the
"Y" men wish to secure their verdict for whatever they deserve for their
service in North Russia with the American soldiers fighting the
Bolsheviki."

TO OUR Y. W. C. A. AMERICAN GIRLS

In that old school reader of ours we used to read with wet eyes and
tight throat the story of the soldier who lay dying at Bingen on the
Rhine and told his buddie to tell his sister to be kind to all the
comrades. How he yearned for the touch of his mother's or sister's hand
in that last hour, how the voice of woman and her liquid eye of love
could soothe his dying moments. And the veterans of the World War now
understand that poetic sentiment better than they did when as barefooted
boys they tried to conceal their emotions behind the covers of the book,
for in the unlovely grime and grind of war the soldier came to long for
the sight of his own women kind. They will now miss no opportunity to
sing the praises of their war time friends, the Salvation Army Lassies
and the girls of the Y. W. C. A.

In North Russia we were out of luck in the lack of Salvation Army
Lassies enough to reach around to our front, but in that isolated war
area we were fortunate to receive several representatives of the
American Y. W. C. A. Some were girls who had already been in Russia for
several years in the regular mission work among the Russian people, and
two of them we hasten to add right here, were brave enough to stay
behind when we cut loose from the country. Miss Dunham and Miss Taylor
were to turn back into the interior of the country and seek to help the
pitiful people of Russia. We take our hats off to them.

What doughboy will forget the first sight he caught of an American "Y"
girl in North Russia? He gave her his eyes and ears and his heart all in
a minute. Was he in the hospital? Her smile was a memory for days
afterward. If a convalescent who could dance, the touch of her arm and
hand and the happy swing of the steps swayed him into forgetfulness of
the pain of his wounds. If he were off outpost duty on a sector near the
front line and seeking sweets at a Y. M. C. A. his sweets were doubled
in value to him as he took them from the hand of the "Y" girl behind the
counter. Or at church service in Archangel her voice added a heavenly
note to the hymn. In the Hostess House, he watched her pass among the
men showering graciousness and pleasantries upon the whole lonesome lot
of doughboys. One of the boys wrote a little poem for The American