The Coconino sun., 1917-09-21
THE BOYS AT NACO
 APPRECIATE TOBACCO
Naco, Ariz., Sept. IS, 1917.

This is no "bull", but Company l wishes to thank the Kahl Drug Go. very kindly for remembering the boys with two big cartons of Bull Durham from which we made the "makings" for week. Many people do not realize the comfort most of the men get from tobacco but it is a very important item in the present Western front war as evidenced by a letter from an officer in France, as follows:
 Somewhere in France, Aug. 12, 1917. Do not forget us in issuing tobacco as it is impossible here to get any American or other tobacco that can be smoked. In fact, the use of a gas mask is obligatory when one smokes European tobacco. We miss this more than any other article that could be obtained in the United States.
 l. M. CULLISON,,
 Capt. 2Sth U. s. Inf, Headquarters Co. 18th Inf, Am. Exp. Forces in France"
 Last Sunday every man in Co. I was presented with discharge from the Arizona National Guard and from the date of Aug. 5, 1917, we have been a unit in the National Army.
 Pay day came early this month, be- ing on the 10th, and with it certain quantity of booze. The officers de- cided to make a raid and confiscate all in camp. They picked Co. I as the most fragrant violator and placed the entire company under arrest for two hours while they made thorough search of every nook and corner, but to the credit of Capt. Robinson's "honor system" not a drop could be found.
 Chas. Nickell is relief cook now and "the leathery cakes the cook daily makes would choke off the wind of a goat"
 Stanton Borum left for Flagstaff Friday night on account of sickness in his brothers family. The following poem has been adopted by the company with the ap- proval of both cooks and kitchen po- lice.
 ON THE BORDER. I'm sitting here thinking
 Of the things left behind, And hate to put on paper What is running in my mind. We've dug a million trenches,
 And cleared ten miles of ground; And meaner place this side of Hell, know is still unfound. tl But there's still one consolation, Gather closely while I tell-- When We die we're bound for Heaven, For we've done our hitch in He'll. We've built hundred kitchens
 For the cooks to stew our beans; We've stood hundred guard mounts, And cleared the camp latrines. We've washed million mess kits, And peeled million spuds, We've rolled a million blanket rolls, And washed a million duds, The number of parades we've made Would be too hard to tell. But they'll not parade in Heaven, For we've done our bit in Hell. We've killed a million rattlesnakes, That tried to take our cots; And shook hundred centipedes
 From out our army socks; We've hiked hundred thousand miles And made thousand camps, And pulled a million cactus thorns
 From out our army pants. But when our work on earth is done, Our friends behind will tell, When they died they went to Heaven, For they did their hitch in Hell. When final taps are sounded,
 And we lay aside life's cares, And we do the last parade
 Up the shinging golden stairs, And the angels bid us welcome,
 And the harps begin to play, And we draw a million canteen
 checks,
 And spend them in a day; It is then we'll hear St. Peter
 Tell us loudly with yell, "Take a front seat soldiers, ..
 For you've done your bit in He'll"
 War is certainly hard grind on both the soldier and the civilian. Yet to that nation which does it's part manfully, war brings certain compen' sations. The average man has a third of his lung capacity which he