Cpl Roman F. Klick 36620923
Co "A", 353rd Engr Regt
A.P.O. #502, c/o Postmaster
San Francisco, California
1 December 1943

Dear Aunty Clara, Here is another of those little poems about the Army which seems to strike the fancy of the fellows. With all the poems that I have been sending home by V-mail, we could have a little album entitled "A Humorous History of Life During World War II".


I. I've been sitting here and thinking
      of the joys I left behind;
    I'd hate to put on paper
      all the things that clog my mind.
    We've dug a million ditches
      and cleaned ten miles of ground,
    and a meaner place upon this earth
      is waiting to be found.
    But there's one consolation,
      listen closely while I tell
    when we die we go to Heaven, ---
      for we've done our hitch in Hell.

II. We built a million kitchens
      for the cooks to stew our beans.
    We've stood a million guard mounts
      and cleaned the damn machines;
    We've washed a million mess kits
      and peeled a million spuds;
    We've rolled a million bed rolls,
      and we've washed the major's duds.
    The number of parades we've stood
      is mighty hard to tell,
    but we'll parade in Heaven. ---
      for we've stood our hitch in Hell.

III. We killed a million gnats and bugs
      that scrambled on our eats,
    we killed a hundred centipedes
      that rooted in our sheets.
    We marched a million miles
      and made a thousand camps.
    We've done fatigue and K.P.
      dressed in our Sunday pants;
    but when our work on earth is done,
      our friends behind will tell.
    "We know he went to Heaven, ---
      for he's done his hitch in Hell".
IV. For when our life is ended
      and we lay aside our cares,
    we'll do our last parade
      up the shining golden stairs.
    The angels will welcome us
      and harps will start to play,
    we'll draw a million canteen books
      and spend them in a day
    and we'll hear St. Peter say,
      with a loud and husky yell.
    "Take a front seat, Soldier, ---
      for you've done your hitch in Hell".

--- by George A. May