Jump to content
  • Announcements

    • Walt's Daughter

      New Registrations   09/22/17

      Attention New Registrants - Please take a moment to read the section on REGISTRATION. This will inform you regarding the entire process and hopefully answer all your questions. Too often I receive emails either asking why you can't post yet, or I why I haven't approved your membership?  Thank you for your time, M1
    • Walt's Daughter

      Research Assistance Donations   11/23/17

      Keep this site up and running for current and future generations. If I've been beneficial to your research, please consider making a donation. Every little bit helps to maintain this web and my research costs (i.e. membership fees to Ancestry.com, Fold3 etc.). PayPal Donations
    • Walt's Daughter

      The Story of Q Trilogy - Marion J Chard   12/02/17

      Completed my tween trilogy! Please share with your family and friends. www.storyofq.com

anzio dugout GI poems

Recommended Posts

I found these poems folded up very neatly & tucked into one of my Dad's

pocket diaries from the war. They look almost as if they were just put there yesterday.

He must've cut them out from the Anzio Beachhead News.


My Shanty by Sgt S.E. Babcock:


My window frame's a K ration box,

My stove's a five-gallon can;

My lights are made from coffee tins

Burning grease from the frying pan.

I built this shack in the mountains of Italy one day,

I built it out of mud and rocks

To keep shrapnel away.

I call it Home Sweet Home

Though it lacks steam heat and such;

There's only one thing it's needing

And that's a woman's touch!


A Dugout at Anzio by Lt Col Frank R. Drake:


It's not like a palace or villa ornate

With fence all around and a pretty white gate;

No path lined with roses approaches the door

To buoy up my spirits or lighten a chore.


The walls have no windows, the plumbing is nil.

I wake every morning with a cough or a chill;

The rain trickles in at a horrible rate,

Good God, was I destined to suffer this fate?


But, Brother, when Jerry is throwing them in,

And bombs crash around to add to the din,

I don't want a vine or a house with a door -

Just that little dugout so close to shore.


Adjustable Quarters by Pvt Ben Shud:


I think that I shall never see

A one man foxhole that won't hold three.

For when the guns begin to blast

No one runs around to ask;

"Is this my foxhole? The one I dug?

Or was it made by some other mug?"

Hurry the better! For all your worth,

And get protection from Mother Earth.

A wee bit crowded, yes siree

A one-man foxhole and in it three.

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Mary Ann: I can relate to the last poem. Rocky

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites
Love the poems! Those are precious, and I'm so glad you shared them with us. :pdt34:

Share this post

Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now