This poem was written during the war
by Private Bronnell York
Battery D, 457th Parachute Field Artillery Battalion
APO #468, %Postmaster
San Francisco, Calif

We're the boys of the 457,
Earning our major pay,
Fighting Japs and jungle life,
For three sixty cents a day.

Back we're soon forgotten,
By girls and friends we knew,
Here in the South Sea Islands,
Ten thousand miles from home.

All night the rains keep falling,
It's more than we can stand,
"No", folks, we're not convicts,
We're defenders of our land.

We're the boys of many,
Holding the upper hand,
Hitting the silk and hoping,
We're living when we land

We're having it pretty tough now,
You can believe what I say,
Some day we hope to live again,
Back home in the U.S.A.

Victory's in the making,
Our future will be serene,
We've got the Navy backing us,
Along with the fighting Marines.

We're in this all together,
Folks like you and me,
We'll be a united people,
And our country will be free.

There's no two ways about it,
We'll either do or die,
For our country with dictation,
It is not for you or I.

When the war is over,
And we have finished what they began,
We'll raise Old Glory high above,
The Empire of Japan.

So to all you 4F jokers,
Who think there's something you've missed,
Don't let the Draft board get you,
And for God's sake don't enlist.

It might be a longtime yet,
Then it may be any day,
When smiling faces see the Golden Gate,
And sail in Frisco Bay.

When this conflicts over,
The boys can proudly say,
We had to fight for what is ours,
Victory for the U.S.A.

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