Part 1 — THE BALLAD OF MONTMORENCY GRAY

Since we came to Plattsburg Training Camp Upon the 12th of May, A lot of clever candidates Have fallen by the way; But the strangest fall among them all Was Montmorency Gray.

Monty was a clever lad, As bright as bright could be; He came up days ahead of time— Ahead of you and me— And got in strong right from the start. O a clever lad was he!

For Monty was an Officer Of Uncle Sam's Reserve; His uniform was spic and span In every line and curve; And what he lacked in other things, He made up for in nerve.

He learned the I.D.R. by heart Before the 1st of June; He used to study late at night, And in the morning soon; No wonder that the Captain let him Lead the 1st Platoon.

He asked the cutest questions In the study hall at night; He knew the difference between A Cut and Fill at sight. And when it said: "What do you do?" He always did just right.

He memorized the map from Chestnut Hill to Steven's Run; He didn't have to draw a scale, As we have always done; He knew that you could see Five-Six— Ty-Six from Six-O-One.

And then this tragic episode Of which I write occurred. It happened sometime in the night Of June the 23rd That Montmorency stole away, And left no sign or word.

We found at dawn that he had gone And left us in the lurch. The Colonel sent detachments out For miles around to search; A strong patrol to every knoll, To every house, and church.

They found no trace in any place; It caused a lot of talk; They wired down to every town From Plattsburg to New York. As it was plain he took no train He must have had to walk.

'Twas well into the Fall before The mystery was cleared. (They'd never heard a single word Since Monty disappeared), When the Colonel had a caller, An old farmer, with a beard.

He said his name was Topper, And he lived in Table Rock, And what he told the Colonel Gave the Old Man quite a shock; They were closeted together Until after ten o'clock.

From Gettysburg to Plattsburg Mr. Topper came to say How he'd found a man in uniform Down near his home one day, Who, judging from his clothing, must Have walked a long, long way.

He told the sad and tragic tale Of how he came to find, While on his way to Hershey's Mill With a load of corn to grind, The young man wandering on a hill, And wandering in his mind.

He took him to his farmhouse, where For seven weeks he lay And talked and muttered to himself In a most peculiar way. He gave his name before he died As Montmorency Gray.

He seemed more sick than lunatic, Mr. Topper had to grant; As meek and mild as a little child, He did not rave or rant, He only cried, until he died: "You ought to, but you can't!"