There was a little group of men in one room.  The first thing I knew my friend had them singing.  At first they took to it awkwardly.  Then more courageously.  Then sweetly there rang through the hospital the strains of “My Daddy Over There.”

It melted my heart, for I have a baby girl at home who says to the neighbors, “My daddy is the prettiest man in the world,” and believes it.  I said to Cray:  “Why did you sing that particular song?”

“Oh,” he replied, “my baby’s name is ‘Betty,’ and I found a guy whose baby’s name is ‘Betty’ too, and we had a sort of club formed; and another guy had a baby boy, and then I just thought they’d like to sing ‘My Daddy Over There.’  But we ended up with ‘Jesus, Lover of My Soul,’ so that ought to suit you.”

“Suit me, man?  Why I got a ‘Betty’ baby of my own, and that ’Daddy Over There’ song you sang is the sweetest thing I’ve heard in France, and it will help those daddies more than a hymn would.  I’m glad you got them to singing.”

And now I’m back home, and I thought the Silhouettes of Song were all over, but I stepped into a church the other Sunday.  Up high above the sacred altars of that church fluttered a beautiful silk service flag.  It was starred in the shape of a letter “S.”  In the circle of each “S” was a red cross.  The church had two members in the Red Cross.  Above the “S” and below it were two red triangles.  The church had men in the service of the Y. M. C. A. Then grouped about the “S” were the stars of boys in the service.

As I looked up at this cross a flood of memories swept over me.  I could not keep back the tears.  All the love, all the loneliness, all the heartache, all the pride, all the hope of the folks at home, their reverence, their loyalty, was summed up in that flag.  I stood to sing, my eyes brimming with tears.  The great congregation started that beautifully sweet hymn that is being sung all over America in the churches in loving memory of the boys over there: 

  “God save our splendid men,
  Send them safe home again,
    God save our men. 
  Make them victorious,
  Patient and chivalrous,
  They are so dear to us,
    God save our men.

  God keep our own dear men,
  From every stain of sin,
    God keep our men. 
  When Satan would allure,
  When tempted, keep them pure,
  Be their protection sure—­
    God keep our men.

  God hold our precious men,
  And love them to the end. 
    God hold our men. 
  Held in Thine arms so strong
  To Thee they all belong. 
  This ever be our song: 
    God hold our men.”

I stood the pressure until that great congregation came to that line “They are so dear to us,” and the voice of the mother beside me broke, and she had to stop.  Then I had to stop, too, and we looked at each other through our tears and smiled and understood, so that when she sweetly said, “I have a boy over there,” her words were superfluous.  And so I have added another memory of song to the hours that will never die.