We were up to our dead line an’ fighting alone; some plan had miscarried, I guess,
An’ the help we were promised had failed to arrive. We were showing all signs of distress.
“Our curtain of fire was ahead of us still, an’ theirs was behind us an’ thick,
An’ there wasn’t a thing we could do for ourselves—the few of us left had to stick.
You haven’t much chance to get Central an’ talk on the phone to the music of guns;
Gettin’ word to the chief is a matter right then that is up to the fellow who runs.
“I’d sent four of ’em back with the R. I. P. sign, which means to return if you can,
But none of ’em got through the curtain of fire; my hurry call died with the man.
Then Runner McGee said he’d try to get through. I hated to order the kid
On his mission of death; thought he’d never get by, but somehow or other he did.
17
