Hello, Soldier! | Page 9

armed himself.
With loathing in his eye,?Up and over went the hero. He was savage
Through and through,?And he tore across the distance like a maddened
kangaroo.
They had left a woeful sight indeed--frail cabbages
all rent,?Turnips mangled, little carrots all in one red
burial blent,?Parsnips ruined, lettuce shattered, torn and
wilted beet and bean,?And a black and grinning gap where once our
garden flourished green.
. . . . . .?Five and fifty hours had passed when came a
German in his shirt.?On his back he carried Porky black with
blood, and smoke and dirt.?"I sniped six of 'em," said Porky, "an' me
pris'ner here," he sez-?"I done in the crooel swine what strafed me
helpless cabba-ges."
THE GERM
I TOOK to khaki at a word,
And fashioned dreams of wonder.?I rode the great sea like a bird,
Chock full of blood and thunder.?I saw myself upon the field
Of battle, framed in glory,?Compelling stubborn foes to yield?As captives to my sword and shield--
This is another story.
We sat about in sun and sand,
We broke old Cairo's images,?Met here and there a swarthy band
In little, friendly scrimmages,?And here it is I start to kid
No Moslem born can hit me.?The Germ then that had long laid hid?Came out of Pharaoh's pyramid,
And covertly he bit me.
For some few days I wore an air
Of pensive introspection,?And then I curled down anywhere.
They whispered of infection,?And hoist me on two sticks as though
I bore the leper's label,?And took me where, all in a row?Of tiny beds, two score or so
Were raising second Babel;
But no man talked to any one.
And no bloke knew another.?This soldier raved about his gun,
And that one of his mother.?They were the victims of the Germ,
The imp that Satan pricks in,?First cousin to the Coffin Worm,?Whose uncomputed legions squirm
Some foul, atomic Styx in.
The Germ rides with the plunging shell,
Or on the belts that fret you,?Or in a speck of dust may well
One thousand years to get you;?Well ambushed in a tunic fold
He waits his special mission,?And never lad so big and bold?But turns to water in his hold
And dribbles to perdition.
Where is war's pomp and circumstance,
The gauds in which we prank it??Germ ends for us our fine romance,
Wrapped in a dingy blanket.?We set out braggartly in mirth,
World's bravest men and tallest,?To do the mightiest thing on earth,?And here we're lying, nothing worth,
Succumbent to the smallest!
JOEY'S JOB.
IN days before the trouble Jo was rated as
a slob.?He chose to sit in hourly expectation of a job.?He'd loop hisself upon a post, for seldom
friends had he,?A gift of patient waitin' his distinctif quality.?He'd linger in a doorway, or he'd loiter on the
grass,?Edgin' modestly aside to let the fleetin'
moments pass.
Jo' begged a bob from mother, but more often
got a clout,?And settled down with cigarettes to smoke the
devil out.?The one consistent member of the Never
Trouble Club,?He put a satin finish on the frontage of the
pub.?His shoulder-blades were pokin' out from
polishin' the pine;?But if a job ran at him Joey's footwork was
divine.
Jo strayed in at the cobbler's door, but, scoffed
at as a fool,?He found the conversation too exhaustin' as
a rule;?Or, canted on the smithy coke, he'd hoist his
feet and yawn,?His boots slid up his shinbones, and his pants
displayin' brawn:?And if the copper chanced along 'twas beautyful
to see?Joe wear away and made hisself a fadest
memory.
Then came the universal nark. The Kaiser
let her rip.?They cleared the ring. The scrap was for the
whole world's championship.?Jo Brown was takin' notice, lurkin' shy beneath
his hat,?And every day he crept to see the drillin' on
the flat.?He waited, watchin' from the furze the blokes
in butcher's blue,?For the burst of inspiration that would tell him
what to do.
He couldn't lean, he couldn't lie. He yelled
out in the night.?Jo understood--he'd all these years been
spoilin' for a fight!?Right into things he flung himself. He
took his kit and gun,?Mooched gladly in the dust, or roasted gaily
in the sun.?"Gorstruth," he said, with shining eyes, "it
means a frightful war,?'N' now I know this is the thing that Heaven
meant me for."
Jo went away a corporal and fought again the
Turk,?And like a duck to water Joey cottoned to the
work.?If anythin' was doin' it would presently come
out?That Joseph Brown from Booragool was there
or thereabout.?He got a batch of medals, and a glorious
renown?Attached all of a sudden to the name of
Sergeant Brown.
Then people talked of Joey as the dearest
friend they had;?They were chummy with his uncles, or acquainted
with his dad.?Joe goes to France, and presently he figure as
the best?Two-handed all-in fighter in the armies of the
West,?And men of every age at home and high and
low degree,?We gather now, once went to school with
Sergeant Brown, V.C.
Then Hayes and Jo, in Flanders met, and very
proud was Hayes?To shake a townsman by the hand, and sing
the hero's praise,?"Oh, yes," says Jo, "I'm doin' well, 'n' yet
I might do more.?If I was in a hurry, mate, to finish up this war?I'd lay out every Fritz on earth, but, strike me,
what a yob?A man would be to work himself