Signaller Tom Skeyhill: the soldier poet

              1927
American War-Lecture Tour of
SIGNALLER TOM SKEYHILL
(THE SOLDIER POET)
8th Australian Infantry Battalion, Anzac Division


Dug-out and crater and sap,
Tunnel and traverse and line,
Grenade and bullet and shrap,
Are intimate friends of mine.


Figure



Figure



If I should fall beside this gallant clan,
And go to join the legions of the dead,
I'll smile, and wave my hand, and have no dread.
The longest life is but the shortest span,
Compared to that serene which lies ahead.

Tom Skeyhill is the most eloquent soldier living and the greatest orator the war has produced



A MILLION DOLLARS A MINUTE
THIS is what New York society paid to hear Signaller Tom Skeyhill speak in the Metropolitan Opera House, on the night of Wednesday, October ninth, when, after one of the most brilliant speeches of his career, at what the New York Tribune termed the greatest demonstration in the history of any war loan in any nation, he, single-handed, raised the unprecedented amount of
$23,750,000 in twenty-three minutes
thus establishing an absolute world's record, and vindicating the opinion of the leading English and American newspapers, that he is the greatest speaker the war has produced.

Of the war poets, Rupert Brook is the most mythical, Alan Seeger the most tragic, and Tom Skeyhill the most romantic.

When Great Britain declared war on Germany, in August, 1914, although but eighteen years of age, he immediately threw down the pen and took up the sword for the cause of righteousness.

With his gallant Australian comrades he travelled over fifteen thousand miles across the seas to the battlefields of Europe, where, after fighting through many of the fiercest and bloodiest struggles of the war and being twice desperately wounded, he was invalided home to his native land, bayoneted, blind and helpless.  For over two years he lived in a land of unfathomable darkness, and then his sight was partially restored by an operation in Washington, D. C.

As a soldier, he has had more hairbreadth escapes from death and undergone more thrilling experiences than the most notorious character in fiction.  He knows the fronts better than the people of New York know Fifth Avenue.

As a speaker, he is the greatest the war has produced—a silver-tongued master of eloquence—a matchless orator, whose powers of description are more vivid, and whose word pictures of battle are more graphic than those of any other speaker on the war.  The American Red Cross and the National Speakers' Bureau in Washington have both featured him in New York and in many other big American cities as a star of stars.  He has spoken in Carnegie Hall with Col. Theodore Roosevelt—at the sub-treasury steps on Wall Street with Governor Whitman—off the Union League Balcony on Fifth Avenue with Mr. Elihu Root—in the New York Metropolitan Opera House—in the Brooklyn Academy of Music—in the Medina Temple in Chicago with Secretary Daniels and with William Howard Taft in Washington, D. C.  He has often packed the famous Carnegie Hall from floor to ceiling, and single-handed he



HAS RAISED OVER $30,000,000 FOR WAR FUNDS
As a poet he is one of the most promising of the younger school, and his book of war verses is being featured by Messrs. Doubleday, Page and Co. and the New York Tribune.

What greater combination can be desired—a gallant soldier who has fought and been desperately wounded twice—an orator who is considered the equal of William Jennings Bryan, and a poet and scholar whose book is being featured by Messrs. Doubleday Page?

Mr. Skeyhill cannot stand the cold weather, on account of his wounds, and is spending the winter in the South.  The people of Dixie-Land thus have a unique opportunity of hearing the foremost soldier-speaker in the world today, the silver-tongued orator and sweet singing bard from the trenches, and the biggest soldier success New York has ever known.

He loves the South and he is going to visit many of the important centres, telling his wonderful stories of battle and reading his stirring poems of matchless beauty.

At the conclusion of his Southern season Mr. Skeyhill commences a return tour of the big Eastern cities, at the conclusion of which he proceeds to Oxford (England) to continue his study of pure literature.

His manager, Sergeant Sinclair, has just returned from the trenches, where he fought from the start to the finish of the war (four and a quarter years) without receiving a single scratch.  Detailed particulars will appear in local newspapers.




SUBJECTS

THE GALLIPOLI CAMPAIGN
FRANCE, FLANDERS, ITALY AND THE BALKANS
A SOLDIER'S OPINION OF THE INTERNATIONAL SITUATION
THE HUMOUR AND THE POETRY OF THE WAR



Press and Public Opinions

THEODORE ROOSEVELT
I am prouder to be on the stage with Tom Skeyhill than with any other man I know.


NEW YORK TRIBUNE (Head-line on front page)
Anzac Signaller stirs audience almost to frenzy.  What was probably the greatest demonstration, in the history of any war loan campaign in any nation, occurred in the Metropolitan Opera House last night.  Here, under the spell of the eloquence of Tom Skeyhill, over twenty million dollars was pledged to the loan

DR. STOCKTON AXSON (National Secretary, American Red Cross)

He combines, as do few, the practical experience of a soldier who has fought and been desperately wounded with all the powers of a great public orator.


NEW YORK HERALD
Col. Theodore Roosevelt stirred the audience in Carnegie Hall last night, but it took Tom Skeyhill of Australia to create a wild pitch of enthusiasm, which got the audience on their feet crying 'We're with you.'


NEW YORK GLOBE
The figure of Signaller Tom Skeyhill stands out from the tableaux and all other speakers as the greatest inspiration.  His eloquent description of fighting on the battlefields of Europe loosed the heart strings of his audience at the Metropolitan Opera House.

MR. JOSEPH CHAPMAN (Director of Speakers, Minneapolis)

The greatest soldier-speaker living today.


CLEVELAND PLAINDEALER
The most effective war speaker in America.

MR. HENRY CHANDLER (Director of Speakers, Chicago)

Nothing that can be said about him is too strong.


NEW YORK TIMES
An eloquent speaker.  He fired his audience.

MR. ALEX DUNBAR (Pittsburgh Speakers' Bureau)

The best war speaker yet heard in Pittsburgh.


BRITISH COMMITTEE ON PUBLIC INFORMATION
Signaller Tom Skeyhill is an authorized war speaker and has permission to wear his Anzac uniform.




A SPLENDID PRESENT TO SEND THE BOYS IN THE TRENCHES
THE SONGS OF AN ANZAC
BY
SIGNALLER TOM SKEYHILL
Written in the Trenches—in hospital, and at home in Australia

A collection of thirty-three stirring war poems, that breathe love of country and of courage—a spirit of battle—sympathy for the fallen, and withal, the unconquerable spirit of the true fighting man.


MY LITTLE WET HOME IN THE TRENCH

I've a little wet home in the trench,
Which the rain-storms continually drench,
Blue sky overhead,
Mud and clay for a bed
And a stone that we use for a bench.
Bully beef and hard biscuits we chew,
It seems years since we tasted a stew,
Shells crackle and scare,
But no place can compare,
With my little wet home in the trench.
Our friends in the trench o'er the way,
Seem to know that we've come here to stay,
They rush and they shout,
But they can't get us out,
'Though there's no dirty tricks they don't play.
They rushed us a few nights ago,
But we don't like intruders, and so,
Some deserted quite sore,
Others sleep evermore,
Near my little wet home in the trench.



BROTHER O' MINE

You're only a lad of eighteen years,
All of them spent with the one whose tears
Have guided you through life's early spheres,
Sharing with you in your joys and fears.
Brother O' Mine.
Your limbs are clean and your heart is true,
And somehow I think you'll see it through,
So return again when peace is new
And then we'll pay you the homage due
Brother O' Mine.
Remember your oath when under fire
And let neither fear nor base desire
Stem the flood of your youthful ire,
But march to the front and never retire
Brother O' Mine.
Should you fall 'neath an alien sky,
I'll always mourn, but I'll never cry,
For you'll not be dead—only cowards die,
And we'll meet again, yes, you and I.
Brother O' Mine.



DIXIE LAND
(From the window of a train)


Before me, like the pictures on the screen,
Flash rippling brooks and fields of waving green,
Whilst in the far-flung distance, lone and bare,
The mountains peer from out their clouded lair.
The cypress and the maple, verdure shed,
Stand, stark and still and silent as the dead.
A mat of multi-colored flowers below,
Soft drapes the field where fabled fairies go
Each night, to serenade beneath the trees,
And drink, from silver cups, the incensed breeze,
Or maybe, who can tell what fairies do,
To wait the morn and sip the pearling dew
Of flowers rich.  The sun, a ruby red,
Glows in the west, where colors garlanded,
Steal out through space to fondle and caress
The lone clouds, in their virgin loveliness.
High, on the wing, in richest notes, and rare
A wild-bird fills the cool autumnal air
With melody divine.  Across the way
A mother watches as her children play.
Whilst down the winding pike, soft-eyed and glad,
A maiden walks to meet her southern lad.
And as I sit here in this southbound train,
It seems as though the loneliness and pain
Of blasted hopes and youthful promises slain,
Soften—since earth was earth, the eyes of man
Have ne'er beheld a more delightful span
Than these soft skies and colored hills so grand,
Oh Lord it is, it is thy promised land.



These are only a sample.  If you like them, then order the book from your bookseller or direct from the publishers.

Price One Dollar, plus Postage
DOUBLEDAY, PAGE AND CO., PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK
Special poems on sale at all lectures