the pig into an army blanket held out to receive it. He clambered down a
smouldering flight of ladder stairs, with His Pigship under his arm,
quite unharmed, save for a severe nervous shock. Aside from a few
scorched kit bags, the loss of the top sergeant's cherished pipe, and a
few lungfuls of smoke acquired by Private Doe, the fire was not a
success--that is, from a historical standpoint. But as a social event,
in bringing the Americans--and Private Doe, kissed by the lady mayoress
for his pains, in particular--closer to the hearts of the villagers, it
was decidedly there.
----
JIM.
----
Honest, but Jim was the sourest man in all o' Comp'ny G;
You could sing and tell stories the whole night long, but never a
cuss gave he.
You could feed him turkey at Christmastime--and Tony the cook's no
slouch--
But Jim wouldn't join in "Three cheers for the cook!" Gosh, but he
had a grouch!
He wouldn't go up to the hill cafay when our daily hike was done,
And sip his beer, and chin with the lads, the crabby son-of-a-gun;
He'd growl if you asked him to hold the light, he'd snarl if you
asked for a butt,
Till at last the gang was 'most ready to put Jim down for a mutt.
About the first time that our mail came in, we all felt as high as
a king;
"What luck?" somebody hollers to Jim: he says, "Not a dad-blamed
thing."
And then he goes off in his end o' the shack, and Tom Breed swears
'at he cried;
But when somebody went and repeated it, Jim swore, by gad, Tom lied.
We were gettin' our mail, irregular-like, for about a month or two;
But Jim? He never drew anything, and blooey! but he was blue!
Not only blue, but surly; he was off'n the whole darn shop,
And once he was put onto "heavy" for talkin' back to the Top.
'Twas a day or two before New Year's, when the postal truck came in;
The orderly fishes one out for Jim; he takes it, without a grin,
And then, as he opens the envelope--eeyow! How that man did yell:
"A letter from James J., Junior, boys! the youngster has learnt to
spell!"
So nothin' would do but the bunch of us had to read the letter through;
'Twas all writ out by that kid of his, and a mighty smart kid, too,
For it isn't every six-year-old at school as can take a prize,
(Like the boy wrote Jim as he had done): and you oughter seen Jim's
eyes!
Well, Jim had a mighty good New Year's; he stood the squad a treat,
And now, 'stead o' turnin' out sloppy, he's always trim and neat;
Fact is, the lieutenant passed the word that if Jim keeps on that way
He'll be wearing little stripes on his arm and drawin' a bit more pay.
Don't it beat hell how a little thing will change a man like that?
Now Jim's as cheerful as anything instead o' mum as a bat.
An' the reason? Why, it's easy! A guy is bound to fail
Of bein' a proper soldier if he don't get no fambly mail!
If all of those post office birds was wise to the change they made
in Jim,
They'd hustle a bit on our letters, for they's lots that's just like
him;
It may be a kid, or it may be a girl; a mother, a pal, a wife,--
And believe me, this hearin' from 'em--why, it's half o' the joy o'
life!
Chartered 1822
The Farmers' Loan and Trust Company
NEW YORK
PARIS BORDEAUX
41, Boulevard Haussmann 8, Cours du Chapeau-Rouge
AND
TWO ARMY ZONE OFFICES
Specially designated
United States Depositary of Public Moneys.
LONDON: 26, Old Broad Street, E.C.2 and 16, Pall Mall East. S.W.1.
The Societe Generale pour favoriser etc., & its Branches throughout
France will act as our correspondents for the cashing of Officers'
cheques & transfer of funds for MEMBERS of the AMERICAN
EXPEDITIONARY FORCES.
----
BIG GUNS ON FLAT CARS
TO BATTER HUNS' LINES.
----
A. E. F. Operates Railroad Artillery that will Hurl
Tons of Steel Twenty Miles into
Enemy's Territory.
----
LONG-BARRELLED 155s ARE ALSO DEADLY.
----
Fortresses and Mountains Crumble like Sandhills
Before Blasts from the Busters.
----
When Rudyard Kipling paid his famous tribute to the late Rear-Admiral
"Fighting Bob" Evans of the United States Navy some years ago, one of
his verses ran:
"Zogbaum can handle his shadows,
And I can handle my style;
And you can handle a ten-inch gun
To carry seven mile."
That was a pretty fair gun for those days. But nowadays, we speak of
handling a sixteen-inch gun to carry twenty miles. Not only do we speak
of it, but we--we of the A.E.F.--actually do the handling.
The "big boys" are here. They are busters. They have more machinery
attached to them than the average small factory. Because of the fact
that they are mounted on cars and ride on rails they are known rather as
the "railroad artillery" than the heavy artillery. They have been
practicing for a long time on a "blasted heath" somewhere in France,
where there wasn't anything within twenty miles of them that would be
hurt by their gentle attentions. And, when they do practice Jee-roosh!
Hold onto your ear-drums and open your mouth!
Big Fellows Hard to Move.
But the actual practice at making perfectly good targets resemble
grease-spots on the oil-cloth doesn't take up but a bit of the time of
the men who constitute the crew. They have to know a lot about moving
the big fellow, raising him and lowering him, anchoring him so he won't
right-step and left-step when he's supposed to be firing, cleaning him
up for inspection and the like.
About seventy per cent. of them learned a good deal about the firing end
back in the Coast Artillery Corps in the States, but this business of
riding a big gun on a railroad bed, and so forth, was new to a good many
of them until recently. Now, they say, the minute the aero observer up
above gives them range and so forth, they are ready to go ahead and
batter the eternal daylights out of anything from the Kaiserschloss down
to old Hindenburg himself.
Besides the big guns that hurl a whole hardware shop-ful of steel at the
enemy, there are long-barreled 155s, and deadly devices they are in
their way, too. But it is about the big babies, the instruments which,
more than any other save the aeroplanes, typify for most of us the
advanced methods of modern warfare, that most of the attention is
centered. The 155s and the other smaller bores can be pulled up to
within striking distance of the line by trucks and caterpillar tractors,
but the heftiest never leave the railroad flat cars on which they are
built. In other words, they are rolling stock destined to keep a rolling
and a rolling and a rolling until they roll right on into Germany.
Getting One Ready to Fire.
It takes several hours to get a big one ready for firing but once its
mechanism is started, under the capable handling of a trained crew, it
works with the prettiness and precision of an engine. First the gun
rolls forward on to an arrangement of curved tracks which are called
"epies," and whose tips point toward the objective. Then, to steady the
piece, twelve large wooden feet are dropped by hydraulic jacks against
the rails, and the gun is ready to fire.
It fires, all right, sending a good ton of steel in the direction
indicated by the aerial observer. When it recoils, the flat car and all
slides back a good couple of yards on the rails. Then it is brought back
into position again, the barrel is cooled by jets of water, the wooden
feet are braced again, and the piece loaded. Even with all those
operations, the big fellow can fire a good forty shots a minute.
But, though they can fire those forty per minute, each one takes a lot
out of the big fellow's life. Unlike the guns of smaller calibre, they
cannot be used over and over again. They are too powerful to be used in
actual trench warfare, but let a fortress, or a mountain that has
perversely got in the way of operations, loom up ahead, and down it
goes! Also the big shells have been found exceedingly useful in knocking
in the roofs of German tunnels underground, even those that are quarried
out ninety feet under the surface.
All in all, the big fellow has a short life, but--if he's directed
right--it's a mighty gay one.
----
A BULL IS DURHAM'S PRIDE.
----
A Durham, N. C., enthusiast recently telegraphed to United States Marine
Corps headquarters in Washington:
"Terrier belonging to U.S. Marine kills huge rooster after battle royal
in main thoroughfare. Indignant chicken fanciers witness affair and
demand dog pay death penalty. Then they learn ill-fated rooster's name
was 'Kaiser.' Result: Dog is now pride of Durham."
----
"HE MAY OVERHEAR IT!"
----
"Aw, he ain't a bad skipper--as skippers go!"
"Gee, though, that was some clip he run us at on the way up that hill!
It pulled my cork all right, I'll tell the world!"
"Sat'day afternoon drill, too, eh? I wonder, is he goin' to work us all
eight days o' the week?"
"Aw, lay off! Don't blame him! He gets hell from higher up if he don't
work us, don't he? He ain't the boss!"
"Listen, guy! I wish you'd of worked for the cap'n I had to work for in
the Philippines! This bird is tame alongside o' him!"
"He's a good skate, all right, when he's off duty. I was talkin' to the
top the other day, and he says--"
"Sure, he's the real thing! Served two hitches in the ranks before he
come up to where he is now!"
"Who? The cap'n? Say, bo, he's a regular guy, he is!"
TIFFANY & Co
25, Rue de la Paix and Place de l'Opera
PARIS
LONDON, 221, Regent Street, W.
NEW YORK, Fifth Avenue and 37th Street
Exclusive [Illustration] "Regulation
Styles Pattern"
Special
Fittings
WALK-OVER
SHOE COMPANY
34 Boulevard des Italiens
19-21 Boul. des Capucines
[Illustration: Trade Mark]
PARIS
NEW YORK LONDON
LYONS, 12 rue de la Republique
NAPLES, 215 Via Roma.
Sole Agent in France for
"ONYX" HOSIERY
All soldiers are welcome at the WALK-OVER
Stores, where they can apply for
any information, and where all possible
services of any kind will be rendered
free of charge.
BELLE
JARDINIERE
2, Rue du Pont-Neuf, PARIS
THE LARGEST OUTFITTERS in THE WORLD
French and Allied Military Uniforms
EVERY ARTICLE
for Officers and Mens' outfits and Equipments
Agents for BURBERRYS
Sole Branches: PARIS, 1, Place de Clichy, LYON, MARSEILLE
BORDEAUX, NANTES, NANCY, ANGERS
Self-measurement Cards, Catalogues and Patterns,
Post Free on application.
JOHN BAILLIE & CO.
1 Rue Auber, PARIS
(Opp. Ticket Office of Grand Opera.)
_The Military Tailor
to United States Officers._
All Insignia, Sam Browne Belts, Trench
Coats. Large variety in stock.
UNIFORMS MADE TO ORDER IN 24 HOURS
"WORLD SERVICE."
AMERICAN EXPRESS CO.
11, Rue Scribe, PARIS.
BORDEAUX HAVRE MARSEILLES
3, Cours de Gourgue. 43, Quai d'Orleans. 9, Rue Beauvau.
GENERAL BANKING FACILITIES
FOR
AMERICAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCES.
DEPOSIT AND SAVINGS ACCOUNTS OPENED.
PAY CHEQUES CASHED.
REGIMENTAL AND COMPANY ACCOUNTS.
REMITTANCES FORWARDED BY MAIL AND CABLE.
Travelers' Cheque -- Drafts -- Money Orders.
TRAFFIC DEPARTMENT. TRAVEL DEPARTMENT.
Shipments of every description Steamship and Railroad
forwarded to all parts of the world. Tickets issued.
EASTER GIFTS.
Purchases including Gifts, Flowers, etc., for delivery in United
States at Easter or other festivals and on anniversaries may be
arranged through
AMERICAN EXPRESS CO.
ORDER AND COMMISSION DEPARTMENT.
The COMPTOIR NATIONAL D'ESCOMPTE DE PARIS
which Bank has branches throughout France are Correspondents for the
American Express Company and will accept remittances for payment
through the American Express Company, also deposits for transfer
to Bank Accounts opened with American Express Co.
----
The Stars and Stripes.
----
The official publication of the American Expeditionary Forces;
authorized by the Commander-in-Chief, A.E.F.
Published every Friday by and for the men of the A.E.F., all profits to
accrue to subscribers' company funds.
Editorial: Guy T. Viskniskki, 2nd Lieut. Inf., N.A.; Charles P. Cushing,
2nd Lieut. U.S.M.C.R.; Hudson Hawley, Pvt., M.G.Bn.; A. A. Wallgren,
Pvt., U.S.M.C.
Advertising: William K. Michael, 1st Lieut. Inf., U.S.R.
Fifty centimes a copy. Subscription price to soldiers, 4 francs for
three months. To civilians, 5 francs for three months. All advertising
contracts payable weekly.
Address all communications relating to advertising and all other
business matters, except subscriptions, to THE STARS AND STRIPES, Press
Division, 10, Rue Sainte-Anne, Paris, France.
Address all communications relating to text, art, and subscriptions to
THE STARS AND STRIPES, Press Division, G.H.Q., A.E.F., France.
----
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 1918.
----
THE STARS AND STRIPES is printed at the plant of the London _Daily
Mail's_ Continental edition in Paris. The paper stock is supplied by _La
Societe Anonyme des Papeteries Darblay_. Only the hearty co-operation of
these two institutions, one British, one French, has made it possible
for the A.E.F. to have a newspaper all its own. Unity of purpose among
the representatives of three allied nations has succeeded in producing
THE STARS AND STRIPES, even as it will succeed in winning the war.
----
"TO THE COLORS!"
----
With this issue THE STARS AND STRIPES reports for active service with
the A. E. F. It is _your_ paper, and has but one axe to grind--the axe
which our Uncle Samuel is whetting on the grindstone for use upon the
august necks of the Hapsburgs and the Hohenzollerns.
THE STARS AND STRIPES is unique in that every soldier purchaser, every
soldier subscriber, is a stockholder and a member of the board of
directors. It isn't being run for any individual's profit, and it serves
no class but the fighting men in France who wear the olive drab and the
forest green. Its profits go to the company funds of the soldier
subscribers, and the staff of the paper isn't paid a sou.
If you don't find in this, your own weekly, the things in which you are
particularly interested, write to the editors, and if it is humanly
possibly they will dig up the stuff you want. There are so many of you
over here now, and so many different sorts of you, that it is more than
likely that some of your hobbies have been overlooked in this our first
number. Let us know.
We want to hear from that artist in your outfit, that ex-newspaper
reporter, that short story writer, that company "funny man," and that
fellow who writes the verses. We want to hear from all of you--for THE
STARS AND STRIPES is your paper, first, last and all the time; for you
and for those of your friends and relatives to whom you will care to
send it.
THE STARS AND STRIPES is up at the top o' the mast for the duration of
the war. It will try to reach every one of you, every week--mud,
shell-holes and fog notwithstanding. It will yield rights of the roadway
only to troops and ambulances, food, ammunition and guns, and the
paymaster's car. It has a big job ahead to prove worthy of its namesake,
but, with the help of all of you, it will, in good old down east
parlance, "do its gol-derndest" to deliver the goods. So--For-_ward_!
MARCH!
----
FATHER ABRAHAM.
----
Just one hundred and nine years ago this coming February 12, there was
born, in what was then the backwoods of Kentucky, the man whose career
is most symbolic of the equality of opportunity afforded by our common
country. By dint of hard work, laboring under the spell of poverty and
of discouraging surroundings, Abraham Lincoln made himself fit to be
nominated for and twice elected to the highest office within the gift of
his countrymen. Not only that; he so qualified himself that he brought
his country safely through the period which, next to the present one,
proved to be the most crucial in its entire history.
He accomplished that tremendous task largely by the exercise of the most
trying--and, to those who do not possess it, the most exasperating--of
all the virtues: Patience. Patience which, moreover, was coupled with a
rare sense of homely humor. When pettifogging scandal-mongers sneaked up
to him with tales that Grant, his most successful commander, was
drinking to excess, he merely smiled; said he wished he knew the brand
of whisky Grant used, so he could try it on some of his other generals;
kept Grant in command (for he had his own sources of information as to
the general's conduct), and held his peace, trusting to time to
vindicate his judgment, as it did amply.
Then, too, in his relations with the Copperheads, the pacifists of that
day, who would have, as Horace Greeley put it, "let the erring sisters
depart in peace," Lincoln practiced patience--patience mixed with a keen
appreciation of the humorous side of their frantic meanderings. Through
all the dark days of those long four years he kept his poise, kept his
head, kept his nation straight in the true course; and yet, wracked with
anxiety, battered by critics, he found time to laugh, and to show
others the way to laugh.
Every American, at home or over here, would do well to take deep
thought, on this coming anniversary, of what manner of man was "the
prairie lawyer, master of us all." In spite of reverses to his armies,
in spite of such criticism as never before or since was leveled at the
head of a President, in spite of personal bereavement, in spite of the
captiousness of his own chosen advisors, he saw his task through. To-day
a united nation, united because he made it possible to be so, stands
again in battle array to vindicate the principle which he held most
dear: "That government of the people, by the people, for the people
shall not perish from the earth."
It is our privilege, and our glory, as members of America's vanguard of
liberty, so to fight, so to strive, that we may rightly be called the
fellow countrymen of Father Abraham.
----
SQUARING THE TRIANGLE.
----
The decision of the American Army and Navy Y. M. C. A. in France not to
accept as workers any more men who are eligible for military service
will meet with the hearty approval of every member of the A. E. F. The
stand of the Association in this regard will do away with one of the
most frequently criticised features of its operation, and will awaken in
the army a new confidence in the Y. M. C. A., and a belief in its
sincerity and fairness.
The spectacle of a man of draft age, undeniably husky and fit for active
service, cosily situated behind a counter during working hours, and when
off duty enjoying all the privileges, and often wearing much of the
insignia, of an officer when he had not been through the training and
made the sacrifices to entitle him to such treatment, has more than once
galled the feelings of the enlisted man, who, far less comfortably
quartered, enjoying no privileges, knew that sooner or later he and his
officers would have to take the chances "up there" while the "Y. M." man
would remain in comparative safety behind. Such a spectacle inevitably
led to the belief, in the minds of many men, that certain young
gentlemen with "pull" were donning the Association uniform simply to
escape the perils which all good men and true, wearing the khaki of the
A. E. F., will sooner or later be called upon to brave. Naturally, such
a belief lowered the standing of the Association in the eyes of the men
actively engaged in preparation for the work of the fighting line.
THE STARS AND STRIPES feels sure that the Y. M. C. A. can recruit just
as many "red-blooded" men, just as many "good mixers," among those who
are older than thirty-one as among those of military age. What is more,
it undoubtedly will draw from the older men a class more experienced in
the handling of affairs, more accustomed to dealing with all sorts of
their fellows. Viewed from any angle, the "Y. M." has taken a great step
toward efficiency.
----
TALK AND RESOLUTIONS.
----
In a recent speech to representatives of the British trades unions,
Premier Lloyd George of England said something which every American,
both here and at home, would do well to bear in mind.
"If we are not prepared to fight, what sort of terms do you think we
will get from Hindenburg? If you sent a delegation and said: 'We want
you to clear out of Belgium', he would just mock you. He would say in
his heart: 'You cannot turn me out of Belgium with trade union
resolutions.' No; but I will tell you the answer you can give him: 'We
can and will turn you out of Belgium with trade union guns and trade
unionists behind them!'"
In other words, mere boastful talk will not lick Germany. Guns, and the
men behind them are the only things that will do the job. There is only
one way for us of the A. E. F.--the men behind the guns--to bring about
the peace which the world craves, and that is by resolving to make every
shot from those guns talk business.
----
STREET OF THE PRETTY HEART.
----
It might have been a street once, that shell-pocked thoroughfare, its
cobbles piled awry, its curbing bitten out as though by the teeth of a
stone-crunching giant. Scarcely one of the houses that lined it but had
gaping shell-holes in walls, piles of clattered-down bricks before it,
heaps of dust--all mute tokens of the devastation wrought by the enemy
airmen during the raid of the night before. But, in the middle of that
pathetic and ruined apology for a street the children were playing away,
as merrily as if nothing at all had happened, shouting to one another in
glee. And the name of that street--as the battered and half obliterated
sign on the corner of the caved-in house at the end testified--was "Rue
du Joli Coeur"--"Street of the Pretty Heart!"
The "Street of the Pretty Heart!" It is symbolic of the way France has
borne her struggle, her devastation--with the heart-free, care-free
spirit of childhood. One may crush, but not conquer, a race whose
children can find happiness amid such surroundings, can abandon
themselves to play under the very shadow of disaster. The "Street of the
Pretty Heart"--in that title is the secret of triumph of the spirit over
the powers of darkness, the secret of the triumph of the spirit of
France over the malignant and evil genius of her arch enemy.
----
SINGING ON THE HIKE.
----
We do not sing "by order" in this man's army, but that is no reason why
we should not sing--just because we are not ordered to do so. Singing
can clip more kilos off a hike, take more lead out of a pack, drive more
dampness out of the clothing than anything else. Also, it is good for
the lungs. What is good for the lungs is good for the heart. And lungs
and hearts in good condition are the best possible aids to the "guts"
that will win this war.
We do not need to sing "highbrow stuff." We cannot imagine American
troops going into battle as our Italian allies are said to, singing the
national anthem, for the simple reason that we are not built that way,
that's all. But we can sing something--even "All We Do Is Wait for Pay
Day," or the famous ditty about the acrobatic grasshopper--and, if we
do, we are more than apt to find ourselves feeling a lot better for it.
Morever, it will help the fellow back in the line who, because of his
cold, a badly slung pack, a tight pair of shoes, or, perhaps, bad news
from home, is finding the going just a bit hard. It is the job of all of
us who feel fit to do all we can, to boost along the fellow who may not
feel quite so fit. It's team play that counts.
So start her off! Pitch it low enough so everybody can reach it, and
keep it going. It is an unbeatable tonic for an unbeatable army.
----
SPIES AND ASSES.
----
Beware of the man who, no matter what his uniform, no matter what his
nationality, comes to you with tales of Germany's invincibility,
prophecies that "the war will end in a draw," and so forth. If he is
saying such things on his own account, he is a German propagandist, a
spy, a paid liar, and should be reported and punished as such. If he is
repeating them second hand, he is nothing but an ass, a dupe of some
real propagandist, and he should be reported and punished just the same.
Germany thinks we are a credulous lot of people. Old Bismarck himself
once cynically remarked that there was a special Providence that watched
out for plumb fools and Americans. More recently, Von Papen, whom our
Government asked to have withdrawn from his post as German military
attache at Washington, referred to us affectionately as "those idiotic
Yankees." Consequently, Germany now hopes to weaken our resolution by
sending among us these tale-bearers, these prophets of disaster, on the
chance that some of us will be fools enough to bite.
The only sure and safe way to fool Germany in return is to report any
man mouthing such pro-German sentiments, and report him at once. Your
company commander will then see to it that further enemy activity by
that man will be effectively stopped.
----
"GAS-ALERT!"
----