|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 2
I have stood in line in mud and slime and sleet,
With the dirty water oozing from my feet,
I have soaked and slid and slipped,
While my tacky slicker dripped,
And I wondered what they'd hand me out to eat.
Get in line!
For supplies and for inspections,
With the dust in four directions,
For a chance to scrub the dirt off,
In the winter with my shirt off,
In a line.
I have sweated in an August training camp,
That would make a prohibition town look damp,
Underneath my dinky cap
While the sun burned off my map
And I waited for some gold-fish (and a cramp!).
Get in line!
For rice, pay-day, pills, and ration,
For corned-willy, army fashion,
In Hoboken, in the trenches,
In a station with the Frenchies,
In a line.
I've been standing, freezing, sweating,
Pushing, shoving, wheezing, fretting,
And I won't be soon forgetting
Though I don't say I'm regretting
That I stood there, with my buddies,
In a line.
[Illustration: (soldiers in line in the rain)]
The Lids We Wear--
[Illustration: Dungaree style]
[Illustration: This tin derby with winter knitted helmet]
[Illustration: Old "rain-in-the-face"]
[Illustration: The charming red-and-white effect]
[Illustration: Fuzzy-wuzzy]
[Illustration: The tank helmet]
[Illustration: Some managed to hang on to the old reliable]
[Illustration: With the French army]
[Illustration: With its canvas overcoat on]
[Illustration: He used to hunt rabbits in Kentucky]
[Illustration: The job that's never ended--Cleaning up for inspection]
[Illustration: First time in two weeks!/Montmeuril
(men bathing from canvas bucket)]
[Illustration: The letter from home/reading]
[Illustration: The Ration Detail]
The Ration Detail--a job which no one relishes. Each day the other
fellow's artillery tries to lay down a fire which will keep these boys
from getting back. They travel to where their supply company has dumped
the food from mule carts--the point nearest front where creaking wheels
may go. The man in the center is carrying a string of French loaves, the
round black variety common before we got our own bakeries started.
[Illustration: The Headquarters Company...taking
its bath...]
The Headquarters Company of the Reserve Mallet taking its bath at
Chavigeny Farm. The tub is a tin-lined cigarette box used by the
Y.M.C.A. Water is heated in the old farm fire-place.
"PREPARE FOR ACTION"
I ran into Johnny Redlegs
A-sitting on his bus,
And I asked him why the devil
He dropped half his shells on us.
He just smiles and puffs his corn-cob,
As peaceful as a Persian,
And, "Buddy," says he, "you can't blame me,
You gotta blame dispersion."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|