A Q. M. IN FRANCE 
 
 A Near Geo. Washington 
 
 A private of the Q. M. C. located somewhere in France 
 with a few of his comrades had been granted four days 
 leave, and as usual, wired for extension. But no hack- 
 neyed excuse was his, only the plain unvarnished truth. 
 It ran as follows: 
 
 "Nobody dead, nobody ill; still going strong, having 
 good time, and got plenty of money. Please grant 
 extension." 
 
 Needless to say he got it. 
 
 82 
 
IF! 
 
 If you can sit still while all about you 
 Are working hard and not thinking much of you 
 
 If you can return their looks askance, too, 
 
 If you have no work, but look as if you're working, 
 
 Or writing letters, don't fill the letters with lies; 
 Or studying faces, don't give way to studying 
 
 And look alive, to fool some guys. 
 
 If you can exist and not make your landlady your master 
 
 If you can eat and not make indigestion your aim, 
 If you can meet your bills without disaster, 
 
 And get "trust" from profiteers just the same, 
 If you can bear to see the clothes you've set your soul on 
 
 Torn by laundresses and burned by some fool, 
 Or have the things you'd give your life for, stolen, 
 
 And let it go as the exception, not the rule. 
 
 If you can save enough of your earnings, 
 
 To buy some shoes you've needed all the year, 
 Just forget a lot of other yearnings, 
 
 You have for frills that cost too dear. 
 If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew 
 
 To pass up things that used to be 
 And so just prove what kind of stuff is in you 
 
 Although the price is greater than the fee. 
 
 If you can fight through crowds and keep your virtue 
 
 Or be alone, yet keep your spirits up, 
 If neither words, nor slighting looks can hurt you, 
 
 If you don't care what 'tis that fills your cup, 
 If you can fill the after-dinner minutes 
 
 With dance, and song in one mad whirl 
 Yours is Washington, and everything that's in it, 
 
 And what is more — you'll be a war worker, my girl. 
 
 IF! IF!! 
 
 If you can hold your head up while the others 
 
 Are drooping theirs from marches and fatigue; 
 If you can drill in dust that clouds and smothers, 
 
 And still be fit to hike another league; 
 If you can stand the greasy food and dishes, 
 
 The long black night, the lonesome road, the blues; 
 If you can choke back all the gloomy wishes 
 
 For home, that seem to spring right from your shoes ; 
 
 84 
 
If you can laugh at sick call and the pill boys, 
 
 When all the other lads are checking in; 
 If you can kid and jolly all the killjoys, 
 
 Whose faces long ago forgot to grin; 
 If at parade you stand fast at attention, 
 
 When every muscle shrieks aloud with pain; 
 If you can grin and snicker at the mention 
 
 Of some bone play connected with your name; 
 If you succeed to keep your knees from knocking, 
 
 At the thoughts of all the bullets you may stop , 
 If you can do these things and really like 'em, 
 
 You'll be a reg'lar soldier yet, old top! 
 
 IF! IF!! IF!!! 
 If you can be a government clerk 
 
 And keep a pleasant face, 
 If you can do the petty tasks 
 
 You find in every place — 
 If you can keep on smiling 
 
 Thru all the long routine 
 And never lose your kindly tone 
 
 And keep a look serene — 
 If you relieve monotony 
 
 By patient, faithful work, 
 And try to be what you are not — 
 
 Because you will not shirk, — 
 If you can act so busy 
 
 That people think you're rushed 
 And never lose a minute's time, 
 
 But just pretend you're pushed — 
 If you can sit at your wee desk 
 
 All day — and keep quite mum, 
 And then be sweet at evening time 
 
 To your room-mate or your chum, — 
 Then you're a hero, sure enough 
 
 You'll wear a crown of gold, 
 You'll reap a harvest rich and rare, 
 
 For patience pays ten-fold. 
 But — if you like this sort of life, 
 
 If you enjoy its pace; 
 Ah, me! You're lost I truly fear, — 
 
 You'd better change your place. 
 
 Bernice Patterson, 
 
 Q. M. C. 
 
 85 
 
AIN'T IT A GLORIOUS FEELING? 
 
 Ain't it a glorious feelin' 
 
 When you've made a special date, 
 But in spite of all your tryin' 
 
 You are half an hour late, 
 And you worry and you hustle, 
 
 Till you think you sure will burst 
 And you find on your arrival 
 
 You're the one who got there first? 
 
 Ain't it a glorious feelin' 
 
 When you meet a jolly friend, 
 And your conscience quick reminds you 
 
 That it is your turn to spend 
 Cash enough to buy his dinner, 
 
 But you hear the fellow say, 
 As he slaps you on the shoulder, 
 
 "Bill, the feed's on me to-day." 
 
 Ain't it a glorious feelin' 
 
 When you've won a maiden's heart, 
 And you've got to ask her father, 
 
 And you hate to do the part 
 'Cause the old man looks so solemn, 
 
 And your heart feels like a ton, 
 Till he grasps your trembling fingers 
 
 As he says, "God bless you, son." 
 
 TO THE SOUTH WINDS 
 
 Oh, winds that are so dear to me 
 
 Oh, winds a-roving down the lea, 
 
 I hear your voice just as of old 
 
 And my heart's joy could not be told 
 
 If I could come just for to-day 
 
 And rove with you the same old way 
 
 O'er sunny meads, by sparkling streams — 
 
 Away — away, to lands of dreams — 
 
 And yet my heart still sad must be 
 
 I'm working in the Q. M. C. 
 
 Amy M. Longest, 
 Q. M. C. 
 
 86 
 
WHEN YOU JOIN THE Q. M. C. 
 (Dedicated to the Q. M. C. "boys," Fort Sam Houston) 
 
 When a decent, well-raised human, who has been "brought up" 
 
 somewhere 
 And had known the benediction of a loving mother's prayer — 
 Seeks a Government position where it's "soft" as it can be, 
 Let him make investigation ere he joins the Q. M. C. 
 You may be a fine bookkeeper, an expert stenographer, 
 Take the swiftest of dictations, and typewrite two thousand per ; 
 You may think you're up on business — know the game from A to Z, 
 But you'll find you don't 'know nothing" when you join the 
 
 Q. M. C. " 
 
 Departmental work is different from the work you used to do, 
 Ev'ry bloomin' thing's a puzzle, ev'ry form is new to you ; 
 Business letters have no "Dear Sir" — no "Yours truly" at the end — 
 Are so very stiff and formal that the paper'll hardly bend. 
 And the cold abbreviations of the Government you'll see- 
 S. S. T., F. Y., and so forth; O. D. Q. M. and S. D. ; 
 Hos., Amb., Eng., S. C., F. A. C., C. A. C — they stand arrayed, 
 
 Till you think the whole d n alphabet is out on dress parade i 
 
 M. G. Tp., 1st Bn. 3d; Co. A of 1st; 3d Sq. of Cav., 
 Till you feel that your gray matter is a hopeless mass of salve; 
 That you've struck a Chinese puzzle which upsets your very spleen, 
 For two seconds after writing them you don't know what they mean] 
 You'll get tangled up on "Leases," "Contract Forms" will make 
 
 you whine, 
 "Forage Abstracts" simply tie a double bow-knot in your spine! 
 You'll make blunders, and more blunders — all too numerous to tell, 
 Till you're half inclined to let the blasted job go straight to — well] 
 There's no earthly use in swearing, but I want to say to you 
 (In parentheses, and softly), that the air is often blue, 
 For the Q. M. Clerk at "cussing" has acquired eternal fame; 
 He can make a canal driver blush with everlasting shame ! 
 
 But no matter. Toil with patience, letting naught your progress 
 block, 
 
 Do your work by a speedometer, and never by a clock; 
 
 Grit your teeth and say you'll do it — solve the problem, get it right, 
 
 And remember, there's no victory without a determined fight. 
 
 REFLECTION: 
 I can see no first-class reason why Q. M. Clerks fill the air 
 With anathemas — / never (that is, seldom ever) swear ; 
 But I want to say in passing — and I trust you'll pardon me — 
 That you'll strike some damn'd good fellows when you join the 
 
 "■ M- ^" James Courtney Challiss, ( 
 
 One if the "Blunderers'' 
 87 
 
THE WAR WORKERS' CHRISTMAS 
 
 Our clothes are rather shabby; 
 
 We really want some new, 
 But we couldn't pay installments 
 
 On our bonds and buy clothes, too. 
 
 One might get a pretty shirt waist, 
 
 Quite a good one, for a five; 
 But then the only spare bills 
 
 Went to help the war work drive. 
 
 Coats our friends admired as stylish 
 
 In the days before the war 
 Still protect us from the weather — 
 
 Isn't that what coats are for? 
 
 Our skirts are sadly shiny 
 
 Where they press the office chair, 
 
 But they're better than the tatters 
 That the poor Armenians wear. 
 
 Last year's hats are somewhat faded; 
 
 Brims are dragging, feathers droop, 
 But the price of many a new one 
 
 Went to buy the Belgians soup. 
 
 Used to pride ourselves on being 
 Neatly gloved and shod, but then — 
 
 Cigarettes were quite expensive 
 That we sent to soldier men. 
 
 For the dainty georgette collar, 
 
 And the other little frills, 
 We must wait till we get thrift stamps 
 
 For the book that slowly fills. 
 
 There were plans that we had cherished, 
 And we might have put them through 
 
 With success and satisfaction 
 If we hadn't had the "flu." 
 
 Just a little Christmas shopping 
 
 Very modestly we planned, 
 Then the Red Cross "Heart and Dollar" 
 
 Rang its summons through the land. 
 
When we celebrated Christmas 
 
 At a merry yuletide dance 
 We longed for new kid slippers, 
 
 But we bought "Free milk for France. 
 
 Never mind the coat outdated, 
 Nor the old, moth-eaten muff; 
 
 Our boys came home victorious, 
 And isn't that enough? 
 
 SILVER STRIPES AND STRIPES OF GOLD 
 
 Dear! I must be growing old, 
 Silver threads that once were gold 
 Shine upon my brow of care — 
 I was not sent "over there." 
 
 Uncle Sam said I must stay 
 Here to work as best I may, 
 Tho' I wanted much to go 
 Over there to meet the foe. 
 
 Glory was denied to me 
 
 On battle front, on land or sea ; 
 
 Duty's call I must obey, 
 
 Of dull routine from day to day. 
 
 Silver stripes adorn my sleeve, 
 That is why my heart doth grieve; 
 Golden stripes for "over there" 
 I shall never, never wear! 
 
 Do not think that I complain 
 When you hear this sad refrain: 
 Golden stripes as you'll surmise 
 Were not won without "Supplies." 
 
 Silver stripes, or stripes of gold, 
 
 What a story they unfold, — 
 
 But you'll find, when I go home, 
 
 Silver threads upon my "dome!" 
 
 A. G. Marsden, 
 Copyright 1919 by the Author 1st Lieut., Signal Corps. 
 
 Washington, D. C. 
 
 89 
 
I WANT TO KNOW 
 
 Do ships have eyes when they go to (sea) ? 
 
 Are there springs in the ocean's (bed) ? 
 Does Jolly Tar flow from a (tree) ? 
 
 Can a river lose its (head) ? 
 
 Are fishes crazy when they go (in seine) ? 
 
 Can an old hen sing her (lay) ? 
 Can you bring relief to a window (pane) ? 
 
 Or mend a (break) of day? 
 
 What kind of vegetable is a policeman's (beat) ? 
 
 Is a newspaper white when it's (read) ? 
 Is a baker broke when he's making (dough) ? 
 
 Is an undertaker's business (dead) ? 
 
 Would a wall paper store make a good hotel 
 
 Because of its (borders) there? 
 Would you paint a rabbit on a bald man's head? 
 
 Just to give him a little (hare) ? 
 
 If you ate a (square) meal would the corners hurt? 
 
 Can you dig with the ace of (spades) ? 
 Would you throw a rope to a drowning lemon? 
 Just to give a (lemonade)? 
 
 By Helen A. Linscott, Q. M. C. 
 
 Fort Sam Houston, Texas. 
 
 THE QUESTION 
 1919 
 
 Now that we don't have to move any more (?) 
 Now that the Germans no longer are sore ( ?) 
 Now that rooms can be had for a song ( ?) 
 Now that the Kaiser admits he was wrong (?) 
 Now that the high-cost-of-living has dropped ( ?) 
 Now that the sale of old booze has been stopped ( ?) 
 Now that good board costs three per week ( ?) 
 Now that Bill Bryan refuses to speak (?) 
 
 The Question that's sending me almost dippy 
 
 Is, who in the devil is Bolsheviki? 
 
 John W. Bruce, 
 C. & 
 
 91 
 
A TRAGEDY OF THE WAR 
 
 A man there was of talents rare, and capable beyond compare, 
 an expert at the finance game, accounting was his middle name, a 
 "P. A." duly certified, and figures were his joy and pride. 
 
 So, when the country went to war, he smelled the smoke afar, 
 and mindful of his country's weal, inspired by patriotic zeal, he 
 sacrificed a good position, and blossomed out with a commission 
 as Captain in the Q. M. C, as pert and nifty as could be. 
 
 The army's urgent need, thought he, is keen and active men like 
 me; I'll show this Quartermaster Corps, some tricks they never 
 knew before. Their standards I will elevate, and bring their 
 methods up to date; I'll be to them a shining light, and show them 
 how to do things right. 
 
 He studied up a month or so, to learn where each report should 
 go, and oft regaled his eyes with charts of most prodigious size, by 
 which he was supposed to trace each paper to its proper place; he 
 followed up each square line (much like stockyards in design). At 
 length he grasped with fine precision, each branch and section and 
 division; he learned to pierce the darksome haze, and penetrate the 
 mystic maze, through which no common eye could see, that girdled 
 round the "Q. M. C." 
 
 It grieved his systematic mind, quite unexpectedly to find, 
 through some inscrutable mishap, the Q. M. C. wiped off the map ; 
 of all authority bereft, and practically nothing left, under this new 
 made set of rules, except, the graveyards and the mules. This was 
 a rude and startling jolt, for an officer just taking holt; but our new- 
 made Captain still- was game, like all who would aspire to fame. He 
 fixed his papers up in style, a huge and formidable pile, about the 
 size of a bale of hay, and mailed them merrily away; and as the 
 time went slowly by — month by month with no reply, he fell into 
 complacent mood, quite satisfied that he'd made good; he grew 
 conceited in his ways, and threw himself a few bouquets; he told 
 himself in manner breezy, "This Quartermaster game is easy," 
 "such crude accounting work is pie, for such an able man as I." 
 
 But oh ! the shock this man received, and oh ! how deeply he was 
 peeved, when he received a letter back, as pointed as a carpet tack ; 
 all his accounting scientific, was treated in a way terrific; it men- 
 tioned documents galore, he'd never heard about before; and 
 Bulletins of 1907, and Notice 7-come-ll, and circulars of ancient 
 date, and G. O's. fierce to contemplate; and divers other publica- 
 tions that added to his tribulations; the "List of Differences" took 
 as long to read as Chinese book; but the longest-winded kick of all, 
 on "Form 150" seemed to fall. This form whatever its intent, has 
 caused some sulphurous comment. No living man, however bright 
 
 92 
 
has ever made it half way right. But when this letter courtly 
 ended, by marking his account "suspended," for just about a half 
 a million, he wished he were a mere civilian. 
 
 While this experience was bitter, he didn't like to be a quitter; 
 and so with somewhat saddened heart, the Captain made another 
 start. He squandered barrels of midnight oil, in unremunerative 
 toil. Each line and paragraph obscure, he read with patience slow 
 and sure; though still he entertained some doubt, on what-the-hell 
 'twas all about; and in his mind the doubt still grew, for the more 
 he read the less he knew. When he arrived at one conclusion, he 
 often found, to his confusion, some later data on the point that 
 knocked his findings out of joint, and what he gained from all this 
 dope was waste of time and loss of hope. Defeat at last he must 
 admit, so he threw up his hands and quit. 
 
 When he had worked along to this, one cylinder began to miss ; 
 his mental equipoise had fled, and something slipped inside his 
 head; his mind no longer seemed so clear, and his remarks got 
 rather queer. His temper then became erratic; in fact, the bats 
 got in his attic. He fell into a mournful rut, and ever since, he's 
 been a nut. Yep, Dippy! 
 
 I saw his guard the other day, and this is what he had to say: 
 "This guy's the most peculiar case we've ever handled in the place; 
 for days and days, he's pretty fair, then he goes straight up in the 
 air, and cuts up most fantastic capers at merest sight of certain 
 papers. His worst vexation seems to be a "Form 150, Q. M. C." 
 He writes it full of names and places, then looks it over and erases ; 
 but as he works, his ire increases — he ends by tearing it to pieces. 
 He shows the utmost apprehension, if he but hears the word 
 "suspension," and starts all kinds of funny ructions at mention of 
 the word "deductions." He swears with weird ejaculations, if 
 someone says "appropriations;" and if he hears "allotment" said, 
 this guy will crawl behind the bed; and "mileage" — say — don't 
 mention it, or he will likely throw a fit." 
 
 If the Army makes a man like that, I 'm glad I stayed where I was 
 at. In time, perhaps he may get well, but I still claim that War is 
 Hell. 
 
 J. McG. 
 
 93 
 
THE Q. M. C. SWIVEL-CHAIR SOLDIER 
 
 Over the top with a morning report 
 
 A bottle of ink and a pen 
 For some of us fellows can't shoulder a gun 
 
 And fight like real soldier men. 
 
 We've never a chance to fight the foe 
 And take a whack at the Hun, 
 
 Never a chance to charge a trench 
 And make the Germans run. 
 
 For somebody has to stay behind, 
 Three thousand miles or more, 
 Where bullets never go whistling by 
 And the big guns never roar. 
 
 Someone must sit behind a desk 
 Heaped high with stacks and piles 
 
 Of guard reports and rations returns 
 Pay rolls and document files. 
 
 Someone must keep the mess account 
 
 And see that the army is fed 
 Someone must keep the council book 
 
 Someone must work with his head. 
 
 Someone must keep the record books 
 And see that the muster's right 
 
 Someone must sit in an office chair 
 While others get out and fight. 
 
 Some must get all covered with gore, 
 And others all covered with ink; 
 
 Some are soldiers, and others are clerks 
 So the civilians all think. 
 
 So, over the top with the morning report, 
 
 A bottle of ink and a pen, 
 For some of us fellows can't shoulder a gun 
 
 And fight like real soldier men. 
 
 -pfciVPfre eraser/ 
 
 DOING- MANUAL- 1 
 OF ARM& ! 
 
 94 
 
THE LAST PARADE 
 
 I've dug a million trenches and cleared ten miles of ground, 
 And meaner jobs than I' ve performed — my boy, they can't be found. 
 I've washed a million mess kits and peeled a million spuds, 
 I've rolled a million blankets and washed a million duds. 
 And the number of parades I've made, I ain't a-going to tell, 
 But I'll do my bit in heaven as I've done my hitch in hell. 
 When the final taps are sounded and I lay aside my cares, 
 To my last parade a-climbing I'll climb the golden stairs. 
 When the angels greet my howdy and the harps begin to play, 
 I'll draw a million canteen checks to pass the time away. 
 
 Lieut. Andrew Veenstra, 
 Detachment Commander, Q. M. C, 
 
 Camp Meade, Md. 
 
 THAT SCHAUFFLER QUESTIONNAIRE 
 
 Where did you come from Baby dear? 
 "From Minnesota — Way out here." 
 Where did you get that skirt so tight? 
 "Made two out of one — sewed all night." 
 
 Where did you get that curly hair? 
 "Oh, it's natural — to that I swear. 
 At least it was when I was real small ; 
 I now use electrics — or it won't curl at all." 
 
 Where did you get that dimpled chin? 
 "By using my thumb nail — poking it in." 
 Where did you get those heels of state? 
 "At Cohen & Bentz's — four ninety-eight." 
 
 And about your color — what is that from? 
 "Ma's fruit coloring and powdering some!" 
 Where did you get those hands so white? 
 "Soaked 'em in buttermilk over night." 
 
 And now you are here — what can you do? 
 "Just anything you ask me to." 
 And have you as yet engaged your room? 
 "No — if I can't, I will sleep in a tomb." 
 
 Where's your appointment — where' 11 you work? 
 "At 19th and B, as a filing clerk." 
 I suppose you came from patriotism? 
 "Partly for money to cure Pa's rheumatism." 
 
 95 
 

PHOTO BY HARRIS & EW1NG 
 
Major General George W. Burr, U. S. Army, Assistant Chief of Staff, 
 Director Purchase, Storage & Traffic 
 
PASSING THE BUCK 
 A National Pastime 
 
 PASSING THE BUCK is a game in which a piece of work, a 
 duty or any other disagreeable thing is passed from one officer or 
 employee to another in such a manner that the smallest possible 
 portion of the work or duty is accomplished, and the identity of the 
 person whose duty it is to do it is hidden from the person interested 
 in having it done. The variations and the possibilities of the game 
 are limited only by the size of the organization in which it is played, 
 and by the initiative and the skill of the players. Its pinnacle of 
 refinement is reached when the player will work harder to pass the 
 buck than would be necessary to perform the task itself. 
 
 The claim often advanced by American enthusiasts that the 
 game originated in the United States is not founded on fact. The 
 game is as old as history, and as wide-spread as geography. It is 
 a certainty that Pontius Pilate found it a pleasant as well as con- 
 venient pastime, and there is reason to believe that it was not un- 
 known to the ancients. It is stated by some authorities that Adam 
 started it. Others say that Adam's game was too shoddy to be 
 worth the name. Wherever and whenever it originated, its devel- 
 opment and perfection in the United States has made it, to all 
 intents and purposes, an American game, as inseparable as Ameri- 
 can chewing gum itself. Introduced into America in early Colonial 
 times, the game won immediate and lasting popularity among all 
 classes, but its greatest impetus came from its semi-official adoption 
 in Government circles as the National Indoor Sport. Its growth 
 has been as steady and as rapid as the increase in population, 
 except in the District of Columbia, where the population hasn't 
 been able to keep up. In no other country in the world is the 
 game played by so many people or with such great skill and daring. 
 
 Army Regulations and the Quartermaster's Manual are the two 
 principal rule books of the game. A careful study of them will give 
 the beginner a fairly good understanding of the fascinating sport. 
 Besides these there are numerous forms used in the game, but most 
 of which have never been printed . New rules are being made every 
 day to comply with the new duties and labors that come with the 
 war. The official umpires are the Auditor for the War Department 
 and the Comptroller of the Treasury. They are seldom appealed 
 to except to umpire big league games, but their services are available 
 to all players, from the newest beginner to the most skilled. Noth- 
 ing is too trivial for their attention. They sometimes volunteer 
 information that hasn't been asked for. In order to preserve the 
 integrity of the game, there is no appeal from the Comptroller's 
 rulings. It was the Comptroller's proficiency in the game that 
 
 97 
 
gave him the right to spell controller with an "M" and a "P." 
 This spelling also serves to distinguish him from a controller in the 
 ordinary sense of the word. The "Comptroller" controls in a 
 negative sense, much as an inexperienced chauffeur might control an 
 automobile by shutting off the gasoline. 
 
 It is impossible to give, in this short space, anything like a com- 
 plete description of the game, or even a comprehensive summary 
 of the rules. There are, however, certain general principles and 
 a few rules that must be observed in counting points, and which 
 may be profitably mentioned here. 
 
 First of all, the new employees should bear well in mind that 
 rendering services to the public, or trying in any way to please it, 
 is not a part of the game. New employees entering the service 
 from civil life often bring with them a fund of enthusiasm of this 
 nature that is difficult to control. This enthusiasm takes the form 
 of an insane desire on their part to make themselves useful and 
 aggreeable to the general public with which they come into contact, 
 and to their fellow employees. This is a thing that must be studi- 
 ously avoided. Its harmful effects are three-fold. It counts 
 against the player and it stores up trouble for the new player against 
 the time when constant floundering in the meshes of red tape will 
 have choked from him the last gasp of whatever splendid enthus- 
 iasms he may once have had. 
 
 A few samples of the methods of counting points are given here 
 to show the beginner the general scheme. There are many others ; 
 and new ones can be invented at any time, so long as they do not 
 interfere with the general purpose. 
 
 If an officer or employee to whom work is given passes it on to 
 another and the other does the work, that counts plus one for the 
 first man, and minus one for the second. If, though the second man 
 man passes it on to the third, and third man does the work, that 
 counts plus 2 for the first, plus 2 for the second and minus 4 for the 
 third. If the work goes on to a fourth man before being done, and 
 the fourth man does it, that counts plus 3 for the first three men, 
 and minus nine for the fourth. This progression continues indefi- 
 nitely and the game when so played is called "Passing the Buck," 
 Simple and Direct. It is the game's simplest form, and is espe- 
 cially recommended to the beginner for teaching him the value of 
 team work. 
 
 Suppose now that the fourth man doesn't do the work, but passes 
 it back to the third, and the third man is forced to do it. The fourth 
 man gets plus 6 and the third man minus 6. The first two players 
 get the same as though the third man had done it in the first place. 
 If the fourth man makes the work go back to the first man, through 
 the third and second, and the first man is forced to do the work, 
 
 98 
 
that counts eighteen for the fourth man and minus six for each of 
 the other three. 
 
 When there are ten or more players in the game, and the "Buck" 
 is passed to each by each, in turn, until it makes a complete circle, 
 and then is thrown aside without any actual work having been ac- 
 complished, a perfect score is said to have been made, and every 
 body gets a hundred. 
 
 Although there are many notable cases of new players having 
 been conspicuously successful from the start, the finished players 
 are, for the most part, men who have been long in the service and 
 grown up with the game. The present generation owes them a 
 great deal. The skill of some of them is such that they count per- 
 fect scores by dozens, and even by hundreds. It is said that the man 
 who compiled the Quartermaster Manual was voted a Life Cham- 
 pionship certificate, and then permanently disqualified for further 
 competition in amateur games on the grounds that he had become 
 professional. It was feared that if he continued to compete in 
 amateur games his phenomenal success might discourage other 
 players from putting forth their best efforts. This would cause a 
 lagging of interest that might bring about the death of the game 
 and drag Government work down to the level of ordinary business 
 procedure. 
 
 The beginner should not allow himself to be discouraged by his 
 own clumsiness for the first few weeks, or by the amazing skill of 
 older players. Unless his fore-fathers have been Government 
 employees or master plumbers, it is very likely that he will lose 
 heavily at first. A new player is often made the victim of concerted 
 action to wipe out some of their minus scores. Let the new player 
 sit tight, do as little as possible, study the game and watch his 
 chance. If he is made of the right stuff he will soon have nothing 
 more to learn. Finally it should be remembered that the first rule 
 is that the "BUCK" is always "passed down" but never "up." — 
 Selected. 
 
 99 
 
COMPENSATION 
 
 And the. pkizcs we«£ 
 
 O IS T/?_/e U TE.D 
 
PEN VS. SWORD 
 
 Welcome Hone 
 
 HOW A MAJOR 
 fiHO 0-0-OH 
 LOOK 
 
 &<?rr 
 
 
 103 
 
"SMITH" 
 By Charles H. Stuart 
 
 My first days as a temporary Government official were easy. 
 A preliminary examination of my room showed me that there were 
 two metal trays on my table, one labelled "IN" and the other 
 "OUT." From time to time a particularly charming chicken 
 would bring in a batch of papers and place them in the "IN" tray. 
 It was evidently up to me to transfer them to the "OUT" tray. 
 My young friend would then return with a happy smile and take 
 them away. 
 
 I gathered that in the intervals of this simple and innocent pas- 
 time I was expected to glance through these papers. But I found 
 no difficulty in this. I noticed that in every case my name was 
 written on them, sometimes with such words as "For your infor- 
 mation" or "For your action to deal with." A good many were 
 quite incomprehensible to me. But I marked them all "Noted," 
 neatly adding my signature and the date. 
 
 In this way several days passed — days of innocence and happy 
 usefulness. And then the blow fell. 
 
 I suddenly realized that, in spite of my continual transfer of 
 matter to the "OUT" tray, the pile in the "IN" tray never became 
 less, but actually increased in size. I determined to solve this 
 mystery. 
 
 What was my horror when I discovered that, not only were there 
 heaps of fresh papers in the pile, but that the papers I had duly 
 marked "NOTED" and sent away were back again in that over- 
 burdened tray. 
 
 It was a blow. I had thought myself to be doing so well; I had 
 dreamed of success; of a distinguished bureaucratic career, of 
 praise and promotion and perhaps even the D. S. M. And now — 
 
 The chicken must have played me false. I had thought her a 
 sweet helpmate, a charming co-worker, whereas she now appeared 
 in a much darker guise. What fell purpose lay behind the sinister 
 reappearance of these documents? What mysterious influence 
 was undoing all my work? 
 
 For days the thing worried me. I could not eat. I could not 
 sleep. Even the hourly coca-cola failed to cheer me. 
 
 And all the time, steadily, relentlessly as Fate, that ghastly pile 
 in the "IN" tray increased in size, fed unceasingly by the smiling 
 chicken. 
 
 At length, I could bear it no longer. I determined to inquire 
 and find out the worst. I dared not speak to the chicken. She 
 
 104 
 
looked so young and happy. Perhaps after all, she was only the 
 innocent tool of some others. Why bring tragedy into her young 
 life? 
 
 I determined to inquire of the man in the next room. I knew 
 there was one. I had never seen him but I had often heard him 
 snore. 
 
 When I told him my troubles he looked grave. 
 
 "Those Papers," said he in a mysterious voice, "are referred to 
 you by some one in the Department; if you merely write "Noted" 
 on them, they remain marked to you, and every time the chicken 
 takes them away to the Mail Room they will only be sent back to 
 you." 
 
 "Heavens," I gasped, horror-stricken, "then what am I to do?" 
 He glanced around nervously. Then he got up and locked the 
 door; drew the blind and put his hat over the telephone. 
 
 "Listen," he hissed, "I will tell you. There is only one way; 
 you must refer them to someone else. Don't ask me who. I don't 
 know. I always refer mine to Mr. Smith; you see, there's bound 
 to be a Mr. Smith somewhere in the War Department. Once 
 you've sent 'em to him, he's got to deal with 'em, not you. That's 
 the secret. 
 
 "Oh," said I. "I see, but, — 
 
 "Once," he interrupted, "I tried putting 'Schley' instead of 
 'Smith' but it caused awful trouble. That particular file referred 
 to Hair Restorer; and Mr. Schley truned out to be an Assistant 
 Director without a hair on his head. But I ' ve always found Smith 
 works all right. All my conundrums go to Smith. Smith must 
 have a warm time of it, whoever he is." 
 
 He chuckled diabolically. 
 
 "I quite understand now," said I, "but — er — you see — er — my 
 name's Smith." 
 
 SOME KISSING BUG! 
 
 "I've been kissed in Information, 
 
 I've been kissed in Finance, too, 
 I ' ve been kissed all o'er Munitions Building 
 
 Until all the air was blue. 
 There's the kiss you get in Embarkation; 
 
 There's the kiss from Research, and I. T. 
 Oh! The kiss that's best in all this Nation 
 
 Is the kiss from the Q. M. C." 
 
 105 
 
THE QUARTERMASTER CORPS 
 
 The Quartermaster Corps 
 
 Is a noncombatant crowd, 
 
 And it isn't much exciting 
 
 For the man who likes it loud. 
 
 But it has its own hard work to do, 
 
 And they'd all be on the floor 
 
 If it wasn't for the noncombatant 
 
 Quartermaster Corps. 
 
 The Quartermaster Corps 
 
 Sheds no glory or renown, 
 
 But it's got the grub that keeps you coming 
 
 Back when you are down. 
 
 And the Infantry and Cavalry 
 
 Would all be on the floor, 
 
 If it wasn't for the noncombatant 
 
 Quartermaster Corps. 
 
 The Quartermaster Corps 
 Is Old Johnny on the Spot 
 When it comes to getting chow 
 To the line where all is hot, 
 Why, the boys up in the trenches 
 Would all be on the floor, 
 If it wasn't for the noncombatant 
 Quartermaster Corps. 
 
 The Quartermaster Corps 
 Don't use bayonets or guns 
 But they do a mighty lot o' work 
 To help clean up the Huns : 
 So here's something to remember — 
 You might all be on the floor 
 If it wasn't for the noncombatant 
 Quartermaster Corps. 
 -Sergeant W. C. Pryor in "Stars and Stripes in France. 
 
 106 
 
MUSING OF A MULETEER 
 
 Speculation 
 There's a long long trace a winding 
 
 'Round the hocks of my team, 
 And the martingale is missing 
 
 So's the off brake beam; 
 The leaders both are balky 
 
 And the brutes wont pull a pound, 
 Now I know I'll have to pass the buck 
 
 When the C. O. comes around. 
 
 Preparation 
 There's a long long tale I'll tell him 
 
 That I have in mind, 
 How the off wheel mule is windy; 
 
 And the near wheel mule is blind; 
 How the off lead mule is crampy, 
 
 And the near one on the blink, 
 But with these few exceptions 
 
 They're a fine team — I dont think. 
 
 Meditation 
 The long, lank Captain listened 
 
 To my story with a smile, 
 And then he said, "Twill do you good 
 
 To be a K. P. for a while. 
 We've got a car of 'tacers, 
 
 Just grab a knife or two, 
 And do not get discouraged, 'cause 
 It's a long long peel for you." 
 
 Caft. W. B. Palmer, 
 Q. M. C. 
 
 MULISH 
 Would you have a gentle mule, 
 
 Then apply the golden rule. 
 If he's full of pep and vim 
 
 He'll do to you as you do to him. 
 Cuss him less and curry more, 
 
 He'll repay you a hundred score; 
 Pet him more and pound him less, 
 
 He'll repay each fond caress, 
 But kick him and his muleship waits 
 To land you through the Pearly Gates. 
 
 Capt. W. B. Palmer, 
 Q. M. C, 
 
 107 
 
"NUTS" 
 
 Last night while the earth lay sleeping beneath the starry sheen, 
 There came to disturb my slumber, this strange and terrible dream; 
 I sat at my desk in the office, a telegram in my hand, 
 Just a slip of yellow paper, I could not understand : 
 
 RETEL YOURS OF THE SEVENTH PLEASE SEND US NUTS 
 
 BY THE SCORE 
 HAVE THEM PREPARED FOR SHIPMENT TO THE PORT 
 
 OF BALTIMORE 
 NUTS, ROUND HEAD, SQUARE HEAD, FLAT HEAD, OF 
 
 THE SIZE THREE QUARTER INCH; 
 SEND ALL THAT YOU CAN SPARE US FOR WE'RE IN A 
 
 DREADFUL PINCH. 
 WE CANNOT GIVE YOU THE TONNAGE, BUT THE NUTS 
 
 WILL NOT BE LIGHT 
 SO SEND TRANSPORTATION ORDER REQUEST YOU 
 
 EXPEDITE. 
 
 "Now, what do you think of that?" said I, as I read it o'er and o'er, 
 "Somebody's made a bungle, sure, of this whole thing once more." 
 So I went to look in suspended file and in the closed file too, 
 But I found no information and I didn't know what to do. 
 
 And while I sat there pondering, a strange thing happened to me : 
 The weirdest of all sensations — whatever could it be? 
 But soon there came the answer, the cause of that terrible thrill, — 
 They had sent ME over the wireless to the Depot at Jeffersonville ! 
 
 "I came from the Washington Depot," I told them without a wince, 
 And it's nuts that I want, sir, nuts round head, nuts flat head, 
 
 three-quarter inch, 
 "If it's nuts that you want, round or square, go back to the folks 
 
 there in charge, 
 And you needn't bother to tell me that you think their heads are 
 
 too large." 
 
 And, at that moment, before me there passed in grand review, 
 Captains, lieutenants, and sergeants, and majors, not a few — 
 The old familiar faces of people I thought I knew; 
 There were round heads, square heads, flat heads, big nuts and 
 little nuts too. 
 
 108 
 
"You have all the nuts in creation, right there in the Q. M. Corps, 
 And why in the name of Salvation, do you come here asking for 
 
 more?" 
 "Why is it," the voice persisted, "that the squirrels infest your 
 
 town? — 
 Because the nuts are so many that wander up and down." 
 
 I woke when the sun shone brightly through the window pane, 
 But that dream continues running through and through my brain; 
 If fools we are and fools we were, and fools we'll always be, 
 We'll all be fools together, we NUTS of the Q. M. C. 
 
 A Q. M. C. OFFICER UNDER FIRE 
 
 During the advance to the Vesle in July, 1918, Captain H. C. 
 Braddock (Supply Officer 110th Infantry) had located his Regi- 
 mental dump in the forest west of Jaulgonne on the Chateau 
 Thierry road, in a location that had previously been used for the 
 same purpose by the Boche. On the night of July 29, Boche planes 
 came across and bombed this dump twice within an hour. As the 
 dust and debris cleared away after the explosion of the second 
 bomb, Captain Braddock said with a smile, "The Dutchman does 
 not seem to like my location. If he does not move this dump 
 to-night, I am going to move it in the morning." 
 
 (Captain Braddock died of pneumonia on Oct. 23, and was 
 buried at Bernecourt.) 
 
 C. S. Bryce, 
 Maj., Q. M. C. 
 
 Mike, a burly but lazy Irishman, was transferred to the Q. M. 
 Detachment at General Hospital No. 2, Fort McHenry, Md., as 
 a private 1st CI., although nobody was ever able to determine as 
 just what class of work he was "skilled." 
 
 A shortage of men for detail on garbage removal made it advis- 
 able to give Mike a chance on this work. 
 
 When the Sergeant read off the details at Roll Call — Mike bawled 
 out: "What in hell am I put on that detail for? It only requires 
 ignorant strength." 
 
 W. Wilson Heaton, 
 Capt., Q. M. C. 
 
 109 
 
A Q. M. C. MAN AT MT. VERNON 
 They say he never told a lie, 
 
 And so we'll take their word, 
 But if our George were living now, 
 
 The thing would be absurd. 
 
 For if he issued all the shoes, 
 
 And shirts of every sort, 
 And did not tell a fib or two, 
 
 Well — he'd be mighty short. 
 
 He kept a string of horses, 
 
 And a score of hounds or so, 
 While he built a swell big billet, 
 
 On the river just below. 
 
 Now I know a host of soldiers 
 
 Who are strictly on the square; 
 But the castles that they're building 
 
 Are mostly in the air. 
 
 Of this I'm very certain, 
 
 As I think the matter o'er, 
 That our hero saw no service 
 In the Quartermaster Corps. 
 
 Capt. W. B. Palmer, 
 Q. M. C. 
 
 no 
 
VICTORY LIBERTY LOAN PURCHASE SERVICE 
 
 April 29, 1919. 
 BULLETIN No. 6 
 
 The VICTORY LOAN appeals to all, and all agree of course, 
 that we should help our Uncle Sam to put this LOAN across. But 
 what does each one really think, while he his palate panders; does 
 he consider sacrifice, in terms of France and Flanders ? This war 
 has never touched our shores, at home our lot was work- 
 ing, and well indeed we did our bit and very few were shirking. 
 But eighty thousand of our homes have sacrificed their sons! 
 Can we, who through it all have thrived, refuse to aid with funds? 
 And pay the bills that we incurred that Freedom's Cause might 
 live, can we, I say, refuse to pay? We tend, we do not give. These 
 Victory Notes, as good as gold, will teach us how to save ; who lends 
 to Uncle Sam's a trump, who lendeth not's a knave! Some few 
 seem not to understand, to these I wish to speak, for if they 
 can, and do not lend, they show the Yellow streak. 'Tis not our 
 wish to urge on those, who really cannot lend, 'twere better far 
 for them to save, their pay they may not spend ; but they be few, 
 yes, very few, and we their views commend — but we are after sel- 
 fish ones, who foolishly will spend. One Victory Note at least 
 should be in every worker's name — this is the peoples' VICTORY 
 LOAN, come, get into the game! Our boys gave all, forever, 
 "there," won't we here, lend a bit? We are not even asked to 
 give, of course we'll lend — or quit. Our Purchase Service heads the 
 list, our ten divisions vie, we'll have a bond for every one, or know 
 the reason why. And some there be, who have subscribed for 
 sums, O, very small, but those will doubtless sign again when we 
 begin to call. This first week has been easy work, "Just sign a 
 card and end it" ... ! But we are going to call again on those we 
 know can lend it. To you who have not taken bonds, and you 
 who'll resubscribe, I wish to leave one thought with you, and 
 then I will subside: This is a PATRIOTIC LOAN and we 
 should make it such; you with little give your bit, and you with 
 more give much! And when you give and give again, don't feel 
 that we are pressing, just give again a goodly sum and you'll 
 receive a blessing. Remember what the Huns have done, and 
 how your blood once boiled ! and what you said that you would 
 give, to see that vile race spoiled! This is the chance to play 
 your part with two or three or four bonds, as you are blessed 
 with this world's goods, BUY BONDS, AND then BUY MORE 
 BONDS! 
 
 Malcolm Kenneth Gordon, 
 Captain, Q. M. Corps, 
 Chairman, Purchase Service. 
 
 112 
 
MANUAL OF WRIST WATCH 
 
 We note with growing concern a general absence of military pep 
 in the observance of the manual of wrist watch movements. 
 
 In shooting the time from the dial of a wrist watch, the hips 
 should be well in, the chest well out. 
 
 Then, with a single, snappy flirt, the left elbow should be crooked, 
 the sleeve drawn back two and a quarter inches and the forearm 
 brought parallel to the shoulder. 
 
 A single glance should suffice (a little practice will insure a bull's- 
 eye every shot) and then the arm should be brought back to the 
 side with the same snap that is characteristic of the final drive of a 
 hand salute. If the first shot should miss, owing to over-confidence, 
 faulty allowance for wind velocity or any other cause, the whole 
 movement should be repeated. 
 
 On no account should two successive shots be fired while the 
 watch is in the air. It is a fact not generally known, but many 
 people who have not had time to accustom themselves to Uncle 
 Sam's various uniforms often distinguish a soldier from a sailor by 
 his masterly technique in handling his wrist watch. 
 
 "HOME-MADE HAPPINESS" 
 
 An "after the war" soliloquy of an American soldier boy, in France. 
 Back home — there's where I long to go, 
 
 Each member helps to make it so 
 Inviting, that sweet peace — so rare — 
 
 I find is always reigning there. 
 And for this mental attitude, 
 Praise God in ev'ry latitude. 
 
 Raymond Grace, 
 Survey Branch, Q. M. C. 
 New Orleans, La. 
 
 113 
 
ARMY QUARTERMASTER CORPS 
 
 We've heard about the Army, 
 
 In the land across the sea, 
 
 Upon the Marne, — in Belleau Wood — 
 
 Where they showed their bravery. 
 
 We've often heard the story 
 
 Told of Chateau Thierry, 
 
 The Devil Dogs, U. S. Marines — 
 
 Their daring gallantry. 
 
 Repeated o'er and often, 
 
 Is the tale of Salty Jack, 
 
 The boys who took them over, 
 
 And the boys who brought them back. 
 
 We thrill when to our hearing 
 
 Comes the Ace's wide-spread fame, 
 
 To airmen brave who skimmed the clouds- 
 
 The praise is all the same. 
 
 Another branch of Service, 
 
 In the fight for Liberty, 
 
 Not quite so often mentioned, 
 
 Is the army Q. M. C. 
 
 When honor falls where justly due, 
 
 To men behind the gun, 
 
 The world must pay a tribute 
 
 To the force that backed each one. 
 
 The Q. M. furnished clothing, 
 And the soldiers well equipped, 
 To journey far to No Man's land, 
 And have the Kaiser whipped. 
 They didn't buy supplies alone 
 For soldiers here at home — 
 The task was in supplying 
 Two million o'er the foam. 
 
 114 
 
The Quartermaster has in charge 
 The clothing, food and pay, 
 The transportation of the men, 
 By hundreds every day. 
 The greatest army in the world, 
 Defeated strong might be, 
 If there were but an error made 
 By the busy Q. M. C. 
 
 They're patriots unselfish, 
 
 For they don't expect reward, 
 
 Their only honor is fatigue, 
 
 That comes from working hard. 
 
 When transports came, through darkest night, 
 
 While slowly moved the clock, 
 
 The wee, small hours of morning 
 
 Found them working on the dock. 
 
 The General Service of Supply, 
 
 Unselfish, loyal, true, 
 
 Who gave their best of mind and heart, 
 
 For Uncle Sam and you. 
 
 There's sacrifice in forfeiting 
 
 The cheers, caress, and glance 
 
 Of love that greets the heroes 
 
 On their return from France. 
 
 But love alone won not the fight, 
 Nor made the camp-fires burn, 
 Supplies, exact and promptly, are 
 What sped their safe return. 
 The Army Quartermaster Corps, 
 Of men and women true, 
 God and your country know the worth 
 Of workers such as you. 
 
 Then honor to the Q. M. C., 
 Who worked both day and night, 
 To keep our Lady Liberty, 
 The brightest beacon light 
 That ever guided ships at sea, 
 Or graced a country's door. 
 So be proud of every member 
 Of the Quartermaster Corps. 
 
 Ethelynd A. Martin, 
 Quartermaster Corps, 
 
 New Orleans, La. 
 
 115 
 
THE CHESTNUT HORSE AND JOE 
 By Cafit. Walter B. Palmer, Q. M. C. 
 
 "Just a chestnut horse," the neighbor said, 
 
 As they saw him led away. 
 And they marveled much at the tears I shed 
 
 And the anguish I felt that day. 
 
 But that chestnut horse had a place in my heart. 
 
 Where the idols I worship dwell; 
 And he seemed of my very life a part, 
 
 So this is the tale I tell : 
 
 Joe was twelve to a day when he found thejnare 
 
 The new born foal at her side, 
 As with a proud and zealous air 
 
 She watched the youngster's ambling stride; 
 
 And Joe, with nimble feet and bare, 
 Came down the orchard path in leaps 
 
 To bring me tidings of my favorite mare 
 And asked me if the colt was his for keeps. 
 
 "Oh, dad! It's a wonderful colt," he said. 
 
 "With eyes like the sky above 
 And a queer white mark in its little head 
 
 Like the stars in the flag we love." 
 
 You'll let me name him now, of course, 
 
 Since you've given him all to me. 
 I'm going to make him a fighting horse 
 
 And call him my "Liberty." 
 
 Ah, little soldier with sun-kissed hair, 
 
 Your boyhood dreams came true. 
 Those two gold stars in the window there 
 
 Mean the chestnut horse and you. 
 
 I helped Joe to break him to drive and ride, 
 And they won at the county show, 
 
 While all the neighbors far and wide 
 Knew the chestnut colt and Joe. 
 
 The happy years that came between 
 
 Brought never a thought of fate, 
 Till the lad at last reached eighteen 
 
 And the horse was counted eight. 
 
 116 
 
And then the call to the colors came 
 
 And my boy was first to go. 
 But the chestnut horse never seemed the same 
 
 Since we said "goodbye" to Joe. 
 
 A neighbor's son was mustered in — 
 
 He had been Joe's dearest chum, 
 And they promised to stick through thick and thin 
 
 And to write if harm should come. 
 
 I hitched the chestnut up alone 
 
 And took the boys to the train. 
 Somehow the skies had darker grown 
 
 From the clouds earth's tear drops came. 
 
 While the precious moments slipped away 
 
 Joe whispered half in fun, 
 "Send Liberty over to me some day 
 
 To help us catch a Hun." 
 
 "You know I'll love him where'er I am. 
 
 And the world is not so wide. 
 Just sell him some day to Uncle Sam 
 
 And we'll meet on the other side." 
 
 The train passed on with its clanging bell 
 
 And the light of my life went, too. 
 It seemed, alas, like some awful knell 
 
 As it disappeared from view. 
 
 The season wearily wore away 
 
 With its hopes, and doubts, and fears, 
 
 Joe's face before me night and day, 
 And his words in my aching ears. 
 
 So I sold the horse with the big white star 
 
 To a captain I met by chance, 
 For he was to go where the armies are 
 
 To the khaki boys in France. 
 
 Ah, little wonder the world stood still 
 
 And my tears in abundance fell, 
 As the chestnut turned at the top of the hill 
 
 And whinnied a last farewell. 
 
 117 
 
The letters that came were full of cheer 
 
 And one held a poppy bloom; 
 The end of the war seemed very near 
 
 And the boys would be with us soon. 
 
 The Yanks were hot on the Boches' track, 
 They were beating the hated Huns, 
 
 And Pershing was pushing them steadily back 
 In spite of their gas and guns. 
 
 And then — a letter from Joe's best friend — 
 "Sir, I promised to let you know; 
 
 They fought together to the end, 
 The chestnut horse and Joe." 
 
 "Don't grieve," it said, "for the cause is won, 
 
 And they really have not died. 
 Their glorious lives have just begun; 
 
 They have met on the other side. " 
 
 Just a chestnut horse and a boy so fair, 
 Two forms that were stark and cold, 
 
 While the searchers paused in silent prayer 
 For the stars that had turned to gold. 
 
 And so each year as the spring comes round 
 I shall think of the poppies that blow 
 
 And nod their heads o'er the grassy mound 
 Of the chestnut horse and Joe. 
 
 118 
 
MY PART IN WINNING THE WAR 
 
 I'll soon be back from this terrible war, 
 Covered with honors and medals galore, 
 Back from chasing the horrible Huns, 
 Back from the roar and crash of the guns, 
 Back from doing my duty well, 
 A regular hero I was — like H — . 
 
 I'll soon be back on the job again, 
 
 Out of the trenches, the cold, and the rain, 
 
 Where I fought fierce battles like other dubs, 
 
 By drinking gin-rickies in Baltimore clubs, 
 
 Back from doing my wonderful stunt 
 
 Of marking time on the Maryland front. 
 
 Yes, I'll soon be back from doing my bit, 
 Showing my courage and proving my grit, 
 Playing my part in that awful jam, 
 By eating my meals on — Uncle Sam. 
 In fact there's much more that I could tell, 
 Of my record in winning the war — like H — . 
 
 Yes, I'll soon be back with the gang once more, 
 And I know they'll josh just to make me sore, 
 They'll say I'm a soldier of peaceful ways. 
 I'll hear about this till the end of my days, 
 But I'll just say this to the boys who kid — 
 By Gad, I tried and that's more than you did. 
 
 Franklin Cantonment, 
 
 Camp Meade, Md. 
 
 119 
 
DIOGENES IN WASHINGTON 
 
 Wise old Diogenes, the Cynic 
 
 Who dwelt in a tub 
 
 Had diligently searched the streets of Greece 
 
 With his lantern 
 
 For an honest man, 
 
 But without avail. 
 
 Someone tipped him off 
 
 That perhaps he would find such a man 
 
 In Washington, D. C. 
 
 And thither he journeyed. 
 
 But he had a tough job, 
 
 For he traveled only in the High Spots, 
 
 And where the Bright Lights 
 
 Put his lantern into eclipse. 
 
 Then it occurred to him 
 
 To search among the lowly; 
 
 And behold! In the vast army 
 
 Of the Q. M. C's. humble toilers, 
 
 He found patriots by the hundreds, 
 
 Building, strengthening, maintaining and beautifying 
 
 The firm foundation 
 
 Of a stable and invincible organization 
 
 With no thought of honors or reward, 
 
 Save the glories of self-sacrifice and service. 
 
 Then did the Cynic's heart 
 Beat with tumultuous joy, 
 As he cried, "Eureka," 
 And, wonderful to relate, 
 The classic Chronic Grouch 
 Became forevermore an Optimist. 
 
 Lt. W. L. K. Barrett. 
 
 120 
 
be did ; 
 there aiof 
 secb 
 
Note : — These poems were written while on board the U. S. A. C. 
 T. "JOSEPH CUDAHY," (of which I was Transport Q. M. last 
 Summer). The rondeaux make up a set, "WAR-POETS No. 1" 
 and "WAR-POETS No. 2," tell their own story, having actually 
 been written before and after the "CUDAHY" was torpedoed and 
 sunk by the Germans, August 17, 1918, 500 miles off the coast of 
 France. Very truly yours, 
 
 Gerald L. Kaufman, 
 
 Former 1st. Lieut., Q. M. C. 
 
 THE PRIVATE 
 (Day of enlistment) 
 I'm one of them! I'm on the list 
 Of Mars, the bitter satirist; 
 Today I donned the uniform 
 That promises the quick reform 
 Of many a stubborn royalist. 
 Self-consciously my feet persist 
 In marching, (though I'd fain resist) 
 As if all Broadway to inform 
 
 I'm one of them! 
 Nor can I make myself desist 
 From peeping (jaunty egotist!) 
 In windows which reflect my form 
 In khaki, and my cheeks grow warm 
 With rookie pride, as I insist, 
 
 I'm one of them! Gerald L. Kaufman, 
 
 1st. Lieut., Q. M. C. 
 THE PRIVATE 
 (Three months later) 
 A private still ! Tis time that I commence 
 The upward struggle into prominence — . 
 I'm sick of starting in alarm 
 When that young tow-head from the farm 
 Yells at our squad with vehemence ; 
 He but a corporal ! The impudence ! 
 (And yet his chevron is the evidence 
 His rasping nasal voice may charm 
 
 A private still!) 
 I'll show him — they can well dispense 
 With him for all his eloquence, 
 When once I feel the symbol warm 
 Aglow upon my tingling arm, — 
 I'll be a Sergeant when his Excellence 
 
 Is corporal still! Gerald L. Kaufman, 
 
 1st. Lieut., Q.M.C. 
 122 
 
THE SERGEANT 
 (And his best girl) 
 
 Three little chevrons dancing with delight 
 Draw to my sleeve admiring glances bright ; 
 Glances that shine in laughing eyes, 
 Wherein the jubilant surprise 
 Out- values any Sergeantcy to-night! 
 
 "I tell you, dear, the 'Lieut.' was right! 
 It wasn't any oversight; 
 Said men like me were sure to rise; 
 "Three little chevrons!" 
 
 "Oh, yes, the Corporal! I wasn't quite 
 Correct in judging him ; you see in spite 
 Of his short-comings, he was wise — 
 At fooling them he takes the prize — 
 He's a Sergeant-Major, if I saw aright" 
 "Hii little chevrons!" 
 
 Gerald L. Kaufman, 
 1st. Lieut., Q.M.C. 
 
 THE SERGEANT 
 (Visionings) 
 
 The golden bars ! What magic makes them grow 
 Upon one's shoulder-straps? Yea, who shall know 
 The secret Midas' touch to bring 
 Them into being? May an underling 
 Dare to anticipate their golden glow ? 
 
 Would I might fly to ages long ago 
 And seek some alchemist, to bid bestow 
 On me his crucible, for fashioning 
 The golden bars! 
 
 Would that I might cajole. But, no, — 
 I shall not try such methods, though 
 I've heard of "fortune's" favoring. 
 I'll wait and hope, to win this Spring, — 
 By the good grace of the esteemed "C. O." — 
 The golden bars ! 
 
 Gerald L. Kaufman, 
 1st. Lieut., Q. M. C. 
 
 123 
 
2nd LIEUTENANT 
 (Shavetail) 
 
 A little god who stalked with mighty stride 
 On high Olympus, — puffed with childish pride 
 In his new halo, — used to wear 
 It every day, and in its glare 
 Would sun himself, afar and wide. 
 
 The rest you know, so let it be your guide; 
 Take warning, cub lieutenants, and decide 
 Neither to feel nor think yourself — beware — 
 A little god! 
 
 Yet it is hard, though I have tried, — 
 (I have a secret to confide.) 
 When you're saluted on Times Square, 
 Fifth Avenue, and everywhere, 
 Not to swell up a little bit inside. 
 A little?— God! 
 
 Gerald L. Kaufman, 
 1st. Lieut., Q.M.C. 
 
 2nd LIEUTENANT 
 (Silver Thoughts) 
 
 All that glitters, to the young cadet, 
 
 Is not often, on the epaulet, 
 
 So very bright a gold 
 
 As we had once been told, 
 
 Before we scaled the "mighty parapet." 
 
 View'd from the ranks, the high exclusive^set, 
 With shoulder-bars, gold braid, and pistolet, 
 Dazzles with splendour manifold, 
 And all that glitters. 
 
 But once you're there, you swift forget ; 
 With cares and worries you're beset; 
 Your ardour slackens, growing cold; 
 Yours bars are tarnished — and behold — 
 Your shoulders haven't carried yet, 
 All that glitters! 
 
 Gerald L. Kaufman, 
 1st. Lieut., Q. M. C. 
 
 124 
 
WAR POETS, No 1. 
 
 Somewhere, beneath the doubly-hostile deep, 
 
 Snug in a steel-girt devil-fish of death, 
 There is a poet, who, 'twixt hours of sleep 
 
 And Hours of duty, draws with ev'ry breath 
 Artistic inspiration. Now and then 
 
 In darkest watches of a slaughter-night, 
 His hell-boat lying still, he seizes pen 
 
 And through a rhythmic heav'n his soul takes flight. 
 
 My friend the enemy ! Too well he knows 
 
 The mighty scope of his misguided power! 
 Never content with traces of his foes 
 
 Cast on the waters in a ghastly shower, 
 But he must add ironic metric curses 
 
 In Teuton tongue ! Well, we will make him swallow 
 His dose of steel in time ! .... as for his verses, 
 
 What matter then if they beat mine all hollow? 
 
 Gerald L. Kaufman, 
 August, 1918. 1st. Lieut., Q. M. C. 
 
 WAR-POETS, No 2 
 (After the German had spoken, Aug. 17, 1918) 
 
 You've won, my Teuton poet, I admit, 
 
 With guilty steel, the triumph I express'd 
 As my ambition, ere I pondered it; 
 
 But added weight of reasoning, impress'd 
 Upon me when I learned the Game first-hand, 
 
 (From high explosives voicing thru your gun 
 Your choice invectives) showed me that my stand 
 
 Was ill advised, — but I admit, you've won. 
 
 Yet seemingly a victory in steel 
 
 Is scarce persuasive, my poetic foe, 
 To those whose war-time energy and zeal 
 
 Are couch' d in rhythmic stanzas. Who shall know 
 Full victory without the added test 
 
 Of ballad, rhyme, and metrical endeavor? 
 (No, Fritz, my warrior pencil shall not rest 
 
 Until my verses silence yours forever.) 
 
 Gerald L. Kaufman, 
 September, 1918. 1st. Lieut., Q. M. C. 
 
 125 
 
AUTHOR'S FOREWORD 
 
 Once again to the Q. M. C. "boys!" I hold the goblet high — 
 swearing under oath and Southern skies, that I am not aiming at 
 any particular- Division or Branch, or any particular person or 
 persons (if there be any who are particular), but am firing at "things 
 in general;" and that if I unintentionally tread upon your Hallux 
 Valgus, I will not only apologize but will present you with a jar of 
 medicated salve. 
 
 SYSTEM 
 (With parenthetical remarks) 
 
 O there was a little Government that had a little system 
 Of departments and divisions without end, 
 With their functions all so flexible that anyone could twist 'em 
 Till their purposes were hard to comprehend 
 (much less understand) . 
 
 For example, there's a contract — motor oil — you want to see, 
 And the Chief Clerk wants to get it right away; 
 After hunting through the "Oil File" all the way from A to Z, 
 You will find it filed away with "Oats" or "Hay" 
 (perfectly safe). 
 
 Take the Records — latest system — filing plans of every kind, 
 Alphabetical, numerical, and flat; 
 
 Any document that's needed you so easily might find — 
 But they're "filed" so well you don't know where thy're^at. 
 ("At" is not a preposition, it's a destination.) 
 
 Then the Colonel wants a paper, and he wants it P. D. Q. 
 You are certain it is just "within your reach," 
 But on hunting for the bloomin thing about a week or two, 
 You will realize the system is a "peach." 
 
 (Don't mistake the inference; some peaches are rotten.) 
 
 And the "boys" down on the border are acquainted with the system 
 They keep ordering supplies with good intent, 
 But through intricate processes of the system they have missed 'em, 
 Though informed some months ago they "had been sent." 
 (Somewhere.) 
 
 One poor devil writes as follows: "Where the h — 1 are our supplies 
 For the winter, ordered on the third of Jul ? 
 All we've had so far is soap, mosquito bar, and fishing flies, 
 Though it's cold enough to freeze an Army mule." 
 
 (This fellow's a comic; notice his condensed July.) 
 
 126 
 
So it goes in each Division — many errors you will find, 
 The absurdities of which will make you groan; 
 You will laugh and swear together, for the nerve-dissecting grind 
 Is enough to comminute a man of stone! 
 (accent on the "Com.") 
 
 But the fault's not in the system — this one frigid fact remains, 
 It's the stupid inefficiency of men; 
 
 And the man who's really competent and uses all his brains, 
 Will be found to number only one in ten 
 (thousand) . 
 
 But the Govt, must have its 'system," and the poet have his fun, 
 
 And I offer you these lines for what they're worth; 
 
 For the Government I speak of — after all is said and done, 
 
 Is by far the greatest Government on earth! 
 
 James Courtney Challiss, 
 Office Dep. Q. M., Supplies Division. 
 
 1st INDORSEMENT 
 
 I've read the rhymes of all the lines 
 
 Of the Johnsons — Ben and Jingling, 
 Walt Mason's stuff, and Tennyson's fluff 
 
 Till they've set my nerves to tingling. 
 Most of the authors are dead and gone, 
 
 But their souls go on forever, 
 And the song of the files will bring us smiles 
 
 For it sure is terrible clever. 
 
 L. O. Thayer, 
 
 Q. M. Sergeant, S. G. 
 
 127 
 
SOMEWHERE IN FRANCE 
 
 Somewhere in France Yankee legions are fighting, 
 
 Fighting with valor to make the world free — 
 Your boy and my boy and thousands of others, . 
 
 Far from their loved ones across the wide sea. 
 Death and disaster e'er hover around them, 
 
 Testing their love for the Red, White and Blue, 
 Filled with fond memories of ties, sweet and holy, 
 
 Somewhere in France they are fighting for you. 
 
 Somewhere in France God has placed His bright angels, 
 
 Angels on earth, bearing sunshine and joy, 
 Soothing the wounded with hands soft as zephyrs, 
 
 Bringing the fragrance of Home to each boy. 
 Lighting the valley that leads through the shadow, 
 
 Turning the sunset to gold without dross; 
 God rules world still with mercy and kindness, 
 
 Somewhere in France He has set the Red Cross. 
 
 Somewhere in France valiant heroes are thinking, 
 
 Thinking of you and the land that they love, 
 Looking to you for support and assistance 
 
 Out of your bounties from Heaven above, 
 Looking to you to endure lesser hardships, 
 
 Pitiful contrasts with what they must do; 
 Thinking of you, dauntless lads are made braver, 
 Somewhere in France they are dying for you. 
 
 William L. K. Barrett, 
 1st. Lt., Q. M. C. 
 (Written for Red Cross drive last spring.) 
 
 128 
 
PHOTO BY PEARL' GRACE LOEHR, NEW YORK 
 
Brigadier General Herbert M. Lord, U. S. Army, D.S.M., Director of 
 Finance, Assistant to Director Purchase, Storage & Traffic 
 
AN ORDER FOR MOTOR CARS AND TRUCKS 
 (Received by Surplus Property Division) 
 
 From : Duncannon 
 
 To: War Department, Washington, D. C. 
 
 I did receive maile Ap 23 
 From the war department 
 About the motors 62 trucks & 
 Carts how much do they wat. 
 For truck's & cars lot 12. If 
 They sell me truck's & cars 
 Will they give me time on them 
 Six months or nine if they 
 Will give me them to sell 
 Send By freigh you send 
 Them by expence all payed 
 To ducannon that I can 
 Lift then when they come 
 Send me the Price of them to 
 l If them will sell Big Cars 
 AND TRUCK and all kind 
 Of cars for $3.00 each they will 
 Be in good shape for that Price 
 You send telephon meshad If 
 They will send them — 
 How and when they will Be 
 At Duncanon If they send me 
 The cars I will not ned to Pay 
 For them til six month 
 Or when I get them all 
 Sold I will pay for 
 Them. If enterested notice 
 me now 
 
 Yor Truely 
 A. Duncannon 
 Pa. 
 
 129 
 
THE RHYME OF THE Q. M. CORPS 
 
 This is the rhyme of the Q. M. Corps. 
 Who did the thing that the Heinies swore 
 Couldn't, wouldn't, and shouldn't be done 
 Till the world was ruled by the Kultured Hun. 
 
 It was in the year one-nine-one-eight, 
 
 And our Uncle Sam had made a date 
 
 To meet the Hun at the river Rhine, 
 
 For a hunting trip with shooting fine : 
 
 Now Uncle Sam was a trifle late, 
 
 But swung alone at the same old gait, 
 
 Knowing he'd get there, as sure as Fate. 
 
 The French were fighting, backs to the wall ; 
 
 The Devil Dogs heard their bugle call, 
 
 And went in, rough neck, showing the Hun 
 
 That the U. S. boys could man a gun. 
 
 Behind them gathered the U. S. A., 
 
 From Maine to Manila, one might say ; 
 
 The Doughboys were in, even Mutt and Jeff 
 
 Had sailed away with the A.E.F. 
 
 But Doughboys can cuss as well as fight, 
 
 If "Eats" aren't there when they want a bite. 
 
 130 
 
To furnish "Eats" is a Q. M. job, 
 For Com and Non-Com and husky Gob, 
 From mules to molasses, spades to shoes, 
 The Q. M. C. has little to choose ; 
 They must deliver them all on time, 
 Though freighters sink in the ocean slime, 
 While the M. S. T. must roll along 
 Where the Berthas sing their battle song ; 
 
 Supplies must be in the Z. of A. 
 
 And the S. O. S. has much to say 
 
 To G. H. Q. and the Q. M. C. 
 
 If supplies are not where they ought to be. 
 
 But the Q. M. C. delivered goods, 
 
 From soap to saddles, from hoes to hoods, 
 
 From General Lord to Don and me 
 
 We put one over on Germany ; 
 
 The Corns and Non-Coms and Privates (buck) 
 
 With the Q. M. C. and Yankee pluck, 
 
 In Argonne Forest, Chateau Thierry 
 
 And all of the towns of France today, 
 
 Just showed those Boches what Yanks can do 
 
 When the Q. M.'s get their orders through. 
 
 131 
 
The ZFO and the EA branch 
 Camped day and night in the same old ranch 
 We have no medals, no bars nor pins, 
 But we're right there when the work begins : 
 And when the Book of the War is writ, 
 The world will know that we did our bit, 
 And won the War by our Yankee grit ; 
 We waved no flags and we didn't yell, 
 But did our best to give Heinie 
 
 So here's to the force of the Q. M. Corps, 
 Who did the thing that the Heinies swore 
 Couldn't, wouldn't, and shouldn't be done 
 Till the world was ruled by the Kultured Hun. 
 
 By one of the Force of the Q. M. Corps. 
 
 WAR WORKER'S PSALM 
 
 Yea, letter writing is my helper, 
 
 I shall not want for something to do. 
 
 It maketh me to look busy when the Captain passeth by. 
 
 It leadeth him to think well of me. 
 
 Yea, tho I am even transferred. 
 
 I shall fear no idleness 
 
 For thou art with me. 
 
 My pen and ink, they comfort me. 
 
 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my superiors. 
 
 Thou coverest it over with paper — 
 
 My ink well runneth over ; 
 
 Surely letter writing hath followed me all the days of my war work, 
 
 And I shall dwell in the Q. M. C. forever. 
 
 132 
 
IF I WERE A COLONEL 
 
 If I were a colonel, I would see 
 That all would have respect for me. 
 I'd be severe and dignified, 
 And have my work all systematized, 
 My furniture would be of oak, 
 The finest cigars I would smoke. 
 I 'd have a private at my door, 
 A nice soft carpet on the floor, 
 A dictograph, a telephone, 
 A pretty typist all my own, 
 A bookcase full of books to read, 
 To gather all the dope I need. 
 I'd have a good big Morris Chair 
 And use Ed. Pinaud's on my hair, 
 I'd have a suit that fits me well — 
 Believe me boys, I'd be some swell. 
 I'd have a Rolls-Royce just for me, 
 When I went out to some "Pink Tea." 
 I'd eat the finest, drink the best, 
 The General oft would be my guest. 
 The Eagle for my rank you'd see 
 But not the Chicken on my knee — 
 For I have heard that colonels must 
 Be very careful whom they trust. 
 Now I must close my little song 
 Before the colonel comes along. 
 Because, if he reads what I wrote, 
 I know it's going to get his goat. 
 
 Private H. Scharmann 
 
 133 
 
r UST HOGS 
 
 From: 
 To: 
 
 Post Hospital, 
 
 Fort Logan, Colorado, 
 August 8, 1918. 
 R. A. Richardson, Sanitary Inspector, 
 The Surgeon 
 
 Subject : Sanitation Report. 
 
 1 . The company hog pens located on the easterly sloping bank 
 of the creek running west and south of this Depot are of three 
 groups, viz: a south, middle and north group. 
 
 2. The south group of seven pens and middle group of eight pens 
 are unutterably filthy and in a most grossly unsanitary condition, 
 both as regards the life of the hogs and as a menace to the welfare 
 of the inhabitants of this Depot and its immediate environment. 
 The interior of these pens is covered with old bones and litter, 
 and inside and immediately in front of each pig house proper are 
 holes filled with urine and manure in which the hogs wallow. 
 
 134 
 
South and Middle Group 
 
The hogs present a most unhappy appearance and, by their surliness 
 of temper and fatigue, demonstrate that they are troubled and 
 harried, not only by their environments, but also by the swarms 
 which are breeding at this group of pens. 
 
 3. The north group of six pens is quite clean, and 
 dry throughout and the pigs demonstrate their con- 
 tentment and satisfaction by activity, pleasant 
 demeanor and general cleanliness of body. There 
 are no flies present in this north group of pens. 
 
 4. It is recommended that these pens be raked 
 
 clean of bones and litter, the same to be burned and not merely 
 piled in heaps, and the interior pens be properly graded and 
 drained by ditches. This will guarantee a full financial return 
 and benefit to this Depot and to the hogs themselves. 
 
 Daniel A. Richardson, 
 Sanitary Inspector. 
 
 1st Ind. 
 
 0. Q. M. Fort Logan, Colorado, August 23, 1918. To the 
 Commanding Officer Depot— Returned. 
 
 1. This office learns with deep regret, that decent hogs must 
 pine and fret and lose their chaste and 
 classic beauty, because some man neg- 
 lects his duty. A sense of confidence 
 misplaced, offends a hog's aesthetic taste 
 and every effort should be bent to keep 
 him happy and content. 
 
 2. The undersigned is pleased to learn that this inspector 
 did discern, the difference in looks and style, between the hogs 
 so coarse and vile, with manners surly and uncouth, in all the pens 
 extending south, who not the least resemblance bore, to porkers 
 of the Q. M. Corps. (When pens are farther to the north as in 
 above report set forth.) These animals so slick and fine, the pink 
 of excellence in swine, display upon their radiant features, the 
 happy look of grateful creatures. The Quartermaster's pigs 
 alone, maintain this high and lofty tone and their appearance 
 fresh and fair, betokens kind and loving care. 
 
 136 
 
North Group 
 
3. The fact is not so widely known, though in this letter clearly 
 shown, that making the surrounding cleaner will greatly change a 
 hog's "demeanor. " Although the fact is likewise true, that in the 
 Army there are few, expert enough in their profession, to rightly 
 read a hog's expression. To tell just where the trouble lies, by 
 contemplation of his eyes, or by the wrinkles of his snoot, might 
 
 stump the average recruit. It has been claimed 
 , that hogs will thrive, amid surroundings that would 
 drive an animal of lofty pride to early death and 
 suicide; that while his belly is kept full, he thinks 
 this cleanly stuff is bull;" that plenty in the way 
 of eats, his cup of happiness completes. 
 
 4. As these opinions seem to vary, concerning what is necessary 
 to elevate the moral tone, within the hog's peculiar zone, it is 
 most strongly recommended, that hog's in future be attended, by 
 men expert in reading faces, who can at once detect the traces 
 upon the mournful physiog, of any poor disgruntled hog, that 
 point to mental irritation, or porcine trouble or vexation. 
 
 5. Psychology is thus combined, with physiognomy refined, and 
 just a dash of the occult, might help the ultimate 
 result. 'Tis thought the man in charge should be a 
 keen and competent M. D. Who but the Medical 
 Department, could have of wisdom such assortment ? 
 Who but a graduate of college could have so vast a 
 store of knowledge? The truth is we have no such 
 store of learning in the Q. M. Corps. 
 
 138 
 
6. The main consensus of opinion, pertaining to the hog's dom- 
 inion, (which is perhaps not far amiss) appears to be about like 
 this — Despite all scientific lore, a hog remains just as before; he 
 makes a picturesque display, (when viewed from far enough away) ; 
 his grunt is musical and clear, providing you are not too near. He 
 smells serenely sweet and clean, if proper distance intervene. But 
 notwithstanding speculation, and philanthropic mediation, and 
 theories of demagogues, most hogs will still remain — just hogs. 
 
 Z, N. Sturman, 
 Captain, Q. M. C. 
 
 139 
 
"BUBBLES" 
 (Air — "Salty in our Alley") 
 
 Of all the girls in Washington, 
 
 There's none like darling "Bubbles." 
 She's full of laughter and of fun, 
 
 And drives away all troubles. 
 She dances like an elf or sprite 
 
 From night 'till early morning. 
 Oh! She's my heart's supreme delight — 
 
 All other girls I'm scorning. 
 
 The only thing that worries me 
 
 About my darling "Bubbles," 
 She lives 'way out, which flurries me, 
 
 And my expenses doubles. 
 Long street car rides are quite a curse, 
 
 So taxies are my troubles. 
 It breaks my heart — likewise my purse — 
 
 When I go out with "Bubbles." 
 
 There's one more thing adds to my woe, 
 
 Which certainly 's distressing — 
 Another girl has me in tow, 
 
 Whose claim on me is pressing. 
 "Between two stools" I sit and fret — 
 
 I fear that I may "fall" now; 
 For neither girl can I forget, 
 
 And "Bubbles" has the "call" now. 
 
 When I 'm with her, she cheers my heart, 
 
 With wit and mellow laughter; 
 All trouble seems from me to part — 
 
 But, there's the morning after!! 
 Conflicting thoughts beset me so, 
 
 My heart and brain are burning. 
 The dear girls do upset me so — 
 
 But to "Bubbles" I'm e'er turning. 
 
 C. E. Graves, Capt., Q.M.C. 
 
 140 
 
AT CAMP MEIGS 
 Dedicated to Cabt. L. 0. Atherton, "Prexy." 
 
 Come all you captains — likewise "Loots" — 
 And you civil-i-an galoots, 
 
 And raise your voice in praise 
 Of him who shoots us full of dope 
 That with our duties we may cope — 
 
 God bless him — all his days! 
 
 Sing HAIL! to "Prexy" Atherton 
 For miracles that he has done 
 
 In polishing us "Rubes." 
 He never gives us any "guff," 
 But hands out solid, sterling stuff 
 
 To line our mental tubes. 
 
 Of work a pleasure does he make , 
 And devious subjects does he take 
 
 And make as clear as day. 
 How clearly he defines each law? 
 What charts he teaches us to draw? 
 
 So we may draw our pay ! 
 
 God bless his honest, earnest face — 
 His kindly smile and simple grace 
 That stamp him as "A MAN!" 
 And when we answer duty's call, 
 Let us endeavor — one and all — 
 To live up to his plan. 
 
 C. E. Graves, 
 
 Capt. Q. M. C. 
 
 141 
 
Peace and Its Reward 
 
 142 
 
PEACE AND ITS REWARD 
 For the Government Clerk 
 
 The Kaiser he's in exile, they've trod upon his neck, 
 His war machine is busted, and he's a battered wreck; 
 The German fleet's surrendered, mit all its submarines, 
 The hungry Huns are howling for good old Yankee beans. 
 
 Redeemed France rejoices in her hour of victory, 
 And liberated Belgium goes "nuts" in ecstasy; 
 While soon the scrappy doughboys, with every sailor lad, 
 Returns in pride and glory to mother, home and dad. 
 
 But I am full of anguish, up to my blinking ears, 
 For I have slaved my head off, these two long weary years; 
 The blooming fight is over, — we've licked that Prussian mob, 
 Our war work's shrunk to nothing, and I aint got no job ! 
 
 Oh, Uncle Sam, have pity! Please do not "can" me yet; 
 My pocket-book is empty, and I've fallen deep in debt; 
 Two bonds are still unpaid for, my tummy's underfed, 
 My clothes are ragged, shabby, — I wish that I were dead. 
 
 Garnet W. Jex, 
 Sergeant, 1st Class, Signal Corps. 
 
 143 
 
ARMISTICE DAY 
 
 Of course, down here, we all were just as crazy as could be, 
 We all rushed from the office bent on having one big spree, 
 But this town is something awful, not a drop to drink in sight, 
 So we had to be contented then, with raising Cain all night. 
 
 We started riding autos 'round the town, and waving flags, 
 We howled and pranced and shouted, and got chocolate soda jags, 
 We snake danced down the Avenue and woke the town up wide, 
 And when we fell off one machine we'd beg another ride. 
 
 A great big mob of people tried to help us wreck the place, 
 But our wild bunch of New Yorkers hit up such an awful pace 
 That these poor old country yokels couldn't stand the efforts made, 
 And soon wandered to the curbstone and stood cheering our parade 
 
 They had big fires burning in the parks, each bore a name, 
 After some state of our Union, which the Kaiser couldn't tame, 
 'Round each blazing pile of timber howling wildmen danced and 
 
 sang, 
 For every single commonwealth had members in the gang. 
 
 There were people from Missouri, from the great Dakotas both, 
 There were others from Kentucky, every state, I'll take my oath, 
 Had round dozens of its children mixed up in that happy mob 
 Helping Uncle Sam to celebrate the wind up of the job. 
 
 There were happy girls by hundreds, there were men and women 
 
 too, 
 There were soldier boys and devil dogs and lads in Navy blue, 
 While above them in the moonbeams circling round in broad swift 
 
 flight 
 Several of our new made birdmen dropped down bombs of colored 
 
 light. 
 
 144 
 
There were movies in the open, free for those who cared to stand 
 And 'way over in the center blared and trumpeted a band ; 
 Many people joined in singing, many others watched the show, 
 But (I'm sure you know New Yorkers) we kept always on the go. 
 
 No matter how exhausted or how tired we might feel, 
 
 We didn't stop a minute save to grab a midnight meal, 
 
 And continued teaching Washington how dear we held our rep, 
 
 'Till every single one of us had used up all his pep. 
 
 We kept it up till after one, in fact 'twas almost two, 
 Before we found that we had done 'bout all there was to do. 
 Then feebly staggering homeward, stopping now and then to cheer, 
 We crawled at last into our beds to dream of home and beer. 
 
 For tho' we'd celebrated as we never had before, 
 Tho' Washington fell back abashed when we let out our roar, 
 There was one small drop of sadness each one felt as he shut up, 
 And that was that he couldn't drown his gladness in a cup. 
 
 Private R. A. Gans. 
 
 145 
 
SOLD! 
 
 When you think the war is over, 
 And you blow your little horn, 
 
 You celebrate and dissipate 
 And mingle with the throng. 
 
 You walk the streets till midnight, 
 To see the merry crowd, 
 
 You throw confetti madly 
 And holler right out loud. 
 
 You pay five cents for extras 
 Which loudly do proclaim, 
 
 That Germany has surrendered 
 And hung her head in shame. 
 
 You're overjoyed and nervous, 
 Your thoughts begin to roam, 
 
 To the boys away, across the pond 
 Who'll soon be marching home. 
 
 You buy yourself a cow-bell 
 
 To make a lot of noise, 
 You cheer, you scream, you holler, 
 
 Like all the other boys. 
 
 Your fighting pen you lay aside, 
 Your fighting days are o'er, 
 
 And vow you'll never fight again 
 'Till they have another war. 
 
 146 
 
You say good-bye to Jimmie 
 
 To Arthur, Bill and Jack, 
 You leave the office quickly 
 
 And go right home to pack. 
 
 You send the folks a letter 
 
 That you are coming home, 
 And they must chase the boarder, 
 
 As you want to sleep alone. 
 
 When you wake in the morning 
 
 From your joyous dream, 
 You see by the newspapers 
 
 Things are not what they seem. 
 
 Your mighty pen you take in hand 
 
 And fill the ink-well high, 
 For you have sworn to Uncle Sam 
 
 That you would do or die. 
 
 You've learnt your little lesson 
 
 And now have naught to fear, 
 And swear that in the future 
 
 You'll not credit all you hear. 
 
 Private H. Scharmann. 
 
 147 
 
THE GIRLS BEHIND THE MEN BEHIND THE GUNS 
 
 As a September sun was sinking, 
 
 And the skies with gold were dyed ; 
 'Twas then I started thinking 
 
 As a messenger boy I spied. 
 
 He brought me a message, 
 
 From Washington it proved to be ; 
 As I read each line o'er carefully 
 
 I found that it came from a captain of the Q. M. C. 
 
 Shall I tell the contents of this message ? 
 
 Well, this is the way it read you see; 
 "Your services are needed 
 
 Come at once, report to me." 
 
 Should I hesitate? "Not for a moment" 
 
 Was my answer at this time ; 
 "Not when our brave boys are fighting 
 
 Facing death on the battle line. 
 
 "We must be up and doing, 
 
 With a heart for any fate;" 
 So I came to this city 
 
 And reporting was not late. 
 
 148 
 
We came in from town and country, 
 
 All urged by our Country's call; 
 Came in thousands to this city 
 
 Uncle Sam had need for all. 
 
 We are another group of soldiers, 
 
 Though not all in khaki dressed ; 
 We responded to the colors 
 
 When the need for workers pressed. 
 
 Ours is not the wreath of victory, 
 
 Nor the people's loud hurrahs; 
 Yet, we feel a glow of glory 
 
 For we, too, worked for the Cause. 
 
 The days are sometimes dreary, 
 
 And we are down and out you see; 
 'Cause such a thing as "Stand in line" 
 
 Was never meant for me. 
 
 But we are glad the war is over, 
 
 And I know you'll all agree; 
 
 That always you can count upon 
 
 "The faithful Q. M. C." 
 
 Anna E. White, 
 
 Q. M. C. 
 
 149 
 
WHAT HAPPENS WHEN WE TRY IT 
 
 Oh, say can you sing from the start to the end, 
 
 What so proudly you stand for when orchestras play it ; 
 When the whole congregation, in voices that blend, 
 
 Strike up the grand hymn, then torture and slay it ? 
 How they bellow and shout when they're first starting out 
 
 But "The dawn's early light" finds them floundering 
 about. 
 " 'Tis the Star Spangled Banner" they're trying to sing, 
 
 But they don't know the words of the precious old 
 thing. 
 
 150 
 
Hark, the "twilight's last gleaming" has some of them 
 stopped ? 
 But the valiant survivors press forward serenely 
 To "the ramparts we watched" where some others are 
 dropped 
 And the loss of the leaders is manifest keenly. 
 The "rockets' red glare" gives the bravest a scare, 
 And there's few left to face the "bombs bursting in 
 air." 
 
 'Tis a thin line of heroes that manage to save 
 The last of the verse and "the home of the brave." 
 
 \ 
 
 *\ i " \\ . I, / \\* I/, 
 
 n 
 
 xo\ 
 
 % 
 
 £\^^~~ *mT <mk J^l ^v fy 
 
 aims Miiiiim sm< 
 
 151 
 
THE SONG OF THE PERSONNEL 
 
 Yes, they took me in the Army, 
 Gave me shoes and uniform. 
 Made a dummy soldier of me, 
 Far from where the battles storm. 
 I ain't got no gun or bay'net, 
 Never seen a cannon yet — 
 Why, they won't let me go marchin' — 
 Do you wonder that I fret? 
 
 But I write, write write, 
 
 Gee ! The beggars keep me workin' half the night, 
 
 And there ain't no blood and thunder, 
 
 'Ceptin' when you make a blunder — 
 
 Lord, I wisht I had a gun so's I could fight ! 
 
 All the blessed livin' daytime, 
 On a hard and narrow seat, 
 We just sit and write up so'jers, 
 And it's awful in the heat, 
 While the sun beats down like fury; 
 While the dust is everywhere, 
 We just sit and write up rookies, 
 Prayin' for a breath of air. 
 
 We just write, write, write, 
 
 Gee ! The beggars keep you workin' half the night, 
 
 And they laugh at us and jeer us 
 
 For no enemy ain't near us; 
 
 Lord, I wisht I had a gun so's I could fight ! 
 
 154 
 
We just sit and ask 'em questions : — 
 Where they live, and what's their age, 
 Was they ever in the service, 
 Why, the answers fill a page. 
 If they croak, where should we send them? 
 Where's their birthplace? who they keep? 
 And some's so bloomin' ign'rant 
 That their dumbness makes you weep. 
 
 But we write, write, write, 
 
 Gee! The beggars keep us workin* half the night; 
 
 Yep, we're in the Personnel, 
 
 If you ask me — why, it's hell, 
 
 Lord, I wisht I had a gun so's I could fight. 
 
 For we'll stay here 'till it's over 
 And the boys come marchin' back, 
 Tellin' how they licked the Germans, 
 How they gave Wilhelm the sack, 
 But even then they'll keep us, 
 Lettin' out what we let in, 
 Then they'll send us back to home folks, 
 Who will greet Us with a grin. 
 
 155 
 
November 22, 1918. 
 
 MEMORANDUM FOR LT. SMITH 
 Inspection Report 
 
 In wing No. 1, the lights are out, 
 We can't work nights and can't get about. 
 The windows are dirty in wing No. 8, 
 The railing is broken and so is the gate, 
 The toilet in six is out of commission, 
 The paper is out — the whole edition. 
 It's icy cold in room 2007, 
 We can't turn off the heat in 301 1. 
 There are desks to move in several wings, 
 Our buzzers and phones will never ring. 
 You will have six trucks for Lieut. Spry, 
 And sixty men over five feet high. 
 
 156 
 
AFTER THE ARMISTICE— 
 
 "THOSE OVERWORKED STENOGS.' 
 
 They rush in in the morning — 
 
 At nine-fifteen or so; 
 They fool around, then sign their names, 
 
 And to the rear they go. 
 They take a little bottle out, 
 
 Of color pink and juicy, 
 And smear it on their faces — 
 
 It makes them look so sprucy. 
 
 They take an eyebrow pencil, 
 
 And black around their eyes; 
 They think this smudgy stencil 
 
 Will make them look 'most wise. 
 They snarl their hair in wild array, 
 
 And powder up their snoots, 
 Then swagger in, in that smart way, 
 
 Their "Shammies" in their boots. 
 
 They sit down at their desks, at last, 
 
 And, after looking 'round, 
 They look down at their type machines 
 
 And give 'em one faint pound ; 
 But suddenly jump up again, 
 
 Lit with some wild elation, 
 Run to another steno's desk, 
 
 Engage in conversation. 
 
 158 
 
At HVclock they're hunger wild 
 
 And mosey towards the hall, 
 Which always full of coons is piled, 
 
 Enough to make you bawl. 
 They nibble at a sandwich there, 
 
 A piece of cake or two, 
 Then buy a piece of pie, and swear 
 
 They've had enough for two. 
 
 At one o'clock they all file out 
 
 To eat another lunch, 
 The short, the tall, the thin, the stout, 
 
 Their midday meal to munch. 
 Again they drift toward their wing, 
 
 On eager missions bent; 
 They've all been out and had their fling, 
 
 So now their money's spent. 
 
 They fool around a half an hour 
 
 Wondering what to do, 
 Then sit there looking awfully sour — 
 
 Just in a perfect stew. 
 They watch the clock and sadly wish 
 
 The hour would quickly come, 
 
 When they can quit this dreary work — 
 
 They want a little fun. 
 
 H.E.L. 
 
 159 
 
THE HORRORS OF WAR;" or "GASSING THE MUSE' 
 Dedicated to Capt. L. A. P. 
 
 "War makes savages of us all" — 
 
 True words, and spoken well, 
 And if ye doubt, now give good heed 
 
 To what I have to tell. 
 
 There was a noble Captain P., 
 
 Q. M. C— U. S. A., 
 Who 'ere he joined the army 
 
 Was docile, kind and gay. 
 
 He ne'er had harmed a living thing, 
 
 Nor beast, nor bird of prey, 
 His life had been a model one 
 
 Until that fatal day. 
 
 Then quickly did his nature change 
 
 As he changed his apparel, 
 His only thought was of attack, 
 
 His only wish, to quarrel. 
 His enemies were far away 
 
 Nor had he any weapon, 
 Except his pen — ah, that would do, 
 But whom to spend his pep on? 
 
 Then entered in his head a thought, 
 
 The muse, he would harass her, 
 And if his ink did not give out 
 
 He knew that he could gas her. 
 
 He entered in the fight with vim, 
 Threw clouds of poisoned vapor, 
 
 And ream on ream he charged with gas 
 Despite the cost of paper. 
 
 The muse was beaten, crushed to earth, 
 
 In this uneven fray, 
 Till Mercy intervened at last 
 
 And stole the pen away. 
 
 L'Envoi 
 So when you read of this great war, 
 
 And tell your little ones, 
 Remember that all the atrocities 
 
 Weren't perpetrated by the Huns. 
 
 160 
 
Brigadier General William H. Rose, U. S. Army, D.S.M., Director of 
 
 Purchase 
 
PHOTO BY PEARL GRACE LOEHR, NEW YORK 
 
PRUNES ^ 
 
 Captain Seal B. Johnson of the Subsistence Division was in the 
 habit of framing up items which purported to be very important 
 on the work of the Subsistence Division. He began with one 
 which stated that if all the tomato cans which he supplied to the 
 Army were placed end to end, they would reach from the Battle- 
 field of the Marne to Buena Vista, California. He supplied these 
 items, original and carbon, and the carbon copies went to the Duke 
 (Mr. Rachofsky). 
 
 Each time the Duke ran across one of these items, he manifested 
 great excitement and enthusiasm. One day it occurred to me that 
 not only was Johnson calling upon his imagination for some of his 
 statistics, but that the Duke was not looking at the items with an 
 inquiring mind; in other words, he was too readily accepting all of 
 Captain Johnson's interesting items without pausing to test 
 whether they were probable. 
 
 I prepared a number of items with a view of seeing how the Duke 
 would react, taking care to imitate Captain Johnson's methods. 
 I started out with a couple of commonplace items, gradually making 
 them more and more improbable, and put the carbon copies on the 
 Duke's desk. There were several of us who awaited results. The 
 Duke swallowed one piece of subsistence after another until 
 he came to the prune item. After reading it he jumped up, 
 with glistening eyes, and in a voice which could be heard in the 
 adjoining room, called on Captain Buckley and myself to listen to 
 him as he declaimed with sweeping gestures and oratorical flour- 
 ishes. We listened without succumbing to our impulse to explode, 
 and then he announced that he could get fifty dollars from the 
 Ladies Home Journal by sending them the item, but he thought it 
 would be better to circulate it over the country. When he finished 
 on official War Department stationery, we had to tell him it was a 
 fake. As near as I can recall it, it was as follows : 
 
 "A single prune, equal in volume to all the prunes supplied to the 
 American Expeditionary Forces, would, if dropped from the top 
 of the Washington Monument into the Potomac Tidal Basin, flood 
 the streets of Washington to a depth of six inches as far as G Street. 
 The Spray would reach Fort Myer, Va., and Lincoln Park, N. E. 
 The pit of such a prune would equal in size two Standard Pullman 
 sleeping cars, and would weigh one and one-third times as much. 
 From the pit of such a prune 19,482 gallons of hydro acid could 
 be distilled, and the shell of such a pit would furnish material for 
 346,784 gas masks." 
 
 Capt. Louis W. Fehr, 
 
 (Ex. Ed. Q. M. C. Record.) 
 
 161 
 
SHORT 0' TIN 
 
 (No Apologies to Kipling Needed) 
 
 There's a phrase that's got 'em wingin', 
 You can hear 'em all asingin' 
 From the Northwest to the Southeast of this town. 
 Everyone is bent an' busted, 
 Always tryin' to be trusted, 
 Only Pay Day kills the anguish of the sound, 
 
 Short o' Tin. 
 
 You may talk of crowds an' pushin', 
 
 Never feel a trolley cushion, 
 
 Ride in Limousines an' Taxies, when you got it. 
 
 But you'll walk the bloomin' highways, 
 
 Grab a sandwich in the byways, 
 
 When you're nearly broke, Dod rot it, 
 
 Short o' Tin. 
 
 There's a girl that's simply pinin' 
 For to feel your arms entwinin'. 
 You would take her to a dinner or a show, 
 But the blasted luck's agin you 
 An' you haven't got it in you 
 When a couple bones is all you've got to blow. 
 
 Short o' Tin. 
 
 There's a nine by twelve called home, 
 Made to order for a Gnome, 
 With a regulation "Welcome" on the mat. 
 But that mat sure strikes me funny, 
 'Cause they only want your money. 
 Blast the slogan of the landlord, standin' pat. 
 
 Short o' Tin. 
 
 You can fume art' sweat an' swear, 
 
 An' you're out o' luck for fair, 
 
 An' you think you'll ask the boss if he can raise it, 
 
 But he says you now are earnin', 
 
 More than pays for what you're learnin', 
 
 In the turn down he will phrase it, 
 
 Short o' Tin. 
 
 162 
 
If your bloomin' roll's a choker, 
 
 And in the bank you soak 'er, 
 
 Buy a bale of VICTORY Loan Bonds on the level 
 
 You know you'll only spend it, 
 
 Or, worse luck, you'll have to lend it 
 
 To some poor misguided devil, 
 
 Short o" Tin. 
 
 Uncle Sam has got you here, 
 An' you needn't have no fear. 
 
 We have licked the sons of guns the Kaiser reigned. 
 But to keep the lickin' stickin' 
 From your pockets keep apickin'. 
 Don't let Uncle Sammie echo this refrain, — 
 
 Short o' Tin. 
 
 Now let's raise some Hell ourselves. 
 Pull the socks from hoardin' shelves. 
 Put the "V" invest an' make the buttons fly. 
 When the good old U. S. A. 
 Again is called upon to pay, 
 We will show 'em that we never had to cry, — 
 
 Short o' Tin. 
 
 Captain Carl W. Bliss, 
 Q. M. C 
 
 163 
 
RETURN OF THE A. E. F. 
 
 Uncle Sam, we're proud to say to you, our task is done; 
 The one that you laid out for us, to crush the cursed Hun. 
 And we are coming home again to God's own Country, 
 The proudest boys in all the world, for whipping Germany. 
 
 We went away as cheerfully as now we're coming home, 
 And proud we are Americans that crossed the ocean's foam 
 To show the Kaiser and his kind that they must all take care 
 Of how they treat Americans, on sea, on land and air. 
 
 When he sunk the Lusitania, said he: 'America be damned, 
 
 We'll whip her on the ocean, in France she'll never land." 
 
 But he little knew the kind of men that we had over here, 
 
 He judged us by his bonehead hordes, fed on kraut and lager beer. 
 
 But now in exile all alone, his pomp and power all gone, 
 What would he give could he but be like an American? 
 Hold high your heads Americans, bow down to none on earth; 
 God gave this land, your Fathers to, when freedom had its birth. 
 
 And we are coming home again, yes Uncle Sam, to you, 
 From sunny France where you rushed us, a duty just to do; 
 To pay to dear old France a debt we've owed for many years 
 And shed o'er the grave of Lafayette, a nation's grateful tears, 
 
 When Pershing with uncovered head, stood by that patriot grave 
 And said Americans had come, brave, noble France to save. 
 "We've come," he cried, "loved Lafayette, Americans have come:" 
 We came, we saw, we conquered, and now we're coming home. 
 
 H. F. Stanley, 
 
 Q. M. Depot, New Orleans. 
 
 164 
 
THE HUSBAND PRESENTED IT TO THE BOARD 
 
 "Dear United States:" — 
 
 "My husband ast me to write you a recomment that he supports 
 his family. He can not read, so don't tell him, just take him. 
 He ain't no good to me. He ain't done nothing but drink lemmen 
 essence and played a fiddle since I married him eight years ago, 
 and I gotta feed seven kids of hisn. 
 
 "Maybe you can get him to carry a gun. He's good on squirrels 
 and eatin. Take him and welcom. I need his bed for the kids. 
 Don't tell him this but take him. " 
 
 165 
 
NO WONDER THAT HE LIKES THE CAMP 
 HE'S SOLID NOW WITH BABY VAMP 
 
 The world is now a funny place, 
 It's shifted me from off my base. 
 A year ago I pushed a pen 
 And called each night upon some wren; 
 I cannot say I was a hit — 
 But then I thought I'll do my bit. 
 I went to war by way of camp, 
 And now I hear the village vamp 
 Has got my picture on her wall, 
 Whom she would not let call 
 When I was just a simple clerk 
 And thought of nothing else but work. 
 I'll tell her when I go back home 
 Of how I broke a foeman's dome, 
 And you can bet your bottom bean 
 Some sentiment will mark that scene. 
 I used to think I'd go out West 
 And wear a fancy shooting vest ; 
 To make them gals sit up and see 
 I packed no household flies on me. 
 But since I got this O. D. stuff 
 The girls can't write me half enough, 
 When I'm in town I am a bear, 
 I've gathered fourteen locks of hair. 
 
 •T« »T« »T» 
 
 Little Willie — "Papa, where were you in the great World War?" 
 Proud Papa — "I was a private in the P. S. & T. Division of the 
 
 General Staff." 
 Little Willie — "That's funny, grandma told me she was down 
 
 there too." 
 
 166 
 
"THE KAISER" 
 (August, H. 82 M. Div.) 
 
 The Kaiser wasn't bad at all, 
 The one we knew of yore, 
 His hair was gone, his nose was red, 
 He came from Baltimore. 
 
 He plod his weary way at night, 
 With gripsack to the train, 
 With many thirsty throats behind 
 To wish him back again. 
 
 With jocund day he sallies forth 
 His "spirits" are the best, 
 And who does know his August self 
 Feels warm beneath the vest. 
 
 So let the men who legislate 
 Tread softly, lest it mar 
 The system that produced the goods 
 That used to cross the bar. 
 
 1st Indorsement: 
 From Maj. Joseph Odlin, Production 62 Inspection Branch 
 To Capt. Shirley N. Carr 
 
 Forwarded for your information. 
 
 Joseph Odlin 
 
 Major, Q. M. C, U. S. A. 
 2nd. Indorsement: 
 Attention Captain Phillippi and Major Odlin. 
 
 Replying to indorsement one with reference to Aug. Kaiser, now 
 he has left you'll be bereft of many an appetizer. His quiet ways 
 are oft recalled, his gentle tread remembered; his old black bag, 
 with bulge and sag from valiant service rendered. No thirst for 
 battle did he feel, nor hero-glory sought ; contented quite to work 
 or fight to fetch his daily quart. Well is it known he bravely faced 
 the perils of his trade, for dangers hide on every side when running 
 the blockade. Thus Kaiser nobly did his bit — we must his loss 
 deplore; no service bars nor battle scars could make his honor more. 
 
 Shirley N. Carr, 
 
 Capt. Q. M. C, U. S. A. 
 
 168 
 
TWO HATES 
 
 <^W , lemVnf sleep] 
 
 I hate two hates — two deadly hates- 
 Two deadlier could not be 
 
 I hate to hear the bugle blow 
 The morning reveille, 
 
 And when my appetite's so keen 
 
 That I could eat a cow 
 Oh, how I hate to hear them say, 
 <^*> "It's beans again for chow." 
 
 169 
 
ME 
 
 The Colonel tells the Major 
 When he wants something done, 
 
 The Major tells the Captain, 
 And gets him on the run. 
 
 The Captain thinks it over, 
 
 And to be sure to suit, 
 Passes the buck and baggage, 
 
 To some shave-tail "Lieut." 
 
 The Lieutenant ponders deeply, 
 As he strokes his downy jaw, 
 
 Then he calls his trusty sergeant, 
 And to him lays down the law. 
 
 The Sergeant gets the Corporal, 
 
 To see what he can see, 
 The Coporal gets the Private, 
 
 And that poor private's me. 
 
 ME 
 
 (As it is in the New Orleans Depot) 
 The Colonel tells the Major, 
 
 When he wants something done, 
 The Major tells the Chief Clerk, 
 
 And gets him on the run. 
 
 The Chief Clerk thinks it over, 
 
 And thinks he'll take a chance, 
 And passes the buck and baggage, 
 
 To the Distribution Branch. 
 
 The Lieutenant ponders deeply 
 
 As he stares at empty space, 
 Then his small electric buzzer 
 
 Puts the messenger in the race. 
 
 Then we all get the shivers, 
 
 When we hear the fuss, 
 'Cause the messenger spies the Service Branch 
 
 And that poor Branch is us. 
 
 170 
 
EMBERS 
 
 By Sergeant J. Clarence Edwards, 
 Hq. 1st. Army, A. E. F. 
 
 Yes, the time is hanging heavy 
 
 For the boats are hauling home; — 
 When you look into the embers, 
 
 'Stead o' fire you see the foam 
 Of a swaying, spraying ocean, 
 
 And the miles on miles of blue 
 That are waltzing with the distance 
 
 That's between your folks and you. 
 
 And you maybe take the bellows 
 
 That the Poilus use to blow, 
 Up the lazy, backward blazes 
 
 Or the coals that "loaf" below. 
 And you're apt to keep on pumping 
 
 When the fire is under way, 
 For the embers are your ocean 
 
 And your dream-boat's on the way! 
 
 In the clinky crink of embers 
 
 There is sound of childish glee, 
 And the curling smoke is laden 
 
 With a joyous jubilee. 
 Sweeter still the vision tempers 
 
 And a blue flame simmers low, 
 Where a white one mingles with it 
 
 And a mother smiles at you ! 
 
 But the fagots soon are cinders 
 
 And your dream is doomed to naught, 
 When a fuming fire-log flounders 
 
 On the hearth to break your thought. 
 And the ocean, realistic, 
 
 With it's ever-churning foam, 
 Stretches in again between you 
 
 And the folks that wait at home. 
 
 Feb. 2, 1919. France. 
 
 171 
 
JUST FOLKS 
 
 (By Edgar A. Guest, Q. M. C.) 
 
 THE SILVER STRIPES 
 
 When we've honored the heroes returning from France 
 
 And we've mourned for the heroes who fell, 
 When we've done all we can for the home-coming man 
 
 Who stood to the shot and the shell, 
 Let us keep in mind those who lingered behind — 
 
 The thousands who waited to go — 
 The brave and the true, who did all they could do, 
 
 Yet have only the silver to show. 
 
 They went from their homes at the summons for men, 
 
 They drilled in the heat of the sun, 
 They fell into line with a pluck that was fine ; 
 
 Each cheerfully shouldered a gun ; 
 They were ready to die, for Old Glory on high, 
 
 They were eager to meet with the foe ; 
 They were just like the rest of our bravest and best. 
 
 Though they've only the silver to show. 
 
 Their bodies stayed here, but their spirits were there; 
 
 And the boys who looked death in the face, 
 For the cause, had no fear — for they knew, waiting here, 
 
 There were many to fill up each place. 
 Oh, the ships came and went, till the battle was spent, 
 
 And the tyrant went down with the blow ! 
 But he still might have regained but for those who remained 
 
 And have only the silver to show. 
 
 So here's to the soldiers who never saw France, 
 
 And here's to the boys unafraid ! 
 Let us give them their due ; they were glorious, too, 
 
 And it isn't their fault that they stayed. 
 They were eager to share in the sacrifice there ; 
 
 Let them share in the peace that we know. 
 For we know they were brave, by the service they gave, 
 
 Though they've only the silver to show. 
 
 172 
 
THE LITTLE GIRL FROM THE WEST 
 
 A little steno from 'way out West 
 
 Was sent to the Q. M. C. ; 
 Her knowledge of food stuffs was not the best, 
 
 That you could plainly see. 
 But failures are rare when the heart is young, 
 
 And so, in her happiest mood, 
 She took her place with the rest of them 
 
 And started in juggling food. 
 
 Dried, evaporated, compressed and condensed; 
 
 (Oh, what terrible phrases !) 
 Powdered, dehydrated, refined and fresh, 
 
 Why did she write "can" for "cases" ? 
 Memos, telegrams, papers and ink, 
 
 Letters with numbers confusing; 
 New forms, new methods, manners, speech, 
 
 "Yes sah," it was quite amusing. 
 
 Officers, privates and second lieuts 
 
 Were here and there constantly flitting; 
 Her thoughts were chasing butterflies 
 
 But her typewriter kept a-clicking. 
 She heard that the fellows over the seas 
 
 Were living and sleeping in dumps; 
 She didn't think they had the best of her 
 
 When she saw her own hard bunk. 
 
 She didn't have to advance nor retreat 
 
 But she did have to stand in line, 
 And she found she had some march to make 
 
 To get to work by nine. 
 She read in the papers our armies gained ground ; 
 
 They were fighters, brave, dauntless and shrewd; 
 Ground was all right, but it did seem to her 
 
 Their greatest objective was Food. 
 
 174 
 
Miracles were performed right under her eyes, 
 
 It was rank, not man, who held sway, 
 And yet she had known them as second lieuts — 
 
 How did they get that way? 
 As days went by as days will do, 
 
 Our little girl from the West 
 Found many happy moments 'twixt working and at rest. 
 
 Why not? Life's but a checker game at best 
 
 No matter what you do. How did she know that 
 "over there" would really be true to blue? 
 
 She knew the depths of dancing, dark eyes, 
 Red lips and hair slightly curling; 
 
 She knew there were other dangers in France 
 Than ammunition Germans were hurling. 
 
 So she worked and she laughed, she sang and she danced. 
 
 There were so many places to roam, 
 But they counted for naught, all were forgot 
 
 When a message read — "We're coming home." 
 Good-by, majors and captains, good-by, second lieuts, 
 
 Good-by life with a uniform-ruling. 
 Couldn't you imagine, couldn't you guess 
 
 That perhaps someone else was "just fooling" ? 
 
 And you waited with her; you expected to see 
 
 A vision of youth in its splendor; 
 Not so. You exclaimed in surprise, e'en though you 
 
 Knew 'twould offend her. 
 What — that limping creature, with a crutch in his hand, 
 
 Whose paleness is almost uncanny! 
 But she didn't hear you. Her eyes were aflame. 
 
 She's answered the call of her "Sammy." 
 
 175 
 
MOVIES! 
 
 (The following memorandum was received by Major Wagner, designated 
 as Officer in Charge of Moving, at the Munitions Building.) 
 
 We've been moving in and we've been moving out; 
 We've been juggled and jostled and tossed about ; 
 We've been given room and some to spare, 
 We've been crowded like hogs at a country fair; 
 We've been in Section Five and Section Four; 
 We've been on the first and second floor; 
 We've been in Group "A" and Group "B"; 
 We've been all over the lot and all at sea; 
 And now we ask in questioning fear — 
 WHERE IN H— L DO WE GO FROM HERE? 
 
 ♦I« ♦> ♦!« 
 
 ANSWER TO "MOVIES" 
 
 Our friend above, in accent bold, 
 
 Requests an answer quickly told, 
 
 As to why, and when, and where we go, 
 
 Aseekin' space — I'll tell you, "Bo:" 
 
 To find a place where lines of files 
 
 Are filled with naught but lover's wiles, 
 
 Where "From" and "To" are things of past, 
 
 Where war's alarms can never last, 
 
 Where typists type of moon and stars, 
 
 And Sergeants always wear gold bars : 
 
 If such a place there is, my dear, 
 
 Then why in H — L don't we move from HERE? 
 
 176 
 
Moving Day 
 
MOVIES 
 
 (Who Blundered?) 
 
 Books to the right of us 
 Chairs to the left of us 
 Boxes in front of us 
 All tagged for moving ; 
 Work in confusion, 
 Noise in profusion 
 Caused by the allusion 
 That we are moving. 
 
 Miss Sherwood was not fretting, 
 
 But Hager was sweating, 
 
 Catalogues getting 
 
 Ready for moving; 
 
 "Rush," we heard Russel say, 
 
 "There can be no delay, 
 
 We must be packed up today, 
 
 Packed up for moving." 
 
 Everyone working, 
 Nobody shirking, 
 Forgetting the clerking, 
 For we are moving, 
 Packing unquestioning, 
 Speed never lessening, 
 No thought of resting — 
 Resting from moving. 
 
 178 
 
Signed memorandum, 
 For all abandon 
 The building a-standing 
 Near the Y. M. C. A. 
 Though all was altered 
 Nobody faltered, 
 Lambs being slaughtered 
 No gentler than they. 
 
 Then some sudden hush — 
 Stopped was the steady rush; 
 Cheeks pale that once were flushed, 
 What is the matter! 
 Officers furious, 
 Stenographers curious 
 The order was spurious, 
 Then what a chatter ! 
 
 Now they had packed, and well, 
 'Til they were out of breath 
 Til they had longed for death 
 To free them from moving — 
 Then — oh, what an awful sell, 
 Ring out the moving knell, 
 Somebody said "Do tell! — Oh H — L 
 We're not moving." 
 
 179 
 
OUR "PEPPY" LOOT. 
 
 He's younger than the most of us — 
 
 Far younger than the Top, 
 And, bein' young, he's full of pep, 
 
 And keeps us on the hop; 
 He hasn't been in long enough 
 
 To sour on the game; 
 He's tickled as a kid with it, 
 
 That's why we bless his name. 
 
 He puts us through all sorts of stunts 
 
 To liven up the drill, 
 He laughs when he turns corners sharp 
 
 And takes a muddy spill ; 
 It's up and in it all the time, 
 
 He never seems to tire, 
 And doesn't know what duckin' means 
 
 In face of Fritzy's fire. 
 
 He always calls us "fellows," 
 
 Never pulls the line, "my men," 
 He likes to think he's one of us ; 
 
 And back in billets, when 
 He has to make inspections, 
 
 He'll sit and chin awhile; 
 And as to all this "yes, sir" stuff, 
 
 "Oh, can it!" that's his style. 
 
 At shows he plays his "uke" for us, 
 
 And sings his college glees, 
 And if there's a piano, wow! 
 
 He sure can pound the keys. 
 On hikes he always starts a song, 
 
 Or sends along a laugh — 
 And those are things you darn well know 
 
 That help us stand the gaff. 
 
 I never cared for college guys 
 
 When I was in the States ; 
 I thought they were a messy lot, 
 
 A bunch of underweights; 
 But if our Loot's a sample, 
 
 Why I've got to change my mind — 
 He's got the sand, the bean, and go 
 
 To pull us through the grind. 
 
 180 
 
A FEW PAGES FROM "THE CLINIC 
 (Written by Lt. A. Harding, Jr., at Walter Reed Hospital) 
 
 FROM "A CHILD'S CHAPLET OF POISON IVY" 
 
 On U-Boats they get up at night 
 
 And work by artificial light; 
 With me it's just the other way 
 
 I sleep at night and work by day. 
 
 I have to pick up chips and see 
 The U-Boats slipping out to sea. 
 
 It almost makes me weep to think 
 Of neutral ships I can't help sink. 
 
 And does it not seem hard to you 
 Where there is so much work to do 
 
 And I would like to sink those ships 
 I have to stay and pick up chips. 
 
 TO MY BED 
 
 For many peaceful happy hours 
 
 With pain and trouble fled 
 When hopes and dreams of future joys 
 
 Have hurried through my head, 
 For refuge from the stress and strain 
 
 And toilsome life I've led, 
 For much of what is good in me 
 
 I have to thank my bed. 
 
 Oh, there were times when I was sore 
 
 Because, although I plead 
 For leave to go and play, I was 
 
 Confined to you instead. 
 But when I leave this hospital 
 
 And my "Good-byes" are said, 
 To none will they be more sincere 
 
 Than to my little bed. 
 
 182 
 
A FEW PAGES FROM "THE CLINIC" 
 (Continued) 
 
 THE NIGHT NURSE 
 
 Who is it when I'm coming in, 
 
 Oh Night Nurse, 
 Discovers just where I have been? 
 
 The Night Nurse. 
 And when I'm crawling in my cot 
 Descends on me with gargles hot 
 And makes me take 'em on the spot? 
 
 The Night Nurse. 
 
 Who is it wakes me up at six? 
 
 Miss Night Nurse; 
 To find out if my pulse still ticks ? 
 
 The Night Nurse. 
 Yet though at her I aim my jest, 
 I must admit that in the test 
 I find I like by far the best — 
 
 My Night Nurse. 
 
 TO MY NURSES 
 
 To all my gentle, gracious friends 
 Whose kindly thoughtful ways; 
 
 Have helped to smooth the Roughened Path 
 Of pain-filled nights and days: 
 
 If I have ever caused regret 
 
 By word or act of mine, 
 It was through thoughtless accident 
 
 And never by design. 
 
 And if I fail to mention names, 
 
 Perhaps I do not dare, 
 To claim a preference for One 
 
 Where all are kind and fair. 
 
 183 
 
ADVERTISEMENTS 
 (From "The Clinic') 
 
 COFFIN & BERRY 
 Expert Undertakers 
 
 'You will never regret a 
 ride in our hearse." 
 
 DAILY & KNIGHTLY 
 Tailors Extraordinary 
 
 Every Doctor and Nurse 
 
 should wear our Hand 
 
 Tailored Surgical 
 
 Dressings. 
 
 What if the Hairs of your 
 Head are number edl 
 
 BALDO 
 
 Will put an end to your 
 troubles 
 
 Why wear your original 
 Arms and Legs? 
 
 THE WHOLESALE 
 SUPPLY COMPANY 
 
 Will furnish you with Arti- 
 ficial Parts 
 
 "Never Tired" "Easily Replaced" 
 
 Let our Representative Demonstrate 
 
 184 
 
Reducing (Sparrow Cop) Arrests 50 Per Cent 
 
 Ready to Cross the Grass on the Ellipse 
 
THE KEEPERS OF THE HOME FIRE 
 The Country has laughed, 
 The Country has danced, 
 
 And care-free hours has whiled away ; 
 No thots of sorrow, 
 No thots of tomorrow, 
 
 Ever clouded her perfect day. 
 
 She was content with her stars 
 And proud of her bars 
 
 In the flag that floated on high; 
 But, why should she worry? 
 Nor did she hurry 
 
 When the Soldiers came passing by. 
 
 She had a small army, 
 She had a small navy, 
 
 And naught did she dream of more; 
 She rested content, 
 With her eyes ever bent 
 
 On "Liberty" guarding her shore. 
 
 And sweetly she slept 
 While the Viper crept 
 
 Into the heart of her land 
 Across and across, 
 From Texas to Maine, 
 
 The Monster spread out his band. 
 
 186 
 
The foundation made 
 And his plots all laid, 
 
 "Kamerad," he whispered, "God speed! 
 Go burn and kill, 
 Do whatever you will, 
 
 For 'tis so that we shall succeed." 
 
 When morning broke 
 And the Country awoke 
 
 To the menace within her midst, 
 She called out her army 
 And reviewed her navy 
 
 And sent out the cry: "Enlist!" 
 
 And now she heeded 
 
 The men whom she needed, 
 
 And she caught to her breast. 
 
 The flag on high; 
 'Twas suddenly endeared, 
 And loudly she cheered, 
 
 When the Soldiers came marching by ! 
 
 The Veterans this year 
 Saved the Country her bier, 
 
 And an army they trained in a day; 
 The Country's not done it 
 Tho she's done her bit 
 
 To "God speed" the boys on their way. 
 
 And they will win out, 
 And loudly will shout: 
 
 "Down with the Boche, the Hun! 
 Tho we're a peace-loving Nation, 
 We can beat Creation! — 
 
 Come, Comrades, let's go on a run." 
 
 Harriet C. Evans, Q. M. C. 
 San Antonio, Texas. 
 
 187 
 
OFFICE BULLETIN NO. 123456 
 
 Subject: Organization of Disorganization Section. 
 
 1. There is constituted within the Leather-Rubber Branch a 
 whole section that don't understand bulletins numbered 1 to 
 123456 inclusive. 
 
 2. For this reason, a reorganization of the re-organizers is about 
 co be made. 
 
 3. Anyone in this Section who feels that he or she knows enough 
 to sign a letter correctly this week will kindly report to the head 
 office boy and receive a Victoria Cross. 
 
 4. Any member of this section who has read all the bulletins 
 issued will be buried with full military honors the coming Saturday, 
 as their minds by reason of such fidelity to duty are no doubt in 
 such a condition that death would relieve them of further suffering. 
 
 5. The purpose of the re-organizations effected have been 
 carried out with such strict attention that orders, requisitions, etc. 
 are received within thirty-six days after issuance as compared with 
 seven days under the obsolete system formerly used. 
 
 6. While the work of this division was formerly handled with 
 an office force of approximately fifty people, it now provides work 
 for one hundred and seventy-six voters. This shows how efficiently 
 a scientifically built up system can expedite business. 
 
 7. It has been necessary to put into operation seventy new 
 machines to dash off the bulletins showing how diligently we are 
 working to keep every one misinformed. 
 
 8. While seven months ago about 14.334% of the employees 
 did not understand the system used in expediting public business, 
 through our re-organization bureau this high total has been cut 
 down to 99.998%. 
 
 9. The new systems are working out very nicely, as no one 
 understands them but myself and I am a little muddled at times 
 but I hope to hold my position indefinitely until things are 
 unmuddled. 
 
 10. Any enlisted man working in this Section who desires to 
 remain after being discharged will report to Room 666 and have 
 his head examined. 
 
 By order of the printing press. 
 
 R. I. Muddled, 
 
 Chief Dis-Organizer. 
 
PLATITUDES 
 
 1 . Believe in Truth. 
 
 2. There is only one truth about any one thing; that is, two 
 truths cannot be conflicting or one of them is not a truth. Both 
 may be true from the point of view of people who believe them, 
 but his does not make them intrinsically true. 
 
 3. Nobody knows what the truth is. 
 
 4. The nearest approach we can make is to believe what we 
 seem to have proved. Always with the understanding that we 
 may prove it is wrong. But, in any case this process leads toward 
 the truth. 
 
 THEREFORE 
 We should worry. 
 
 Because, if one or more should finally arrive at any truth, they 
 have only to wait in order to have all other seekers agree. 
 
 COROLLARY 
 
 Any inadequate or defective solution of a problem cannot be a 
 settlement of the question involved. 
 
 Donated by 
 
 Lt. Col. A. H. Doig. 
 
 A certain Sergeant who was attached to the Quartermaster Corps 
 at Camp A. A. Humphreys, Va., was visiting Baltimore a short 
 time ago and while walking along the main street, an officer 
 approached him. The Sergeant not seeing the officer, neglected 
 to salute and was stopped with, "Where are your arms?" The 
 Sergeant, not quite getting the officer's meaning, answered: "I was 
 
 never issued any," 
 
 Sergeant Nelson Erhart, 
 
 Camp A. A. Humphreys, Va. 
 
 189 
 
MUNITIONS "MEMORI-YAMS" 
 
 In sad, but loving memory of E. N. C, who departed from D-DIS- 
 DIV November 21, 1918, and now lies interned in Surplus Prop. 
 Div. Munitions Cemetery. 
 
 The loss was bitter, the pain severe. 
 When "Manny" quit his labors here; 
 For, oh, above all else on earth, 
 He was a source of endless mirth, 
 
 No more around here is he lurking — 
 His jaunty figure ever jerking : 
 For (dark, relentless fate pursuing) 
 Jerkins, alas, proved his undoing. 
 
 Lonely! Oh, so, lonely! 
 
 Uncle Han. 
 
 In sad, but loving memory of H. S. J., who departed from S. P. 
 Division January 1919, and now lies sleeping in Philadelphia. 
 
 Of toil a pleasure did he make, 
 
 As onward each day crept; 
 We thought him sleeping when awake; 
 
 And working, when he slept. 
 
 We did not know the load you bore, 
 
 Nor did we reason why; 
 We only know you went away, 
 
 And never said good-bye. 
 
 We often sit and talk of you, 
 Since you have gone away; 
 Delightful memories arise — 
 Refreshened every day. 
 
 C. E. Graves, 
 Capt., Q. M. C. 
 
 190 
 
SACRED TO THE MEMORY 
 
 of 
 MR. SMITH 
 
 IN SORROW we wallow, in grief we sniff, 
 
 Our 'earts sail with 'im o'er the seas, 
 
 Though H'English in manner and 'ead of light oak, 
 
 'is dinners and girls e'er did please, 
 
 Regulations and orders 'e made somewhat of a joke, 
 
 With 'is 'at cocked sideways and the air full of smoke, 
 
 'e'd talk to a major with no sign of a stroke. 
 
 'is idea of a chicken was not on 'is shoulder, 
 
 Though no doubt 'e'd 'ave 'ad one, 'ad the war grown older, 
 
 But you cannot tell when in England 'e gets, 
 
 'e may bloom forth arrayed in gold epaulettes. 
 
 But whatever 'e wears in H'England to swank 
 
 'e'll jolly well testify he not always was rank. 
 
 L'Envoi 
 So good-bye dear Lieutenant — Marcus Heber, 
 To you we dedicate this sad vers libre, 
 As in grief we wallow and sorrow we sniff, 
 Though "Lieutenant" is dead — Long live 
 "MR. SMITH." 
 
 191 
 
TREAT ME ROUGH, KID! 
 Listen, Sweetheart, to my plea, 
 
 Cut this highly cultured game, 
 All this fine gentility, 
 
 Grows to be exceedingly tame. 
 What I want is low brow love, 
 
 Can the soft and gentle stuff, 
 I'm no cooing turtle dove, — 
 
 Treat me rough, kid; treat me rough. 
 
 Cut the soft and weepy sighs, 
 Stop the meek and humble pose, 
 
 I'm no fragile litttle rose; 
 Grab me with a python grip; 
 
 If I struggle call my bluff, 
 Want my love? Then take a tip — 
 
 Treat me rough, kid; treat me rough. 
 
 I don't want my cheek caressed, 
 
 With a nice respectful peck ; 
 Yank me wildly to your chest; 
 
 If I fight you, break my neck. 
 Please don't be a gentle dub, 
 
 Spilling mushy soft soap stuff, 
 Woo and win me with a club — 
 
 Treat me rough, kid; treat me rough. 
 
 ENTER CAPTAIN (?) 
 There's a crash like the breaking of china, 
 And a smash like the falling of tin; 
 And a loud detonation 
 Which shakes all creation 
 When that Q. M. C. CAPTAIN (?) walks in. 
 
 Jessamine Mellor, Q. M. C. 
 
 192 
 
Mr. Robert J. Thorne, D.S.M., Assistant to Acting Quartermaster 
 General, Assistant Director of Purchase 8f Storage 
 
PHOTO BY HARRIS & EWING 
 
How do \Y)Z(jj do it ? 
 
 just out of bed 
 
 dt \)zr deSk a 
 few foours | a te r 
 
ITS A GOOD WORLD AFTER ALL 
 
 Every cloud has a silver lining, 
 
 So the cracked ones always sing — 
 What's the use of feeling peevish 
 
 When you bite on everything. 
 If you have a dreamy nature, 
 
 Dream July's not due 'til fall — 
 And take the boot-leg special eastward — 
 
 It's a good world after all. 
 
 Every swallow has an ending, 
 
 So the "Good Book's" verses say, 
 What's the use of being gloomy, 
 
 Even dogs all have their day. 
 Though the signing of that paper, 
 
 Sent ye poor clerks to the wall — 
 There'll be others walking with you — 
 
 It's a good world after all. 
 
 "Tartar' 
 
 THE SALUTE 
 By M. E. Buhler of the Vigilantes 
 
 When a soldier meets another 
 
 Higher in command, 
 Up, in instant recognition, 
 
 Goes his hand — 
 Gives salute in silent greeting; 
 
 'Tis the way 
 That he says at every meeting — 
 
 "I'll obey!" 
 
 When an officer, in passing, 
 
 Has salute, 
 Quick his heart and hand responsive ! 
 
 Grave and mute. 
 On the sea or on the earth he 
 
 Pledges as they meet, 
 By his rank, "I shall be worthy" — 
 
 So they greet. 
 
 194 
 
HELP! 
 
 There are cooties in France, there may be some here, 
 But frankly a cootie is not what we fear; 
 There's a terrible insect which stings like a bee, 
 Spreading disease thru the P. S. & T. 
 
 There must be a Jingle Bug somewhere around, 
 It flies in the air or it crawls on the ground; 
 We never have seen one but it's easy to see 
 That we are all victims, one must have bit me. 
 
 Once bitten, in prose you no longer can think, 
 You reach for your pen and you grab for the ink; 
 And these are my symptoms, my mind is afire, 
 Of jingles and rhymes it seems never to tire. 
 
 My friends all don't know what to make of the change, 
 One and all seem to think that my conduct is strange; 
 Of course I could tell them but would they believe? 
 I doubt it, so silently, I sit and grieve. 
 
 All work is beyond me, I can't count to ten, 
 When I try to add numbers verse flows from my pen; 
 If I take out my check book to pay off my debts, 
 No pay but a couplet my creditor gets. 
 
 A terrible state to be in you'll agree, 
 So if you're kindhearted just hark to my plea ; 
 Go visit your doctor, describe my disease — 
 Ask him if he'll try to put my mind at ease. 
 
 I'm at my wits end, I don't know what to do. 
 
 That's why I am writing, appealing to you; 
 
 Please don't forget me, or our casualty list 
 
 Will soon show one name that the Heinies have missed. 
 
 Private R. A. Gans. 
 
 195 
 
THE FIGHTING Q. M. C. 
 
 I belong to the fighting Q. M. C. 
 
 The bravest of the brave. 
 From morn till night we're full of fight — 
 
 Doggone it, how we slave! 
 
 We sit at our desks around the stoves 
 
 And we fight with jaw and brain. 
 We get to our desks about eight o'clock, 
 
 And at four we go home again. 
 
 Just keep your eye on the Q. M. boys — 
 
 The cuff and collar brigade; 
 For the story cold will never be told 
 
 Of patting my face with a spade. 
 
 'Tis tiddle-de-winks and chewing gum, 
 
 Cold-cream, bay-rum and stuff; 
 Cigarettes and playing cards — 
 Doggone it, ain't we rough? 
 
 Sgt. G. H. O'Brien, 
 
 Q. M. C, Camp Devens. 
 
 1% 
 
The Fighting Q. M. C. 
 
THE SERVICE OF THE REAR 
 
 When this cruel war is over 
 
 And the boys come marching home, 
 I'm afraid I'll be an outcast 
 
 And forever have to roam : 
 When they show their wound chevrons 
 
 And their service stripes of gold, 
 And tell admiring lasses 
 
 Of valorous deeds and bold, 
 I'll be missing from the circle, 
 
 And no one there will hear 
 How I nearly was a hero 
 
 In the SERVICE OF THE REAR. 
 
 I am an S. O. R. boy, also an S. O. L. ; 
 
 I never pulled a trigger, or sent a Boche to hell ; 
 
 I never saw a dugout, in fact, was never near, 
 
 For I performed my duty in the SERVICE OF THE REAR. 
 
 When we passed that glorious statue 
 
 That our liberties uphold, 
 We looked forward to the future 
 
 With ardent spirit bold; 
 We prated of democracy, 
 
 And freedom of the seas, 
 And how we'd get the Kaiser, 
 
 And bring him to his knees; 
 How we'd face the German legions, 
 
 Without a trace of fear — 
 But alas ! we had not reckoned 
 
 With the SERVICE OF THE REAR. 
 
 For I'm an S. O. R. boy, also an S. 0. L. ; 
 
 I never saw a battle, or a heard screaming shell. 
 
 The only Hun I ever saw was Prisonnier de Guerre, 
 
 A-working just like I was in the SERVICE OF THE REAR. 
 
 198 
 
I've done some M. P. duty, 
 
 Took a turn in "Warehouse A"; 
 Hit up the docks at midnight, 
 
 When the front was short of hay. 
 I've set up locomotives, 
 
 Then built a mile of track; 
 Chopped wood and dug some ditches, 
 
 Just to keep from getting slack; 
 But though I ' ve done my duty 
 
 As I saw it true and clear, 
 I will never get a medal 
 
 For my SERVICE IN THE REAR. 
 
 For I'm an S. O. R. boy, also an S. O. L. ; 
 But I ' ve always done my duty, and I ' ve tried to do it well ; 
 So I hope that at the "Finis," they will grant my wish so dear, 
 AND LET ME KICK THE KAISER IN HIS SERVICE OF 
 THE REAR! 
 
 THE Q. M. C. AND THE RED CROSS 
 
 One of the best stories I have ever heard on the Q. M. C, which 
 reflects the average layman's knowledge of what the Q. M. C. 
 actually is, was told to me on my way South last winter. A Q. M. 
 C. captain and a civilian were sitting in the smoking room of a 
 Pullman, headed for N. Y. They got very friendly and finally 
 civilian said — "By the way, Captain, what branch of the service 
 are you in?" and the Captain replied, "Why, I'm in the Q. M. C., 
 Sir." The civilian looked at him a minute and said, "Well, is'nt 
 that nice, you know I have a sister in the Red Cross." 
 
 W. K. R. Moses, 
 
 Q. M. C. 
 
 199 
 
COBLENZ VERSION OF "SILVER THREADS" 
 (By a Doughboy in the Army of Occupation) 
 
 Darling, I am coming back; 
 
 Silver threads among the black, 
 Now that Peace in Europe nears 
 
 I'll be back in seven years. 
 
 I'll drop in on you some night, 
 With my whiskers long and white ; 
 
 Yes, the WAR is over, dear, 
 And — we're going home (I hear). 
 
 Home again with you once more, 
 
 Say, by nineteen twenty-four; 
 Once I thot by now I'd be 
 
 Sailing back across the sea. 
 
 Back to where you sit and pine, 
 
 But I'm stuck here on the Rhine; 
 You can hear the gang all curse, 
 
 "War is Hell" but— Peace is WORSE. 
 
 RIGHT 0! 
 
 How beautiful it is to see all these noble women doing things! 
 Awhile back, during the war, they were all doing their bit ; numbers 
 of them are doing society, still others are doing their hair and their 
 fingernails. Of course there are many doing their duty and their 
 utmost. However, after all, the thing that women do best of all 
 is men. 
 
 Jessamine Meller, Q. M. C. 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 There are many little battles that we wage and come out victor, 
 Battles over scraps of paper, each one fighting as he can, 
 
 At the Quartermaster Depot, in the City of Chicago, 
 Where there's lots of folks a-workin for their dear old Uncle Sam. 
 
 Esther Freese, 
 
 Q. M. Depot, Chicago, 111. 
 
 200 
 
AT THE FRONT— IN WASHINGTON 
 
 When war was declared on Germany, I said "It's up to me 
 
 To get into the Army and fight for liberty." 
 
 I tried the Aviation first, and sought a chance to fly, 
 
 I yearned to be a famous Ace, and perhaps a hero die. 
 
 Then I tried the Army, the Navy and Marines, 
 
 Although I knew I might be forced to eat spoiled pork and beans. 
 
 Physicians looked me over and took a standing vote, 
 
 That as a fighting soldier little me would be a joke, 
 
 My eyes were bad, I was under weight, my feet were far too flat, 
 
 I had a touch of leprosy and little of this and that. 
 
 Disgusted I came to Washington, where they treat war workers fine 
 
 They sell you a dollar's worth of goods and only charge you nine. 
 
 The conveniences are wonderful, the rooms are simply Heaven, 
 
 Sometimes you get one four by six, but mostly three by seven. 
 
 Of course, there are no electric lights, nor carpets on the floor, 
 
 And to tell the truth my room doesn't even have a door. 
 
 No steam heat, hot water, nor things so handsome, 
 
 And when I want to leave the room I simply use the transom. 
 
 The folks are very friendly here, especially the ladies, 
 
 You just attempt a glance at one, and you hear "Aw, go to — -." 
 
 In fact you feel as joyful when going down the street, 
 
 As one imagines the Kaiser would, if the Allies he should meet. 
 
 However, I'll not grumble, though I may be here for years, 
 
 And just the very thought of such a fate brings forth the tears. 
 
 But when the Crown Prince is whipped, and I start back home to 
 
 stay, 
 I'll surely smile a big, broad smile at the start of that Perfect day. 
 
 201 
 
CARS 
 
 There are cars that start for Brookland, 
 
 There are cars full to the door 
 There are cars that run by all the corners 
 
 When they think they can't hold any more. 
 There are cars that have a jerky motion, 
 
 Just to mix the human freight inside 
 But the cars that die at Dupont Circle, 
 
 Are the cars that I like (?) to ride. 
 
 enty of 
 foam on **t£ 
 neti car 
 
 202 
 
A GENERAL TRUTH SELDOM ACKNOWLEDGED 
 Contributed by Major H. F. French 
 
 Stationed at a Southern camp where large detachments of casuals 
 were being sent to a Port of Embarkation, questions of what was 
 the authorized overseas equipment proved a source of constant 
 worry. After numerous complaints had been received that detach- 
 ments were improperly equipped in this and that particular, and 
 in the desperation caused by conflicting orders from Washington, 
 a personal letter was dispatched to the Chief Inspector at Port of 
 Embarkation asking just what equipment was proper. The answer 
 came promptly and to this effect : 
 
 "1. The correct equipment for medical overseas casuals is con- 
 tained in G. O. 411, as amended by G. O. 693, as amended by 
 Bulletin 841, as corrected by M. M. D. Par. 86, as changed by 
 letter S. G. O. December 1 5th, as altered by Regulations Port of 
 Embarkation 943, as revised by Overseas Cables to date. 
 
 "2. I don't know a damn thing more than you do." 
 
 FROM A WAR WORKER'S DICTIONARY 
 
 BUREAU OF FINANCE & ACCOUNTS:— It lives in such a 
 sanctity of isolation that the rest of the bureaus are overwhelmed 
 by such awe as not to dare to question any of its decisions or as to 
 inquire as to just how and why it is operated. 
 
 OVERSEAS OPERATIONS:— To add to and direct the distri- 
 bution of stocks overseas by means of an exchange of apparently 
 coded cablegrams, the secret key of which the personnel have lost. 
 
 ZONE SUPPLY OFFICER :— The originator of the only method 
 of "How not to do it" and the only officer having the right of veto- 
 ing the instructions of his superiors. 
 
 ARMY CATALOG NO. 1 :— A list of articles, devised with cun- 
 ning, so as to render procurement impossible. 
 
 203 
 
THE MEN BEHIND THE MEN BEHIND THE GUNS. 
 
 We don't pack no gat, or rifle, we don't juggle pick or spade, 
 Nor go stunning peevish Germans in no dashin* midnight raid ; 
 But we hit the warehouse early and we quit the warehouse late, 
 And there ain't no G. O. limits on the speed we truck the freight. 
 We don't hike along the roadway in them iron derby hats 
 While the shrapnel punctuates the breeze and gas floats o'ver the 
 
 flats; 
 We just dodge the fallin' cases and we slap them back on high, 
 For it's just a pile o' pilin' in the Service of Supply. 
 
 No, we ain't no snappy soldiers, and our daily round of drills 
 Includes a lot of movements minus military thrills; 
 But we drill them bloomin' boxcars, double timin' on the bends, 
 And we slam them full of boxes till they're bulgin' at the ends. 
 We ain't sniped no Fritzie, and we ain't wrecked no tanks, 
 And we don't go dashin' forward with the ever-thinnin' ranks. 
 But some nights we gets an order for a shipment on the fly, 
 Then we plug right through till mornin', in the Service of Supply. 
 
 We ain't had no dugout movies, nor a Charlie Chaplin laugh; 
 We ain't got no handsome colonel with his neat and nifty staff, 
 Nor a brave and fearless captain with a flashing sword and gun, 
 To yell, "Now, up and at 'em, boys, We've got 'em on the run. " 
 We ain't soaring round in biplanes punching holes in Boche balloons 
 Nor corralling frightened Fritzies by battalions and platoons, 
 But when they yell, "Rush order, " then we get around right spry; 
 For the boys are up there waitin' on the Service of Supply. 
 
 From "Stars and Stripes," A. E. F., France. 
 
 204 
 
RATS 
 Base Hospital 
 
 From : Medical Property Officer 
 To : Camp Supply Officer 
 
 Subject : Rats. 
 
 February 1, 1919. 
 
 1. Inform you that on account of the rapid multiplication 
 of rats which are used for laboratory purposes, this hospital has 
 an excess of about eight hundred (800). 
 
 2. Request information as to the disposition of these rats. 
 
 2nd Lieut., Sanitary Corps, U.S.A. 
 
 1st. Indorsement. 
 
 Office of Camp Supply Officer, Operating Division, Feb. 2, 1919 
 — To Surplus Property Officer. 
 
 1. Forwarded for your information and guidance. 
 
 2. Disposition, kind and gentle, we hope. 
 
 By authority of the Camp Supply Officer, 
 
 Chief Operating Officer. 
 By Asst. Chief Operating Officer. 
 
 2nd. Indorsement. 
 
 O. Z. S. O. New Orleans, La. Feb. 5, 1919 
 
 To Surplus Property Division. 
 
 1 . Forwarded, inviting attention to the preceding correspond- 
 ence and requesting that the Medical Supply Section furnish dis- 
 position on the above mentioned rats. 
 
 By authority of the Zone Supply Officer, 
 Zone Supply Officer. 
 By Zone Storage Officer. 
 
 3rd. Indorsement. 
 
 From : Surplus Property Division, Medical and Hospital Branch 
 
 To: Zone Supply Officer 
 
 1. Drown 'em. 
 
 Surplus Property Division, 
 Medical and Hospital Branch. 
 By Medical and Hospital Branch. 
 
 205 
 
GENERAL GOETHALS 
 
 (An Anecdote) 
 
 On my way down town this morning I encountered a man who 
 dominated the crowd journeying into the Subway and even the 
 unobservant could not but realize that he was of the "Empire 
 Builder type," — a man who did things. Following the eyes of the 
 crowd I observed it to be General Goethals and accordingly joined 
 him in a chat over "the battle of Washington" and the various 
 associates in the big work there. 
 
 In contrast to this most pleasant and care-free meeting comes 
 vividly to my mind a certain meeting in one of the first floor offices 
 of the then new Munitions Building which occurred in the stren- 
 uous days in October, 1918. 
 
 General Pershing had cabled his famous C 1739, Oct. 3, stating 
 the immediate need for motor trucks without which the American 
 Army could not advance. This came just as the responsibility for 
 getting automotive equipment to the A. E. F. was transferred from 
 the ML T. C. to the office of General Goethals as Director of P. S. 
 & T. and directly to General Wood, as his operating head and 
 Director of Purchase and Storage. 
 
 The word had come down in no uncertain terms that 10,000 
 trucks had to be loaded on ships during October. Every human 
 effort was being made to locate trucks all over the country and to 
 get these rushed to the Ports either by rail or M. T. C. convoys. 
 And to move 10,000 trucks in one month taxed all the energies of 
 everyone concerned, as well as transportation facilities of the 
 country way beyond the theoretical breaking point. To add to 
 the difficulties of this herculean problem the apportionment of 
 freight to the various ports was changed, probably unavoidably, 
 not once but several times, each change involving diversions of 
 freight, loss of trains and nearly crazy men in all departments 
 concerned. 
 
 206 
 
One night about Oct. 18, General Wood, Colonel Wells, Director 
 of Storage and myself in charge of the Overseas Distribution 
 Division, were in session poring over the confused reports which 
 told the tale of the movement of the trucks Pershing had to have. 
 To make matters worse Col. Nicholson, Col. Wells' able assistant, 
 who was personally keeping tab on the Big Job had been called to 
 Chicago on important business. 
 
 To state the case mildly the air was charged with the electricity 
 of human emotion. All knew the requisite 10,000 trucks were on 
 the move, but where they actually were after the seemingly endless 
 diversions no one could discover. They certainly were not at the 
 Ports and when they would arrive it seemed God only knew. 
 
 The door opened and in walked a man who to me seemed to 
 immediately throw us all into insignificance. A uniform; red face 
 set off by silver white hair was the picture recorded by my tired 
 brain as I managed to get to my feet. He walked direct to our 
 table and towering over us all grated out the words I shall never 
 forget: "I've had to eat dirt. I told March I would get 10,000 
 trucks on the ships this month and your figures show it can't be 
 done. I've had to eat dirt!" That was all, and just as he had 
 marched into the room he turned and made direct for the door 
 and left us. 
 
 Of the miracle by which those 10,000 trucks did reach the ports 
 and did get on the ships none of us know the full details. But the 
 impossible was achieved; we did carry out those orders and prob- 
 ably yardmasters, trainmen, clerks, telegraph dispatchers, truck 
 drivers and thousands of others in the big supply organization, if 
 their stories could be gathered together, could tell the full details. 
 The fact will stand out in history that the job was done and Gen. 
 Goethals never really had to eat dirt, as his hale, hearty appear- 
 ance of today testifies. 
 
 Lt. Col. John Tyssowski, 
 
 Q. M. C. 
 
 207 
 
THE GUARDIAN ANGEL 
 He yells, and in his yelling shows 
 
 His vocalistic strength. 
 "Heads up" he cries, in tones that reach 
 
 The thoroughfare's full length; 
 He puts real ginger in the throngs, 
 
 That pass Nineteenth and B, 
 And makes them hustle 'cross the streets 
 
 In perfect safety. 
 
 By signs which everyone must note, 
 
 That faithful, husky guy 
 Controls the streets from morn till night, 
 
 With dext'rous arms raised high; 
 He guides a dozen groups at once, 
 
 But all now like that cop, 
 For when he shoves the crowd along, 
 
 He makes the motors stop. 
 
 He has the happy faculty 
 
 Of hastening the gait 
 Of laggards, who, without his aid, 
 
 Would many a time be late. 
 That howling gink, with windmill arms, 
 
 Is moved by kind design, 
 For, when the clocks point to "nine-ten," 
 
 His watch shows only "nine." 
 
 William L. K. Barrett, 
 1st. Lieut., Q. M. C 
 
 208 
 
"IF" 
 
 After Kipling — About two miles and with due credit to Helen Rowland. 
 
 If you can love an officer without trying, 
 
 And make him think he's the prize for you 
 If you can trust him when you know he's lying, 
 
 And never let him know you knew; 
 If you can wait, and wait, and keep on waiting, 
 
 And greet him when he comes with smiling eyes, 
 And listen to the old equivocating, 
 
 And never say too much, or look too wise. 
 
 If you can make one heap of your illusions, 
 
 And risk them on one man — to stand or fall — 
 And find all your fairest dreams delusions, 
 
 Can still declare that he was worth it all ; 
 If you can love him, minus shave or collar, 
 
 If you can cook, when cooking's not your aim, 
 If you can help him save each single dollar, 
 
 And go on being "grateful" just the same. 
 
 If you can have your "say" — and then keep quiet, 
 
 And never lose your gentle little "touch," 
 If you can hide his weakness, or deny it, 
 
 And other men don't interest you much; 
 If you can spend each day and hour and minute 
 
 In pleasing him, and never make a blunder; 
 Well, hapiness is yours — for what there's in it, 
 
 And which is more — my dear, you'll be a wonder — 
 And SOME GIRL! 
 
 209 
 
INSTRUCTIONS FOR MAKING OUT YOUR INCOME TAX 
 
 REPORT: 
 
 There need be but little trouble to figure out your income tax. 
 In the first place it may be worked out by algebra, astronomy, 
 trigonometry or syntax — and then your answer may be correct 
 and it may not be. If your income is $2400 a year and you have 
 a diamond ring and an automobile and you are married to a bru- 
 nette girl — 26 years of age — you take the amount of the income 
 and add your personal property — substract your street number — 
 multiply by your wife's height and divide by your telephone num- 
 ber. If you have a child in the family — you substract $200 from 
 your income — add your collar size, and the child's age, multiply by 
 your waist measure — substract the amount of funds you have given 
 the church during the year, and then divide by the number of your 
 automobile license tag. 
 
 If there is a second child you deduct $400 from your income tax 
 — add the weight and age of each child — and divide by the date 
 of your birth — multiply by the size of your hat and substract the 
 weight of your Mother- in-Law. After you have it all figured out 
 you won't have to pay any tax of any nature — for they will have 
 you in a "Booby Hatch" and strapped down. 
 
 RECEIPT FOR NUT COOKIES 
 
 Strain a cupful of ordinary soup-stock through an unbrella case. 
 Tie four eggs to a leg of the kitchen table and beat them unmerci- 
 fully. Add a teasponful of selected raccoon fur, and roll out the 
 dough with perfect nonchalance. Go down to the First National 
 Bank and ask for some nuts. If they are all out, try all the other 
 shops on Main Street. On the following Tuesday, when you have 
 found the nuts place them in a row on the floor. Lead the cookies 
 in single file in front of the nuts, and when you have a cookie 
 standing in front of every nut and their minds are far away, sud- 
 denly push them backward with a fishing pole and they will all sit 
 down on a nut. Then there is no alternative, they have to be nut 
 cookies. 
 
 Finance Service, 
 
 Omaha. 
 
 210 
 
At Camp A. A. Humphreys, Va., a certain Captain was noted for 
 being a chronic bore, but one day he went "out of bounds" with the 
 following: "When I was a Quartermaster Sergeant in the regular 
 Army stationed on the Border there were times it was so warm that 
 the rain, when it did rain, was boiling hot before it hit the ground." 
 
 This was more than human mind could stand, so his best friend 
 (?) retaliated in kind. 
 
 "That is nothing. Why, when I was stationed at Manila there 
 were times when it was so hot it was necessary to sprinkle Manila 
 Bay to keep the battleships from raising dust." 
 
 (And a calm, sweet silence prevailed). 
 
 One day while on an inspection tour of the camp the General, 
 in his car, met a newly-appointed Major who failed to salute. 
 Stopping his car the General asked the reason for this breach of 
 military etiquette. The Major apologized and said that he failed 
 to see the General. "Well, you could at least see the flag with the 
 two stars and you are to salute it even though I am not in the car.^ 
 The reply was, "Oh Hell, I thought you had two sons in the army." 
 IvanK. Lanman, Sergeant 1st. Class, Q. M. C. 
 Camp A. A. Humphreys, Va. 
 
 A SONG 
 There are bills that make us happy, 
 There are bills that make us blue 
 There are green and yellow "10s" and "20s", 
 There are ugly bills we call "bills due;" 
 There are bills that have a potent meaning, 
 That our eyes alone, we hope, will see 
 But the bills that fill my heart with madness 
 Are the bills my wife sends to me. 
 
 Finance Service, 
 
 Omaha. 
 
 211 
 
WHAT IS TIME?!!!! 
 (An examination paper at Camp Meigs) 
 Time is Opportunity's "Reveille" and Procrastinations' "Taps" 
 Time's temperature is normally torrid 
 
 ("a hot time"— "the hell of a time"— "the devil's own time" &c.) 
 We sh'd take advantage of Time— but in a fair way only. 
 How often we hear of men's ' 'doing time' ' ? This is reprehensible 
 
 and should be barred. 
 
 C. E. Graves, 
 
 Capt., Q. M. C. 
 
 LITTLE GIRLIE 
 
 Little girlie, I adore you — 
 
 You are such a little fairy, 
 But, my dear one, I implore you, 
 
 Do not try to be so wary. 
 
 H 
 In your velvet, satin, crepe, 
 
 With your shining golden hair 
 
 Done up in the latest drape — 
 
 "Chic" enough you are, I swear. 
 
 Little girlie — now why do you — 
 Rouge your little face so charming, 
 
 So'that strangers here who view you 
 Think your color quite alarming? 
 
 With your lip-stick and your swagger, 
 
 Your impressions are in vain; 
 For no captain bold you'll stagger — 
 
 You'll just catch a country swain. 
 
 Mick, Q. M. C. 
 
 213 
 
S3I 
 
 A PRAYER 
 
 For discharged Members of 
 Finance Division. 
 Building, Munition 
 Q. M. C. 
 P. S. & T. 
 D. C. 
 
 0/i/ Lord 
 
 (Gen. Herbert M.) 
 
 Lettest thou our services 
 
 Which departed with peace, 
 
 Be remembered, pleasantly, 
 
 If work accord, 
 
 Amen 
 
 Oh! Lord. 
 
 J. Van Rensselaer, 
 
 Major, Q. M. C. 
 
 214 
 
His iAund rV to 
 
 J>j5TUK^1> "COOTS' 
 CA06IK&- 
 
 OVER THE TOP OF MY SHIRT 
 
 They go wild, simply wild over me, 
 
 Every night, how they crawl over me. 
 
 They are small, gray and flat, 
 
 And no matter where I 'm at, 
 
 The small ones, the tall ones, 
 
 They run right up my back. 
 
 The seams of my shirt where I can't see, 
 
 Is the place where they all seem to be. 
 
 Every night they come to dine 
 
 On that undershirt of mine, 
 
 They go wild, simply wild over me. 
 
 Finance Service, 
 Omaha. 
 
 215 
 
BONDS, JUST BONDS. 
 
 (Dedicated to the Liberty Loans) 
 'Twas Mrs. Jones that did it 
 
 But "dear old Bill" helped too 
 In cutting out expenses 
 To buy a bond or two. 
 
 They'd bought of every issue, 
 
 As much as any man 
 Till they really had to answer 
 
 "I don't see how I can." 
 
 "Old Bill" was getting seedy, 
 For "worn" were all his clothes 
 
 And the Mrs. too was needy 
 Of "duds" from head to toes. 
 
 Yet, still no one was ragged, 
 
 And neither wore a patch 
 So Mrs. J. decided 
 
 She'd rejuvenate their batch. 
 
 "Jonesey" swore he'd wear them, 
 So she mended every shirt, 
 
 And darned his socks and patched his pants- 
 Jones sported all but dirt ! 
 
 'Twasn't just for Jones she mended, 
 
 Her own clothes came in too 
 For patches, darns, and dyes, and trims — 
 
 There was a lot to do. 
 
 216 
 
Now here's what they accomplished — 
 
 A thing most all can do; 
 Folks laughed at Jonesey's "patches 
 
 But "Jonesey" Ha, Ha'd too. 
 
 While Mrs. J's swell neighbors 
 
 Would snicker at her gowns 
 And hats from other seasons; 
 
 They looked in vain for frowns. 
 
 For frowns were not forth-coming 
 
 From "Jonesey" nor his wife 
 Who both kept gaily humming 
 
 "Let's save our nation's life." 
 
 "We'll wear our rags and tatters, 
 
 And lend our cash for guns; 
 For 'tis'nt style that matters 
 
 Till our boys have licked the Huns." 
 
 And the Joneses, (bless their patches), 
 Had two extra hundred "bones!" 
 
 So it's the neighbor now that scratches 
 "Just to keep up with the Jones'." 
 
 Gordon Lyle, 
 
 Q. M. C. 
 
 \»v 
 
 217 
 
THE QUARTERMASTER'S DREAM:— 
 
 The Camp Quartermaster, with duties far vaster 
 Than any K. O. in the Camp. 
 Retired to his tent on a restful sleep bent; 
 The night was quite dreary and damp. 
 
 -U^HflH i WW t tltl^ 
 
 He thought of the morrow, and much to his sorrow 
 Remembered a duty undone; 
 Ten carloads of Hay, with demurrage to pay, 
 Unloading had not yet begun. 
 
 An interrogation on Truck Transportation, 
 
 By telegraph coming in late, 
 
 Unanswered telegrams bringing him curses and damns, 
 
 The Q. M. G.'s Office won't wait. 
 
 He rolled and he tumbled, he groaned and he mumbled 
 He cursed when the bugler blew taps. 
 At midnight he wept, then he finally slept, 
 With his brain on the verge of collapse. 
 
 218 
 
His sleep was a nightmare, (that kind causing white hair) 
 As a hodge-podge of visions arose; 
 Subsistence Form Numbers, Beef Fresh, and Cucumbers, 
 And Property, price list of Clothes. 
 
 Tents Pyramidal, shoes quite damnable, 
 Flour Issue, and Cheese Full — cream; 
 Butter Sales, Print, and Lard without stint, 
 All mixed in the Q. M.'S Dream. 
 
 Breeches, Wool mounted, and Stockings uncounted, 
 Moccasins, Moosehide and Gum, 
 Eggs, Desiccated, (to old hens related) 
 Belts, for Breeches or Saddle or Drum. 
 
 Soup, Canned, Clam Chowder, and Tea, Green, Gunpowder, 
 Prunes that would make you smile, 
 Canned 'Lasses, Tayters and Aprons for Waiters, 
 Sausages, Vienna Style. 
 
 {ifr^^^ ^on u fw^ — ^wr^yy^y^y^j^K 
 
 Envelopes, Letter and Writing Pads better, 
 
 Polish, Shoe, Russet and Paste, — 
 
 Mince Meat, Can or Crock, Brushes, Nail out of stock, 
 
 Bedding Rolls, buttoned or laced. 
 
 219 
 
Food, Fuel, and Forage — inadequate storage, 
 Quarters of Horses and Mules, 
 Guidons and Goggles, and all kinds of toggles, 
 Shoes, Horse and Horseshoers tools. 
 
 Fish, Dried, Cod, in cans, Office Electric Fans, 
 Undershirts, Fleece-lined and warm, 
 Soap, Toilet, Glycerine, bottles of Listerine, 
 Slickers to stand any storm. 
 
 Needles, Sailmakers and Tools for the Bakers, 
 Coats, White, for waiters and cooks, 
 Water Effervescent, Cigars evanescent, 
 Pick Axes, Pillows and Hooks. 
 
 >i W 3 ^* i MMM^7^f^ 
 
 jtUirrfl ^—i ift 
 
 Buttons, Bone (Large enough), Mutton, Fresh, (Very tough) 
 Towels, Huckaback that are good, 
 Potatoes in gunny sacks, Onions spread out on racks, 
 Tent fixtures, Cordage and Wood. 
 
 Coat-cars and Water tanks, Balance in local banks, 
 Whirled through his mind in a maze ; 
 Potatoes to Survey, enough of condemned Hay, 
 To Plague him the rest of his days. 
 
 220 
 
New regulations that bring forth damnations, 
 From Officers, Muleteers and Men, 
 Savings on rations, mistakes of all fashions, 
 On Property Voucher Two Ten. 
 
 Shave-tails with notions of early promotions, 
 The unit all yelling for Ice, 
 He saw cars on the siding, and nurses out riding, 
 And Mess waiters gambling with Dice. 
 
 He tossed and he twisted like a Rookie enlisted, 
 He woke with a yell and a scream, 
 But when he discovered his feet were uncovered, 
 He knew it was only a dream. 
 
 liH^wjffhhTUA^*^^*^?-- ■*wrflflillnw < Mi^w«^^ 
 
 H. G. Coyne, 
 Capt. Q. M. C. 
 
 22: 
 
A Q. M. C. CLERK'S DREAM 
 
 One night a Q. M. Clerk dreamed a dream, and dreaming, dreamed 
 
 he died, 
 Then straightway to the Pearly Gates his sin-stained spirit hied. 
 And there before the Saints he stood with down-cast head hung low, 
 "My record's pretty rank" he said, "I guess I'm bound below. 
 I've smoked a lot and drank a lot, confess it all I must, 
 I've flirted too, and then besides, Great Heaven, how I've cussed" ! 
 
 The good Saint Peter looked at him with kindly smiling eyes, 
 Then shook his head. "Don't ask" he said, "a mansion in the skies 
 But let me ask some questions, sir — are you a Q. M. Clerk?" 
 The sinner bowed, then in this strain the good old saint did quirk. 
 "Civil Service — you had to face it with puzzling questions galore, 
 Forced to toe the mark at seventy or they wouldn't want you any 
 
 more. 
 The Quartermaster looked o'er the Manual and started you to work 
 
 at eight, 
 And warned you very forcibly, 'You're fired! if a minute late.' 
 You had to get up at five A. M. to market within your means, 
 And though you would have liked a steak, you were forced to eat 
 
 rice and beans. 
 You hiked around to Thompson's for a cheap and nourishing bite, 
 Then back to the office in thirty minutes — you sure did 'expedite' 
 Your desk piled high with papers ('bucks' that were passed to you) 
 Almost caused your mind to wander — a regular Irish stew. 
 And twice a month you got your little dough: now tell me is that 
 
 so?" 
 
 "It is," replied the Q. M. Clerk as he took his hat to go, 
 Depressed by this recital of his Q. M. days below. 
 "Ah, well," said good Saint Peter, as he opened the portals wide, 
 "I'm very glad to meet you sir, just kindly step inside. 
 We'll try to make you happy here, we see you have no "jerk" 
 You've served your time in 'Hades' — you've been a Q. M. Clerk." 
 
 Geo. B. Rice, 
 
 Transportation, New Orleans, La. 
 
 222 
 
THE GIRL FROM THE U. S. A. 
 
 Oh the maidens of France are certainly fine, 
 
 And I think every fellow will state 
 That the "what-you-may-call-it" coiffured way 
 
 They put up their hair is great! 
 And they know how to dress, and they wear their clothes 
 
 In a Frenchy, fetching way, 
 And yet to me, there is just one girl, 
 
 The girl from the U. S. A. 
 
 I like to listen when French girls talk 
 
 Though I'm weak in the ' paries- vous" game; 
 But the language of youth in every land 
 
 Is somehow about the same, 
 And I've learned a regular code of shrugs, 
 
 And they seem to know what I say ! 
 But the voice of a girl, that goes straight to my heart, 
 
 Is the girl from the U. S. A. 
 
 Oh, I haven't a word but words of praise, 
 
 For these dear little girls of France, 
 And I will confess that I've felt a thrill, 
 
 As I faced their line of advance, 
 But I haven't been taken prisoner yet, 
 
 And I won't be, until the day 
 When I carry my colors to lay at the feet 
 
 Of the girl of the U. S. A. 
 
 223 
 
THE WAIL OF THE WAITING DOUGHBOY 
 
 Broke, broke, broke, 
 
 In a foreign distant clime, 
 Will someone kindly listen 
 
 And loan me just a dime. 
 
 Oh well for the Limited Service Man 
 Entertained by the maidens fair, 
 
 Oh well for the Hero Bold 
 Who rides in his swivel chair. 
 
 And the boys of the U. S. Nation 
 
 Go sailing out the bay, 
 While I sit and ponder sadly, 
 
 "Will my ship come in some day?" 
 
 Broke, broke, broke, 
 
 Without a dollar to spend, 
 While my ambitions to Kan the Kaiser, 
 
 Will never come again. 
 
 224 
 
Colonel F. B. Wells, U. S. Army, Director of Storage 
 
PHOTO BY PEARL GRACE LOEHR. NEW YORK 
 
INTERCEPTED 
 Dear Maude: I've been in Washington 
 
 Six weeks, a-typing letters; 
 Good pay, but not a bit of fun; 
 
 A slave in fancy fetters. 
 
 High wages are a simple sham 
 Where prices make one dizzy; 
 
 "How generous is Uncle Sam" 
 I thought; I now ask, "Is he!" 
 
 I live with Sue and Isabelle, 
 The room is twelve by twenty ; 
 
 We pay $10 each, and, well, 
 Our food is not too plenty. 
 
 The streets are jammed, the cars are, too, 
 Each tongue is heard but German; 
 
 This, this is war; I own to you 
 I quite agree with Sherman. 
 
 So, Maude, you'd better stay away ; 
 
 You couldn't save a penny; 
 There's nothing more that I can say, 
 
 Your loving classmate, 
 
 Jennie 
 
 Overheard in Finance — 
 
 Typist Mabel : — ' 'Tonight, I 'm going out in my 
 Chalmers." 
 
 Clerk Charley: — "What are Chalmers?" 
 
 226 
 
/~\ 
 
A PLAY 
 (in four acts) 
 
 Act, first ; scene, back home, in June, 
 The beach, Soft music. Crescent moon. 
 Hero, Lieutenant, browned with tan — 
 Sweet heroine, — American. 
 Flirtation. Kindred spirits. Bliss. 
 Eyes meet. Impassioned words. A KISS. 
 Curtain falls upon act one. 
 
 Act, second: scene, — Washington, in fall. 
 "Shave-tail" now a Captain — tall. 
 While heroine types, routes, files and batches 
 And wears EFFICIENCY to shreds and patches. 
 A call, "For France." Most glorious rage. 
 Heroics, sobbing, pacing stage. 
 "I go — but I'll return to you" — 
 Curtain falls upon act two. 
 
 Act, third : a lapse,— not quite a year's 
 While dashing Captain disappears. 
 "Did French girl nab him?" Grief untold. 
 Admirer: bald-fat — rich and old. 
 A declaration. Tears unpent, 
 PURSE-suasion. Ultimate c-o-n-s-e-n-t. 
 They wed. A note from oversea. — 
 A swoon. — Curtain falls on act three. 
 
 Act, fourth. SHE'S widowed: nurse in France- 
 In time for the Allies' great Victory dance. 
 With crashing bomb, with gas and shell, 
 We've sent the infernal Hun to HELL. 
 When suddenly from out the madd'ning glee, 
 A General steps. 'TIS HE. 'TIS HE. 
 Embrace. Reunion. Both ADORE 
 Curtain falls upon act four. 
 
 22S 
 
"THE GREATEST DADDY OF THEM ALL" 
 
 I've a dad down East in the Old Bay State, 
 
 A daddy tried and true. 
 You've a dad out West by the Golden Gate, 
 
 Who's all the world to you. 
 But there's a daddy for us all 
 
 From Maine to Alabam', 
 He's the Greatest Daddy of them all — 
 
 OUR daddy, Uncle Sam! 
 
 Chorus 
 He's the Greatest Daddy of them all, 
 Yes, the Greatest Daddy of them all. 
 
 For he always has the "Pep" 
 
 So always watch your step! 
 Wherever we be on land or sea, 
 
 He guards us, day and night. 
 
 When Uncle Sam said, "Boys, come on"! 
 
 We came from every state. 
 And to the world our flag unfurled 
 
 To seal the tyrant's fate. 
 They knew what Sherman said was true 
 
 When Uncle Sam broke loose, 
 For he fought like — well, he gave them — well — 
 
 He cooked the Kaiser's goose! 
 
 We're always gay in the U. S. A. 
 
 For our daddy has the "punch", 
 Whenever his foes tread on his toes, 
 
 He eats them for his lunch ! 
 From Chateau Thierry to Argonne, 
 
 We gave Kaiser Bill the "hunch" 
 That Uncle Sam could whip Potsdam 
 
 And all the Pots-dam bunch ! 
 
 George R. Laird, Q. M. C., 
 Copyright 1919 by George R. Laird Engineer Prop. Div. 
 
 229 
 
THE WALLOP 
 
 With Foch, the great contriver, 
 With Haig, the big Hun driver, 
 Pershing as chief adviser, 
 And God as rebaptizer, 
 
 We've walloped the Kaiser. 
 
 Thru glacier and thru geyser, 
 Down rathole and up riser, 
 Where flow the Rhine and Isar 
 Danube and old Budweiser, 
 We've walloped the Kaiser. 
 
 In spite of slack and miser, 
 Plus alien sympathizer, 
 O'er Bill and Ebenizer, 
 Helmet, mustache and visor, 
 We've walloped the Kaiser. 
 
 So take his goat and slice her, 
 Then ram it thru a dicer, 
 With sauerkraut for a spicer, 
 Limburg to tone it nicer, 
 
 We've walloped the Kaiser. 
 
 All hands on decks ! aye, aye, sir ! 
 Come quaff an appetizer — 
 Make it a paralyzer, 
 By Caesar's ghost capsize'r, 
 
 We've walloped the Kaise'r. 
 
 230 
 
X) 
 
HE FOUND IT 
 A well-known Indiana man, 
 One dark night last week 
 Went to the cellar with a match 
 In search of a gas leak. 
 (He found it) . 
 
 John Welch, by curiosity 
 
 Despatches state, was goaded ; 
 
 He squinted in his old shot-gun 
 To see if it was loaded. 
 (It was). 
 
 A man in Macon stopped to watch 
 
 A patent cigar-clipper; 
 He wondered if his finger was 
 
 Not quicker than the nipper. 
 (It wasn't). 
 
 A Maine man read that human eyes 
 Of hypnotism were full ; 
 
 He went to see if it would work 
 Upon an angry bull. 
 (It wouldn't). 
 
 WOW! 
 The Quartermaster, 
 Work him faster 
 Don't give him any rest! 
 If he hollers, 
 Take his dollars, 
 And send him over to Brest ! 
 
 232 
 
VALE! 
 
 There's a certain strain of sadness, which I cannot help but feel, 
 
 When I see you folks all leaving, one by one, 
 
 You have done your work with zest and you've done your work 
 
 with zeal, 
 And I'll miss you now that all is said and done. 
 
 The Quartermaster Corps has a sector in my heart, 
 
 And a sacred little spot it's going to be; 
 
 We have finished up our labors and the time has come to part, 
 
 But the memory, you shall never take from me. 
 
 You took your five or ten spot from your meagre little pay, 
 And you put it on the bond to pay the bill. 
 You were lots more patriotic in your humble little way, 
 Than the man who put two profits in his till. 
 
 I know what you have put up with, and you bore it with a smile, 
 And the glory of your deed will be unsung; 
 
 But you hold the recollection that you did some things worth while, 
 And deserved unstinted praise from every tongue. 
 
 You won't wear a Croix de Guerre; you won't have a D. S. C. 
 But you ought to have a medal on your chest, 
 For no matter what has happened, it's plain as it can be, 
 You have fought some tough old battles like the rest. 
 
 Anon. 
 
 233 
 
The Army Supply Service 
 
 An Outline of Major General Goethals' Division of Purchase, Storage 
 
 and Traffic 
 
 THE officers of the organization of the Depot Quartermaster 
 at Baltimore entertained at dinner October 25th, Brigadier 
 General R. E. Wood, Mr. R. J. Thorne, General Wood's 
 Assistant, and Col. L. M. Nicolson, Assistant Director of Storage. 
 General Wood spoke briefly on the necessity of not permitting 
 the newspaper talk of peace to lessen our efforts to procure and 
 distribute supplies for the Army. He also stated that it was his 
 policy to transfer men for overseas service, but would only send 
 those over who had done most competent work on this side. Gen- 
 eral Wood was obliged to leave the dinner early in order to catch 
 a train and requested Mr. Thorne to outline the organization of 
 the Purchase, Storage and Traffic Division for the information 
 and guidance of those present. Mr. Thorne took the subject up 
 in general terms and said : 
 
 Two Classes of Supplies 
 
 "The supply system of the Army has been in the observation 
 ward of the authorities at Washington for many months, and it 
 has gradually come about that supplies have been placed in two 
 general classes: first, those supplies which require a great deal 
 of special designing, experimental work and heavy factory pro- 
 duction, such as Air Craft, heavy Ordnance ammunition and 
 explosives, and especially designed construction projects for 
 Engineers or the Construction Division; and Class 2, all standard 
 supplies whose design and specifications had been determined as 
 satisfactory for military use. 
 
 "Under the new organization now being set up, the especially 
 designed class will remain with the present bureau which pur- 
 chases these supplies, and all other supplies, embraced in Class 
 2, will be consolidated in the Division of Purchase, Storage and 
 Traffic, under General Goethals, Assistant Chief of Staff. Also 
 under the new organization, the storage and distribution of all 
 supplies in Class 1 and Class 2 mentioned will be consolidated under 
 General Goethals. 
 
 Reasons for Unification 
 
 "The underlying reasons for these changes are to overcome the 
 limitations of shipping, transportation, and storage facilities, and 
 from the procurement side, the limitations of production, caused 
 by shortage of labor and of raw material. 
 
 234 
 
"Dealing first with the transportation limitations, these consist 
 of the capacity of the French railways, the debarking facilities at 
 the French ports, the shipping tonnage available, the loading 
 facilities at American ports, the storage and terminal facilities at 
 American ports, and the inland transportation facilities. A 
 moment's thought would demonstrate that a congestion at any 
 one of these points would effectually block the forward movement 
 of supplies to the troops in the field. In considering this matter 
 it must also be remembered that each additional man in France 
 means a correspondingly increased movement of supplies, and if 
 there be any congestion in taking care of an army of two million 
 men, it can readily be seen that each transportation unit must be 
 kept free from congestion and utilized to the utmost in order to 
 take care of the army of three and one-half million men that it is 
 planned shall be in France at the end of next June. Control of 
 all these transportation factors up to the French port is now placed 
 under General Goethals, so that a single individual now has a sur- 
 vey or picture of the entire system, enabling him to develop exist- 
 ing facilities that become congested, or by transferring the move- 
 ment from one system of railways or from one port to another, to 
 overcome a possible congestion at any one spot. To enable him 
 to do this, it is, of course, necessary that he have control of the 
 movement of supplies, and consequently, under the new consoli- 
 dation, he will have authority to pick up all supplies at point of 
 origin and direct the routes by which they shall be moved and 
 loaded on ships en route for France. For your information, the 
 A. E. F. has accomplished practically this same thing in their Ser- 
 vice of Supply, commonly known as S. O. S., under the command 
 of Major General J. G. Harbord. 
 
 Competition in Purchase Abolished 
 "From a procurement point of view, it was discovered that a 
 great deal of waste effort was occurring in the production of sup- 
 plies, due to the fact that frequently seven different bureaus would 
 be competing in the market for exactly the same commodity. For 
 instance, there are hundreds of commodities that all the bureaus 
 use, such as monkey wrenches, lanterns, stationery, typewriters, 
 and many supplies that are used by two or more bureaus, such as 
 harness, blankets, sheets and cotton duck. You can readily see the 
 confusion that existed in the manufacturing industry of the coun- 
 try when approached by several bureaus from the War Department, 
 each demanding priority of manufacture and material, sometimes 
 endeavoring to place a commandeering order as against another 
 bureau, all of which produces confusion which can easily be solved 
 by having one individual buy monkey wrenches, another individual 
 buy all. the blankets, another individual buy all the harness. 
 
 235 
 
"In addition to solving this production confusion, it is readily 
 seen that a single stock of these articles is much more easily handled 
 and will require a much less total number than two to seven stocks. 
 Consequently, it is planned that for issue in the United States our 
 various camps, posts, and forts shall carry a single stock of each 
 commodity, and while issue overseas of each commodity will still 
 be performed by the present bureaus, nevertheless, in our large 
 army reserve depots and expeditionary depots where the stocks 
 for overseas are stored, it will be possible to consolidate in storage 
 each article as a single stock from which requisitions of overseas 
 shipments from the various corps shall be filled. Some day it is 
 hoped that A. E. F. will likewise consolidate issue. 
 
 More Businesslike Stock Arrangements 
 
 "I hope I have made it clear to all that the establishment of 
 stocks of the same class under one roof at the same camp or depot 
 is a more businesslike arrangement than carrying several stocks 
 all mixed up with other classes of supplies. In the future, we shall 
 have a single hardware store, a single clothing store, etc., in place 
 of several hardware stores or clothing stores, etc. 
 
 Five Important Groups 
 
 "General Goethals has divided his organization into five main 
 groups : 1st, the Administration Group, and let me say a word here 
 on the importance of this service feature. A properly managed 
 Administration Division means good organization; it is the clear- 
 ing house for all papers; it is the one spot where the rules and 
 regulations are known, and I want to take this opportunity to 
 commend the men in charge of these organizations, whom I see 
 day after day and night after night patiently handling and routing 
 papers, keeping them in their proper channels, and all of us can 
 make their task much lighter and increase the efficiency of our 
 department by a little more preliminary study of procedure before 
 starting papers on their journey through the various branches of 
 the War Department. 
 
 "The second group is the Embarkation Service, under the Chief 
 of Embarkation, General Hines, who handles the shipping features, 
 including the allocation of ship tonnage to the respective ports, the 
 movement of troops on board ships, etc. 
 
 "The third branch is Inland Traffic, under charge of Mr. H. M. 
 Adams, who attends to the movement of all freight by public carrier 
 within the United States. 
 
 "The fourth group is the Division of Finance and Accounting, 
 the Director of Finance being our old friend General Lord, who has 
 so efficiently handled the pay of the Army and the other finance 
 
 236 
 
and accounting work for the Quartermaster Corps. Under the 
 consolidation, the entire appropriation bill of the War Department 
 is placed under the jurisdiction of General Lord, including, of 
 course, the control of moneys expended for all supplies purchased 
 through the Division of Purchase, Storage and Traffic. 
 
 Division of Purchase and Storage 
 
 "The last division of General Goethals' organization, and to me 
 the most important, as it is the one with which I am personally 
 connected, is the Division of Purchase and Storage in charge of 
 Brigadier General Robert E. Wood, who also continues as Acting 
 Quartermaster General. It is my honor to act as General Wood's 
 assistant in both of these capacities. You have had evidence 
 tonight, gentlemen, of the energy, directness, force and all-around 
 ability of our chief. There is no mistaking the fact that General 
 Wood has assumed the responsibility of keeping our troops supplied 
 and it is a pleasure, under his able leadership, to have a hand in this 
 most important work — work which if improperly done would 
 absolutely block any mobility of the Army. I trust that you 
 gathered from General Wood's remarks the fact that the Division 
 of Purchase and Storage is a service organization, which simply 
 means that the movement of the Army must be made free and 
 unrestricted, and it is the duty of this service organization to assist 
 and abet in that movement by constantly meeting every emergency 
 of the supply situation. We must at all times avoid having the 
 military movement restricted on account of shortage of supplies. 
 The military program is furnished us sufficiently far in advance to 
 enable us to have the supplies ready when and where needed. 
 
 "General Wood has divided his organization into four main 
 classifications: 1st, the Executive Officer, Lieut.-Colonel B. L. 
 Jacobson, who in addition to the general administration work 
 also operates the consolidated statistical reports, wherein are 
 brought together all the stocks of supplies wherever located, at 
 posts and forts, in transit, on dock, on board ship, and in ware- 
 houses in France — a complete summary of the exact location of 
 every article not yet issued to the troops. This Statistical Divi- 
 sion also gives us pictures of procurement records, the rise and 
 fall of market prices, the time consumed in inspection and dis- 
 tribution, and in other ways prepares charts that graphically 
 bring to the General's eye all the shortcomings as well as the good 
 points of his organization. 
 
 "Also reporting to the executive is a Surplus Stock Division, 
 whose province it is to sell those Army supplies on which we are 
 overstocked. Changes in design and specification often produce 
 overstocks, and the warfare in France is so different from what 
 
 237 
 
was anticipated that naturally many things were ordered that 
 later were found not as suitable as some other articles, or per- 
 haps were not needed at all. 
 
 "The second division is the Requirements Division, under 
 Major J. R. Orton. This division issues the purchase author- 
 ization for every article that is bought. The quantity required 
 month by month is shown, thus giving the procurement organiza- 
 tion, an exact schedule upon which to base their deliveries. This 
 division also, several months in advance, issues to the Overseas 
 Distribution Division the exact quantity of each article which is 
 required to be shipped month by month in order to take care 
 of our fighting forces in France. 
 
 Organization of Director of Purchase 
 
 "The third great division of the Division of Purchase and 
 Storage is the Procurement Division, under charge of the Direc- 
 tor of Purchase, Brigadier General William H. Rose, who has 
 made an enviable record as an Engineer Officer, with Assistant 
 Director of Purchase, Mr. G. P. Baldwin. General Rose has 
 taken all the supplies of the Army and divided them into eight 
 general groups, and into these groups every article, regardless 
 of the issuing bureau, will be placed for purchase under the juris- 
 diction of a single individual. The groups are generally self- 
 explanatory by their names, as follows : 
 
 1 . Clothing and Equipage. 
 
 2. Subsistence, including forage. 
 
 3. Motors and Vehicles. 
 
 4. Machinery and engineering Materials. 
 
 5. Raw Materials Division, which consists of Fuels, Oils, 
 
 Chemicals, Ferrous and Non-Ferrous Metals. 
 
 6. Medical and Hospital Supplies. 
 
 7. General Supplies Division — Hardware and Tools, 
 
 Kitchen Equipment, Office Equipment, Contain- 
 ers, Hemp and Jute Products. 
 
 8. Remount, which buys all our horses and mules. 
 
 "The Purchase Administration Division functions for all these 
 commodity sections and attends to purchase policies, production 
 records, inspection details, research, designs, and specifications, 
 the award and contract or legal jurisdiction; and contact with 
 the War Industries Board, War Trade Board, Food Adminis- 
 tration, Fuel Administration, Bureau of Standards, and other 
 Government agencies that have to do with the control of raw 
 materials and manufacture. In the performance of these duties 
 the administration office of The Purchase Division, carries out 
 
 238 
 
rules, regulations and policies of the War Department or the 
 office of General Goethals, most of which are printed in supply 
 circulars clearly outlining the procedure to be followed. The 
 jurisdiction of the Director of Purchase extends from the moment 
 that he receives a purchase authorization from the Requirements 
 Division until the delivery of the product by his inspectors to 
 the Director of Storage, or, in case the order comes from the 
 Navy, Red Cross or other issuing bureau, until he makes delivery 
 to them. This actual delivery may occur either at a Government 
 depot or at the factory. 
 
 Organization of Director of Storage 
 
 "The fourth division of General Wood's organization is the 
 Storage Division, the Director of Storage being Colonel F. B. 
 Wells, with Colonel L. M. Nicholson, as the Adjutant Director of 
 Storage, whom we will have the pleasure of hearing later in the 
 evening. This division undertakes the operation and control of 
 storage of all War Department supplies in the United States, 
 no matter where located, and it is charged with the duty of so 
 distributing these supplies that there will be a sufficient quantity 
 on hand to permit of an adequate supply for the troops, and to 
 allow freedom of military movement, but it is further directed to 
 operate like any good business organization and not accumulate 
 an unnecessary quantity of supplies at any point. It is charged 
 with the duty of forwarding month by month the supplies for our 
 overseas forces, in France, England, Italy, Russia and Sibe- 
 ria, and also our troops stationed in the Philippines, Hawaii and 
 Porto Rico. In fact, wherever there is an American soldier, this 
 Operating Division is there to look after his welfare, comfort and 
 equipment. 
 
 "Also reporting to the Director of Storage is the Salvage Divi- 
 sion, which operates our laundries and dry cleaning establish- 
 ment, repairs and renovates clothes, shoes, harness and other 
 war materials, and disposes of all waste material to the best 
 advantage to the Government. 
 
 "I have, gentlemen, endeavored in a brief way to cover the 
 high spots of this organization, but there remains one phase 
 of the consolidation that is very close to everybody concerned, 
 as it affects his personal relation with the corps of which he is now 
 a member, for it is planned that the consolidation shall be not only 
 of supplies, but it shall include the personnel as well. Con- 
 sequently, those individuals connected with the supply operations 
 mentioned tonight will be assigned to the Office of the Director 
 of Purchase, Storage and Traffic from their respective bureaus 
 and corps, namely Quartermaster Corps, Medical Corps, Ordnance 
 
 239 
 
Department, Corps of Engineers, Signal Corps, and Chemical War- 
 fare. The Air Production and Military Aeronautics are but slightly 
 affected by the plan, the extent of which has not yet been fully 
 determined. Consequently they are only affected insofar as dis- 
 tribution matters are concerned. 
 
 Quartermaster Corps the Foundation 
 
 "It is for this reason and this alone, and it is a very natural 
 reason, too, that when those in authority determined that the 
 consolidation of supplies was for the best interests of the Army, 
 they decided to build that consolidation upon and around the 
 corps of the Army most versed in supplies, and it is for this reason, 
 gentlemen, that to a very large extent the men who have been in 
 charge of the Quartermaster activities will be continued in charge 
 of the operations of the Director of Purchase, Storage and Traffic. 
 For instance, all depot quartermasters will be made zone supply 
 officers. The zones at the beginning will be those formerly out- 
 lined by the Quartermaster General. The systems of operation 
 and rules and regulations will be based primarily on those at present 
 employed by the Quartermaster, although it is specifically provided 
 that until further orders are issued, the systems of requisitions and 
 procuring of supplies by the other corps shall be continued in 
 effect, this for the reason, gentlemen, that it is a very large under- 
 taking to consolidate seven organizations, scattered all over the 
 United States, into a single organization, and it is desired that, 
 while responsibility is vested over night in our chief, and the per- 
 sonnel over night finds itself reporting to a new man, yet to pre- 
 vent any shortage or delinquency in the supply to the troops, it is 
 proposed that the officers of the various corps shall continue to 
 operate under their former rules and regulations until otherwise 
 directed. 
 
 " I might state that in Washington this mixing up of the corps 
 has already started, as, for instance, for the last few weeks all the 
 Quartermaster purchases have been under the direction of General 
 Rose, who is an Engineer, and daily in our offices come men wear- 
 ing the insignia of Ordnance, Signal and the other corps. It 
 seemed a little strange at first, I admit, but lately we scarcely 
 notice the difference. It is all in getting accustomed to the thing 
 that counts. 
 
 The First Duty of a Supply Officer 
 
 "I have always believed that the first duty of a supply officer 
 is to take care of his troops, in doing which he must not let the 
 rules and regulations interfere with him. Personally, upon enter- 
 
 240 
 
ing the service, I made up my mind that a Quartermaster Manual 
 designed for supplying troops in Indian Warfare and in our Wes- 
 tern barracks could not be the proper set of instructions that would 
 successfully look after our brave boys across the water, and I 
 must confess, gentlemen, that although for some months I have 
 interpreted and issued orders and regulations for the conduct of 
 the department, up to date I have never looked inside that yellow 
 bound manual giving an arbitrary procedure of how not to get 
 something done. I have seen it, however, in hands of men in uni- 
 form, and I, therefore, take great pleasure in announcing that in a 
 few days when you are transferred to the Director of Purchase and 
 Storage, I shall expect you to leave that yellow bound book in the 
 Quartermaster Corps, and come over unhampered by precedent 
 and procedure, and come with a spirit and determination to abide 
 by the new rules and regulations, and assist in establishing such 
 precedents and doing things in such a way that when our troops 
 come back they will universally say words of praise for the supply 
 work which has been done on this side. 
 
 "I formerly stated that in my judgment the Quartermaster 
 General was the Father of the Army, as it devolved upon him 
 to feed, clothe, and otherwise administer to the personal wants 
 of the troops. Well, like all other sons, they will grow up and 
 as they grow, they need more things, so General Wood with 
 his older family, under this consolidation has merely to meet 
 the increasing demands of his sons and furnish them with the 
 vast number of supplies that come under his jurisdiction in this 
 new organization." 
 
 241 
 
Extracts from Speeches Made at a 
 
 Get-together Meeting of the 
 
 Corps, August 8, iqi8 
 
 MR. BAKER 
 Secretary of War 
 
 I HAVE just returned from a visit to the Middle West where it is quite warm, 
 very much warmer than it is here. I sat on a front porch in Ft. Leaven- 
 worth two or three days ago and had to keep away from the breeze, because 
 the breeze was hotter than where it was still. And when I went to Cincinnati 
 ^discovered a recipe for keeping cool I had not known when I was in the West, 
 and which I will tell you about and leave it to your judgment as to whether or 
 not you will try it. In Cincinnati yesterday, with the thermometer at 160, 
 a very beautiful and charming young lady walked down the street, dressed in 
 a full fur coat, reaching from her collar to her heels. It turned out afterwards 
 that she was a newspaper reporter trying to find out what people would say, 
 so she could have something to print, but she said the things they said she 
 couldn't print. But she did say this, that after she got the fur coat off she felt 
 so deliciously cool she wasn't sorry she had worn it. I say that chiefly for the 
 officers and the men who have had to wear stiff collars and buttoned-up coats 
 — the 20 ounce melton cloth of the new uniforms — on these hot days. Perhaps 
 when you take your coat off you will be sufficiently cool to reward you. 
 
 When I was about 26 or 27 years of age an old woman asked me why I didn't 
 marry. Now I had a perfectly good reason, but I didn't have the young lady's 
 consent to discuss it in public, so I replied evasively and I asked her why she 
 was so concerned about me, and she said her concern was that some young lady 
 would lose so good a provider. I have never believed that was an adequate 
 reason for getting married, but I think it is a good reason for selecting a Quar- 
 termaster General, and when General Lord tonight so referred to General Wood 
 — I thought how fortunate this great army is to have so good and able a pro- 
 vider. 
 
 * * * 
 
 So that when the history of this country will be written, the chapter which 
 will be devoted to the Quartermaster Corps will not be a quiet or inglorious 
 chapter. Of course none of us are thinking very much of ourselves — the issues 
 that are unavoidable in this great world conflict are larger than anybody's 
 opinion of himself, and whether he is going to come out of it with any particular 
 renown, instantly the thought is submerged in the great sea of national things 
 that are of world interest, and humanitarian interest, so nobody is thinking 
 much about himself, but all of us are with propriety thinking about our corps. 
 We are thinking of those with whom we have worked, and it would be a dubious 
 thing indeed if the amount of enthusiasm, the amount of loyalty, and the 
 amount of patriotism displayed in our work when analysed, would prove 
 merely the daily ordinaries of business time, if the enthusiasm and loyalty 
 could occupy any subordinate place in the summing up of the history of this 
 great war, if the Quartermaster Corps should not have received proper recog- 
 nition for its splendid success. In fact, these successes are very splendid. 
 
 We have summoned into being in the United States Army now pretty nearly, 
 if not quite, two and a half million men, including those overseas and those on 
 
 242 
 
this side, and although I stand at the center of complaint and criticism, and 
 everybody, it seems, in the country— most of them helpful I am glad to say- 
 send me criticisms and comments which they have heard, and stories which 
 they think I ought to know, I get all. the complaints, some of them unfounded, 
 some of them founded, but from the very first mobilization of the Army until 
 now I have not a single complaint as to the food of this vast Army. I do not 
 mean that there have not been complaints as to food which has been stored, but 
 I mean that in no camps in this country visited by fathers or friends, attended 
 by persons in every ordinary walk of life, from no camp have I had a criticism 
 that the food was insufficient, that it was unwholesome in its character, that it 
 was not well cooked, or did not arrive on time. And today, I had a letter from 
 General Pershing in which he was commenting upon the perfection of supplies 
 on the other side, and said that not since the Army has been in France has a 
 single man in that Army had to wait a minute for a meal that was due. You 
 know what that means? It means more than a task. It means ships and 
 docks and wires and unloading devices and railroad construction. 
 
 * * * 
 
 We have reproduced the American things in France, and we have a complete 
 copy of the facilities that would be set up here if our forces were mobilized in 
 this country. That is very wonderful. The Quartermaster Corps has had 
 charge of this — of the clothing and the clothing and the equipping of the men . 
 
 # * * 
 
 We have to have some 50 to 90 days of supply for this vast Army in France. 
 And it has been done, not by one man, not by two, not by the Army, not by the 
 Quartermaster Corps of the Regular Army, but by the great aggregation of 
 men and women who have come in from military and civil life, and by co-opera- 
 tion and consolidation of strength to do this thing for their Nation in its hour 
 of emergency. 
 
 Now that is what the Army expects of the Quartermaster Corps. That is 
 what the War Department expects of the Quartermaster Corps, and that is 
 what the Quartermaster Corps is doing for the Army and the Country. 
 
 * * * 
 
 Now one other thought, and then I must leave you. General Lord referred 
 to the character of the Army which we have been and are building. You are 
 part of the builders and I want you to appreciate fully how splendid it is. It 
 is not only the most moral army that ever existed on the face of the earth so 
 far as records and observations go, but it is the soundest army in health, and 
 being sound in health and in morals it is sound in morale. Take this, for 
 instance, two things. Very recently Mr. Fosdick has returned from Europe. 
 He is the chairman of the Commission on Training Camp Activities. He went 
 oyerjust to watch the American soldiers. He was an unofficial person — he 
 didn't have a badge pinned on him to get attention, and as a consequence every- 
 body was just natural when he was there. He saw tens and hundreds of thou- 
 sands of American soldiers, and from one end of France to the other, through 
 segregated camps and remote villages — and he saw not one drunken soldier. 
 
 * * * 
 
 So we have this well-trained Army, this well-equipped Army, we have this 
 well-fed Army, we have this well-behaved Army, we have this sound and 
 healthy Army, and to many of these possibilities you are contributing, the 
 Quartermaster Corps is contributing." 
 
 243 
 
GENERAL WOOD'S SPEECH 
 
 a CTING Quartermaster General Wood addressed the meeting, taking for 
 l\ his topic, "What the Quartermaster Corps means to the Army." With 
 ^ *■ characteristic modesty he prefaced his speech by saying "I can tell you 
 very candidly that I would rather face a firing squad and German bullets than 
 to address you, and all the perspiration you see on my face is not entirely due 
 to the heat. In fact I spoke to Major Bourke and suggested to him that on 
 account of the heat, this meeting be postponed because I thought possibly that 
 by the time the heat might pass away, I might be on my way to France. In 
 any case I can assure you that the decision to hold the meeting tonight spoiled 
 one day's work in the Quartermaster General's office." 
 
 * * * 
 
 "Napoleon's old dictum that 'an army marches on its belly,' is just as true 
 today as it was a hundred years ago, and with armies of millions, the supply 
 and transportation problems assume an importance they never had before. 
 
 "Prior to the war, the Quartermaster Corps may be said to have been the 
 only supply department of the Army, but in this highly technical war, the 
 Engineer, Ordnance, Signal and Medical Corps furnish supplies on a vast scale. 
 In many ways the problems of some of the other supply corps are more difficult 
 than those of the Quartermaster Corps, for the question of design and the crea- 
 tion of additional facilities involved in making big guns, aircraft, etc., make 
 progress slower and more difficult than the production and supply of food and 
 clothing. Nevertheless, the Quartermaster Corps remains the largest supply 
 corps of the day. Its supply problem remains of the highest importance, for it 
 is the department that touches the individual soldier. The Army may lack 
 aircraft and it may lack guns, but when Private John Smith does not have 
 enough food, blankets and clothing and if he is not paid promptly, every 
 relative of the aforesaid private immediately comes to the conclusion that 
 the war is not being properly directed. 
 
 "The Quartermaster Corps furnishes the food for the men and the forage for 
 the animals, the clothing and equipment for the men, the fuel, the vehicles and 
 harness, the motor transportation and its accessories. A breakdown in any 
 one of these classes of supplies spells ruin for an Army, for the best troops in 
 the world cannot fight unless they are fed and clothed properly. The Quar- 
 termaster Corps also acts as paymaster of the Army. It is responsible for the 
 prompt payment of the troops and for the payment of certain classes of allot- 
 ments to the dependents of the soldiers and officers in the field. In this respect 
 it shares responsibilities with the Treasury Department. The Quartermaster 
 Corps has filled its obligations very completely in this respect, for the reports 
 we get indicate that the soldiers in every camp and cantonment in the United 
 States are paid before the 10th of the month; 
 
 * * * 
 
 "It means that stocks have to be carried all the way from San Francisco in 
 the United States to Toul and Nancy in France, that a system of distribution 
 has to be maintained, not alone in the interior of the United States, but at ports 
 of embarkation and through France; it means that not alone must supplies 
 be purchased for this Army, but that these supplies must be properly distri- 
 buted; in other words, that they must be in places where the troops can draw 
 on them promptly. In this respect, the United States has the hardest task 
 of any of the nations waging war, for the base of supplies for the troops of 
 France and Germany is but a comparatively short distance from the troops. 
 
 "To handle this task, there are now in the Quartermaster Corps over eight 
 thousand officers, one hundred and fifty-five thousand enlisted men and sixty- 
 
 244 
 
five thousand civilian employes, and that number is being increased all the 
 time to keep pace with the wants of our constantly increasing Army. 
 
 * * * 
 
 "In the sudden and tremendous expansion that has taken place in this de- 
 partment, it would not be surprising if there were many cases of inequalities 
 and injustices. I do not doubt that such inequalities and such injustices exist, 
 but I wish to assure you that it is our desire to be fair and that we will try to 
 correct all such cases that come to our attention. You would each of you not 
 be human if you did not desire recognition for your work and accomplishments. 
 However i I assume that you are not performing these services merely for 
 the sake of a job but that you are all of you bringing a real spirit of patriotism 
 to your job, and I want to remind you that the highest patriotism consists 
 in giving the best that is in us without the thought of reward. " 
 
 245 
 
ADDRESS OF CAPT. 0. B. ANDREWS 
 Depot Division, 0. Q. M. G. 
 
 BRIGADIER-General Wood has just told you of unnatural perspiration 
 caused by addressing this great audience — if that's the case with a 
 Brigadier-General, how about a young Captain? I am surely par- 
 doned for indulging in this Turkish bath, but I'll see that you do not have 
 your Turkish bath much longer, I will be brief. 
 
 For just a moment — let your imagination travel with mine, across the sea, 
 half round the world to a land called Asia Minor. In thenorthern part of the 
 country we find a mountain and gushing forth from its side we find a little 
 stream of water. As it reaches the valley, it gains in volume and momentum, 
 until it becomes the historic river Jordan. If we follow its course, we find that 
 ere long it empties into a great basin — known as the Sea of Galilee. Around 
 the banks of this body of water we find beautiful vegetation, the colors 
 of the plants seeming to vie with the wonderful tints of the sky in beauty. The 
 lands adjacent are fertile and productive. The vinyards are laden with 
 fruit. The land is flowing in milk and honey ; the peasants are indeed a happy 
 folk. 
 
 Within its confines we find fish and vegetable life in abundance. If we skirt 
 the banks of the Sea of Galilee and proceed to the other end, we find an open- 
 ing through which again pours forth the river Jordan, and we notice also in 
 wonderment that it is in much larger volume than that with which it 
 entered the Sea of Galilee, for it is a geographical fact that the river Jordan 
 is larger after passing through the Sea of Galilee — for this sea is an unselfish 
 sea. It takes in the river Jordan for a while and then gives forth more than 
 it has received, so that the river may continue on its journey to quench 
 the thirst of the dry lands below. The Sea of Galilee is unselfish and like all 
 things unselfish is a joy to itself and the world. If we continue to follow the 
 river Jordan, we find that it again empties into another great basin known 
 as the Dead Sea, but here a different condition confronts us. The banks are 
 barren, there is no plant life of any kind, the adjacent lands are arid and sterile. 
 There are no inhabitants near the confines of the Dead Sea ; for the peasants 
 in their superstition believe the Dead Sea is cursed. Within the Dead Sea 
 we find no fish or vegetable life of any kind. Its waters are poisonous and 
 bitter. 
 
 If we skirt its banks, in the attempt to find the cause of this desolation we 
 note that there is no outlet of any kind. It is a geographical fact that the 
 Dead Sea has no outlet. It is a selfish sea. It takes all in and gives nothing 
 out, and like all things selfish it is a curse to itself and the world. 
 
 Now, we of the Quartermaster Corps may draw a parallel between ourselves 
 and these two seas. If we put our souls, energy, interest and ambition into 
 our work we are as the Sea of Galilee. If on the contrary we are self-centered, 
 selfish, careless and indifferent, we are as the Dead Sea and the Quartermaster 
 Corps has no place for us. 
 
 To those of you who are familiar with the other Corps of the Army, you 
 know that there is a fine spirit of pride and an Esprit de Corps pervading all 
 of them. The infantryman will tell you that his corps is the backbone of 
 the Army, while the cavalryman will tell you that his corps is the most needed 
 in open warfare, and the artilleryman, smilingly, will tell you that no great 
 battle was ever won without the aid of his great and powerful guns. We are 
 proud of the spirit of each, but what of the Quartermaster Corps? For a 
 moment picture some great motor car you saw gliding down one of Washing- 
 ton's streets today. You recall how resplendent it was in its trappings and 
 
 246 
 
beautiful colors. Well, raise the hood and remove one little part of its 
 mechanism, known as the carburetor, and instantly the great machine becomes 
 a useless toy. Replace the carburetor, give it an adjustment and instantly 
 the great machine, pulsating with power and energy, continues on its way. 
 Now, what does the carburetor do ? It gathers in the fuel , combines it properly 
 with the elements of the air and passes it into the cylinders where it becomes 
 the great factor of energy. The Quartermaster Corps, on the other hand, gathers 
 clothing, subsistence and all the other things so essential to an Army, from 
 the four corners of the earth — stores them in its great warehouses and with 
 proper and judicious distribution, sends them overseas to our boys. Now you 
 and I know what would happen to the Army if the Quartermaster Corps 
 would suddenly cease its function. Realizing all this, we should take great 
 and unbounded pride in our Corps — and tomorrow when we sign a letter, 
 send out a wire or issue an order, we should bear in mind that though it may 
 seem of slight importance, it may have a very important bearing upon the 
 boys "over there. " 
 
 There are two things vitally necessary to the proper spirit of any corps or 
 organization. First, the desire to unselfishly serve. Second, unbounded 
 patriotism. The Quartermaster Corps is strictly an organization of service. 
 Service not self — "he profits most who serves best" — unless we possess an 
 intense desire to serve, then the Quartermaster Corps has no place for us. 
 As to patriotism, unless we have the same intense patriotism which causes our 
 boys to give up their life blood upon the fields of France, then the Quarter- 
 master Corps has no place for us. You remember the words: 
 
 "Breathes there the man with soul so dead, 
 
 Who never to himself hath said, 
 
 This is my own, my native land, 
 
 Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, 
 
 As home his steps he hath turned, 
 
 From wandering on some foreign strand? 
 
 If such there breathes, go mark him well ; for him no minstrel raptures 
 
 swell. 
 High though his titles, proud his name, 
 Boundless his wealth as wish could claim, 
 Despite his titles, power and pelf, 
 The wretch concentred all in self; 
 Living shall forfeit fair renown, 
 And doubly dying shall go down 
 To the vile dust from whence he sprung, unwept, unhonored and 
 
 unsung." 
 
 Another thing, I would ask you to remember and that is this You are 
 a part of our great Army. Don't permit your connection with the Army to 
 merely end with wearing of its uniform. You and I are greatly in honor in 
 being permitted to wear the uniform of this great nation — and we should 
 live up to its ideals and traditions. We are sometimes criticised for not living 
 up to all the military courtesies. Be careful of your appearance and observe 
 all the rules and extend and return all courtesies whenever it is proper — and 
 right here permit me to make a statement. I hope the time will come in 
 the Quartermaster Corps (and this may step on the toes of some of you ; if 
 it does I can't help it), that every officer before he is eligible for promotion 
 must be proficient in Infantry Drill Regulations and Field Service Regulations, 
 so that if ever any Quartermaster Corps Officer is called overseas, and lots of 
 them are, he can play the full game of war if need be. 
 
 247 
 
In the White House there resides a man upon whom greater responsibilities 
 have been placed than any other man in the history of the world. You know 
 and I know that he will solve all problems justly and intelligently, of that 
 we have no fear; that man has a great soul. He has asked you and me to take 
 one of these great cares from his shoulders, that of sending to those wonderful 
 boys "over there" all things essential for their comfort and life. Shall we be 
 faithful to his trust? 
 
 The Secretary of War, who is our Chief and who has honored us with his 
 presence tonight, also has great cares and burdens upon his shoulders. He 
 has delegated to you and me, one of the greatest of his trusts — that of feeding 
 and clothing the boys "over there. " Will we be faithful to that charge? 
 
 The American people, the fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers of those 
 noble sons of America are looking to you and to me to supply their wants and 
 necessities, in order that those boys may bring to a successful termination the 
 great work they have set out to do. Will we be faithful to that trust? And 
 last, but not least, those boys themselves each day are sending word to you and 
 me, of the things which they need, and when they return with the flush of vic- 
 tory upon their manly cheeks (and just as sure as there is a God in Heaven, 
 they will return with the flush of victory upon their cheeks) and they look into 
 your eyes and my eyes and say: "We have finished our task, we did our duty, 
 have you done yours?" — will we bow our heads in shame, or will we with 
 heads erect, looking into their eyes, be able to say: "You did you duty and we 
 did ours as we saw it." The answer, my friends, is with you and me. 
 
 We have a great privilege in bteing such an important part of this struggle, 
 and realizing it, we should bend our every energy in order that this great "Corps 
 of Service" may be successful, and now in conclusion let me touch for just an 
 instant upon a subject which is close to you and me. 
 
 There is hardly a day passes but that we hear some chap in our Corps, with 
 the red blood coursing through his veins say: "Do you suppose I will get a 
 chance to serve with the boys 'overthere?' " and we can't help admire him, 
 because where is the man who hasn't a streak of yellow in him a yard wide, but 
 wants to go over? Your heart and my heart may be consuming us with the 
 desire to go over seas, and I hope that we will each have our chance, but 
 remember that m every Corps there must be a head and upon that head rests 
 the responsibility of determining where you or I go, or whether we stay where 
 we can serve best. One man must decide and if he decides that your best work 
 is here or any place, even if it does not meet with our heart's desire, let's be 
 soldiers and do and serve willingly any place where duty sends us, because 
 remember, "Any sort of a chap can whistle when his work is mostly fun; a 
 hundred want the pleasant jobs to every sturdy one that'll grab the dreary 
 duty and the mean and lowly task, of the drab and cheerless service that life 
 often has to ask; but somebody has to do it and the tejsit of me and you, is the 
 way we face the labor that we do not like to do. Let's be soldiers in the great 
 struggle, let's be loyal through and through; life is going to give us duties that 
 perhaps we'll hate to do. There'll be little sacrifices that we will not like to 
 make; there'll be many tasks unpleasant that will fall to us to take, and 
 although we all would rather do the work that brings applause; let's forget our 
 whims and fancies, men, and just labor for the cause." 
 
 248 
 
1HE COMMITTEE 
 
 Rhyme and Rhythm by Lieut. Homer Sullivan 
 
 Caricatures by Garnet W. Jex 
 
 The Major 
 
 Chairman, seated there, 
 With patience, tact and genial air. 
 Commanding praise, but on the floor 
 To challenge quips which slur the corps. 
 
 Captain Graves 
 
 Rotund "Chief Ed." 
 
 Though grave of mein 
 
 He's never dead. 
 
 Beating the air 
 
 In even time 
 
 To test the rhythm 
 
 In each rhyme. 
 
 249 
 
THE COMMITTEE 
 
 Captain Buckley 
 
 "Editor of Prose," 
 
 Apt in his decisions 
 
 When differences arose; 
 
 With energy unfailing 
 
 He searched through all the lore 
 
 For quips that light the memory 
 
 Of the Quartermaster Corps. 
 
 Lieutenant Walton, doughty chap- 
 
 "Business Manager" 
 
 You see him stand 
 
 With bag in hand, 
 
 And eyes fixed on the "chair." 
 
 Cloth and leather binding, 
 
 Paper, stock and ink, 
 
 Bills o'erdue, subscriptions too, 
 
 Of these he has to think. 
 
 250 
 
THE COMMITTEE 
 
 Lieutenant Weaber 
 
 "Censorship Ed." 
 
 Here he's cogitating 
 
 While a funny quip is read. 
 
 Though all may voice approval 
 
 He cares not a whit 
 
 If it's anyways improper, 
 
 "He's opposed to it."/ 
 
 Mr. Rachofsky 
 
 "A division Ed." 
 
 With everything lit'rary 
 Stored in his head. 
 
 Concise in expression, 
 Devoid of all bunk, 
 
 He oft gives his decision 
 In one word, just "Punk" 
 
 251 
 
THE COMMITTEE 
 
 Miss Dell 
 
 "Associate Ed." is she 
 
 A tireless aid 
 To the Q. M. C. 
 
 Here you see her 
 With glee unfold, 
 
 The ninty-ninth copy 
 Of the Warrior Bold. 
 
 "Jex" 
 
 "Staff Artist" task perplexing, 
 
 Conning over 
 Each sketch so vexing. 
 
 To give the Chairman 
 True perspective, 
 
 For hours, thus, 
 He sits reflective. 
 
 252 
 
THE COMMITTEE 
 
 Major Bargelt 
 
 "Prose Ed.," trim, 
 Not too stout 
 And yet not slim; 
 Glass of fashion 
 Of form, the mould 
 Epaulettes shining 
 And spurs of gold. 
 
 Captain Lineburger 
 
 "Treasurer" was he. 
 Working on a hist'ry 
 
 Of the Q. M. C. 
 His branch chief said : 
 
 "The Q. M. book is folly" 
 Now judge for yourself 
 
 What genus bird is "Polly." 
 
 && 
 
 253 
 
THE COMMITTEE 
 
 Miss Dugent 
 
 "Secretary," — coy. 
 Her thinking pose reminds one 
 
 Of the busy office boy. 
 When "Ye Eds" would start to wrangle 
 
 Over rhythm, rhime or style 
 She ne'er lost her composure 
 
 Nor her genial happy smile. 
 
 Zone Committeemen 
 
 "Associate Eds." 
 Like Balzac's Comedie 
 
 "The Thirteen" heads. 
 An imaginative drawing 
 
 By the artist of the corps. 
 "A. W. L." the previous night — 
 
 We think in Baltimore. 
 
 254 
 
LENVOI 
 
 The influ has been here and gone 
 
 The dance is on once more 
 
 The movie fan is back in line 
 
 As vicious as before. 
 
 The soldiers' clothes will soon be shelved 
 
 God bless our "Khaki Clad," 
 
 And peaceful scenes down on the farm, 
 
 And meals with dear old dad. 
 
 So let us all who here have been 
 
 Without a sword or gun, 
 
 Remember how we fought and bled, 
 
 At dear old WASHINGTON. 
 
 ■ o " < " — ■ ° < ° ' « « ■■>■■ — i— ' — * 
 
 256 
 
 Copyright. 1919. by the Q. M. C. Souvenir Book Committee. 
 
 W 88 
 
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