“Our curtain of fire was ahead of us still, an’
theirs was behind us an’ thick,
An’ there wasn’t a thing we could do for ourselves—­the
few of us left had to stick. 
You haven’t much chance to get central an’ talk
on the phone to the music of guns;
Gettin’ word to the chief is a matter right then
that is up to the fellow who runs.

“I’d sent four of ’em back with the R. I. P.
sign, which means to return if you can,
But none of ’em got through the curtain of fire;
my hurry call died with the man. 
Then Runner McGee said he’d try to get through. 
I hated to order the kid
On his mission of death; thought he’d never get
by, but somehow or other he did.

“Yes, he’s dead.  Died an hour after bringing
us word that the chief was aware of our
plight,
An’ for us to hang on to the ditch that we held;
the reserves would relieve us at night. 
Then we stuck to our trench an’ we stuck to our
guns; you know how you’ll fight when
you know
That new strength is coming to fill up the gaps. 
There’s heart in the force of your blow.

“It wasn’t till later I got all the facts.  They
wanted McGee to remain. 
They begged him to stay.  He had cheated death
once an’ was foolish to try it again. 
‘R.  I. P. are my orders,’ he answered them all,
‘an’ back to the boys I must go;
Four of us died comin’ out with the news.  It
will help them to know that you know.’”

The Girl He Left Behind

We used to think her frivolous—­you know how
parents are,
A little quick to see the faults and petty flaws
that mar
The girl their son is fond of and may choose
to make his wife,
A little overjealous of the one who’d share his
life;
But the girl he left behind him when he bravely
marched away
Has blossomed into beauty that we see and need
to-day.

She was with us at the depot, and we turned our
backs a-while,
And her eyes were sad and misty, though she
tried her best to smile. 
Then she put her arm round mother, and it
seemed to me as though
They just grew to love each other, for they
shared a common woe. 
Now she often comes to see us, and it seems
to me we find
A heap of solid comfort in the girl he left behind.

“She’s so sensible and gentle,” mother said last
night to me,
“The kind of girl I’ve often wished and prayed
his wife would be. 
And I like to have her near us, for she understands
my sighs
And I see my brave boy smiling when I look into
her eyes.” 
Now the presence of his sweetheart seems to fill
our home with joy. 
She’s no longer young and flighty—­she’s the
girl who loves our boy.

A Patriotic Creed

To serve my country day by day
At any humble post I may;
To honor and respect her Flag,
To live the traits of which I brag;
To be American in deed
As well as in my printed creed.