Joy in the Morning

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Joy in the Morning

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Title: Joy in the Morning The Ditch; Her Country Too; The Swallow; Only One of Them; The V.C.; He That Loseth His Life Shall Find It; The Silver Stirrup; The Russian; Robina's Doll; Dundonald's Destroyer
Author: Mary Raymond Shipman Andrews
Release Date: May 8, 2005 [eBook #15796]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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JOY IN THE MORNING
by
MARY RAYMOND SHIPMAN ANDREWS
New York Charles Scribner's Sons
1919

[Illustration: He pinned the thing men die for on the shabby coat of the guide. [Page 135]]

* * * * * *

By MARY R.S. ANDREWS
JOY IN THE MORNING THE ETERNAL FEMININE AUGUST FIRST THE ETERNAL MASCULINE THE MILITANTS BOB AND THE GUIDES CROSSES OF WAR HER COUNTRY OLD GLORY THE COUNSEL ASSIGNED THE COURAGE OF THE COMMONPLACE THE LIFTED BANDAGE THE PERFECT TRIBUTE
Charles Scribner's Sons

* * * * * *

DEDICATION
To the two stars of a service flag, to a brother and a son who served in France, this book is dedicated. No book, to my thinking, were one Shakespere and Isaiah rolled together, might fittingly answer the honor which they, with four million more American soldiers, have brought to their own. So that the stories march out very proudly, headed by the names of
CHAPLAIN HERBERT SHIPMAN
AND
CAPTAIN PAUL SHIPMAN ANDREWS

NOTE
Now that the tide of Khaki has set toward our shores instead of away; now that the streets are filled with splendid boys with gold chevrons of foreign service or no less honorable silver chevrons of service here; now that the dear lads who sleep in France know that the "torch was caught" from their hands, and that faith with them was kept; now that--thank God, who, after all, rules--the war is over, there is an old word close to the thought of the nation. "Heaviness may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." A whole country is so thinking. For possibly ten centuries the Great War will be a background for fiction. To us, who have lived those years, any tale of them is a personal affair. Every-day women and men whom one meets in the street may well say to us: "My boy was in the Argonne," or: "My brother fought at St. Mihiel." Over and over, unphrased, our minds echo lines of that verse found in the pocket of the soldier dead at Gallipoli:
"We saw the powers of darkness put to flight, We saw the morning break."
Crushed and glorified beyond all generations of the planet, war stories prick this generation like family records. It is from us of to-day that the load is lifted. We have weathered the heaviness of the night; to us "Joy cometh in the morning."
M.R.S.A.

CONTENTS
I. The Ditch
II. Her Country Too
III. The Swallow
IV. Only One of Them
V. The V.C.
VI. He That Loseth His Life Shall Find It
VII. The Silver Stirrup
VIII. The Russian
IX. Robina's Doll
X. Dundonald's Destroyer

THE DITCH
PERSONS
THE BOY an American soldier
THE BOY'S DREAM OF HIS MOTHER
ANGéLIQUE } } French children JEAN-BAPTISTE }
THE TEACHER
THE ONE SCHOOLGIRL WITH IMAGINATION
THE THREE SCHOOLGIRLS WITHOUT IMAGINATION
HE
SHE
THE AMERICAN GENERAL
THE ENGLISH STATESMAN
The Time.--A summer day in 1918 and a summer day in 2018

FIRST ACT
_The time is a summer day in 1918. The scene is the first-line trench of the Germans--held lately by the Prussian Imperial Guard--half an hour after it had been taken by a charge of men from the Blank_th _Regiment, United States Army. There has been a mistake and the charge was not preceded by artillery preparation as usual. However, the Americans have taken the trench by the unexpectedness of their attack, and the Prussian Guard has been routed in confusion. But the German artillery has at once opened fire on the Americans, and also a German machine gun has enfiladed the trench. Ninety-nine Americans have been killed in the trench. One is alive, but dying. He speaks, being part of the time delirious._
The Boy. Why can't I stand? What--is it? I'm wounded. The sand-bags roll when I try--to hold to them. I'm--badly wounded. (_Sinks down. Silence._) How still it is! We--we took the trench. Glory be! We took it! (_Shouts weakly as he lies in the trench._) (_Sits up and stares, shading his eyes_.) It's horrid still. Why--they're here!