Judge, 1917-12-01 · page 9 of 36
Judge — December 1, 1917 — page 9: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
**The Cartoon:** The illustration depicts a determined figure with reindeer and sleigh confronting what appears to be military fortifications or barriers. The caption "I'M GOING TO MAKE MY TRIP OR KNOW THE REASON WHY" suggests Santa Claus refusing to be stopped by wartime obstacles. **The Context:** This is World War I-era content (references to "Over There" and "drumfire" indicate the Western Front). The poem by Grantland Rice juxtaposes Christmas imagery—children's dreams, Santa's journey, the Christmas star—against the brutal reality of modern warfare ("crashing cannon," "crimson way," "gray ghosts of lads"). **The Satire's Point:** The page presents Christmas as a symbol of hope and normalcy that persists despite the war's devastation. The cartoon's Santa figure embodies determination to maintain this tradition despite military conflict. The poem suggests that Christmas dreams sustain soldiers fighting "Over There," even as many will not survive to experience them. It's simultaneously patriotic (supporting the war effort) and elegiac (mourning its cost).
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
“I'M GOING TO MAKE MY TRIP OR KNOW THE REASON WHY” THE REVEILLE OF THE LITTLE TIN HORN NCE MORE the echo drifts By land and sea, ‘ar blown and As from God's melod: Sweet as the dream-song Of a thousand years, Of love and laughter Of life’s pain and tears; Sweet as the wind-song Where the fir trees crown The snow-swept hills Above the restless town; Blown ever onward, asa dream far whirled, ‘That comes to storm The darkness of God’s world; And drive life’s shadows In unending flight Beyond the gleam That crowns the hills of Night. NCE MORE the echo drifts And from afar By GRANTLAND RICE We wait again Beneath the Christmas star, To where, once more The rushing legions meet With rhythmic tread Of countless little feet That shift and form Into a serried line Far marching where The early beacons shine Above the day Of all the days that wait, Where winds the highway Through the ancient gate, Flung wide for those Who yet may enter through And find beyond The Land-Of-Dreams-Come-True. NCE MORE the echo drifts— Above the blare Of crashing cannon Booming Over There— Above the drumfire Of a world at bay, That rolls and reels Along its crimson way. MORE the echo calls years that were, Where only mists And ghosts of shadows blur— Gray ghosts of lads With Christmas dreams half spun, ing on i and with gun, Where some must wait Within the waning light Of Christmas Eve To look across the Night That dawn-ward drifts To where God's silence falls And only dream feet Rush through empty halls comichooks.ennt