Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 153, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 9 July 1918 — Dawn's Early Light [ARTICLE]

Dawn's Early Light

By FRANK RIGNEY

{Sprrtaht. Newip*P« Union.) Six row® of stars, eight in a row. Torty-eight white stars twinkling on ■a blue square. Seven long lines of rod and six of white rippling, waving, gathering up and flying out straight again. A setting sun sending out red beams of light that mingled with and faded away among the early peeping whirs far overhead dipped a parting salute to Old Glory. Old Glory, illumined by the red golden rays, looking more resplendent and glorious than ever, waved back an acknowledgment Such was the picture Jack Cody gazed on. Jack, a fine, hearty, cleancut boy of fifteen years, was the son of a lumberman and lived in a small wooden house on the outskirts of a village that was situated away off ever so far from trolley cars, subways and skyscrapers. Jack was a boy of the woods. The forest was for him school and playground and was frequently his bedroom. This particular June evening Jack, routing after a strenuous day, was sitting on a pile of lumber ariff gazing at the flagpole newly erected on the “town hall.” News, a speedy traveler, where telephones, papers and crowds mix, seemed to slow up and get down to a crawl when it journeyed toward Jack’s town. It had to work miles upstream against rolling logs, along old, rocky trails and through long stretches of woods, lakes and other things that go to make up a virgin country. This time it had put on a little extra speed, being helped along by some surveyors who had come as the advance guards of a party of railroad engineers and workmen. The news was big news. It was the president’s war declaration, and Jt had the Milage buzzing with excitement Ti}e surveyors had brought the flag along „ and one of them had left behind him a pencil, colored blue at one end and red at the other. Jack was the lucky finder of the pencil and with it he was endeavoring on a piece of white wrapping paper to portray the scene spread before him. The trees, hills, houses and view in general proving too much for him, he concentrated on the flag. “Forty-eight stars and thirteen stripes,” said Jack. “Gosh, but it is some flag! I wonder who invented itr

TTIr picture finished, he climbed down from the log pile and wandered towards the “town hall” to proudly display to some of his boy friends his copy of Old Glory. From nowhere in particular, similar to that mysterious place from which conjurers produce curds and rabbits. Jack’s friends produced pieces of paper of various shades and shapes and the young artist was surrounded by a noisy crowd shouting, “A flag for me, Jack!” “Make me one 1” “Do one for me I" Across the main street, the one and only street of the village, was a group of men quietly discussing the news and asking questions of an elderly man whose appearance showed him to be a newcomer to the place. The commotion created by the clamoring boys brought the quiet discussion of the men to an end and the stranger strolled over to know what the uproar meant “Good 1” he exclaimed, when he found out “Great boys, great I That’s the spirit boys,” he said, “but easy there, fellows, until I ask you a few questions. What are you going to do with your flags?” "Stick It in my window," shouted one boy. “Paste it on the wall over my bed between Lincoln and Washington," said another —tnd so on until it seemed that the ll’ile village Would be papered from end to end with the flags that Jack had not yet drawn. “Fine!" said the Inquirer, “Fine! Let me'ask you, boys, now that I know what you are going to do with your flag, what you know about your flag— and what you are going to do tot your flag? I ask you what you are going to do?" > A silence that could be almost heard descended on the crowd and the boys looked uneasily at each other. “I didn’t know that the flag wanted me to do anything for it,” spoke up Jack, much to the relief of his friends, as the stranger’s attention was drawn from them and directed to Jack. “Come into the hall, my boy, get your friends to round up a few of the men, as many as they can, and let them all come, and Til-try and tell you and your friends a little story of tte flag waving up there on the pole.” Very quickly the big room filled and it seemed as though Jack would have to get busy penciling out “Standing Boom Only" notices, when the man who called the meeting had commenced his story. There is no occasion to follow in detail all he told the men and boys of the Stars and Stripes, for that would be telling you something, friend reader, that you already know forwards and backwards. Sufficient to say that he Commenced with the tale of Betsy Boss and the first flag, the adoption on June 14, 1777, by congress of the Stars and Stripes; that be told stories of countless heroes whose lives were given up so that Old Glory might ever wave free, the emblem of liberty to all; that he ex-

plained the wearing of the colore and the high ideals that they represented. “it is glorious to die for the flag," he said, “but equally glorious to live for it, and that living for it means living for America, working and striving unceasingly for the betterment of all, ‘One for all, all for one.’" A powerful full-house chorus rendering “The Star Spangled Banner” under the leadership of the stranger brought the Informal gathering to a most enthusiastic end. Jack was impressed very, very much and strolled home lost in deep thought. A person walking dose by Jack would have heard him muttering to himself, “Gee!" and "Gosh!" • • • ■ • • • • Boom! Boom! Ziz! Ziz! Zip! Bang! Boom! Crash! Bang! Jack never heard such a tremendous noise before. Rushing to his bedroom window, he gazed awestruck at the sight that presented itself to him. The village was in flames—men were rushing hither and thither shouting, calling and yelling for help. Jack dashed out, hatless and breathless. Bang! A huge shell tore away half of his little home. An awful rending, crashing upheaval followed. Flying stones and splinters knocked Jack all in a heap. “War!” he panted, “War!” Yes, it was war with a vengeance. Struggling to his feet, he raced onwards not knowing where to go, but onward, in hope of being able tb do something. Bang! Bang! All the while the most unearthly shrieking sounds of flying shells and bursting bombs, mixed with the rattle of machine guns and the frightful roaring of the heavy cannon. Khaki-clad figures rushed past Jack. A fearful explosion louder than any of the previous, left Jack dazed. At his feet fell one of the khaki figures, beating the ground, striking the earth with his hands and hoarsely calling in a choked, feeble voice for help. Jack was afraid at last Not of bayonets or bullets, but of the wounded man, for Jack did not know what to do with him or for him. *TII go and get help,” yelled Jack. He ran a few yards, stumbled and fell. Looking up, he saw right before him in the midst of the uniforms, Old Glory! “The flag was still there! Hurrah! Live for my country, die for my country,” flashed through Jack’s thoughts. “Now to help the wounded soldier, now to help—” A sudden stinging pain shot through Jack’s shoulder. He fell forward on his face. He essayed to rise, but the excruciating pain was too much for him. “Help! Help!” he called. A sound of running feet fell on his ears. Painfully turning his throbbing head. Jack saw some of his boy friends, gazing foolishly at him. “Please!” called Jack. “Please! Oh, you boobs do something—help, lift me,” but a near-by explosion had scattered the crowd. Toby, the village stray dog, dragged Itself by yelping and was soon lost to Jack’s view.' The flag! The flag! There it is again—this time in the hands of the newcomer, who holds it high in the air. The figure holding it wavers, staggers. Jack makes a supreme effort to rise, but for him comes oblivion. • • • *•••• It was a beautiful June morning when Jack awoke and sat up suddenly. He rubbed his shoulder, scratched his head and blinked his eyes. “Old Glory!" thought Jack, “Where is it? What has happened it?” The rising sun was paying its respects to Old Glory and Old Glory was returning the compliment. “You’re up early," said a voice that startled Jack into full wakefulness. It was the stranger.

“Yes,” said Jack, “I thought I—-that is—l thought—•" “What?” said the man, encouragingly. “That you were killed and that the flag—" went on Jack as he related his dream of the night before. The man laughed and asked Jack what he would do for the wounded soldier, for an injured dog, for himself. Jack didn’t know. He then asked Jack what he would do in ordinary peace times in emergency cases. Jack didn’t know. Neither did any of his boy friends, who were beginning to come out into the morning sunshine. “Don’t you see,” said the man, “that the best way to help your country and flag is by being prepared to serve? Be prepared for all cases and for all times. Even in this far-away town, at this present moment, you can be of service. Every man, woman, boy and girl and child from the top corner of Alaska to the other end of Florida can be of help if they only make a> little preparation. Help the men with their work, prepare the way for the great railroad that’s on its way to you and you will be serving your flag and country. “Say, fellows, let me tell you something. Bailroadlng is my big business, but my big pleasure is scouting. I’m high up in both jobs, and as I’m bringing my business to your town, there is no reason why I shouldn’t bring my pleasure. Who’s for scouting?” “Me for one,” said Jack. “Me, too,” chorused all the others. “Fine!" said the man, “and now listen. Hl fix it up in New York at headquarters that your town will be marked on the scout map. Til see that you get all necessary papers and information, and, by the way, I may have a job on the railroad of lettering or map drawing for a certain scout who has prepared himself with a red and blue pencil.” The crowd dissolved and Jack started home to his work softly singing to himself: "Oh, say, can you see by the dawn’s early light. What so proudly we balled at the twi_Mght> W glwpneF