Letters - November 1943

Poem -- Our Fighting Men


Our Fighting Men

	A Marine told his buddy, on Guadalcanal
	"The Army is coming, think of it pal."
	His Corporal answered him, "All right then,
	Let's build a nice clubhouse for Our Fighting Men."

	"They can have entertainments, and maybe a play,
	Recreation advisers from the W.P.A.
	USO hostesses and movies galore,
	For the Army gives morale a very high score."

	"One thing," said the chow hound, "We'll eat better now.
	Depend on the soldiers to drag in that chow.
	They will start Post Exchanges, have ice cream no end;
	Life has to be pleasant for Our Fighting Men."

	A Seabee rolled up and asked, "What's the score?"
	The Wagons and Cruisers all laying off shore,
	With scads of Destroyers a-sweeping the bay,
	Is the Army finally landing today?

	They dashed up the beach when the boats hit the sand,
	Steel helmets, fixed bayonets, and rifles in hand
	Marines washing clothes asked, "You lads going far?"
	What the Hell is your hurry, have you heard of a war?"

	"Shut up!" said their sergeant, "Go limber your legs
	And swap this Jap helmet for a case of real eggs.
	This barking at soldiers must come to an end;
	You must be respectful to Our Fighting Men."

	"Their Generals outrank ours, so they'll take command;
	New rules and new orders will govern the land.
	They'll have some M.P.'s to shove us around;
	When the Army takes over, it sure shakes the ground."

	"We can take it," said the Raider, "It won't be so long,
	Till the Admiral bellows, and we'll shove on.
	And a little while later we'll be landing again
	To make Bougainville safe for Our Fighting Men."

	Author: A Marine On Guadalcanal

Poem -- Doug's Communique


Doug's Communique

	For two long years, since blood and tears have been very rife,
	Confusion in our war news, burdens more a soldier's life.
	But from this chaos, daily like a hospice on the way.
	Like a shining light to guide us, rises Doug's Communique.

	For should we fail to get the mail, if prisoners won't talk,
	If radios are indisposed and carrier pigeons walk,
	We have no fear because we'll hear tomorrow's news today
	And see our operations plan in Doug's Communique.

	Here too, is told the saga bold, of virile deathless youth
	In stories seldom tarnished with the plain unvarnished truth.
	It's quite a rag, it waves the flag, its motif in the fray,
	And modesty is plain to see, in Doug's Communique.

	"My battleships bombed the Nips from Maine to Singapore.
	My subs have sunk a million tons, They'll sink a billion more.
	My aircraft bombed Berlin last night." In Italy they say,
	"Our turn's tonight, because it's right in Doug's Communique."

	"My armored tanks have moved his ranks, so Rommel's gone to hide,
	And the frozen Steppes of Russia see my wild Don Cossacks ride.
	My brave beleaguered Chetniks make the Axis sweat and pay."
	It's got to be, it's what we see in Doug's Communique.

	His area is quite cosmic, and capricious as a breeze;
	Ninety times as big as Texas, bigger than Los Angeles,
	It springs from lost Atlantis up to where the angels play,
	And no sparrow falls unheeded, it's in Doug's Communique.

	He used to say, "And with God's help", but lately it has seemed
	That his patience is exhausted, and God's on his second team.
	And the Cabots and the Lodges, too, have long since ceased to pray
	That they'll even squeeze a byline into Doug's Communique.

	And while possibly a rumor now, someday it will be a fact,
	That the Lord will hear a deep voice say, "Move over God, it's Mac."
	So bet your shoes that all the news, on that great Judgement Day,
	Will go to press in nothing less than Doug's Communique.