TRANSCRIBED FROM THE OSCEOLA TIMES NOVEMBER 9, 1917 P. 1
San Antonio, Texas
Nov. 4, 1917
Dear Editor:
Will you please print these little poems in the Times. I take the Times as do all my friends and I will be glad for them to hear from me through your columns.
Since enlisting in the army I seldom hear from any of my old friends, direct, and the only information I get from them is through your paper. Myself and comrades will appreciate any old books or magazines that may be sent us from home.
With best wishes for your continued prosperity, I am.
Respectfully,
CHAS. F. ELROD.
Care 12nd Aero Squadron, Kelly Field, San Antonio, Texas.
ONLY A VOLUNTEER
Why didn’t I wait to be drafted.
And be led to the train with a band.
And put in a claim for exemption:
Oh, why didn’t I hold up my hand,
Why didn’t I wait for the banquets.
Why didn’t I wait to be cheered.
For all the drafted men got credit.
While I merely volunteered.
And nobody gave us a banquet.
Nobody said a kind word.
The puff of the engine; the grind of the wheels.
Was all the good-bye that we heard.
Then off in the training camp hustled.
To be trained for the next half year.
And in the shuffle forgotten,
For I was only a volunteer.
And perhaps sometime in the future.
When my little boy sits on my knee.
And asks what I did in the great war.
With his little eyes fast upon me:
I will look in those eyes
That seldom shed a tear.
And tell that I wasn’t drafted.
That I was only a volunteer.
DON’T FORGET
We gave our service, you shut off our beer.
But the slacker can drink until it runs out his ear.
We quit a good job to keep you from harm.
But the slacker goes on with a girl on his arm.
And laughs at the soldier, poor unlucky cuss
Girls go with slackers, why criticize us?
The slacker rides around in a Ford of his own.
And charges us a quarter to haul us to town.
We’re doing our duty, his liver is white,
Yet we leave the streets at eleven each night.
While the slacker sticks around as long as he likes.
Discipline we have is a thing that must be.
But honest to goodness we fail to see
If a soldier drinks nothing but water and pop.
Why can’t the drinks of the slacker be stopped.
If the slacker can dance, the soldier is barred
We’ve shouldered our rifle and taken our place
And will go to our death with a smile on our face
But this is our honest appeal to you
Until we cross over, please give us our due.
NOTES: Charles Fred Elrod was born in Bassett, Arkansas on March 22, 1894 and died on November 8, 1918 of disease. He is buried in the Bassett Cemetery in Bassett. His military headstone identifies him as a Cook serving in 303 Aero Service Squad Signal Corps. He departed New York, NY on July 31. 1918. He was listed as a Cook serving in 319 Squad Air Service.
TRANSCRIBED BY LINDA MATTHEWS
San Antonio, Texas
Nov. 4, 1917
Dear Editor:
Will you please print these little poems in the Times. I take the Times as do all my friends and I will be glad for them to hear from me through your columns.
Since enlisting in the army I seldom hear from any of my old friends, direct, and the only information I get from them is through your paper. Myself and comrades will appreciate any old books or magazines that may be sent us from home.
With best wishes for your continued prosperity, I am.
Respectfully,
CHAS. F. ELROD.
Care 12nd Aero Squadron, Kelly Field, San Antonio, Texas.
ONLY A VOLUNTEER
Why didn’t I wait to be drafted.
And be led to the train with a band.
And put in a claim for exemption:
Oh, why didn’t I hold up my hand,
Why didn’t I wait for the banquets.
Why didn’t I wait to be cheered.
For all the drafted men got credit.
While I merely volunteered.
And nobody gave us a banquet.
Nobody said a kind word.
The puff of the engine; the grind of the wheels.
Was all the good-bye that we heard.
Then off in the training camp hustled.
To be trained for the next half year.
And in the shuffle forgotten,
For I was only a volunteer.
And perhaps sometime in the future.
When my little boy sits on my knee.
And asks what I did in the great war.
With his little eyes fast upon me:
I will look in those eyes
That seldom shed a tear.
And tell that I wasn’t drafted.
That I was only a volunteer.
DON’T FORGET
We gave our service, you shut off our beer.
But the slacker can drink until it runs out his ear.
We quit a good job to keep you from harm.
But the slacker goes on with a girl on his arm.
And laughs at the soldier, poor unlucky cuss
Girls go with slackers, why criticize us?
The slacker rides around in a Ford of his own.
And charges us a quarter to haul us to town.
We’re doing our duty, his liver is white,
Yet we leave the streets at eleven each night.
While the slacker sticks around as long as he likes.
Discipline we have is a thing that must be.
But honest to goodness we fail to see
If a soldier drinks nothing but water and pop.
Why can’t the drinks of the slacker be stopped.
If the slacker can dance, the soldier is barred
We’ve shouldered our rifle and taken our place
And will go to our death with a smile on our face
But this is our honest appeal to you
Until we cross over, please give us our due.
NOTES: Charles Fred Elrod was born in Bassett, Arkansas on March 22, 1894 and died on November 8, 1918 of disease. He is buried in the Bassett Cemetery in Bassett. His military headstone identifies him as a Cook serving in 303 Aero Service Squad Signal Corps. He departed New York, NY on July 31. 1918. He was listed as a Cook serving in 319 Squad Air Service.
TRANSCRIBED BY LINDA MATTHEWS