Three-quarters past nine,
U is the UNIFORM,
Buttons so bright,
V is the VOLLEY,
That settles the Fight;
W the WAGON,
With "four Army mules,"
X the eX-soldier,
Whose ardor now cools,
Y is the YOUNGSTER,
Just out of the "Point,"
Z--can't you tell
This line's out-of-joint?

A SOLDIERS PRIMER

A man, a hat, a blouse, a gun,
Call this a soldier just for fun.
A dog tent, blanket, candle, match,
His home is built with rare dispatch;
With hard tack, bacon, army beans,
Army life is not what it seems.
A damp cold night, aching head,
The next day fever-soldier dead.
The story is brief (we know it well),
And plain is moral--"War is Hell."

THE TALE AND WAIL OF A ROOKIE

When I was young I said to myself,
Choose a career and start after the pelf,
Early to bed and early to rise,
You're sure to get wealthy and awfully wise,
So I started out to look around,
But nice fat jobs weren't easily found.

However, while taking a walk down the street,
A bright colored poster my eyes did greet,
"Young Men Wanted." I said, "That's me,"
And stepped up closer so I could see.
"Join the Army and see the World,"
My fingers around my last dollar were curled.

So I went around where they hung out the flag.
But that 7-year hitch made my interest lag.
They explained it, however, and made it quite plain
That to join the Army would be my gain.
So here I am in the damn Philippines,
They feed me nothing but bacon and beans.

The land of the goo-goo is no place for me,
The reason porque is easy to see.
I never was strong for bugs and lizards,
Or the amoebic bug that tickles your gizzards.
I have a reverse on fleas and snakes,
And I hate the noise the Gekko makes.

I have three square feet of prickly heat,
And some dhobie itch that can't be beat,
I've had the dengue and also the fever,
Of all diseases I've been the receiver.
I'm bitten by all that's invented to bite us,
At the end of the year I'll have Philippinitis.

A long centipede just crawled in my bunk,
This tropical service is certainly punk,
Not a chance in the world to go over the hill,
And half my time is spent in the mill.
But why should I worry, I'll soon be free.
A "G. C. M." does the trick for me.

A MARINE'S HYMN

From the Halls of Montezuma,
To the shores of Tripoli,
We fight our country's battles
On th