Civil War East Coast United States North America 1860 64

A poem by Alan Dugan

Because of the unaccountable spirit of the troops

oh we were marched as we were never marched before

and flanked them off from home. Stupid Meade

was after them, head on to tail, but we convinced

him, finally, to flank, flank, cut off their head.

He finally understood, the idiot, and got a fort

named after him, for wisdom. He probably thought

Lee would conquer Washington from Appomattox

if he, Meade, should march his infantry behind

him, Lee. Ah well, the unaccountable spirit of the troops

triumphed, Meade got his fort, Grant got his presidency,

Sherman got his motto, what was it? War is heck?, Lee got a military school

for the education of young Southern gentlemen, and the Union

Army was taken over by Southern noncommissioned officers

in the wars against the Indians to the west. I know all

about this, I know who won, I served under them

for three hundred and fifty years in World War II,

just long enough not to be called a rookie but a veteran,

and realized the rank and order of my enemies:

first, the West Point officers; second, the red-neck sergeants;

third, the Nazis and perhaps the Japanese. I won

all of these wars as a private soldier, for a while,

and am happy to have done so: without me

Hitler and Hirohito would he ruling the world

instead of America and Russia, but I still will not

drive through Georgia with New York license plates.

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