The Birmingham age-herald., 1919-02-25

you're simply out of luck, as all that
 blanket camouflage can never make
 you warm enough to fall asleep. But
 there's always hot bricks or water bot
 ties within the bed.
 You throw back the .coverlets and
 take high dive and then sink in deep.
 The heat of the hotwater bottle has
 permeated thoroughly the sheets and
 you immediately feel glowing
 warmth and the anarei1istic emotions
 that filled your soul a few moments
 before are slowly dispelled in a reali-
 zatfon that, it's a mighty good old
 world after all.
 You feel a slight draft of cold at
 your feet. That's easS all you do is
 to push the hot water bottle down there
 and everything is balmy in a moment.
 After few such maneuvers of the
 bottle drowsiness slowly settles and
 dreams comes into it's own. And the
 next morning you hate to get up, and
 when you do, you boast and boast to
 all of your friends that there never
 was such bed as yours. That arouses
 the well known giggle, for most of
 the doughboys have now slept at one time or other in a real French bed and it's comforts are an old story. But there are other things than
 sleeping in France, even after the ar mistice and the peace conference is on.
 The work is just as arduous as of yore.
 For the doughboys the war is only over
 because it is written in the proclama- tions as there is no appreciable let up in strict discipline or drilling. Ev eryone is stilleplaying the game with all of his might. We will not be caught mapping again.
 As it's near Christmas. naturally many of the boys are thinking of home. But there is no sob stuff-no fellow ever howls that he'd like to return to the states. Nothing like that! Once in awhile some fellow gets lucky and flashes home orders. The few men that he knows will shake his hand and wish him good luck and possibly voice the desire that they might be going, also. However, there is no grumbling at remaining over here to finish up the job. Only as Christmas approaches more and more you notice after dinner that the men are sitting near the fire place and gazing absently at flickering tongues of flame that play endlessly about the charred sticks. l guess they are thinking of home-those that have homes. What do you think of it, Miss Dolly?
 You wrote something about Andre Messager and the French orchestra and it's beautiful rendition of the 'Marsaillaise." I am glad to know Bir-
 
 opportunity of hearing that liberty-in- spring song played as only Frenchmen can play it and sing it. For years I have heard the "Marseillaise," but it's beauties, its soul-inspiring qualities never struck so indelibly as when I heard it short time ago played by a French band and sung by a regi- ment of French 'poilus' that were passing through.
 "Poilus" are different from our doughboys. We are a selected crowd. We are soldiers ranging in ages from l 50 or 16, or in between those two ex- younger. But the Frenchmen may be | 50 or 16, or inbetween those two ex- tremes. They are hairy, sturdy lot, who will march under a heavy load of mis- cellaneous articles, smoking stinking old pipe. The ''poilu' has been doing that for four years with practically no pay and practically no food that a doughboy would consider fit to eat. The band was playing, the men were 1 singing. It was wonderful the spirit ! they put in:
 , March on, march on to victory" And they went by their bayonets gleaming in the first sunshine of days. And we who stood watching felt the l tug at the heart for no one can listen to the 'MarSelllalSe' 1mpaSSlVely. It 1 isn't that kind of song-it was writ ten to stir things up. and it overthrew 1 tyranny back in the days of the French revolution. It was also one of the l fundamental aids in overthrowing the | threat of the German yoke in the past 1 four years.
 1 Really. marching to the strains of 1 the 'Marseillaise' is one of the great high human emotions and for the sol- | dier who has experienced it, perhaps | the greatest and highest of all. After | all, it isn't only the wondrfully modu- l lated music that stirs you up but the l spiritual association, the memory of all l the aspirations which have found in | the 'Marseillaise" true expression of purpose. For upwards of hundreds ] of years, Miss Dolly, whenever op-
 pressed people have thought it was time l to place the skids under the Nero of
 their day the well known "Marseil- | laise" served the purpose of arous- | ing the cannon fodder to fight. It's that kind of a song. It's great sym
 bolic hymn for humanity struggling
 with titanic power toward a better | life in the world
 | I haven't written anything about the | life over here. But in letters to come as I meet fellows from Birmingham that survived this holocaust of Boche
 venom The Age-Herald will get what l ever impressions are retained. In the
 meantime send on the Dolly" articles l for my stuff is amateurish in compari-
 son with the clever literary diet you've been serving the clientele of The Age | Herald for the past year I thank yOut