Bisbee daily review., 1918-07-07

supplies; that destroys his churches land cathedrals; that torpedoes hOspi-
 tai ships. filled with wounded men; that bombs hospitals back of the bat
 tie lines: that drives hundreds and thousands Of girls from their homes
 and forces them to work in the fields
 under the supervision Of lustful guards
 He does not fight on the side that nut Hates and kills little children for fun. The ether day ! read, as I presume
 many of you did. of a little girl who
 was terribly maimed in one of the kali
 ser's raids over LCndOn One of hen little hands was gone at the wrist, and
 the other was so badly shattered that
 it was useless. She was just a wan. abbreviated fragment of humanity She
 was lying with her head propped upon
 pillow, and there was pitiable smile
 upon her little pinched face as to her 1 breast. with the bandaged stumps Of her arms. she cuddled a little china
 doll. to which she was singing. A trib-
 ute to the kaiser. No barbarian could have done better job. But somehow | I feel that sometime God will make somebody pay for that God does not | fight upon the side that sinks ships | filled with women and children: that mistreats, abuses and crucifies prison
 CTS of war; that rewards brutality and
 greed: God has ever fought upon the side of decency and right through all the centuries, and he is there today, waiting and watching until the fitness
 of his purpose has been accomplished.
 The Hun today is being held in the
 mud of Flanders by the courage and strength of the Allied armies. The dawn of the day is not very far distant when the grit, determination and brav- cry of the millions of American boys
 will drive that Hun back to Berlin. A
 few days ago in the early hours of the
 morning was standing at a railroad
 station in one of the small cities in this great Southwest. and saw the coach
 es of the train being filled with hun
 dreds Of boys on their way to an army
 camp to be trained to fight this beast
 Of a Hun. I saw about me girls and
 women with little children. saw
 their tears-I heard the music of the
 band-I saw the hand-shakes and the
 goodbye kisses, and as the train pulled
 out a mighty shout went up. Hundreds
 D and those hundreds of boys shouted
 goodbye through smiles that blended
 love and determination, and I heard the voices and the band join in Where
 Do We Go From Here. Boys?" As I
 watched the train fade into the dis
 tance I remembered that moonlight
 night out in the Atlantic when the
 Transport Tuscania, ladened with Sile
 precious freight of American boys, was
 tOrpedCed by one Of those Hun wasps
 Of the seas. And ] saw those boys,
 frcm Maine to California. from cur
 own state of Arizona. as they fulfilled
 the traditions of the past, and brayely
 waited their turn for the lilebCats.
 Every true American. with his sorrow
 for those who failed to find a place in
 liieboats, can feel a wonderful pride in
 that type of American boyhoOd. Who
 can stand at the rail Of . sinking yes sel, which is carrying him tc a certain
 death. and yet with clear voice sing: Where Do We Go From Here. Boys?" | read a letter the other days written by man identified with Y. NJ. c. A. work in France He said: q wish I could make sou people or America un- derstand and know how our boys have been transfigured To some it has meant a spiritual awakening. l have seen boys from the slums and the al- leys and cut Of the way places of the world and from whom their communi- ties expected no good change into men or character and purpose. The other day, after a battle. I saw staggeTing towards me a wounded boy carrying on his back wounded c0mrade. Pcth were covered with bleed and the filth of the trenches. As I watched them I could not keep back the tears. Yet. as he passed me, he looked up into my face and smiled. Such a smile as might have passed the lips of our Say for upon the Cross. And when Il think Of the determination, the bray cry, the sacrifice Of those American boys, on the way 10 the training camp. cn the decks Cf the Tuscania, in the l blood of No Mans Land-I ask myself ] the question: twill they whip the Hun?' and the answer comes from deep down within me: "They will"
 You men and women of America. l carry on. Those American boys are lighting in the trenches of Flanders l that democracy might live. You must ! light here to give them the strength to 1 carry cn their battle Upon you as well as upon those boys over there 1 falls the duty of perpetuating those democratic institutions made possible | by sacrifices that stretch from the | snows of Valley Forge to the mud and l slime of the trenches of France. You l may never play a part in a gallant i charge across No Mans Land-you ]. may never hear the rear of cannon or i know the din of battle Upon you may however be pinned a cross of honor 1 Your field of labor may be in the open l or the desert; in the bowels of the i earth; in the office or by a humble | tireside. Still you are a part of this l great army of democracy. Let your determination and your patriotism call you to greater sacrifices, and though 1 your name may never be recorded up- l on the pages Of history. deep down ! within yourself you will know and feel wonderful pride and satisfaction. in
 that you played a part in preserving this nation, Of the people, for the peo- pie and by the people.