Tommies who ploughed through Flanders' mud to Ypres, doughboys who marched through the black night into the Argonne. soldiers who were herded aboard transports and troop trains, recruits who dug straddle ditches and loaded ammunition until their backs were fairly broken, had one song which helped more than any other to see them through the War. In leaky barracks, smoky cafes and on endless marches ''There's a Long. Long Trail'' was sung rowdily, nostalgically. Last week, in Spokane, Wash., after five months of sleeping sickness, Death took Stoddard King, the man who wrote...
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