Clear and sweet the birds are calling,
Sweet and white the blooms are falling,
Love and peace each breeze is filling . . .
Vibrant. . .joyous. . . heart beats thrilling;
This the dower we inherit. . .
Just our birthright not our merit
From our Father unafraid. . .
Good red blood the price they paid.
Overseas a voice is calling
From the trenches. . . dread . . . appalling!
All our peaceful valleys filling. . .
Searching . . searching . . . heart beats stilling!
In a breath our dreams are perished,
Gone the ideals we have cherished . . .
To wounded France, for life at bay,
Good red blood our sons must pay.
Still the sweet white blooms are falling;
Trumpet -toned the drums are calling.
Stars still spangle Heaven’s arching . . .
Hark, the sound of feet a-marching,
Borne upon the summer breeze!
Marching . . . marching . . . overseas!
Each one with a fighting chance
On the blood stained fields of France!
Nineteen hundred seventeen
Ben Fisher was a 2nd lieutenant in the Air Service from 1917-1919. In 1918, he was in Italy. The 1918 diary contains references to that.