.

Our Uncle Samuel, be it remembered, is a cautious old gent, and looks
well on both sides before getting into a scrap; but once he gets in--and
the canny old customer always picks the right side--he's in to stay
until the whole job is cleaned up, and he's in right up to his
shoulderblades. No more convincing proof of America's determination to
see the thing through could be had than a sight of Uncle Sam's big
storage depot and all-around tool shop. And, to clinch the argument even
further, as fast as the shops on the big reservation have been put up,
the machinery has been shoved into them and the work in them started as
soon as the machinery was in place and oiled up.

No, Mr. Infantryman, Mr. Artilleryman, Mr. Machine-Gun-toter,
Mr. Aviator, Mr. Wireless-buzzer, this has not been "the winter of our
discontent"--as footless and no-use-at-all as your own work may have
seemed to you sometimes. It has been the winter during which your old
uncle has been laying a firm foundation for your comfort and safety and
for that of the men who will follow you over--and believe us, he's done
an almighty big, an almightily far-sighted, an all-around almightily
creditable and thoroughly American, workmanlike job.

----
A NEWS STORY IN VERSE
----
(The incident this poem describes was told by a
British sergeant in a dug-out to the author--an
American serving at the time in the British
Army, but now fighting under the Stars and Stripes.)
----

Joe was me pal, and a likely lad, as gay as gay could be;
The worst I expected to happen was the leave that would set him free
To visit the wife and the kiddies; but they're waiting for him in vain.
All along of a Boche wot peppered our water and ration train.--
You see, w'd been pals from childhood; him and me chummed through
school,
And when we growed up and got married we put our spare kale in a pool,
And both made a comfortable living; 'twas just for our mates and the
kids,--
Now the Hun--damn his soul--has taken his toll, and me pal had to
cash in his bids.
That night when we left the ration dump to face the dark ahead,
I can never forget the look on his face when he picked up his kit and
said
"Another trip to the front, old lad; we'll take 'em their bully and