With the Colors | Page 6

hike.?When they sent his comp'ny down the road a bit,?"Gee!" he said, "I'd like to commandeer?Some one's car and drive it--marching gets my goat!"?(Bob was quite a gas-car engineer.)
Lonesome work, this pacing up and down a bridge.?Now and then a loaded train goes by;?But at night--just nothing; everything was dead;?Empty world beneath an empty sky.?Then the chauffeur lady got into the game,?Drove her car each midnight to our tents,?Bringing us hot coffee, sandwiches, and pie;?All the others thought that was immense.
But Bob, ungrateful cuss, he would never say,?Like the rest, that she had saved their lives;?He was too blamed busy, like the one-armed man?Papering--the one that had the hives!?Bob would eat the lunches--eat and come again,?Silent, but as hungry as a pup;?Finish with a piece o' pie, swallow it--and go;?Never had to make him hurry up!
Then one night we heard him talking to the girl,?Like he was complaining to her: "Say!?Can't you change the stuffing? I am sick of ham!?Have a heart! I'd just as lief eat hay!"?Did we all jump on him? You can bet we did:?"Who gave you the right to kick, you steer,?Over what she brings us? She's a first-rate pal;?Talk some more and get her on her ear!"
Bob was somewhat flustered; thought we hadn't heard.?Then he said, "Well, ain't you tired o' ham?"?"What of that?" says Wilcox. "Think of how she works!?Spends her cash ...!" (All Bob said then was, "Damn!")?Grabbing up his Springfield, "Listen, you!" he snaps.?"That's my motor and my gasoline.?Sure she's spending money--but it comes from me;?She's my sister, and her name's Irene!"
Then, as he marched himself into the night,?We looked at each other a spell.?"We've ditched our good luck--he won't _let_ her come back," Says Wilcox. "Now isn't _that_ hell!"
BUGLER BILL
Bugler Bill--mild-mannered, shy--?Is straight.... But I wonder if Bill _would_ lie?
Bugler Bill is a pensive lad,?Whether he's workin' or not;?Serious-faced an' pitiful sad--?(Think he was goin' t' be shot!)?Whenever he bugles, some of us cry--?Reveille, taps, or mess--?With musical sob-stuff Bill gets by,?Plaintive and full of distress!
Bugler Bill is never real gay,?But built on a sour-face plan;?Bill wouldn't laugh, whatever you'd say;?Looks like a love-poisoned man.?"Grin, ye hyenas," he'll say as he smokes;?"_I_ ain't a frivolous guy--"?"Thinkin' of all of the pain you caused folks?While learnin' to play?" asks I.
Bugler Bill, he sighs as he turns,?Shakin' his head at me.?"A long while ago th' bugle I learns--?So don't you git funny," says he.?"My audience laughed till it cried salty tears,?An' everyone called me a joy.?I was a clown in a circus for years--?_That's_ why I'm solemn, my boy!"
Bugler Bill come "out of the Draft"--?D'you s'pose at _that_ joke he actually laughed?
HEINIE THE HOSTLER
_He's not very handsome or clever,?He's slow in his wits--and he's fat,?And yet he's a soldier of Uncle Sam's--?Now, whaddy you know about that?_
We always called him Dummy,?And thought he wouldn't fight;?We sneered at him and jeered at him--?He was--and is--a sight!?His feet are big, his head is small,?His German blood is slow,?But at the call for volunteers,?Why, didn't Heinie go?
He's workin' as a hostler?(He used to be a clerk)?He don't enjoy his job, that boy,?But Heinie is no shirk.?"This is _my_ country just as much?As it is yours," says he;?"I'm gonna do what I _can_ do?To _keep_ it mine!... You'll see!
"My father, he come over here?To get away from things;?He couldn't abide on th' other side--?Aristocrats and kings.?The Stars and Stripes mean liberty,?I've always understood;?So gimme the right to work--or fight--?I betcha I'll make good.
"As a chambermaid to horses?In a battery that's new,?The work is rough and mean enough?And wouldn't appeal to you;?But I've got my place and I'll stick to it--?Can any man do more??I've never had a chance, like dad,?To prove myself before."
_Perhaps he won't get a commission;?Perhaps he is dull, and all that;?But somehow I feel that he's better than me--?Now whaddy you know about that?_
OUR JOB
You mustn't _hate_ the enemy--that wastes a lot of "pep"--?The Colonel passed the word around the training camp to-day. The Captain says with modern war we gotta all catch step;?"Cut out the rough-necked rage and talk, and don't you think or say:
"'Pirates, rapists, murderers; poisoners and lying thieves; Super-vandals, run amuck--black devils quoting sermons;?This world was mostly Heaven-made, our Chaplain, he believes; But Hell itself conceived and spawned the Military Germans!
"The enemy is good at killing kids, and old folks, too;?Torpedoing hospital ships and blowin' up our plants;?But cogitatin' on their line of wicked things won't do;?We'll never hate 'em off the map--just give the guns a chance!"
So we don't go in for loathin', and with anger we don't burn; We're drillin', and we're diggin', and we're workin' all the while; To put 'er in the target is the trick we hafter learn--?And ev'ry man's a better shot when he can shoot--and smile!
The folks at home will spend their time