Part 6

There’s about two million fellows from the North, South, East and West Who scurried up the gang plank of a ship; They have felt the guy ropes paying and the troopship gently swaying As it started on its journey from the country of the blest. They have washed in hard salt water, bucked the Army transport grub, Had a hitch of crow’s nest duty on the way; Strained their eyes mistaking white caps for a humpback Prussian sub Just at twilight when “the danger’s great, they say.” When their ship had lost the convoy they were worried just a bit, And rather thought the skipper should be canned; And the sigh of heartfelt feeling almost set the boat to reeling When each of those two million sighted land.

There’s about two million fellows that have landed here in France, They’re scattered God and G.H.Q. know where; By the cranes where steamers anchor, schooner, tramp, or greasy tanker, There’s an O.D. outfit waiting just to make the cargo dance. They are chopping in the forest, double-timing on the roads, Putting two-ways where a single went before; In the cabs of sweating engines, pushing, pulling double loads When the R.T.O.’s in frenzied tones implore. For it’s duty, solid duty with the hustling men behind, From the P. of E.’s on up to No Man’s Land; And there’s never chance of shirking when the boys up front are working— Night and day must go the answer to the front line’s stern demand.

There’s about two million fellows and there’s some of them who lie Where eighty-eights and G.I.’s gently drop; Where the trucks and trains are jamming and the colonel he is damning Half the earth and in particular the Service of Supply. They have had a stretch of trenches, beat the Prussian at his best, Seen their buddies fall like heroes right beside; But—there’s nigh two million fellows from the country of the blest Who know the cause for which their comrades died, Who have crossed the sluggish shallows where their little life streams ran And broadened just a trifle, you will find; And their vision’s cleaner, clearer and they hold just that much dearer The great and glorious land they left behind! ALBERT J. COOK, Sgt., Hq. Detch.,—Army Corps.

NOVEMBER ELEVENTH

We stood up and we didn’t say a word, It felt just like when you have dropped your pack After a hike, and straightened out your back And seem just twice as light as any bird.

We stood up straight and, God! but it was good! When you have crouched like that for months, to stand Straight up and look right out toward No-Man’s-Land And feel the way you never thought you could.

We saw the trenches on the other side And Jerry, too, not making any fuss, But prob’ly stupid-happy, just like us, Nobody shot and no one tried to hide.

If you had listened then I guess you’d heard A sort of sigh from everybody there, But all we did was stand and stare and stare, Just stare and stand and never say a word. HILMAR R. BAUKHAGE, Pvt., A. E. F.

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in spelling. 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.