Three faces of America

We became beasts lusting for blood and flesh. We were no longer normal, but abnormal. Indeed the abnormal and the normal. It was a hard life. We lived hard. We fought hard. We dealt in hard terms. Men called one another names that in civilian life, would have been insults. Soldiers swore going over the top, though they had New Testaments in their pockets and read them. Many died with curses on their lips...Mens wore who never swore before, men who taught Sunday School classes back home. There was much to make them swear. The atmosphere was surcharged with profanity. So spoke a Revered pastor of the fighting men in the fall of 1918.

Those who came had the will-power and the spirit to seek opportunity in a new world rather than put up with unbearable conditions in the old...those who came for that reason were superior in initiative to those, their relatives, who remained and submitted to the conditions...in addition to this initial superiority in initiative they had developed, and their children had developed, under a form of government and in a land of great opportunity where individual initiative was protected and regarded. (In consequence) we had developed a type of manhood superior in initiative to that existing abroad, which given approximately equal training and discipline, developed a superior soldier to that existing abroad. So said the U.S. commanding General in France, 1918, about pioneer and settlers who came to America.

Our nerves were mighty strained. We were crabbing about everything in general - hunger, cold and fatigue. Still, the last puff of a cigarette would be split up; the last bit of chewing tobacco was passed around; the last can of corned willie shared. You see, we were ll buddies. The canteen of water was passed around. The one who had water would be the last to drink and he sure would cuss at the fellows if they would insist on his drinking first. It was the same with the smokes or eats or what have you. God never could create human beings so unselfish, so devoted and so tender as my buddies. The beautiful memories of loyalty and comradeship still linger, memories deeply implanted in our souls. So wrote a Private Doughboy in the U.S. Army in toward the end of World War I, in 1918.

Three faces of America in a time of war - from a realistic pastor, from an idealistic general, from a dedicated soldier. Three faces for America to ponder in a time - 2008 - of peace.