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THE HONOR ROLL



THE HONOR ROLL

of the

AMERICAN EXPEDITION WHO FOUGHT AGAINST THE BOLSHEVIKI IN NORTH RUSSIA

1918-1919

[Illustration: The following poem is enclosed in a cross.]

IN RUSSIA's FIELDS (After Flanders Fields)

In Russia's fields no poppies grow There are no crosses row on row To mark the places where we lie, No larks so gayly singing fly As in the fields of Flanders.

We are the dead. Not long ag'o We fought beside you in the snow And gave our lives, and here we lie Though scarcely knowing reason why Like those who died in Flanders.

At Ust Padenga where we fell On Railroad, Kodish, shot and shell We faced, from just as fierce a foe As those who sleep where poppies grow, Our comrades brave in Flanders.

In Toulgas woods we scattered sleep, Chekuevo and Kitsa's tangles creep Across our lonely graves. At night The doleful screech owl's dismal flight Heart-breaking screams in Russia.

Near railroad bridge at Four-five-eight, And Chamova's woods, our bitter fate We met. We fell before the Reds Where wolves now howl above our heads In far off lonely Russia.

In Shegovari's desperate fight, Vistavka's siege and Seltso's night, In Bolsheozerki's hemmed-in wood, In Karpogor, till death we stood Like they who died in Flanders.

And some in Archangel are laid 'Neath rows of crosses Russian-made With marker of the Stars and Stripes Not minding bugle, drum or pipes We sleep, the brave, in Russia.

And comrades as you gather far away In God's own land on some bright day And think of us who died and rest Just tell our folks we did our best In far off fields of Russia.

*****

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