The General came in a new tin
hat
To the shell-torn front where
the war was at:
With a faithful Aide at his
good right hand
He made his way toward No
Man’ Land,
And a tough Top Sergeant
there they found,
And a
Captain, too, to show them round.
Threading the ditch, their
heads bent low,
Toward the lines of the
watchful foe
They came through the murk
and the powder stench
Till the
Sergeant whispered, “Third-line trench!”
And the Captain whispered,
“Third-line trench!”
And the Aide repeated,
“Third-line trench!”
And
“Yes, I see it. Third-line trench.”
Again the marched with wary
tread,
following on where the Sergeant led
Through the wet and the muck
as well,
Till they
came to another parallel.
They halted there in the mud
and drench,
And the Sergeant whispered,
“Second-line trench!”
And the Captain whispered,
“Second-line trench!”
And the Aide repeated,
“Second-line trench!”
Yet on they went through mire
like pitch
Till they came to a fine and
spacious ditch
Well camouflaged from planes
and Zeps
Where soldiers stood on
firing steps
And a Major sat on a wooden
bench;
And the Sargeant
whispered, “First-line trench!”
And the Captain whispered,
“First-line trench!”
And the Aide repeated, “First-line
trench!”
And
How far off is the enemy?”
And the faithful Aide he aske, asked he,
“How far off is the enemy?”
And the Captain breathed in a
softer key,
“How far off is the enemy?”
The silence lay in heaps and
piles
And the Sergeant whispered,
“Just three miles.”
And the Captain whispered,
“Just three miles.”
And the Aide repeated, “Just
three miles.”
“Just three
miles!” the General swore,
“What in the hell are we
whispering for?”
And the faithful Aide the
message bore
“What in the hell are we
whispering for?”
And the Captain said in a
gentle roar,
“What in the hell are we
whispering for?”
“Whispering for?” the echo rolled;
And the Sergeant whispered,
“I have a cold.”