THE LINE Form a line! Get in line! From the time that I enlisted And since Jerry armististed I've been standing, kidding, cussing, I've been waiting, fuming, fussing, In a line. I have stood in line in mud and slime and sleet, With the dirty water oozing from my feet, I have soaked and slid and slipped, While my tacky slicker dripped, And I wondered what they'd hand me out to eat. Get in line! For supplies and for inspections, With the dust in four directions, For a chance to scrub the dirt off, In the winter with my shirt off, In a line. I have sweated in an August training camp, That would make a prohibition town look damp, Underneath my dinky cap While the sun burned off my map And I waited for some gold-fish (and a cramp!). Get in line! For rice, pay-day, pills, and ration, For corned-willy, army fashion, In Hoboken, in the trenches, In a station with the Frenchies, In a line. I've been standing, freezing, sweating, Pushing, shoving, wheezing, fretting, And I won't be soon forgetting Though I don't say I'm regretting That I stood there, with my buddies, In a line. [Illustration: (soldiers in line in the rain)] The Lids We Wear-- [Illustration: Dungaree style] [Illustration: This tin derby with winter knitted helmet] [Illustration: Old "rain-in-the-face"] [Illustration: The charming red-and-white effect] [Illustration: Fuzzy-wuzzy] [Illustration: The tank helmet] [Illustration: Some managed to hang on to the old reliable] [Illustration: With the French army] [Illustration: With its canvas overcoat on] [Illustration: He used to hunt rabbits in Kentucky] [Illustration: The job that's never ended--Cleaning up for inspection] [Illustration: First time in two weeks!/Montmeuril (men bathing from canvas bucket)] [Illustration: The letter from home/reading] [Illustration: The Ration Detail] The Ration Detail--a job which no one relishes. Each day the other fellow's artillery tries to lay down a fire which will keep these boys from getting back. They travel to where their supply company has dumped the food from mule carts--the point nearest front where creaking wheels may go. The man in the center is carrying a string of French loaves, the round black variety common before we got our own bakeries started. [Illustration: The Headquarters Company...taking its bath...] The Headquarters Company of the Reserve Mallet taking its bath at Chavigny Farm. The tub is a tin-lined cigarette box used by the Y.M.C.A. Water is heated in the old farm fire-place. "PREPARE FOR ACTION" I ran into Johnny Redlegs A-sitting on his bus, And I asked him why the devil He dropped half his shells on us. He just smiles and puffs his corn-cob, As peaceful as a Persian, And, "Buddy," says he, "you can't blame me, You gotta blame dispersion."