Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1917-11-26
Ho,D the Soldiers Want Smokes
rGuy Empey Author

He asked the nurse. what time Is
it?"
She answered: "Three o'clock. dear
ie Try to go to sleep. You'll feel
| better soon,'
The Canadian asked in q piteous
voice, "Why is 1t 80 darkT' Then he
shouted in a terror stricken voice: 81
knoW! know! They've put my lights
out Good God, I'm blind! I'm blind!
My eyes are gone-gone -gone"-And
his voice died out In o long sob.
Three doctors came through and held
a low voiced consultation. Two of them
left; one stayed.
The Jock whispered to me: Poor
bloke! He's going west I know the
signs"
The dying man began to mutter. The
nurse bent over him. She had writ
ing pad and a pencil In her hand. She
whispered to him: "Dearie, the mail
Is going out. Do you want me to
write a note home to the folks--just
a short note telling them that you are
all right and will be with them in a
couple Of months?"
The patient answered: Home? ?
Folks? I've never had any since was
a kid. Home! God wish had one!,
The writing pad in the nurses hand
was wet. The bandage on my shoulder
was wet Perhaps the blood was soak
ing through. But blood is red.
The voice of the wounded man
again: II want--want-1 want a.
The nurse: What do you want,
boy? What can l get for you-a nice
cool drink"
The answer came back: "a drink :?
He'll. no: I want smoke, Where's
my markings? I want a fag-a smoke
"a smoked"
She looked at the doctor. He nod
ded. She left the patient and came
over to me. felt as II were in the
presence Of God. She whispered to me:
Have you cigarette. my dear, for
that poor boy?> We are all out-havs
not received any for ten days. If the
people at home only realized what a
godsend tobacco Is for these poor
wounded lads they would send them
out. They are as important as shells"
l told her to look IN my kit bag
She looked through It and found one,
all out Of shape-a Goldnake. I think
1t was the only smoke left in that
ward OF sixty-nine patients.
With JOY in her eyes she went back
to her patient, gently put the cigar
cite between his lips and lighted it.
A contented sigh. two or three weak
puffs and the lighted cigarette fell out
of his mouth on to the sheet. He was
asleep.
1t was getting late: l fell asleep.
When l woke up it was morning
The bed en- my right was empty
The nurses IN the ward had red .yes.
They hac keen crying
turned an inquiring gaze to the
Jock on my left. He solemnly nod
ded and his mouth twitched thought
he was going to cry, but suddenly he
looked at me. tears in his eyes, and
said, Jaw, 60 to hell" and turned over
on his side.
Do the men in the trenches want
smokes?
Do they want their mothers?
Do they want their wives and sweet
hearts,
Do they want the field and flowers
at home?
Do they want SMOKES? t9f
God, do they want them? They need
them! They cry for them! They
must have themi <s
Americans, If you could only see with
your own eyes. realize the crying need
for smokes in France. you would starve
in order that they could have them.
Do your bit--win the gratitude and
thanks of the boys who are fighting.
your fght-our fight-Uncle Sans fight
the civilized worlds fight
Let your slogan be: Smokes for
Sammy"
And turn the words into actions. DO
1T NOW. How would you have liked
to have been the one who furnished
that smoke for the dying man? You
can be for another. VIII you! The
answer is you are an American. That
means yes.