Rookie Rhymes

Excerpt

STANDING IN LINE

When I applied for Plattsburg I stood for hours in line
To get a piece of paper which they said I had to sign;
When I had signed I stood in line (and my, that line was slow!)
And asked them what to do with it; they said they didn't know.

And when I came to Plattsburg I had to stand in line,
To get a Requisition, from five o'clock till nine;
I stood in line till night for the Captain to endorse it;
But the Q. M. had one leggin' left; I used it for a corset.

We stand in line for hours to get an issue for the squad;
We stand in line for hours and hours to use the cleaning-rod;
And hours and hours and hours and hours to sign the roll for pay;
And walk for miles in double files on Inoculation day.

Oh, Heaven is a happy place, its streets are passing fair,
And when they start to call the roll up yonder I'll be there;
But when they start to call that roll I certainly will resign
If some Reserve Archangel tries to make me stand in line.

My legs are moving to and fro
I feel like a balloon;
How my head swims, first time I go
To boss the damn platoon.

My throat and mouth are full of paste
There's nothing in my hat;
My belt is winding round my waist
But where's my stomach at?

ONWARD CHRISTIAN SCIENCE

Our Christian Science Battery
Without a gun or horse,
Is just a simple oversight,
That will be changed, of course.

But while we're waiting patiently,
And longing for the day,
They have a funny little game
They make us fellows play.

Bill Hallsteadsimulatesthe gun
He's sort of short and fat
And doesn't look much like a gun,
But he's pretty good at that.

And they've elected me a horse,
Off-horse of the wheel pair;
I tie a white cloth on my arm
So they can see I'm there.

Then when the battery is formed
With each man in his place,
They line the "pieces" in a row
Just like a chariot race.

Bill Barnum's "Greatest Show on Earth"
Has not a thing on us;
We tear around the old parade
And kick upcloudsof dust.

For it's gallop all the morning long,
They never let us walk.
Why, it gets so realistic
That I whinney when I talk.

I wouldn't be a bit surprised
If I should hear some day
That instead of mess they'd issue us
That 14 lbs. of hay.

And so I'm looking for the man
The one who said to me:
"You don't want to be a 'doughboy,'
Go and join the battery."

"Lots of love to our lieutenant,"
Writes my mother;
And the letters from my brother
Contain facetious remarks about "majors" . . .
He calls me "The Colonel" and laughs. . . .
But they mean it seriously,
Those back home.
They can't seem to realize
How shaky is our berth up here . . .
How every "Retreat" means a brief respite;
Each "Reveille" the dread
Of some more foolish blunder . . .
Some new bone-play.
And yet sometimes our timid vanity
Blossoms under the warmth of their regard;
Our hopes take strength from their confidence in us.

There came a blue envelope in the mail today.
A square envelope delicately scented with myrrh. . . .
And she ended with
"Adieu, cher Capitaine."

That very morning
I started even our sphinx-faced commander
By bawling out: "Right dress—MARCH!"

"Adieu, cher Capitaine,"
She had written,
And I can see the flecks of soft star dust in her eyes
As she thought it....