THROUGH THE WHEAT

(The Sergeant’s Story)

“There’s a job out there before us,”

Said the Captain, kinder solemn;

“There’s a crop out there to gather

Through the wheat fields just ahead.”

Through the wheat of Château-Thierry

That was soon to hold our column,

“There’s a crop out there to gather,”

That was all the Captain said.

(Oh, at dawn the wheat was yellow,

But at night the wheat was red.)

“There’s a crop out there to gather,”

And we felt contentment stealin’

Like a ghost from out the shadows

Of a lost, old-fashioned street;

For the crop out there before us

Brought a kinder home-like feelin’,

Though the zippin’ German bullets

Started hissin’ through the wheat.

73But it didn’t seem to bother

As we slogged along the beat.

“There’s snakes here,” whooped a private

As the bullets started hissin’;

And we saw that Hun machine guns

In the thicket formed our crop;

So we started for the harvest

Where a bunch of them was missin’,

But a bunch of them was hittin’

Where we hadn’t time to stop.

But we damned ’em to a finish

As we saw a bunkie drop.

So we gathered in the harvest,

And we didn’t leave one missin’;

(We had gathered crops before this

With as tough a job ahead.)

Through the wheat of Château-Thierry,

With the German bullets hissin’,

“There’s a crop out there to gather,”

That was all the Captain said.

(Oh, at dawn the wheat was yellow,

But at night the wheat was red.)

74