Writ in Barracks

A tent that is pitched at the base:

A wagon that comes from the night:

A stretcher—and on it a Case:

A surgeon, who's holding a light.

The Infantry's bearing the brunt—

O hark to the wind-carried cheer!

A mutter of guns at the front:

A whimper of sobs at the rear.

And it's War! 'Orderly, hold the light.

You can lay him down on the table: so.

Easily—gently! Thanks—you may go.'

And it's War! but the part that is not for show.