The Ocala evening star. [volume] (Ocala, Fla.) 1895-1943, 1918-06-15
WHAT OUR BOYS
HAVE TO ENDURE

We reprint 1.-THE Rockies Prayer, y
by Private Lawrence Minor Connol-
~, of Co. A, 1O3d Ammunition Train,
because it sets forth simply and era
phatically what our boys are daily
called upon to do and endure.
Gone is the romance of war with
its gold braid and dancing plumes. To
officer and soldier, it is an unendin.g
round of~hard work.
These boys, tens of thousands Or
who. never blistered their hands be-.
fore they enlisted, work harder every.
day than plowboys or bricklayers or
machinists.
Drill is hard work to any man not
accustomed to it. Only the body in
of course. To attain that condition,
weeks of training are necessary. The
men drill, drill, drill, day after day,
in the burning sun Then they strap
on to themselves loads that a man
unused to them could not carry an
hour, and hike with them mile after
mile, hour after hour. Their feet
blister, but they march, march,
march, until their feet become so
tough hat blisters cannot form.
They dig trenches, they build rail
ways, roads, bridges and houses,
they throw their strength and
weight on the ropes to help the horses
pull the cannon and wagons thru the
mud; every one of them is more or
his
wash and iron, they are clerks, book
keepers and stenographers; making
up a vast army, they do the vast
work of an army--and added to all
this is the greatest of all-they are
to fight. Thousands are fighting,
hundreds of thousands are rushing
into the fight; millions will fight be-
fore it is over.
Germany has great army, a ire
merldous fighting machine, but it
hasn't had TO work like ours is work
ing. It tool, Germany forty years to
do what America will do in less than
three.
Read the little poern-realize what
your boy or your friends boy is doing
-and then resolve that you will do
all in your power to help him carry
the nations tremendous burden. he
works and fights for che people at
home--he will work and fight in vain
without the help of the people az
home.
The Rockies Prayer
Oh, Lord, ] creak like a rusty hinge,
And my feet have gone to sleep.
My nerves are like tangled fringe;
There's a hole two inches deep
Where the trigger guard rubs collar
bone,
And my brain goes in reel.
| But I mustn't "cuss' and [ will not
groan;
In spite of my blistered heel
I made the hike, and / stood the test.
1t wasn't just merely luck,
For I wasn't allowed to stop and rest;
But stuck, Oh Lord. / stuck!
took my turn at the shovel and pick,
When the sun was broiling red.
didn't stall or play off sick
Tho I longed for day IN bed.
But I squared my jaw till it ached
again,
And / swore than / would not quit.
/ needed some rest so much just then;
But I would not ask for it.
In spite of the burning and blistering
palms.,
That fall to the lot of the "Buck,"
With the tired back and the aching
arms,
/ stuck, Oh Lord, stuck!
1t won't be long till I'm ON my way
To ship from Jersey pier.
I'm ready now, Lord, speed the adyi
| Oh, when do we go from here?
i The transports path across the foam
By the "U-boats" is beset,
And I'll be a long, long way from
home,
And the sea is awful weti
But bayonet thrust or lannon's roar,
/ Or saber, or bomb, or pick,
Just give me nerve and won't ask
more.
God give me the grit to stick