Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1918-08-16
JOTTINGS FROM
MY NOTEBOOK
BY RALPH NJ. MORPHETT
As Canteen Girl Secs War.

lions in wartime by Helga Hope
Hawkins, a niece of Anthony Hope,
| the novelist:
81 should like to say a few
words about life at one OF the
| biggest London stations in war
/ tine, where, as a canteen worker,
l have worked among our soldiers
for over two years. To the chance
traveller perhaps the seething mass
| of khaki represents merely pande-
monium and Inconvenience, yet to
us, who spend week after week on
the busy, crowded platforms there
are enacted daily tragedies and
comedies enough to fill book.
This is especially so at O'Clock
each day, when the leave train
| carries back it's hundreds of re-
freshed, hopeful men, to whom
those blessed ten days have given
a new lease of life and hope.
| Here you will see a young boy
! lieutenant wiring his fathers hand
and bolt into a corner Of a first
class carriage. You turn away ;
| those moments are not for strang-
| ers to look upon
Further down the platform you
will see a sturdy, bronzed High
lander kissing again and again a
! fat, kicking baby, while the young
white-faced mother drinks in with
| strained, misty eyes the picture of
them both. Perhaps some instinct
tells her that picture is to be a
precious possession in dreary years
| to come.
Cheer Up Women Left Behind.
with ringing cheers that echo
in the high roof of the station the
train glides slowly out. Cheerful
women on the platform.
| Don't you worry, mother. III
soon be back and There amt
'un made as can finish yours
| truly
1T is those lonely, suffering wo-
men left behind who force upon us,
! more perhaps even than our
wounded men, what war really
means. We see them daily; Of
every rank and class in life, with
| the same resigned look of despair
on their set faces; but not, mind
| you, till the train is out of sight
! Always for their men is there a
smile. be it ever such d wavery,
fearful one.
"On an average, we serve food
and drink to about 1000 men d
day at the free buffet for sailors
and soldiers
1T is a privilege for US to be
able to do everything we possibly
can for them. Feed them, take
their kilograms when they arrive
weary and daZed from France
look up their ira ms, and give ad-
vice when it is asked. Above all,
we try to let them see that it is
a privilege for us TO be able to do
these things for them.
Sailors and soldiers of many
natiOnalitieS congregate in our
buffet. Tine light blue uniform of
the Frenchmen mingles with the
fine, straight figures and broad
hats Of the colOnials. Sturdy little.
thick-set Belgians in their taseled
caps are always about; and even
Maoris, land the khaki turbans and
dark faces or our Indian soldiers
are to be seen; while a more and
more common sight now are our
gallant allies, the Americans.
"A pathetic picture are the crews
of tOrpedoed Norwegian sailors
who are brought to us to care for.
These great, fair vikings, with
their all tied up in a red cotton
handkerchief, and whose sad faces
light up so when spoken to in
their own language, are among the
many unsung heroes of the war.
Two and three times torpedoed.
yet again and again they sign on
and by bringing to US our neces-
sites play their part in the great
war. From them we get facts Of
German brutality almost incon-
ceivable; of jeering U-boat com
man6ers shelling at close range
helpless men in open boats.
1T was our privilege to supply
with refreshments the first con-
tingent of American soldiers to
march through London. With
springy step they swung into the
station, and it seemed as if thew
brought new strength and hone
with them. No shadow of over
there sat behind their laughing
eyes, nor was there evidence Of
hardships and suffering on Their
faces.
Americans Were Game.
''They knew not what Law before
them, but whatever it was tbev
were game for it They did MS
good, and we laughed with them.
The knowledge that they were to
share the lot Of our own men
bringing new strength and hone
made US welcome them as brothers
as now in truth they are.
THE saddest part of our station
work is to give refreshments
movers and cigarets to the wound
ed when they are transferred from
the long Red Cross trains tn the
waiting ambulances. One feels a
kind OF reverence for this ioh az
II one were in church. The Gag
erness with which the still, band
aged figures clutch at a rose or
punch of primroses always brings
tears to our eyes.
1T is not. thank God. in bun,an
nature ever TO take as a mater
OF course the wonderful. silent suf-
fering heroism of the torn. shat
tered soldiers the war throws hacz
to US. To those OF US who have
been given the sweet, sad duty Of
tending the wounded ON their ar
riyal-well, we are grateful. for il
has made us better women"