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I WISH I'D BEEN IN THE WARAuthor(s): ALBERT RICHARD WETJENSource: Advocate of Peace through Justice, Vol. 89, No. 5 (May, 1927), p. 305Published by: World Affairs InstituteStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20661599 .

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1927 I WISH FD BEEN IN THE WAR 305

I WISH I'D BEEN IN THE WAR (Child's Complaint)

By ALBERT RICHARD WETJEN

(Reprinted by special permission from The Saturday Evening Post; copyright 1927 by the Curtis Publishing Company.)

Rockets at dawning when the barn cocks

crow.

Ev'ry man ashen and his heart pounds

large ; Ev'ry man shaking as the minutes go.

Only seven more before we charge. Rockets at dawning, and the men breathe

fast.

There's half the division going through. See the major sweating as he turns at last,

And puts away his watch?stand to!

Three golden rockets bright against the

gray. Hear the whistles shrilling up the line!

Heave up! Over! What's the Captain say?

Battalion, steady! Right, incline!

Seven down, eight down ! . . . Damn the

wire and mud!

Take open order! . . . How the hell

can we see? . . .

Where's the major running with his face all

blood? Ten of us took cover here and now there's

three.

Whistles shrilling out again! Bombers to the fore!

Forward the company! . . . What's

left to run. . . .

Hold up, George! Whatcher screaming for?

Got it in the guts ! Let 'im go ! He's done !

Machine guns!?drop, you fools! Listen to

the lead

Like angry bees in summer. . . . Damn

the smoke!

Stretcher! Stretcher! clear away the dead!

And once I thought the war was just a

joke!

Up again, you blighters ! . . . Golly, ain't

it wet. . . .

Mills grenades to clear that traverse?

so

One last run for the crumbling parapet. . . .

Bayonets at the ready. Let's go! Thrust! Hah! Use the butt. Guard again,

there !

Smash 'im till he can't move any more.

Steel and butt and bullet?anything is fair.

Blood and mud and lead. That's war!

Glory and adventure! Hear the bugles call!

But, little brother, hide away and cry;

For it's nothing like the war you play at all,

When men you've learned to love go out

to die.

Rockets at dawning when the barn cocks

crow !

The best of the men will be the first to go !

Choking with the chlorine, croaking in the

lead;

Lying in the wire and wishing they were dead:

Bleeding from the gullet, burning up with pain ;

The best go first, and they never walk again.

Stand here, little brother, and watch the

colors go. Aren't the generals pretty as they lead the

show?

See the shiny buttons and bands of shiny brass.

And don't you feel all thrilly as the men

march past?

But remember, little brother, a battle isn't

fought With bands and shiny

* buttons, exactly as

you thought; And soldiers don't look pretty charging

through the mud;

And there isn't much adventure with gas and

lead and blood.

So remember, little brother, when the bugles

call,

The war they always talk of isn't like your

war at all.

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