32 THE WADSWORTH GAS ATTACK and RIO GRANDE RATTLER Nathan Tom cat Hale: “ I regret th a t S have only nine lives to give for my country.” (Blub). A BYMW OF BATE or The Liverish Lieutenant/s Lament. (W ritten by Staff-Surgeon Cyril V. Griffiths, H. M. S. “Shannon,” and forw arded to The Gas A ttack by a friend.) W e hate those dam n ed hostilities, T h a t brings us to this place; W e hate the entire area, But m o st of all MY BASE; W e hate the gun, both large and small, T h a t m akes a nasty din, We hate this constant coaling, W e hate it all like sin. W e hate the rain, we hate the wind, W e hate the m ist and snow, And every kind of w e a ther W e get a t “H alifax.” W e hate the cursed censoring, W e hate decoding, too, We hate our four-hour w atches, W e loathe the G eneral “Q.” We hate our other m e ssm a tes, W e hate them short and tall, Both those th a t talk ,.an d those th a t don’t, W e hate them one and all. We hate our early m o rning tub, And those th a t bathe w ith sons, Both those th a t splash in little baths, And those th a t sleep in long. W e hate the daily breakfast, W ith a far-surpassing hate, The “B right and E a rly” m essm ate, W h en we ourselves are late. W e hate the w ardroom servants, The kippers and the toast, W e hate the usual battered eggs, But we hate the coffee most. We hate the scrapping in the mess, We hate each broken chair, We hate the larger table, It drives us to despair. W e hate the m an who takes to bed A W ardroom magazine, And those who argue half the night, And don’t say w h a t they mean. W e hate the evening running around, W e hate the m edicine ball, We hate the hockey on the deck, T h a t shows up people’s gall. W e hate to hear the bugler A -m utilating calls, W e’d like to get him. quietly And—tell him w h a t we think of him. W e hate' the Berlin puzzle, T h a t savours of the w a r; W e hate the crow d -w h o plot it, W e hate th e ir language more. W e la t e the new e r version, The Pubs from E a s t to W est, T h a t bring back recollections Of days of gin-full rest. W e hate the supper-gluttons, Who with, stout and oysters stuff; We also hate the glutton club, W h en there is not enough. W e hate this cutting for our gin, We always seem to lose, W e hate those m o n thly wine bills, They tell of swallowed booze. We hate the after-dinner bridge, W e hate the cards we hold; We hate our partners for th e ir play, And declarations bold. We hate the pianola T h a t grinds out tunes in jerks, And w ish th e . m an who plays it W e re scruppered by the Turks. We hate the spotting table, T h a t' spoils our midday sleep; And all this dam ned patrolling, It fairly m akes us weep. We hate the incinerator, Belching forth bones and rags, We hate the lack of cabins, W ith its everlasting cage. We hate the days in harbour, We hate the days at sea; In fact w e ’re hating everything, The whole dam n ed A. B. C. W e hate ten dozen other things, W e hate them, in their tw e lves; But m o st of all the things we hate, W E HATE OUR MOULDY SELVES! INSTRUCTION IN USE OF HEAVY MA CHINE GUNS. A heavy m achine gun school has been established for the instruction of officers in camp. Following is the detail for the school: Commandant, Maj. Edw ard McLeer, Jr., 104th m achine gun battalion. Executive officer, Capt. K e n n e th Gardner, 107th infantry. Supply officer, F ir s t Lieut. George L. Schelling, 106th m achine gun battalion. Instructors, Capt. A lbert W. Putnam , 105th m achine gun battalion; F irst Lieut. Robert R. Molyneux, 104th m a chine gun battalion; Second Lieut. W a lter C. Andrews, 104th m a chine gun battalion. The com m anding officers of the 105th and 106th m achine gun battalions, all company officers of the 104th, 105th and 106th m a chine gun battalions, and of the machine gun companies of infantry regim e n ts will attend as students. Classes will be held a t such tim es and places as may be directed by the com m and ant, who is authorized to prescribe regula tions and govern the work of instructors and students.