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Image provided by: New York State Military History Museum
4 THE WADSWORTH GAS ATTACK a n d RIO GRANDE RATTLER Wadsworth Gas Attack and Rio Grande Rattler Published weekly by and for the men of the Twenty-seventh Division, U. S. A., at Camp Wadsworth, Spartanburg, .8, C., under the direction of the Camp Wadsworth Young Men’s Christian Association. Honorary Editors— Major General John F. O’Ryan. Brigadier General Charles L. Phillips. Lt. Colonel Franklin W. Ward. William J. Davison, Camp Y. M. C. A. Secretary. Publication Committee— Dr. Paul Moore Strayer, Chairman. J. S. Kingsley, Editor-m-CMet E. W. Leslie. Editor— Pvt. Richard M. Connell, Co. A, 102d Military Police. Associate Editor - — P v t Charles Divine, Ambulance Co. 108. Art Editor — Pvt Richard J. Kennedy, 102d Supply Train. Business Manager— Theodore F. Elworth, Y. M. C. A. Associate Business Manager — Private Mark V. Brady, 102d Supply Train. Advertising Manager— Regtl. Sergt. Gaylord W Elliott, 102d Ammunition Train. Editorial Staff— Lieutenant Edward Streeter, 52d Brigade Headquarters. Ernest W. Leslie, Y. M, C. A. Private Walter A. Davenport, Co. M, 107th Infantry. Private Fred J. Ashley, Headquarters Troop. Private Keppler A. Bisbee, 105th Field Artillery. PRICE FIVE CENTS. Address, W a d s w o r t h G a s A t t a c k a n d R io G r a n d ® R a t t l e r , Camp Wadsworth, Spartanburg, S. C. Subscription terms, $1.00 for 3 months. WE’LL NEED IT SOME DAY, After noon mess the other day in a company the mess orderlies collected seven gallons of good chocolate, five gallons of milk, four big pans of broken bread, and a great • quantity of hash which the men had left behind. The chocolate, milk, bread, and, of course, the hash, were thrown away. This happens every day in every company to a greater or less extent. It is waste of a sort that makes the French officers, who know how precious food is at the front, throw up their hands and shudder. We ask the folk at home to save food—to Hooverize. We shouldn’t waste it ourselves. There’s enough for everybody, but there isn’t enough to waste. If we waste food now, we are going to regret it when we are at the front. W e’ll need it them. Every soldier in the Division has this responsibility directly on his own shoulders—or, better, on his stomach. Don’t waste food. A mess sergeant is in many ways the most important non-com in his company. He can do much good, or harm. If he lets food be wasted, he is falling down on his job. If he squanders his supplies, he is betraying his trust. Remember the old saw-—You Never Miss The Water Till The Pipe Freezes. R. E. C. DOING OUR BIT AT $150 PER. Amongst the several things we object to is the name of the burlesque holding forth at the Winter Garden, New York. Not, of course, that it makes the slightest differ ence to the heroic lads who are thus “ Doing Their B it” for various considerations ranging from $25 upward, per, but it does strike us that the same more or less valuable contribution to the history of Broadway entertainments might struggle along with a title a trifle less mocking without appreciable detriment to the box office business. As a matter of fact our experiences with Winter Garden shows convince us that the name, quite likely, has nothing at all in common with that which goes on the stage. And we realize, quite thoroughly, that the exquisite boys of the chorus, who are, doubtless, clad in neater O. D. ’s than we and who, of course, salute frequently and always improperly, are vastly more serviceable in sundry ways than they would he in the army. But even ignoring the Winter Garden’s disregard for the simple rules of good taste, we can think of a number of reasons why whatever it is they are doing at the Winter Garden this season, would be quite as successful were the Messrs. Shubert to shift the title, “ Doing Our Bit, ’ ’ to some other activity; some activity, let us suggest, that would fit the title, for instance. It would be too bad were this to be interpreted as an attack upon the business enterprises of the Messrs. Shu bert. We asspre them, for higher than business office reasons, for we are not thus hampered, that we are not thus inspired. However, we wonder whether this isn’t a good time to eliminate from stage properties, the venerable trick of saving the show by introducing the long suffering Stars and Stripes. And isn’t it about time to make some sort of protest against the purely commercial introduction, by the orchestra, of The Star Spangled Banner, at that psychological moment when less heroic measures would not save the audience from absolute boredom! The principle that is responsible for labeling the Winter Garden performance “ Doing Our B it” appears to us to be the same. We haven’t the slightest idea whether it is a very good or a very bad show. We haven’t seen it. But somehow we are sentimental enough to associate the phrase “ Doing Our Bit” with the idea of willing sacrifice; a necessary sacrifice to a great ideal and some thing even more concrete and tangible—the preservation of humanity. There are millions of men and women doing it. We would be indeed stupid not to appreciate the Shuberts’ keen business acumen but we are moved to question their thoughtfulness. W. A. D. MAGAZINE COVER WARRIORS. Some day one of these artists who draw covers for the popular magazines is going to see a real soldier. The meeting will be a distinct shock to the artist. Your magazine-cover soldier would have a tough time of it in the 27th Division. He apparently salutes by slapping himself on the nose with a careless flip of his hand. Or else he makes a gesture that is a combination of the British salute, the secret wig-wag of the Royal Order of the Stuffed Duck, and the motion a man makes when he is trying to roll big Dick from Boston. And his uniform! We have the cover of a well known magazine before us. The soldier on it is trying to dig his thumb in his eye while giving what the artist believes to be a salute, and he is wearing—-(a) leather puttees; (b) khaki pants of remarkable cut; (c) a side arm strapped apparently to his knee; (d) a blue sport shirt, open at the throat, and a blue cartridge belt supported by what appear to be blue gallusses; (e) a hat set at a rakish angle; (f) a hat. cord which is yellow with red tassels, indicating, presumably, that he is in the cavalry on week-days and the artillery on Sundays. Of course, we don’t believe Art should he trammeled by the army regulations. But if artists are going to paint soldiers, why not cast an optic at some of the 27th Divi sion Apollos. Then they’d know how soldiers really look. R. E. C. '
