New Britain herald., 1917-12-11
SOLDIER DELEGATES
Poem TO Mother
Gerald P. Cream Longs for Sound
Of Her Voice Again

Have you ever heard the music of an
Irish lullaby?
All, t'would set your heart a-beating,
put a tear drop in your eye.
But if ever you would hear it and true
JOY you would impart
All, you'd ought to hear 1T gushing
from my Irish mothers heart.
Have you ne'er the sweetness taSteo
from an Irish lullaby?
Sure, 'tis sweetness when It's huShing,
full of love, a babes sweet cry.
And no sweeter singing stlrs my soul,
yet unequalled art
Like the grooming Of my childhood.
straight from out my mothers
heart
All, tbs long now since I heard the
sweetness of lullaby
And I mean to hear it once again the
I day before I die.
But ne'er will hear the sweetness and
true joy will ne'er impart
Like the joy + left behind me- in my
Irish mothers heart.
War can never efface from the
memory of a loving son, the face of
his mother, the sound of his mothers
voice. And that is why Gerald +.
Cream, a corporal in a New Britain
company now on military duty IN
France, can find time between drills
and the numerous other occupations or
army life to indite and dedicate to his
mother, Mrs. Mary Cream, a singer OF
state wide note, the above poem war
is not all killing and slash1ng. Part
of it is thinking of the folks back |
home-especially mother. Corporal |
Creams poem is published by consent |
of his family. It draws aside the veil |
of the wide Atlantic and shows that a
man may remain the same at heart |
even though he dons the khaki in de-
Tense Of his native land
All French Men in Army.
Accompanying the poem, is a letter
telling of life in France. Among
other things he writes: "Our camp as
not situated anywhere near a city and
we see only few French people ex-
cept soldiers. But to see these peo-
pie, to hear them talk and to discover
their conditions is to know and not
fully realize what three long years OF
that is fit for military service is in the
army and they fight with life and spir-
it and their courage and brilliant
daring are exceeded by none. And not
all the heroes of the war are in the
army for probably an equal amount or
credit goes to the old folks IN the
| homes and to the young women. They
have to work and toll and slave to
make living but there is never a
murmur, never a complaint of their
| plight but always a, cheerful word and
| a happy Bon jour to greet you.
| 81 saw a pitiable sight yesterday.
was on provost guard in "a road lead
! ing from our camp and as came
around a corner I saw an old man,
about so years old would judge, COM
ing along the road leading his horse.
! On the wagon was his daughter, a
pretty girl about 25 or 80 years old.
| They were chatting gaily, probably
| about the days marketing, when an
automobile truck appeared around a
! bend in the road. AS it approached
nearer and nearer, the old man led his
| horse to the side of the road to let 1T
pass. It was one of the big French
| war trucks now in use and they are
| monstrous affairs and it n ade a loud
! racket in it's progress. AS 1t came
abreast of the horse and team, the
horse SHE'D. humping the old man Off
| his feet directly in front of his car. He
was stunned and could not move; the
driver of the truck was surprised and
unable to stop the machine and the
wheels of the car passed over the old
mans skull, crushing it into a pulp. 1t
was surely horrible sight. His
daughter was thrown to the ground
| but was not injured, luckily.
"They called his old wife to the
| scene and when she arrived they had
the body on the wagon and covered
with a. white sheet. They uncovered
the body and without any hysteria or
loud weeping of any kind. she calmly
turned away. But, oh. the grief and
sorrow that was shown in that poor
| old womans face made us all feel
! queer for quite a while. He was buried
| this morning from the old church and
| peace rest his soul"