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About Ashland tidings. (Ashland, Or.) 1876-1919 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 25, 1918)
GE TIGHT ASHLAXD TTBIKGft Monday, February 25, 1818 France TJouming One Llilllon Dead tBy Janet Stewart in Philadelphia North American.) "'Father, are they coming? Are jthey coming?' " 'Ar who coming?' I ask my boys roughly; 'the Germans?' "My French soldiers puff their cheeks out. and laugh. 'Oh! for the Germans! Pough! They better not; But' grave again 'are. the Ameri can boys coming to herp us? Father, ere they really coming soon?' "Then I tell my boys: 'Yes, the .American boys are on their way; they are coming, as surely as the .seasons come, and they are coming many, many thousands strong.' " 'Thnak you, Father, the voices ring out, all confident again; 'thank you for those words. How they put the heart in one! "Don't, oh, don't,be afraid to send men! My boys have cried to you lor help. America must help; the . cry has rung out to her; she dare not let it go unheeded. Send men, send money, send gold and Iron and steel and ships, ships, ships, and send in unbounded measures your praise, your sympathy and your help. There Ik neither France, Great Britain nor America In this war; it is one people lighting for justice, liberty and right." It is the French abbe with the Irish name; it Is that valiant soldier of God, who for two years faced with "his boys" the' German hordes and German shells from the front trench cf the great firing line; who prayed end laughed and watched with them; who cheered them to their dying and burled them when dead; who ehared with them their ceaseless dan ger of an awful death; who was hun gry with them, and cold with them, ''dirty and sick and wounded with them, who was one with them in everything except that subtle differ ence which made of him "father" and of the rest "my boya." It is the Abbe Flynn, telling a sobbing, shak en audience of American men and women yesterday afternoon in Wlth erspoon hall a little of what it means to have been a Frenchman in the years since 1914. "I would rather talk to you in French, ah, far rather talk in 'French;' begins the abbe in such faultless, current English, "but since 1 can't, why I can't. And what I am going to give you Is facts, just facts, the first-hand information of what 1 myself have seen at the front. For that, I imagine, is what Americans are most eager to get at, now that their own boys are so soon to be there. "It Is no exaggeration to say that 1 hear the sounds from 'over there;' those sounds come wafting to me across the misty Atlantic stretches, and they come to me like cries; I hear those voices and I know what words it is which come to me upon the swift Atlantic winds. They come In great cries which go up from the very soul of France. "And the first of those great cries Is a cry of woe; It Is the cry of de struction and of suffering, of blood and death; it is again what Joan of Arc described when she Bald: "II y a grande pltle au royaume de France' there Is great pity in the kingdom f France. "Oh, what a pity, an awful pity there is there! "Think of the destruction a man must see! Think of the quaint little French villages, some of which don't exist any more, where there Is quite literally not a stone left; think of the others, more desolate still, where only the bare walls remain to tell their story. "We said mass in underground caves, where the shells broke through the openings; we sat and ate and slept there. While we talked and waited for an answer, the man we talked to dropped over suddenly and was no more. We sat among ruins and In the path of death. "But the cry of woe that comes from 'over there' Is for the lives of the flower of the French nation cut down and lost to Ufa France has Dost one million of the brighest and the best that she could boast. You . liere In America think it is a tremen dous task to raise an army of one million men; France has lost a mil lion and has raised two million and a half since then. You are engrossed In raising one million men, and you Jiave not yet a million men there; eh, you have far, very fax from one half a million men today In France. When you are talking about your army of one million men, I ask of you to give one thought to that other . army of a million, the million dead cf France. "Ah, if you could see how it Is phey die! They die nobly, they die saintly; when my boys have gone over the top and have regained some French village from the Germans and I come along with them In entering It, the first thing I do is to kneel down upon that ground and say my jrayers; Jo me that is sacred ground; g , IIIMMI ititttttt-tttt i nintttttn ! TO THE BOY M THE TRENCHES i Following is a poem by Dick Posey, supposed to be letters written by a father and mother to their boy In the trenches, which was read by the author at the Wednesday Club Washington's Birthday reunion last Friday night: , ' """ ' '. DAD. Glad greetings to you, Jack, old boy, give us your fist, my lad. Though half of the world's between us, just "put her there" for Dad. I can't write like your mother or a sweet little- girl I know, But I feel that we're pals and friends. Jack, and I trust that you feel it so. And when you and your comrades are thinking of home, perhaps Well, tell the boys in the trenches not to forget their "paps." ( . They say that our hearts are calloused and unfeeling, if you choose, All clogged up with tobacco and perhaps a lot of booze, But we'll'not argue the question, just give the folks their way, And let you solve that riddle when you are a dad some day. There isn't much news to tell you, your friend3 are happy and strong, And all of us Hooverizing just to help you boys along. The business is doing splendid, it has grown so big, you see, I needed an active partner, so I took you in with me, So you may keep real busy there at your end of the line, While I get my nose on the grindstone and go plugging along at mine, Jack, I'd rather take your chances, no matter what hardships come, Than to skate along on Easy street like the fellows that stayed at home. Your girlie called this morning, bright and sweet as the morning dew;,.. And I loved her, not for you alone, but because of her love for you. She talked so brave and hopeful "and uttered no vain regret. But when she turned and left me I could see that her eyes were wet. And when the war is over and you shall have done your part, You will find a priceless treasure in the depths of a virgin heart. Your mother keeps well and cheerful, though she Bheds some tears for you, But they're tears' of love and faith and hope and they're shed for your comrade, too. I'll never forget the day, Jack, when you answered your country's call; How she smothered her grief with a Spartan smile and swallowed her cup of gall. I found you kneeling together, you and your mother, boy, And I saw on her anguished features the trace of a holy joy. I wanted to kneel beside you, but that isn't just my way, So I sneaked off into the woodshed and tried my best to pray. And when you marched away, lad, away from the old home, Jack, Our hearts were almost bursting but we wouldn't have called you back. Here, I guess I'm getting childish like, and senile with my years, But your mother's tragic struggle is excuse enough for tears. I wish I could shake off twenty years and stand to your shoulder, man, And strike those hell-fiends blow for blow, till spmebody's heart blood ran. I'd like to leap to the thick o' the fight with a Yankee's reckless zest, And kill my man with a joyful shout and know that I'd done my best; I'd love to see Old Glory sweep through the solid Teuton wall, And feel the surge of the hot, red blood as it answered the bugle call. But they tell me I'm old and senile not fit for the trenches ther.e, So I'll have to fight old Kaiser Bill with volley3 of red hot air. But say, if you get him cornered, and he holds real still, you see, Just slip in a soft nosed cartridge), Jack, and plug him one for me. Well, I hope you'll dodge the bullets, and may God preserve you, lad, And while you're thinking of others, just don't forget Your ' Dad. MOTHER. My own big soldier man-child, I've been thinking of you all day, And 1 want to talk with you heart to heart, as only a mother may. I wish I could cuddle you, sonny, right here in my empty arms A mother's refuge for gr&yfn-up boys away from all war's alarms. That is but a mother's yearning, the woman would hold you true To the righteous cause of an outraged world and true to the heart of you. Our country has now awakened to a sense of her sacred trust, And the mighty heart of a mighty race Is burning with battle's lust. We see the flower of our manhood by the God of Nations led, And we'll feed and clothe and arm you, though we nibble a crust of bread. Oh, Jack, we are proud of you, sonny, that our country, wonderful, grand, Believes in you, trusts you, upholds you with the strength of her mighty hand. ' We often sit of an evening, your father and Lucy and I, ' And talk of our loved one sleeping 'neath the stars of an alien sky. And when Father reads of a struggle that calls for a courage rare, ( He squares his shoulders and says to us, "I'll wager our Jack was there. a r ,n eu.nat mil wtiniocnmp. with a couracre rarely known, We have folded her into our bosoms and hold her as our own. And often I think of you Dotn, aear, ana neavemy vibiwis bcd Of my own dear, sweet grandchildren playing around my knee. Often I think of the radiant past, when my womanhood was blest With the only babe that ever touched its lips to my throbbing breast. And I prayea you a ue strong ana mumy mm nuuie auu . With a great, warm, 'tender, loving heart like the I,Ian of Galilee. Ah. little I dreamed in the blissful days of early motherhood I should ask you to dip those baby hands into fountains of human ulooa. n . .... ..1- nnmmonll VHll DH 1 nil IT HI O TplltOn StalKlS. And I'll face my God on the Judgment Day with their blood on these mother hands. My heart is clutched with a burden of horror no pen can tell When I read of the crimes commiuea ai me nanus ui Pure womanhood, prostituted by a bestial, leering foe. Their virtue sunk in the mire of shame with their spirits as white as snow. And so, as you love your country and revere your father's name And would fold sweet Lucy to your heart, untouched by the blight ol shame, , Then do your blood-drenched duty under our flag, my son, And remember the welcome that waits you at homo and Oregon. It has been bought by the freely of fered lives of the sons of France. "And I am glad and thankful to God that I can be there, and yet I have seen little children torn by shells; oh, that is such a pity, such a pity, that little children should be hit like that! I have nursed little ones- who cried out to me: 'But, father, did I do anything why I should be hit?' "But I am not going to tell you of the horrors, but why Bhould I not, Indeed? We who are not 'over there must bear some of the burden of war; at least, we must be courageous enough to know what are the things those others are going through for us. "Then the next cry that I hea from over there Is the great cry of victory. The French soldier knows that victory is coming; they aon i doubt it today, even today when Rus sia has dropped out and a treaty with the Ukraine has been signed; wliati treaties are signed we don't mind, we Just know that victory will come. They am noi pass wnen mej tried It before, and they shall not pass. "The beauty of that French soul Is its unity; there are no more repub licans nor monarchists, socialists nor radicals, clericals nor antl-clerlcals; there is only one nation, only one roan, standing erect to face the foe. "I have seen three women har nessed to a plow and the fourth driv ing. When I exclaimed they said: Ee not afraid, father, this is our way of fighting, and we shall fight thus to the end. Thus France goes, nana in hand and heart in heart. "The French soldier does not have to have the objects of this war ex plained to him; he knows why we are fighting; he knows that we do not want annexations. Ah, someone whispers Alsace-Lorraine; but it Is not annexation to take what is al ready yours Alsace-Lorraine iwas France, Alsace-Lorraine is France to day, and Alsace-Lorraine shall re main France orever! "Mn. Wilson's effort to separate the German military class from the German people looks like a dream, but. perhaps It may come true; only we find it very hard to make any distinction. You see, we see them very colsely, more closely than you do over here. They do not know the meaning of fair play. To the French fair play is something which rules their lives. Sometimes when . the prisoners are brought in I say to my boys, 'Now, you treat them just as you would like to be treated if you were In Germany.' 'Ah, but, father,' they say, 'they have treated us so vilely already." 'Stop that,' I say, 'go fetch your water, go fetch your bread and your cigarettes, and my boys laugh with me and shrug their shoulders and say, 'Ah, well, the father Is right, It Is just fair play. " What goods are left are going at less than cost at Ashland Trading Co. . Conference Held by Oregon Endeavors Several hundred delegates from all over the western part of Oregon were in Eugene Friday, Saturday and Sun day for the state convention of the Christian Endeavorers of several de nominations. The sessions were held in the First Christian church, the largest church auditorium in the city, and department meetings were held at the Central Presbyterian church. At the first session beginning at 10 a. m. Friday O. H. Foster, city attor ney, representing the municipal ad ministration, and Raymond Osborne, in behalf of the Eugene Union of the Christian Endeavorers, delivered ad dresses of welcome, and the response was made by Miss Gertrude Eakin of Salem in behalf of the visitors. Oth er sessions continued through the day and the two days following,. Sun day morning various ministers in at tendance filled the city pulpits. Ash land was represented by Misses Doro thy Carnahan, Alda Herr adn Edith Herrin. NEW LINES OPEN RICH TERRITORY With the transfer of Engineer H. P. Hoey and his forces from Eugene to San Francisco, where they are now in the office of Chief Engineer Wil liam Hood, the final chapter in the completion of the Willamette Pacific railroad has been closed. This line, running from Eugene to Marshfield, a distance of 121.6 miles, was opened for traffic in October, 1916, and is being operated under Superintendent E. L. Burckhalter as the Coos Bay branch of the Portland division. Mr. Hoey has remained at Eugene to finish certain engineering details. Construction on the road started in 1911 and over $11,000,000 was ex pended on it. It taps one of the rich est sections of Oregon. Of particular interest at this time is the important factor it has been in making avail able for government aeroplanes some of the choicest spruce timber In the northwest. The character of the country trav ersed presented many difficult engi neering problems, but, a standard roadbed has been constructed of the highest, type with easy grades and light curves. Five and one-half miles of permanent trestle had to be built and there were 39 streams, lake or bay crossings at which steel bridges were required. Those at Cushman on the Siuslaw and Reedsport on the Umpqua have drawbridges that are large enough to allow the passage of ocean steamers;. The great draw bridge over Coos Bay, costing $660, 000, is in all about a mile in length. The drawbridge is the longest in the northwest. Over 9,000 tons of steel were used In these bridges. The nine tunnels, if put together, would extend for two and seven tentlis miles. Eighteen thousand tons of steel were used in rails for the track and 60,000 barrels of cement went Into bridges, culverts, abutments and piers. Twenty million feet of Oregon fir lumber was con sumed by bridges, trestles, ties and buildings. Not counting the tunnels, 7,000,000 cubic yards of earth and rock were removed from the excava tions along the right-of-way. Modern freight and passenger serv ice isi now provided by this line through, an almost virgin country. Along its lines are vast resources, both scenic and industrial, awaiting the touch of the hand of development. A second section of train No. 53 passed through Ashland Friday night and consisted of members of the aviation corps from Fort Lawton, on their way to a southern point. The train did not arrive here until 9:45. 'The Ghost House1 Coming to Vining The attractions at the Vining for the week aro Taylor Holmes in "On easy Money" tonight; Emily Stev ens In "Daybreak," Tuesday, a drama of home life, carrying Its message straight to the hearts of the many. Wednesday and Thursday, February 27 and 28, will be presented "The Chest House," featuring Jack Pick ford and Louise Huff. An old house has gained the unenviable reputation of being haunted, and the caretaker, who is at the head of a notorious gang of thieves, does his best to keep the superstition alive. Young Ted Rawson (Jack Pickford) is being In itiated into a nearby college fratern ity and part of his Initiation demands that he spend a night In the haunted! house. Here he encounters all sorts of thrills and adventures. This is one of the strongest plays of the week. Who Steals My Purse Steals Trash The man who can truly say this is to be envied. YOU can say it, and with TRUTH, if you GET THE BANKING HABIT. When your money is in the Bank It Is SAFE safe from the sneak thief,, from the con man, from the bum SAFE. Then it's so handy for YOU to reach it when you want it. Let the thief have the purse if he wants. Keep your MONEY in the Bank. State Bank of Ashland Mrs. C. F. Eates, who has been spending several weeks in California, visiting at the homes of her sons, returned to Ashland Saturday even Rope silk floss 4c skein. Trading Co. Ashlana Mrs..PearI Barrett was a visitor In Ashland from Talent Friday- B low A "Doing Your BT" Mot Enough Is The Fullest Measure of Service Is the measure of our personal responsi bility in this war. Homes united, fam ilies enrolled, resources conserved, waste eliminated means AMERICA INVIN CIBLE. Every Man, Woman and Child Should think and act and serve together. What each one of us does during the next year Will Decide the Fate ot the World When each of us learns to sacrifice every interest in the National Service, Ger many's doom-will be sealed. Live in health and efficiency, but with out extravagance and without waste. Here is an opportunity for each to share in the iov of service: as imDortant as the service rendered by the man at the front. 1st, 1923. Save and Lend Your Savings You can render double service by lend ing your savings to Uncle Sam. He needs your savings now. You will need them after the war; if you keep them till Jan uary 1st, 1923, you will get your money back with 4 per cent interest, compound ed Quarterly. They may be redeemed before maturity at any post-office with interest to about 3 per cent. Buy War-Saving Stamps And hold safely the results of your patri otic thrift against a time of need. It helps' to win the war. And your dollar will buy more after the war. They Are Ballots lor the Rights ot Mankind A Savings Stamp cost $4.12 in January, and to this price one cent has been add ed for each month since January. This stamp will be worth $5.00 on January toy Where You See the This Space Contributed by The Ashland Printing Company