I'D SAY THEY DON'T KNOW HOW
T'was one morning in February,
I was dreaming of the foe,
When the sound came thru the Barracks,
That the siren was to go.
I jumped up so quickly
I almost broke my back,
And reached for mask and helmet,
Hanging on the rack.
I headed for the trenches,
A good place you'll admit,
And just because alert had sounded,
I almost had a fit.
The thoughts were soon forgotten
As sound came from the sky,
And two tiny little airplanes,
Came swiftly sailing by.
It must have been a Zero,
With a P-40 on his tail,
'Cause the leading plane exploded,
Probably blasted into hell.
I sit there proudly watching
For t'was an amazing sight,
A lovely Jap formation
Ten bombers in the flight.
They dropped their eggs so neatly
But that didn't worry me
Because every single one
Landed directly in the tea.
The pursuit got most of them
As they headed for home
Assam had scored a hit
On the boys that love to roam.
The casualties were very few
A chicken and a cow
If you ask for opinion
I'd say they don't know how.
- Corp. H. D. LANGLEY
HE TUCKS HIS NET WELL IN
The night was hot, and poor G.I.
Tossed on his cot, and cussed
The powers that made him sweat
Neath a blasted shroud they call a net,
What care I for that stinking anopheles
I'll take my chances if you please,
And speaking thus he seized the rag
And stuffed it in his barracks bag.
But mister minimus hov'ring near
Sailed in and blitzed his exposed rear,
For here he lay without defence
And in due course without pretence
He shivered and shook in every joint
Until he thought that die he might
Unless the Doc would put things right.
The days and nights dragged on and on,
Till G.I. was but a skeleton.
His color was light grey green
Down to his navel reached his spleen
But sadder than this dirty deal
He even lost all sex appeal.
Tojo grins because he knows
The Gee Eyes sleep with mosquitos
So wipe that smile right off his face
And keep that net tucked well in place.
- Maj. JOHN J. WOLFE
and Lt. JIM MYERS
TO THE CENSOR
There's so much I could tell you dear
But it would be cut out . . I fear,
I'd like to tell you where I'm at
But the Censor says I can't tell that
I'd like to tell you what I do
But that is on the "don't list" too.
I would enclose a picture of
This lucky soldier who you love
But I can't do it - 'cause you know
The name of the place might somehow show.
All I can say - is written here
The sun is shining - the day is clear
And I love you more and more - my dear. - ANONYMOUS
Fortune teller, you ain't kiddin'
When you whisper thus to me -
"You are here in body only,
But your heart's across the sea."
Tell me more, Oh pseudo-scholar,
Does HIS heart beat a retreat,
When WAVES in uniform wash up,
Start gently lapping at his feet?
Has he gone completely WAACy?
Has he fallen - ah, a WOW!
Or himself become entangled
With a WIRE? Not knowing how,
Ere you answer, Fortune teller,
Take this wisdom straight from me -
A man is safer - and by far
In India - with the ANC.
- Lt. ELIZABETH SHAUNTY
SONG OF THE OXCART
What does the whine of the oxcarts say
As they roll so slowly along,
Are they giving advice on events of the day,
Or merely singing a song?
Are they telling us how to whip the Japs,
As if we didn't know.
Or is one whining commands to its fellow carts
To keep them in a row?
Are they chiding us for our many blunders
And telling us where to go.
Or are they boastfully chanting of Indian wonders
Like the Taj and others we know?
Are they asking us to go or stay awhile,
Saying we're right or wrong,
Or just rolling along each weary mile
Without thought, but only a song?
Are they weary with the dreary loads they haul
As they go creeping and creaking along,
Or do they just need grease a bit of oil
To stop them from singing their song?
- Lt. ALEX J. PORTER