‘Land where my fathers died, Land of the pilgrims’ pride—’
“The quivering, quavering chorus, punctuated by groans and made spasmodic by pain, trembled up from that little group of wounded Americans in the midst of the Cuban solitude—the pluckiest, most heartfelt song that human beings ever sang. There was one voice that did not quite keep up with the others. It was so weak that I did not hear it until all the rest had finished with the line, ‘Let freedom ring.’ Then halting, struggling, faint, it repeated slowly:
‘Land—of—the—pilgrims’—pride, Let—freedom—’
“The last word was a woeful cry. One more son had died as died the fathers.”
Under different circumstances but in the same spirit of loyalty the tune of “America” was played in France as “our boys” promptly obeyed the order,
Exercises were held on Memorial Day at Menil-la-Tour when the World War was raging in France. Two regimental bands took up their positions in opposite corners of the cemetery. The commanding general placed a flag on each of the eighty-one graves. He and the soldiers then saluted the large flag, while battle was still being waged about a mile away.
The general then faced the west, and pointed in that direction as he addressed the soldiers. He said: “Out there are Washington and the President, and all the people of the United States, who are looking to you.... Over there are the mothers who bade you good-bye with tears and sent you forth, and are waiting at home and praying for you, trusting in you. Out there are the fathers and the sisters and the sweethearts you have left behind, all depending on you to do your best. Now,” said he in a clear ringing voice, “turn and salute America!” All turned and saluted toward the west, while the flags fluttered on the breeze and the band played softly,
“My country, ’tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing: Land where my fathers died, Land of the pilgrims’ pride, From every mountain side Let freedom ring.”
A distinction with a difference was clearly evidenced when Britishers sang a German’s hymn,
“At the dedication of the British War memorial at the Menin Gate of Ypres, where its arch spans the main street, three great hymns were sung: ‘O God, Our Help in Ages Past,’ by Isaac Watts; ‘For All the Saints Who From Their Labors Rest,’ by Bishop How, and ‘Now Thank We All Our God,’ which is a translation by Catherine Winkworth from the German of Martin Rinkart! Time heals wounds. Who would have believed it, had he been told soon after the Armistice that this hymn—noble and beautiful as it is—would be selected and sung by British soldiers at the dedication of a monument erected to the memory of those who fell in a war against Germans? Yet no one raised a word of protest or remarked upon any incongruity, for the instincts of the human heart are deeper than the traditional and conventional differences which separate nations.”