AND GET WITH THE PROGRAM

ONCE UPON A TIME, A MAJOR AND A MINOR PLAYED A GAMES OF CHESS.

"PAWN TO KING 4," SAID THE MAJOR.

"LET'S MOVE A MAN TO A NEW POST WITH FOUR HOURS NOTICE."

"WONDERFUL IDEA," SAID THE MINOR, "PAWN TO KING 4"

"OF COURSE WE'LL HAVE TO GIVE HIM A PLACE TO SLEEP," SAID THE MINOR.

"OF COURSE," SAID THE MAJOR, "THERE'S ALWAYS THE FLOOR, OR THE

FRONT SEAT OF A TRUCK.  KNIGHT TO KING'S BISHOP 3."

"AND THREE MEALS A DAY," SAID THE MINOR.

"C RATIONS; OR LET HIM BUY HIS OWN MEALS AND WE'LL PAY HIM A FEW

MONTHS LATER."

"BUT SUPPOSE HE HAS NO MONEY?'

"YOU'RE TOO SOFT.  THAT'S WHY I AM A MAJOR AND YOU'RE JUST A MINOR

IT'S HIS DUTY AS A PAWN TO HAVE MONEY."

THE PAWN SPEAKS:

I MAY LOOK LIKE A BRAVE UPSTART.

I MAY SEEM INSUBORDINATE,

BUT YOU'RE HAVING AN EFFECT ON ME

STICK THE BROOMSTICK THROUGH MY EARS AND LIFT ME OFF THE GROUND.

STICK THE TENT-PEG THROUGH MY HEART AND TWIRL ME ROUND AND

ROUND.

YOU'RE HAVING YOUR EFFECT ON ME.

 

"YOUR MOVE," YAWNED THE MAJOR.

"I KNOW I SHOULDN'T," SAID THE MINOR, "BUT I LOVE MOVING PAWNS SO

MUCH.  PAWN TO QUEEN 3."

 

THE PAWN SPEAKS: (BRAVELY BUT HALTINGLY)

NO, NO, NO, IT ISN'T RIGHT.

YOU'RE THE CHESS PLAYER

AND I'M ON THE BOARD

BUT I'M NO PAWN

I CAN MOVE TO

WHICHEVER SQUARE I CHOOSE,

OR LEAVE THE BOARD.

 

THE CHESSMEN SPEAK IN CHORUS:

WE ARE A LOVERLY BUNCH OF CHESSMEN

HERE WE ARE A-STANDIN' IN A ROW.

LET HIM GO.

LET HIM GO.

PLEASE, PLEASE, LET HIM LEAVE THE BOARD.

 

"CERTAINLY," GRINNED THE MAJOR.  "KNIGHT TO KING 5, CAPTURES PAWN.

YOU MAY LEAVE THE BOARD," SAID THE MAJOR.

"SATISFIED?"

THE MAD PAWN

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THE ARTIFICIAL SOLDER

WE SEE HIM AS HE'S LEAVING

OUT OF OPERATION'S DOOR;

HE HASN'T HAD A HAIRCUT

FOR A MONTH, OR MAYBE MORE.

HIS UNIFORM IS DIRTY

HIS BOOTS LOOK REALLY BAD;

HIS HANDS ARE IN HIS POCKETS,

AND HE'S LOOKING PRETTY MAD.

HE'S NEVER FOUGHT IN ANY WAR,

HE'S NEVER SWAM HIS WAY TO SHORE,

HE'S NEVER KILLED A MAN BEFORE,

THIS ARTIFICIAL SOLDIER.

HE HASN'T HAD A SHAVE FOR DAYS;

HIS BRASS LOOKS PRETTY DIM.

BUT NONE OF THESE THINGS MATTER

IN THE SLIGHTEST BIT TO HIM.

SOME SERGEANT, THEN, WILL TELL HIM

TO SHINE HIS BOOTS AND BRASS,

AND GET HIMSELF A HAIRCUT

'CAUSE HE JUST LIKES TO HARASS.

HE'S NEVER SEEN GUNS LIGHT THE SKY,

HE'S NEVER HEARD THE WOUNDED CRY,

HE'S NEVER WATCHED A BUDDY DIE,

THIS ARTIFICIAL SOLDIER

AND SO PERHAPS HE'LL SHINE HIS BRASS,

AND MAYBE GET A SHAVE.

HE DOESN'T REALLY CARE A LOT

HOW MUCH THEY RANT AND RAVE,

ABOUT HIS DIRTY UNIFORM

OR UNMILITARY HAIR-

FOR NOTHING REALLY MATTERS

TO A GUY WHO DOESN'T CARE.

ALL HE DOES IS WONDER

WHAT THE REASON IS HE'S HERE.

HE KNOWS HE'S GOT A JOB TO DO

BUT LIVES IN CONSTANT FEAR

THAT SOMEONE IS DESTROYING HIM

BY PLAYING WITH HIS MIND.

SO HE SEARCHES FOR A FREEDOM

HE KNOWS HE CANNOT FIND

HE'S NEVER HEARD THE BULLETS ZING

HE'S NEVER FELT THE BULLETS STING,

HE'S NEVER BEEN THE REAL THING-

THIS ARTIFICIAL SOLDIER.

SO NOW HE'LL PUT HIS CIVVIES ON,

AND NOW HE'LL GO DOWNTOWN.

HE'LL SIT DOWN IN A GASTHAUS,

TILL FINALLY HE'LL END UP DRUNK

AND HAVE SOME FUN AND FROLIC.

(SINCE THERE'S NO ONE IN THE WORLD WHO CARES

IF HE'S AN ALCOHOLIC.)

AND MAYBE BY TOMORROW

EVERYTHING WILL BE OK,

AT LEAST WE WILL HAVE GOTTEN THRU ANOTHER DREAY DAY.

HIS LIFE AND WORK BOTH SEEM A SHAM,

HE DOESN'T REALLY GIVE A DAMN,

I KNOW, BECAUSE I ALSO AM

AN ARTIFICIAL SOLDIER

 

- CIVILIANMAN

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MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY NEW YEAR, GET A HAIRCUT

OH, LITTLE SITE UPON SCHNEEBERG

HOW SAD WE SEE THEE LIE.

YOUR TROUBLED WAYS TEND TO AMAZE

ALL THOSE WHO PASS YOU BY.

FOR THIS SUBHUMAN CREATURE-

THIS HARPER - MAKES YOU GRIEVE.

THE DREADFUL FEAR ON THIS NEW YEAR,

IS THAT HE WILL NOT LEAVE.

- CIVILIANMAN

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THERE'S A MOUNT

THERE'S A MOUNTAIN CALLED SCHNEEBERG IN FAR GERMANY

AND IT'S COVERED WITH MANY A ROCK AND A TREE.

UP ON IT'S PEAK MORE HIGH THAN A KITE

THE GREAT ASA HAS LOCATED A SITE.

INSIDE THIS SITE ON THAT HILLTOP SO FREE,

WORK A NUMBER OF MEN IN STRICT SECRECY.

IN HOPES THAT BACK HOME IN AMERICA DEAR

THAT PEOPLE CAN SLEEP WITH NARY A FEAR.

BUT THE CRY THE MEN CRY AND THE SLOGAN THEY SHOUT

IS "ALL THAT I WANT FROM THE ARMY IS OUT!"

NOW THERE'RE MEN AT THAT SITE WHO DON'T DO THEIR WORK.

SINCE THEY DON'T KNOW THEIR JOBS, THEIR DUTIES THEY SHIRK.

THEY WEAR PATCHES OF CLOTH, CALLED STRIPES, ON THEIR ARMS

AND THOSE STRIPES GIVE THEM POWER, REGARDLESS OF HARMS,

TO ORDER THE WORKERS AROUND LIKE MACHINES

TO SWEEP AND DUST AND CLEAN THE LATRINES,

TO PICK UP SMALL BOTTLES WAY OUT IN THE TREES

AND OTHER SMALL DETAILS AS WORTHLESS AS THESE.

SO THE CRY THE MEN CRY AND THE SLOGAN THEY SHOUT

IS "ALL THAT I WANT FROM THE ARMY IS OUT!"

CLEARANCES HAVE THEY THAT ARE HIGHEST OF ALL,

THESE MEN OF THE MIST HAVE A LOT ON THE BALL.

NO WONDER THEIR ANGER AND WRATH ARE SO GREAT,

WHEN TOLD THEY NO LONGER CAN STAY OUT UNTIL LATE.

AND EVERYONE MUST BE ALIKE TO A TEE,

JUST TO BE IN ACCORDANCE WITH SOME S.O.P.

WHILE THE CRY THE MEN CRY AND THE SLOGAN THEY SHOUT

IS "ALL I WANT FROM THE ARMY IS OUT!"

SO THE MEN OF THE MIST, RESIGNED TO THEIR FATE,

HAVE TURNED RESIGNATION TO DEEP BURNING HATE.

A HATE SO INTENSE AND FEARFUL AND BAD,

THAT IT MAKES GOOD MEN ANIMALS AND MAKES SOME MEN MAD.

THEIR LAST HOPE NOW LIES IN THEIR GREAT SENSE OF HUMOR,

WHICH KEEPS THEM LAUGHING IN THE MIDST OF THEIR FUMOR.

STILL THE CRY THE MEN CRY AND THE SLOGAN THEY SHOUT

IS "ALL I WANT FROM THE ARMY IS OUT!"

SOME DAY THEN SO GREAT WILL BE THE MEN'S LAUGHTER

IT WILL SHAKE OPERATIONS FROM RAFTER TO RAFTER.

THROUGH THE VALLEYS AND HILLS WILL THEIR LAUGHTER REBOUND,

UNTIL IT WILL SMASH THEIR WHOLE SITE TO THE GROUND.

THE NON-WORKERS WILL LOOK AT THE RUINS AND SAY,

"POLICE CALL WAS NOT DONE CORRECTLY TODAY."

CAN YOU SEE ANY REASON THE MEN WOULDN'T SHOUT

"ALL I WANT FROM THE ARMY IS OUT!"

UNKNOWN AUTHOR

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BALLARD OF THE ASA

DRUNKEN SOLDIERS ALWAYS HIGH

DROPOUTS FROM OLD SIGMA CHI

MEN WHO BULL SH.. ALL THE WAY

THESE ARE MEN FROM THE ASA

PLASTIC CANS UPON OUR EARS

WE'VE BEEN CLEARED AND WE'RE NOT QUEERS

ONE HUNDRED MEN WE'LL TEST TODAY

BUT ONLY THREE MADE ASA

TRAINED TO GO FROM BAR TO BAR

THAT'S THE LIFE THAT'S BEST BY FAR

MEN WHO DRINK WILL SELDOM FIGHT

AND THE ASA DRINKS THRU THE NIGHT

CHORUS

ON A MID A TRICK CHIEF WAITS

FOUR OF HIS MEN ARE COMING LATE

MEN WHO DRINK AMONG THE BEST

ANOTHER DRINK OUR LAST REQUEST

A TEAL-BLUE SCARF 'ROUND MY SON'S NECK

MAKES MY SON A NERVOUS WRECK

ONE HUNDRED MEN RE-UPPED TODAY

BUT NOT A ONE FROM THE ASA

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WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO HIS BRAIN?

   (THE GENTLEST PROTEST SONG I KNOW)

JUST A LITTLE BOY, STANDING TALL AND FREE,

LOVING HIS GIRL FRIEND, HIS GOD, HIS COUNTRY;

HE WANTED TO FIGHT THE COMMUNISTIC SHAM

SO HE WENT TO SEE UNCLE SAM.

WE KNOW HOW HE WAS CONNED INTO JOINING ASA

HIS ONLY FIGHTING WAS AGAINST BEING DICKED AWAY,

BUT HE WAS STRONG AND WITHSTOOD THE PAIN,

BUT WHAT WILL THEY DO TO HIS BRAIN?

EVERY DAY A TRIM, SPIT SHINE, POLISHED BRASS,

HE SAW A TREAD WHO LIED AS HE JUMPED THRU HIS ASS.

HE LOOKED TO HIS COMRADES SCREAMING IN THE RAIN

WHAT WILL THEY DO TO HIS BRAIN?

HE LEARNED THAT THE MISSION WAS REALLY JUST A GAME,

THAT A TREAD WAS INHUMAN, AND CAPTAIN JUST A NAME.

HIS GIRL WAS A WHORE, AND GOD HAD GONE INSANE,

WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO HIS BRAIN.

HE WATCHED HIS COUNTRY PERJURE, KILL AND DECEIVE

HE DRANK MORE THAN A CIVILIAN WOULD BELIEVE.

THEY MADE HIM GO TO TREAD SCHOOL,

WHERE THEY SAY HE DIED INSANE.

WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO HIS BRAIN???

[Attributed to WhiskeyMan]

TREAD IS TREAD

   (TO "BLACK IS BLACK")

TREAD IS TREAD'

I WISH THAT YOU WERE DEAD:

FREE IS FREE

WHICH I SOMEDAY WILL BE, OH YEAH...

WHAT CAN I DO?

ONLY GO ON HATING YOU

WHO TELL ME TO STAY IN

I WILL NOT COMMIT THAT SIN, OH NO...

AND YOU WILL DIE

AND I'LL LAUGH AS I PASS YOU BY

FOR I WILL BE FREE

AND CURSE YOU FOR ETERNITY

YOU FOOL...

TREAD IS TREAD

YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD:

FREE IS FREE,

SO TREAD DON'T TALK TO ME, OH NO...

[Attributed to WhiskeyMan]

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TODAY'S QUOTATION:  A FAMOUS MAN ONCE SAID "THERE ARE TWO

TYPES OF PEOPLE IN THE WORLD: THOSE WHO RULE UNJUSTLY, AND

THOSE WHO FIGHT AGAINST THAT RULE"

                      _A_STORY_

      ONCE UPON A TIME THERE WAS A SMALL ORPHANAGE WAY OFF

IN THE COLD NORTH WOODS.  AND IT WAS RUN BY VERY WICKED

AND MEAN WITCHES, WHO WERE DISGUISED AS NUNS.  THEY

PUNISHED THE CHILDREN FOR NOTHING AT ALL, JUST BECAUSE

THEY WERE CRUEL, AND THEY KEPT THEM INSIDE, EVEN ON

WEEKENDS.  THEY MADE THEM CLEAN AND CLEAN THEIR SHABBY

ROOMS, AND BEAT AND WHIPPED THEM.  ONE DAY THE BISHOP

AND ALL HIS MEN CAME TO VISIT THE ORPHANS AND TO SEE IF

THE NUNS WERE DOING A GOOD JOB.  THEY FOUND THE PLACE

SO CLEAN AND TIDY, BECAUSE ALL THE CHILDREN HAD BEEN

MADE TO WORK SO HARD.  BUT THEY FOUND ALL THE RECORDS

AND LEDGERS OF THE NUNS (WHO WERE REALLY WITCHES,

DON'T FORGET), ALL OUT OF ORDER, AND MANY OTHER THINGS

THAT THE NUNS WERE SUPPOSED TO KEEP STRAIGHT WERE

NOT THAT WAY.  SO THE BISHOP AND ALL HIS MEN TOLD THE

NUNS TO GET EVERYTHING STRAIGHT AND THEY WOULD COME BACK

IN A MONTH TO MAKE SURE THEY HAD DONE IT.  NOW AS SOON

AS THEY HAD GONE, THE NUNS GOT VERY ANGRY AND BEAT THE

POOR ORPHANS, AND DIDN'T FEED THEM, AND MADE THEM WORK

ALL DAY AND NIGHT (EVEN ON WEEKENDS), FOR THE TIME

WHEN THE BISHOP WOULD COME BACK.  AND THE WITCHES WERE

TEN TIMES MEANER AND MORE WICKED THAN THEY HAD EVER BEEN.

BUT ONE NIGHT ALL THE CHILDREN GOT TOGETHER.  AND THEY

BURNED DOWN THE ORPHANAGE AND KILLED ALL THE WICKED

WITCHES (WHO HAD BEEN DISGUISED AS NUNS).  AND ALL

THE PEOPLE IN THE WORLD (EXCEPT WICKED NUNS) WERE VERY

HAPPY FOR THE CHILDREN AND HONORED THEM FOR THEIR

COURAGE

                                 BY AN "ORPHAN"

                   THE END                                              

[Attributed to WhiskeyMan]                     

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THERE AIN'T NO USE TO SIT AND WONDER WHY, TREAD

IF YOU DON'T KNOW BY NOW.

THERE AIN'T NO USE TO SIT AND WONDER WHY, TREAD

I WON'T RE-UP NOHOW.

OH, WHEN REVEILLE CALLS FOR YOU, OLD SPORT

DON'T LOOK FOR ME, CAUSE I'M TOO SHORT:

THE SYSTEM'S THE REASON, I'M TRAVELING ON,

DON'T STAY TWICE, IT'S NOT BRIGHT

 

THERE AIN'T NO USE IN BENNY-TALKING ME, TREAD,

RE-UP BONUS AND ALL THAT JIVE.

AND THERE AIN'T NO USE IN SHORT-TALKING ME, TREAD

A SHORT AND THREE IS ONLY FIVE.

STILL I WISH THERE WAS SOMETHING YOU COULD DO OR SAY,

SO THAT I WOULDN'T QUITE FEEL THIS WAY,

I PITY YOU, BUT DON'T PITY ME,

DON'T STAY TWICE, IT'S NOT BRIGHT.

 

THERE AIN'T NO USE IN CALLING OUT MY NAME, TREAD,

I'M NOT THERE, ANYMORE.

THERE AIN'T NO USE IN CALLING OUT MY NAME, TREAD,

I'M NO LONGER SEVENTH CORPS.

I'M A'THINKIN' AND A'WONDERIN', WHILE OUTSIDE THE POST,

I ONCE STAYED THERE, I TOO WAS A GHOST.

I GAVE YOU MY BOD, BUT YOU WANTED MY SOUL,

DON'T STAY TWICE, IT'S NOT BRIGHT.

 

YOU'RE WALKING DOWN THAT LONG LONESOME ROAD, TREAD,

YOU DON'T CARE, YOU'RE HALF-DEAD.

AND I WON'T BE WISHING YOU GOOD LUCK, TREAD,

WHAT I WISH, IS LEFT UNSAID.

I AIN'T SAYING YOU TREATED ME INKIND,

I ALWAYS KIND OF WHISTLED, AND PAID YOU NO MIND,

ON YOU I'LL WASTE MY LAST PRECIOUS LINE,

DON'T STAY TWICE, IT'S NOT BRIGHT.

 

YOUR TRULY,

THE PHANTOM

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