Page Six
BADIN BULLETIN
Hernnan Bell Overseas
The friends of Mr. Herman Bell, Jr.,
of the United States Marine Corps, will
be pleased to learn that he has arrived
safely overseas.
Mr. Bell is the son of Mr. and Mrs.
Herman W. Bell, and enlisted in the
Marines last May, at the age of seven
teen. He became eighteen yesterday, the
natal day of General Pershing, Septem
ber 13.
He is on the firing line, in Company
“C.”
started ^,;%rmrd°srwf.h’iread™ Bad " ‘o V" Publication has b„„
'BuUh
Issued Almost Daily in the Interest of the Working Man
Weather:
Coolish Around the Edges.
I ooc Per Copy, and Worth It..
I SEPTEMBER, 1918 i
Arrivals: The Teacher’s Trunks.
Depaitures: Mr. Linn.
A Badin Soldier-Poet
. .The Bulletin is
proud to publish the
following poem,
which was written
to his mother by a
Badin boy who is
now with the Colors
in France. Walter
F. Curran was Ma
chine Shop foreman
under Mr. Seaford
in 1917. He was
called to Camp
Jackson in October..
of 1917, and landed
in France in March,
1918.
A Soldier’s Thought in France
Dy Walter F. Curran
I’m but a soldier here,
America is my home;
France is a desert drear,
America is my home.
Danger and death throng
Round me on every hand;
England is my fatherland,
But America is my home.
What tho the tempest rage?
America is my home;
Short is my pilgrimage,
America is my home.
And time’s wild wintry blast
Soon will be overpast,
I shall reach home at last—
America is my home.
Therefore I murmur not,
America is my home;
Whate’er my earthly lot,
America is my home.
And I shall surely stand
At my country’s right hand;
England is my fatherland—
America is my home.
To make the world a friendly place.
One must show it a friendly face.
■Mr. Linn, formerly star of the Machine
Shop Baseball Team, and recently morn
ing and evening star of the porch of the
girls’ annex, has decided to turn up miss
ing at the Club in the future. • Just what
Mr. Linn’s future intentions are we can
not say, but he left the impression with
the editorial staff that he was on the
point of imbibing a little of the higher
education somewhere.
Will the gent on the third floor of
the main building who snored so loud
last night kindly keep his door closed or
procure a clothespin from the Badin Sup
ply?
Mr. G. D. Slack left yesterday on one
of his mysterious trips to the “sugar
loaf” district of Montgomery County.
Many await his return with lively
anticipations.
Jack Armitage has been appointed one
of the official entertainers at the Girls’
Club. He will also entertain any visitors
with great glee.
That boy Neubling certainly can run.
Doc. Hoffman is an all-Southern runner,
and he had to stretch out some to come
in ahead.
Mr. Shepherd is looking rather lone
some since two of his girls have gone.
Miss McGhee is nursing a sprained
knee today. Her horse was unusually
wild last night, but she finally subdued
him. There are some vicious horses at
the Carnival stables.
Why no more swimming parties?
Maybe somebody forgot to return the
Community bathing suit to the Labora
tory.
Hoot mon! The Teachers are coming.
Aiken Moore is on the job. He will be
at the School House Monday, but no one
seems to know just what he expects to
do there.
Miss Marie Tiffany and Henry
Zabowsky gave a very interesting recital
at the theater last night. They were
assisted, as usual, by the Badin Chil
dren’s Chorus.
Don’t forget to spend a few dollars at
the Carnival each night, and help win
the war.
Anyway, that was some Labor Day
celebration; but the Clubhouse guys were
mostly on the side lines.
For the benefit of the folks who are
curious, please note that this paper has
quite a corps of Editors. At this writ
ing, about eight particular individuals
comprise the staff, and we aim to have
ten before very long. (Be careful what
you say about the Bullet—it may hit you
any time.)
Some famous Courts:
County Court.
Tennis Court.
Court-Plaster.
Court-Ship.
Note: You are apt to be stuck if you
try any of the above.
Wanted—Handsome young man, as
daily reporter for the Bullet.
Mr. Ramsey and Mr. A. L. Scott had
supper somewhere Sunday evening.
They won’t tell where, however, as they
say competition is too keen now.
The Boy Scouts hiked down to the
Falls last night You should have seen
them demolish the eats.
Last night was a grand night to sleep.
Mr. Cummings sang us to sleep, and the
carpenters sounded reveille about 5 p. m.
Mr. C. H. Jones left yesterday for
Wilkesboro, from whence he will go to
Camp Greene. Mr. Jones is a dandy
.chap, and has many friends here who
will regret his departure.
How about a Spelling Match—girls
versus men? Are both sides game? If
so, Mr. Cummings and Miss Sullivan will
arrange it.
Those who retire early will please
leave 'their names on the bulletin board,
so that the night revelers will not waste
their energy making a noise before the
door of a vacant room.
Mr. Dam Scott, with his usual regard
for truth and exactness, wishes to say
that he did not sneeze two hundred times
last night as reported—only 168. He
has the sympathy of Jack Armitage and
others.