Now Sergeant Eddie Quinlan, 55th Infantry, who came from South Carpenter Street, Chicago, was one of my best pals. He was then attending the Field Signal Battalion School at Shacereyelles, two kilometers away. I sent word to him, directing him to report at my billet the following evening accompanied by the ten handsomest doughboys, besides himself, in his platoon. At the appointed hour and place, the Buddies were faithfully on hand; and need I add, all were from Chicago? How proud I was of them, stalwart huskies, well groomed, brown as berries, and with muscles of iron.
"Fellows, if you have no other engagement for this evening, would you care to accompany me to the Moidrey residence, honored guests of the family? They have a piano; and I might add, a most charming daughter of sixteen summers." Here they nearly mobbed me! "Would they go?" "Other engagements!" "Say, Father, you are not kidding us, are you?" etc., etc! By way of information permit me to here observe that these boys had been sleeping in fields then for two weeks. They had not seen the inside of an honest-to-goodness home, nor sat at a dining-table with real tablecloth, napkins or plates, since they landed in France. Neither had they heard a piano, nor been the guest of any lady, young or old—well—since they left Camp Merritt. Their over-flowing cup of joy, at this alluring prospect, can therefore easily be imagined.
As we no doubt would be invited to sing, we first rehearsed several popular songs, holding forth with a gusto that raised the roof, even of the ancient and sturdy house of Barnicault. To the air of "Old Kentucky Home," Quinlan tried out our latest, A Song of Home:
You may sing of Erin's Shannon flowing softly to the sea,
The Thames where it passes London town;
You may boast the bonnie Clyde where it mingles with the tide,
And the Seine with its romance of renown.
You may paint in blue the Danube or the far Italian Po,
But of all the streams enshrined in memory,
Is the good old Mississippi, that wherever I may go,
Is the dearest one in all the world to me.
CHORUS:
Then sing the song, my comrades,
O we'll sing this song today,
That wherever we may roam, we'll sing a song of home
For the dear old Mississippi far away.
You may boast of Irish Nora, or sweet Bessey of Dundee,
The charm of England's Geraldines so fair;
You may choose the maids of Belgium or Ma'm'selles of Picardy
All famed for grace and beauty everywhere.
But if you will but listen, and leave the choice to me
I'll point with pride to dear old U. S. A.
Where there's maidens fair to see, sweet and dear as Liberty
And never cloud o'ershadows beauty's day.