At Myitkyina today they lie at rest
There were soldiers all and gave their best
They fought and died in days of rain
And preyed for sun that never came.

Through mud they crawled to find their foe
They cursed and swore but on they go
As days went by and night fell
They all slept on the walls of hell.

Artillery shells with their melody of death
Whizzed by with each and every breath
As dawn came to light the earth
Amid sniper fire through dirt
In falling rain they fought on
Hope to live by those had gone.

Myitkyina has fallen at last
They would be glad to know of the finished task
But the trails are filled with yankee blood
Of gallant men who fought died in Burma mud
Courageous men these, they fought and fell
Bless them all, God; treat them well.

Where the Jap has placed his outposts,
Where his road-blocks guard the trail,
Where the lone patrol is moving,
As the dark begins to pale;
There's a wisper through the jungle,
There are shadows on the tracks,
And the sentry wheels to fire
When a twig behind him cracks.

For Merril's men are marching;
They've been seen at Masakawng;
They have crossed th Tanai River,
And they're threatening Warong.
Jungle trails are close and silent;
Merrill's troops move swift and far;
They may pass today through Sharaw
And tomorrow through Sana.

Tokyo Has maps of Burma
That will show whence they have come.
See that red line down the Hukawng,
See the cross at Walawbum?
There's another at Shaduzup,
And Below, Inkangahtawng.
The Marauders' roll of victories
Is both barbarous and long.

From Nhpum Ga on to Ritpong,
(Add a cross at each of these)
Red lines lead to Myitkyina--
Just you ask the Japanese.
Stealthy files that strike and vanish,
No one knows where they may be.
Till the Browning automatics
Leave dead Japs for Japs to see.

But if you want to see us,
There's a way you can't go wrong.
Pick a trail that goes behind them
Where our enemies are strong.
Where the trail goes through a rice field
You may see the column clear;
But--we're not so much tolook at,
And we're worsa than that to hear.

Comes a line of weary scarecrows,
Bearded, pale, unclean, and hot.
Never would you think of soldiers,
(Wich we wish that we were not).
"Damn the mountains" How we curse them!
"Damn the food or what there is.
"Damn the mules, and General Stilwell.
"God, we wish our feet were his!"

Well, it's true, and it's because
Everyone had reasons why he
Did not like it where he was.
We're the misfits of the Army
That the system can't digest;
There's but one way to control us,
And it's not to let us rest

Doctors, farmers, drunkards, failures,
There's no trait we share but one;
We have to butt our heads into those
Things that aren't or can't be done.
"Put 'em on . . . The column's moving!"
Come on, then, you're not yet dead.
And there's fighting left a-plenty
While the trail still leads ahead.

Let the fevers try to stop us;
We've got dysentery now;
Still we'll keep the column rolling,
Though we could not say just how.
Half a thousand miles we've walked,
Over hills in rain and heat,
And the marches all have measured
That much more of Jap retreat.

For Merrill's men are marching;
We have come both fast and far,
And we've opened northern Buma
From Maingkan to Myitkyina;
And there'll be no final halting
(So we fear it's bound to be)
Till the last mule's legs have buckled
Or we've reached the China Sea.