The Brookings register. [volume] (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1903-1971, 1918-08-15
FIGHTING SPIRIT OF
A YANKEE SOLDIER
EVANS TELLS AN INTERESTING
STORY OF WHY WE WILL WIN
THE BIG WAR
OUR SOLDIERS AFRAID TO Be AFRAID
Evolution OF Average American Boy
Into The Finest Soldier In World
A Marvellous Feat
BY II. +. EVANS
Copyright 1879


The evolution of John Smith: !
have known him for years since he
was ten years old n attended SUM-
day school at the First NJ. f. church
in Des Moines. He would come into
the church with that Sunday morning
tidiness that is characteristic of GER
tain youths-clothes well brushed,
hair parted and pasted to a nicely,
broad, white collar Immediately
clean, shoes polished. His face was
so clean that it was pale. He always
carried his testament and looked like
a cherubim. He was the sort of a
girl-bcy that his fellows always want
ed to muss up. He was an apt pupil,
always ready with scriptural quota
tons, and was given to such selec-
lions as Blessed are the Meek" and
BLESSED are the Peacemakers."
His course through the public
schools and the high school was not
marked with brilliancy. He was a
good student and always well-behaved.
He was not given to rowdyism. He
never was d member in good stand
ing of any of the neighborhood
gangs" never did he feel the call
of the wild, never the exultation of
victory over a defeated gamin. Al
ways he chose the lines of least re-
s%istance. His way were ways of
~pleasantness, his paths the paths Of
peace.
Later on he became a clerk in a
department store. He was noted for
the neatness of his apparel, for his
desire to accommodate customers, for
his artistic taste. He presided over
a department %patronized by ladies,
and they consulted him when they de-
sired to match ribbons or give a pink
tea.
Then came the crack of doom. Hav-
ing no dependents or physical defects
he was drafted in the first call for
fighting men. Fighting men! What,
he asked himself, did he know about
fighting? All his life he had avoided
combat. He had never handled a
weapon more formidable than a cro-
Quet mallet, never entered the lists on
a field more dangerous than a tennis
court. Fighting! 1t was unthink-
able.
Their was some solace-the thought
that there was no immediate danger,
n that the war might be over be-
fore he was called upon to participate
in it. At any rate, nothing else could
went. The cot and the rough barrack
walls We're in sharp contrast with the
soft bed and the picture-hung walls
at home. The rough, service uniform,
the coarse, hob-nailed shoes and stiff
puttees were not so comfortable as
the newly-pressed blue serge suit, the
soft silk shirt with white collar, pink
tie, mercerized socks and patent
feathers. The stern commands of the
captain We're positively brutal when
set against the please, Mr.. Smith.
have you something in a lace collar
that will go we'll with the waist |
have on?"
Then the long, hard days of. train
ing-the drill, the everlasting hike.
the setting up exercises, the soreness
of muscles the bodily WEAKNESS. At
night, muddy and worn, he would
crawl into his lonely cot and dream
of heaven-or of measuring ribbon,
of bath tubs and clean linen-which
was the same thing. And always the
dread of the day of embarkation, and
that other darker day that would
mark the entrance into the bloody
trenches of France!
During those first gruelling weeks
at Camp Dodge young Smith was in
a rebellious mood. He knew little
and cared less about making the
world safe for democracy. Every
fibre of his physical being protested
against further exertion. He shrank
from the vulgar oaths of his COM
panions as from a blow. Neither his
mind nor body responded to the bust
ness of getting ready to fight, a bust
ness into which he had been forced
without consultation and without his
consent. 1t was a daily, hourly bat.
Ting of his own desires against a
force that was overwhelming him.
Then there was mother-and there
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