Racine County, Wisconsin - Chapter 26: Soldier's Songs; Dying Words; Getting Wounded, 1920

Chapter 26: Soldier's Songs; Dying Words; Getting Wounded

THROUGHOUT modern history, as writen, we read fo men marching forward to face peril and death, with the martial strains of national anthems upon their lips. It seems a characteristic of historians that they find it necessary to put noble words in the mouths of dying men, and to credit all men in uniform with the desire and ability to singsuch songs as "The Star Spangled Banner" or "God Save the King" when they approach the cannon's mouth.

Laying no claim to the title of historian, the author of this modest work feels fj-ee to pen a few words upon this subject which will, perhaps, strike all former soldiers as having the merit of truth even though it detracts from the halo of romance which should shimmer 'round their heads. To sum up briefly, careful inquiry among eye-witnesses of certain worldfamous events, personal observation of the conduct of large numbers of men under stress of excitement and peril, and attendance at the demise of a number of warriors who might well be expected to give utterance to classic phrases when nearing the end, have all convinced the writer that practically all of the incidents of the sort mentioned are pure fiction.

Two of the most commonly accepted stories relating to the use of proper musical accompaniments for persons about to pass on to a brighter and better existence are those which credit the band on the liner Titanic with playing "Nearer, my God to Thee" for fifteen or twenty minutes while the doomed vessel slid beneath the waters carrying with it the band and many hundred other persons; and allege that the soldiers and sailors on the Transport Tuscania in 1918 lined up at the rails and sang three verses of "The Star Spangled Banner" while waiting for the German torpedo's full effect to be felt. I have the word of two survivors of the Titanic, which sunk on her maiden trip in 1912, that the band did not play "Nearer, my God to Thee" or anything else.

but spent all it's time packing up clothing and valuables, preparatory to leaving as soon as some passing vessel should appear. Unfortunately, assistance came too late to rescue most of them.

In the case of the Tuscania, I discussed this matter with ten members of the Thii'ty-second division who had remained aboard until among the last, and was assured by all of them that singing was about the last thing anybody thought of, and nobody actually tried out their voices in the night air off the Irish coast that night. There were some rather harsh remarks passed from the upper decks in regard to the conduct of two army officers who left the transport in lifeboats while members of their commands still remained on the sinking ship, but no one burst into song about that or anything else. Furthermore, as Capt. Hale of Kenosha said, it was doubtful if anyone aboard knew three verses of "The Star Spangled Banner;" certainly no one has ever been discovered in America who could progress that far without looking at the words and music. Capt. Hale was taken from the Tuscania by a destroyer a few moments before the transport sank and undoubtedly would have remembered such an astonishing event, had a company of casual troops started to sing the most difficult musical composition ever written for the masses.

It is true that French soldiers occasionally sang "Les Marseilles" while on the road, two reasons being that most of them know the words, and the music is good for marching. On the other hand, I think that most A. E. F. veterans will testify that for every time they heard the poilus sing "Les Marseilles," they heard them shouting the catchy strains of "Madalon" fifty times or more. "Madalon" is one of those ballads which are easy of rendition, tell a story which does not strain anyone's intellectual powers, and above all provides a perfect cadence for marching feet. It found its origin in a comic opera and the words refer to the popularity of a barmaid who was on good terms with everyone from the general down to the M. P.'s.

Because this is a volume of facts, rather than romantic history, an effort will be made to set forth something in relation to the music of our army in the late war.

For the first time in American history, the recent conflict gave no piece of music to the nation which possesses any merit beyond a temporary popularity. Soldiers really longed for some typical and expressive song such as "Marching through Georgia," "Tenting Tonight" or "Old Black Joe," which echoed along the roads and through the camps in Civil War days, but they never found it. Early in the struggle, the British troops seized on a music hall ditty entitled, "Tipperary," and as it was a good marching song its silly lines became familiar to all English speaking troopers as the war continued. The chorus ran:

At about the time America entered the conflict, Geoi-ge H. Cohan was staging a light opera and, needing a cui'tain raiser, resorted to an ancient method of getting one. He united a few strains from bugle calls, with some bars from "Johnny Get Your Gun," and there soon issued from the mouths of chorus girls the strident message of "Over There":

That the Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming, - Drums rum-tumming every^vhere! So prepare, say a pi'ayer. Send the word, send the word to bewai'e;

This jingle caught the popular fancy. The tune had a martial sound and at the same time included a sort of "rag time" melody that kept it from being too tear-inspiring. The soldiers liked the name "Yank;" the sentiment expressed by the words was rather inspiring if one took the trouble to locate it, and it also hit the spot by conveying a threat to the Kaiser in good-natured song. For most of the year 1917, every military parade and review was accomplished to the blaring notes of "Over There," and every adventurous doughboy waving good-bye to the spires and towers of Manhattan roared out the sad news that "he wouldn't be back till it's over over there." The words "over there" were universally used to describe the fields of endeavor of the newly formed A. E. F., thi'oughout the American participation in the war.

In the camps in America, college songs and the old favorite plantation melodies maintained their popularity for evening songfests in tents and barracks. As a part of the welfare work in camps, compulsory "sings" were held, and for the most part were greatly enjoyed. Song-leaders were quite successful in getting their youthful audiences to join in choral singing of such masterpieces as:

The song leaders did not forget to wind up with the national airs, but it is with regret that we are forced to report that "Mister Zip" and "Katy" evoked much more enthusiasm, because the American young man is not given to voicing his patriotism in harmonious tones, even were he possessed of the vocal ability necessary to hit the high notes of "The Star Spangled Banner," or the peculiar sense of humor required to find cause for fun in "Yankee Doodle."

Two popular ballads of the day found some response in the bosoms of the soldiers and sailors even though their minor chords spoke of sadness and gloom, and their words foretold days and nights of homesickness. Both in American cantonments and in billets in France, American voices often could be heard crooning these two songs:

There'S A Long, Long Trail Keep The Home Fires Burning

On the other hand, many a marching regiment swung along the roads in Vei'mont and Oregon, in Virginia and Texas, to the time of this disreputable refrain:

Drunk last night, drunk the night before, Drunker tonight than I ever was before. When I'm drunk, I am as happy as can be, For I am a member of the Souse family.

Fortunately for the fate of the nation, the words had no basis of fact, in view of the strict regulations governing the sale of strong and spiritous liquors in the vicinity of camps.

It is characteristic of all soldiers to kick, and the follo%ving song gained some popularity because its sentiments were endorsed by all hands:

Song leaders tried to prevail upon their subjects to adopt parodies upon old melodies, whose new words contained sentiments of high patriotism and noble ambitions, but as a general thing- the boys prepared their own parodies, and the words were not of the sort worth handing down to posterity. In France, the songs invariably expressed some opinion about the hardships of army life, and continued the good-natured "grousing" which enlivens all armies. Men will dare to do the most astounding acts of bravery, they will undergo all necessary privations without contemporaneous protest, and they would rather submit to the most humiliating punishment than to be transferred from scenes of danger and discomfort to an easy berth, but they insist upon the privilege of kicking about their fate whenever they find time to sit do\vn with their feet before a fire and a pipe in their mouth. Then, indeed, they insist that they are cowards and babies; that if they could only get away, and that they would give every franc they had to buy a soft job in the training camps back home. So the doughboy, preparing to "go in" for a new offensive, wails in mournful tones:

And after the armistice was declared and he saw boatload after boatload of non-combatants going across the Atlantic while he rolled his pup-tent for the march to the Rhine, he addressed the following sarcastic parody to his girl in the States and, through her, to the Commander-in-Chief and all others in authority:

Almost evei-y division and branch of the service had some rollicking song which was especially popular in its own realms. For instance, Wisconsin men were inclined to use that excellent university football song, "On, Wisconsin," both for a marching tune and for band exercise. In this connection it is recalled that when General Parker, first commander of the Thirty-second division, heard the 121st regiment band playing the selection, he took it for granted that it was an original production of the band leader, David Routt, and turning to his adjutant, said:

"Major, that is a fine sounding piece. Make a note that it is my order that that be the official divisional march, to be used at all reviews and concerts as such. Have that band leader name it 'Thirty-second Division March' and file a copy with you."

Which would indicate that Gen. Parker was not very familiar with well known musical selections of the day. As the division was composed of part Michigan and part Wisconsin men, the order resulted in a protest from some Michiganders, and the adjutant tactfully disregarded his orders. Probably Gen. Parker never knew the difference.

All artillery adopted the "Artillery Song" wi'itten for a Michigan regiment some years before. It was a catchy air, with appropriate words, and many a night hike was enlivened by the words, from thousands of throats, of the familiar:

What'S The Use

The "fighting units" in France had a rondelay which enlivened many a session in cafe and wayside inn. It told ironically of the various claims upon fame made by various branches of the service, and amateur singers had no difficulty in adding to the verses interminably to attend to good-natured grudges against individuals and regiments. The original version started off thus:

Hinkey-Dinkey Parlez-Vous

The Cavalry say they won the war, parlez-vous. The Cavalry said they did it all. Shooting craps in an empty stall, Hinkey- Dinkey parlez-vous.

T'ne C. 0. says he won the war, parlez-vous. The C. 0. wants the Croix de Guerre, For sitting around in his Morris chair. Hinkey-Dinkey, parlez-vous.

Still another parody which gained much popularity was one giving voice to the disappointment of those men who had enlisted to slay Germans but had wound up in some school, office or home camp for permanent duty. There were as many different versions of this "service flag" song as there were men bewailing their fate, following transfers and assignments to disagreeable duties. Here are two typical examples of the varied sentiments expressed to the music of "Mother, take Dovvti your Service Flag:"

Despite his habit of making light of serious matters, the American soldier was not slow to I'ecognize real beauty in the fields of music and poetry. There was hardly a Yank in France who did not have somewhere about his person a copy of the beautiful poem, "In Flanders Fields," written by Lieut.-Col. John D. McCrae of Montreal shortly before his death near Ypres :

In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row. That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly, Scarce heard amidst the guns below. We are the dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe! To you from falling hands we throw The torch. Be yours to hold it high! If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow In Flanders fields.

So, too, he appreciated the "Reply of America," and in hundreds of straggling pup-tents and dugouts, the words were read and recited, and their sentiment endorsed with low-spoken words of approval:

Rest ye in peace, ye Flanders dead. The fight that ye so bravely led We've taken up. And we will keep True faith with you who lie asleep With each a cross to mark his bed. And poppies blowing overhead Where once his own life blood ran red. So let your rest be sweet and deep In Flanders fields.

Fear not that ye have died for naught. The torch ye threw to us we caught. Ten million hands will hold it high And Freedom's light shall never die. We've learned the lesson that ye taught, In Flanders fields.

When the first contingents of American troops went to France they were informed through the Parisian newspapers that General Pershing upon his arrival overseas had been escorted to the tomb of Marquis de LaFayette. He had brought a wreath vnth him and (so the story went) as he laid it at the foot of the monument, he rendered a salute and declared, impressively,

It later developed that Gen. Pershing said nothing of the sort, but it is true that two years later a homesick Yankee soldier, standing in the same place, recalled the alleged utterance by drawing himself erect, saluting, and muttei'ing:

Another profane but universally endorsed bit of repartee along the same lines comes to mind. During the war a part of our propaganda had to do with the alleged debt we owed to the French people for the part the old monarchy played in defeating the British in our Revolutionary war. Whenever anyone questioned the merits of any new bit of charity toward the French people, they were always sternly reminded of this "debt." Of course no mention was made of the difficulties throvvTi in the way of the above-mentioned LaFayette when he first proposed coming to America to help the struggling republic in its fight for freedom. The phrase was used so generally that it got on the nerves of some of the boys over in France, who after the war were finding their relations viith the French somewhat strained, for various reasons. One of them who had been in France for two years, and had suff"ered from cooties, wounds, shortage of food, and similar discomforts, and then had been left there after the armistice to help sell the property of the army to the natives at very low prices, reared up one day when his request for a transfer to a homeward bound unit was denied, and asked in loud tones:

In spite of their opinion, however, it was many months after the close of the war when the last of the numerous appeals for a few millions of dollars for this or that French fund was answered as a part payment on the famous debt.

Investigation has shown that almost every famous uttei-ance credited to American officers in the recent war were figments of the imagination, originating in the minds of correspondents far from the scene. Nevertheless, they probably will live in future histories.

Death-bed sentiments of soldiers were generally limited to requests for a drink of water, or some other creature comfort. Men occasionally murmured, in their delirium, the names of relatives near and dear to them, or imagined themselves in other and happier circumstances, but physicians at two large field hospitals, and at three base hospitals, were inclined to disbelieve utterly the accepted stories of dying men discussing affairs of state in oratorical phrases, or giving expression to carefully worded sentiments suitable for framing in patriotic households. This does not mean that American soldiers did not possess these sentiments, but merely that men dying from wounds have other matters to occupy their attention if their minds remain clear as the end approaches. Nature's sweet mantle of sleep generally brings peace and quiet to the dying for many hours before death actually occurs, and few dying men realize that they are doomed.

It may be of some comfoj't to those who lost relatives in battle to know that deaths on the battlefield or the receiving of wounds from bullets and shells are not painful. The writer has seen dozens of men wounded, and was severely wounded himself, and in all instances there was every evidence that the injury came as a great surprise. Before the victim realized what had happened the shock of the accident had passed and there was very little pain felt from that time until the hour, often days afterward, when the first dressings were changed in a hospital far to the rear of the lines. In cases of very serious wounds, this process usually was carried out while the patient was under an anaesthetic.

When a soldier is sti'uck by a missile, his first involuntary movement is to throw his arm up in front of his face as a protection. Sometimes he is rendered unconscious befoi'e the movement is completed and the inertia of the swiftly moving limb carries it up above the head. From this arises the commonly accepted view that men who are shot throw both hands above their head, leap in the air and fall backwards. The direction in which they fall depends almost entirely upon the direction from which the missile came, if it has much striking' force. In cases where a bullet makes a clean wound through the body without "mushrooming" or striking solid bone, the injured person's knees usually weaken instantly and the man crumples down as though he were fainting - which, in fact, is usually the case. If he is struck in one arm, the effect of the impact may be such as to turn him pai't way around. Whether the blow itself causes him to fall, training and instinct cause a man to get down on the ground for protection against other flying metal.

The most painful part of a new wound is on the surface, where the sensitory nerves are numerous and exposed. The cutting of even the largest nerves occurs so suddenly that the feeling is not unlike a sudden electric shock which is all over before the victim realizes what happened.

vicinity of the accident, even though he knows that it may be safer thereafter than some other refuge. Dozens of wounded men have declared that their most terrible moments were the ones which passed between the instant they were wounded and the time when they reached a first aid station. Being disabled, thoy could not avoid the feeling that they were unable to protect themselves, although even a well person can hardly ward off steel bullets or iron shell fragments. The ride to the rear is an occasion of much comfort to one unable to move about by himself, and the sight of a field hospital arouses feelings akin to those inspired when the desert traveler sees a distant oasis.

"Of all the men who ever were carried into the first aid station, I have yet to hear of one who took advantage of the occasion to say, 'I am sorry that I have but one life to give for my country,' or anything like that. The majority of them said, 'I don't know just how it happened,' or, 'If that Dutchman had waited just a minute longer I sure would have got him. Darn the luok. anyway.' "