Rhymes of the Rookies Part 3

Here we stop to rest a trifle-- Sip a drop from our canteens.

Gee! It's tough to "pack" a rifle-- Hiking in the Philippines.

'Round the narrow path we're turning; Tho it's early morning, yet.

Down the sun is fiercely burning-- Bringing out the drops of sweat!

Where the tropic trees are shading Out the sunlight overhead Leggings, shoes and all, we're wading Thru a shallow river-bed.

You can hear the bamboo cracking Underneath our heavy tread, While the forest trails we're tackling-- Following, where we are lead.

You have got to be a Hiker To keep up with these Marines, Not a big four-flush or piker-- Hiking in the Philippines!

Where the big mangoes are growing, We have halted--Stacking Arms, Far away, a rooster's crowing On one of the native farms.

Under branches of big palm trees, We are resting easy now-- Welcoming the cooling sea breeze While we're waiting for our Chow.

Plainest fare is a fiesta When you've Hiked for half a day; And a little noon siesta Helps to pa.s.s the time away!

Like a ribbon all unraveled Starts the line at half past two, There are new trails to be traveled Back to old Olongapo!

THE MOUNTAIN BATTERY SONG

1.

Fall in. Fall in. Attention, you red-legged mountaineers, With your gun and pack and box of tack, "non-coms." and cannoneers, Baptized in Mindanao, beside the Sulu Sea.

Here's How, and How, how, how, to a mountain battery.

Here's How, and How, how, how, to a mountain battery.

2.

I'd rather be a soldier with a mule and mountain gun Than a Knight of old with spurs of gold, a Roman, Greek or Hun, For when there is trouble brewing they always send for me To start the row with a row, row, row, from a mountain battery.

To start the row with a row, row, row, from a mountain battery.

Here's to pack and aparejo, the cradle, gun trail, And that darned old fool, the battery mule, that was never known to fail.

So raise your gla.s.ses high and drink this toast with me: Here's How, and How, how, how, to a mountain battery.

Here's How, and How, how, how, to a mountain battery.

THE CAVALRY SONG

Come, listen unto this song, I'm as happy as can be, I'm masher and dasher in the U. S. Cavalrie; I stand up straight with legs apart; bowed slightly at the knee, With folded arms across my chest, 'tis the pose of the Cavalrie.

Chorus:

So fill your gla.s.ses to the brim And brace your courage with slow gin, I will tell you all it is a sin To serve in the Infantrie.

I'm a cavalryman so fierce and bold, a soldier thru and thru, I ride a horse because of course 'tis the proper thing to do.

I wear my spurs both night and day that every one may see.

Whatever else I might have been, I'm not in the Infantrie.

We went to fight the China horde with sabre, horse and gun.

We'd meet them and we'd beat them just the way it should be done; But we left our horses, corn and hay out on the s.h.i.+ps in Taku Bay And consequently had to stay while the dough boys hiked away.

I'm a man of experience, I've been to Fort Monroe, I've garrisoned Fort Hamilton and the Presidio.

I went out to the Philippines and in the Walled Citie.

I fought the Filipino War in the Coast Artillerie.

Chorus:

So make way for the red stripe man, The pride of our armee And let him tell the glories of The Coast Artillerie.

About another soldier man I'd like to say a word: He's neither fish nor flesh nor fowl, but he is a bird, He finds his way o'er foreign seas by sun and moon and star, But he could not find his way across the Island of Samar.

Chorus:

So make way for the web-foot man The good U. S. Marines.

They need four guides for every man, Out in the Philippines.

THE RED GUIDON

Come, fill up your gla.s.ses. I'll give you a toast.

We'll drink to the red and the blue, The first in the battle, the last from its post, Old comrades so faithful and true.

Here's to friends who have pa.s.sed o'er the last long divide, Their spirit is still marching on, As it did in the days when we marched side by side As we followed the red guidon.

Chorus:

Then here's to the crossed cannons, they never will run, The limber and rolling caisson, The clank of the collar and rumble of gun As we follow the red guidon.

We've soldiered together, brave hearts ever true, We've marched, we have fought and we've bled For the dear old flag with its red, white and blue That floats in the breeze overhead.

We've joked and we've laughed around the camp fire's red glare From Cuba to distant Luzon, As we told the old stories that drive away care 'Neath the folds of the red guidon.

Come, toss off your tankards, we'll drink long and deep, Brave hearts ever gallant and true, To friends who now rest in their long peaceful sleep, Who once wore the red and blue.

We'll prove true in the future as they in the past, Old comrades of gun and caisson; We'll fight like true soldiers from first to the last As we follow the red guidon.

Chorus:

Then here's to the crossed cannons, they never will run, Here's the limber and rolling caisson, The clank of the collar and rumble of gun And Hurrah for the Red Guidon!

THE CONSCRIPT

"Life is real; life is earnest"--but a Gamble after all, "Ten million Conscripts" are answering the Call; Ten million men of which I am One-- What were the "odds" when "the wheel was spun"?

What were the "odds" that Fate would select Me for a Conscript--another reject?