Minneapolis Spokesman

Somewhere in New Guinea
Written by Sgt. Richard W. Smith, 186 Repl. Co. 43rd Repl. Bn. APO 711, c/o Postmaster, San Francisco, Calif.

Somewhere in New Guinea
Where the rain is like a curse
And each new day is followed
By another slightly worse
Where your tent is always muddy
And your clothes are always damp
Where a haircut is a luxury
And a man feels like a tramp.

Somewhere in New Guinea
Where a woman's seldom seen
The sky is always cloudy
And the jungles always green
Where something besides mosquitoes
Rob men of needed sleep,
There is no beer or whiskey
Though atabrine is cheap.

Somewhere in New Guinea
Where the moon isn't made for love
The sky is streaked with search. lights.
Spotting Tojo's planes above
Where the flashes like a comet
Show the ack-acks in the night,
The Zero's falling downward
Means one less tomorrow night.

Somewhere in New Guinea
Where the mail is always late,
Christmas cards in April
Are considered up to date:
Where we never have a pay
And we never have a cent.
We never miss the money
For we'll never get it spent.

Somewhere in New Guinea
Where the ants and lizards play
And a hundred fresh mosquitoes
Replace the ones we killed today.
So take me back to old St. Paul
Where the drug store cow boys yell.
For this God forsaken place
Is just a substitute for hell.