“America” After the Battle
“There is one incident of the day which shines out in my memory above all others now as I lie in a New York hospital writing. It occurred at the field hospital. About a dozen of us were lying there. The surgeons, with hands and bared arms dripping, and clothes literally saturated with blood, were straining every nerve to prepare the wounded for the journey down to Siboney. It was a doleful group. Amputation and death stared its members in their gloomy faces. Suddenly a voice started softly,
‘My country, ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing.’
“Other voices took it up:
‘Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims’ pride—’
“The quivering, quavering chorus, punctuated by groans and made spasmodic by pain, trembled up from that little group of wounded Americans in the midst of the Cuban solitude—the pluckiest, most heartfelt song that human beings ever sang. There was one voice that did not quite keep up with the others. It was so weak that I did not hear it until all the rest had finished with the line, ‘Let freedom ring.’ Then halting, struggling, faint, it repeated slowly:
‘Land—of—the—pilgrims’—pride,
Let—freedom—’
“The last word was a woeful cry. One more son had died as died the fathers.”
Under different circumstances but in the same spirit of loyalty the tune of “America” was played in France as “our boys” promptly obeyed the order,