Came across a PFC’s solution to the problem of military censorship. It’s dated 1943 ... hmmm, could we record it? ... but I decided I wanted the guy to have made it home, so I won’t search for his DOD. Here it is below...
“I pick up my pen only to find,
I haven’t much to say so I hope you won’t mind,
I’ll start with a Poem, which I hope you can read,
For a table to write on is one thing I need.
Can’t write very much, the censor’s to blame.
Just saying I’m well and signing my name.
Can’t tell when I came here, can’t tell where I’m at,
Can’t tell when I’ll leave here for no one knows that.
Can’t tell what we are doing, can’t describe the place,
Just saying I’m healthy and still in the race.
Can’t mention the weather or whether there is rain,
All military secrets must secrets remain.
We work in the day time and stand guard at night,
We live in tents and have candles for light.
We exist on corned beef with beans for dessert,
No table to sit at so we sit in the dirt.
There are better places and some not so good,
But we are not complaining, no reason we should.
We jump in our cots at the end of the day,
And dream of our loved ones in the USA.
Some days I’m happy and some I’m blue,
But the day doesn’t pass that I don’t think of you.
All fooling aside it’s not so bad.
We joke and we laugh and refuse to be sad.
Don’t take me too seriously, not having a bad time,
This isn’t much of a Poem but the sentences rhyme.
This is enough nonsense for one person to write
So I’ll call this a letter and close with Good Night.
PFC Roger L. Carroll
Somewhere in the Pacific
Everything except LibriVox (yes, this is where knitting gets discussed. Now includes non-LV Volunteers Wanted projects)
1 post • Page 1 of 1