Don's other life (1944)

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The rank-and-file of our women may feel left out of things at times. But, whenever I sense that "pity-poor-me” attitude working up to the surface on any of my friends I mail them a copy of this prayer which was clipped from a periodical: A CIVILIAN’S PRAYER HELP ME, Almighty God, to be the only kind of hero I can ever be. HELP ME see how important it is that I go gladly and energetically about the humdrum business of saving my tires and my fuel, of spending less and saving more, of asking less and giving more. HELP ME see that while the war may he won no matter what I do, the light we light to keep alive may go out because of what I prove myself to be. HELP ME to realize that Americans are fighting today, not to create freedom and opportunity for the ruthless and greedy, but to make it possible for the kind men, men of integrity, responsible men to work in peace, and to work for the com¬ mon good. HELP ME to realize that these fighting men — indeed, the good men and women of the whole world are waiting now for one small but all important sign from me. THEY KNOW I can’t join them in the blood and dirt. But they want to see if I will seek responsi¬ bility. They wait now to see if I need merely to he led to do my part or if I must he driven. For that will tell them if their spirit is also my spirit, and their purpose mine. HELP ME not to fail them. Amen. The following poem has quite a history. It was written by Frances Anger-Mayer of Kansas City, Mo. and was published in several journals under the title of CONVERSION. Apparently a number of copies found their way to our fighting boys overseas, for several instances of finding copies of it on bodies of unknown Yanks killed in action have been brought to our attention. It was presented on the Breakfast Club as the "Poem of the Unknown Soldier” read by James J. Walker on his regular Sunday afternoon broad¬ cast from New York City. We are happy to credit it here to its true authoress — Frances AngerMayer. CONVERSION Look God, I have never spoken to You, But now I want to say How do You do. You see, God, they told me You didn’t exist, And like a fool, I believed all this. Last night from a shell hole, I saw Your sky I figured right then they had told me a lie. Had I taken time to see things You made, I’d have known they weren’t calling a spade a spade. I wonder, God, if You'd shake my hand. Somehow, I feel that You will understand. Funny I had to come to this hellish place. Before I had time to see Your Face. Well, I guess there isn’t much more to say. But I’m sure glad, God, I met You today. I guess the “Zero hour” will soon he here. But I’m not afraid since I know You’re near. The Signal! Well, God, I’ll have to go, I like You lots, this I want You to know. Look now, this will he a horrible fight. Who knows, I may come to Your house tonight. Though I wasn’t friendly to You before, I wonder, God, if You’d wait at Your door. Look, I’m crying! Me! Shedding tears! I wish I had known You these many years. Well, I have to go now, God, good-bye! Strange, since I met You, I'm not afraid to die. "Don’t Forget to Pray” is the advice given to those in the service of their country. It was sent in by Blanche R. Kinstle of Mau¬ mee, Ohio. Soil, there ain't so much that we can say Though deep within our hearts. There's countless thoughts we can't express When it comes time to part. Of course, we'll tell you to be brave After you’ve gone away. But first of all comes this advice. Son, don’t forget to pray. We won’t be with you over there — Your hand can’t touch ours when You reach for just a friendly touch. And comes remembrance then. But up above, there’s Someone \\ ho Hears every word you say. And when things are the toughest. Son, Just don’t forget to pray. There ain’t much we can say to help When times like these arise. Except to say ’tis best to look For aid up in the skies. For He Who watches over you When you are far away Will be the One Who cares for you; Son, don’t forget to pray. Some day you will be back with us — Some day you'll understand That pathways leading to the best Are guided by His band. And though there ain’t much folks like us — Just plain old folks — can say, ’Tis with believing hearts we ask Son — Don’t forget to pray.