‘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,
“Salute America!”
Exercises were held on Memorial Day at Menil-la-Tour when the World War was raging in France. Two regimental bands took up their positions in opposite corners of the cemetery. The commanding general placed a flag on each of the eighty-one graves. He and the soldiers then saluted the large flag, while battle was still being waged about a mile away.
The general then faced the west, and pointed in that direction as he addressed the soldiers. He said: “Out there are Washington and the President, and all the people of the United States, who are looking to you.... Over there are the mothers who bade you good-bye with tears and sent you forth, and are waiting at home and praying for you, trusting in you. Out there are the fathers and the sisters and the sweethearts you have left behind, all depending on you to do your best. Now,” said he in a clear ringing voice, “turn and salute America!” All turned and saluted toward the west, while the flags fluttered on the breeze and the band played softly,