Over in Italy
The stinking place
It's hard to keep clean
Even hands and face
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You go several days
Maybe a week or two
Till you start to smell
Tent mates mutter phew
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You firmly resolve
"Tomorrow I''ll bathe"
But you finally wind up
with only a shave
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When you go so long
And you smell like hell
You grab your helmet
and run for the well
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Get some water
It's ice cold too
This overseas service
You begin to rue
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First neck and ears
And under the arms
For after all, us boys
Must retain our charms
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From neck to waist
The water gets grimy
From the waist on down
The water gets slimy
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Make a dash to the barrel
For fresh cold water
You rinse the suds
Because you orter
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By now your teeth
Are chattering a tune
As you dry yourself off
You dance like a loon
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Pull out clean G.I.s
The long handle kind
Fresh clean sox
It eases your mind
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Put back on your pants
And woolen shirt
That are soiled and sweaty
And stiff with dirt
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You come out of your tent
Feeling clean and neat
You have bathed and scrubbed
From your ears to your feet
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You firmly resolve
In the future to wash
At least once a week
But you know it's all bosh
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The next day it rains
Too cold again
You can't wash outside
And it's too cold within
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So it goes
From week to week
We are all the same
Both the mighty and the weak
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All I want now
Is a big bathtub
Filled with hot water
And someone to scrub
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My neck and my ears
And also my back
My tummy and arms
And also my feet
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It's not so bad
This army life
We kick and complain
And we groan and gripe
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We look like hell
We don't wear fancy clothes
Sometimes we smell
And you hold your nose
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We're fighting a war
Not on dress parade
We'll drop our bombs
On many a raid
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If bombs don't kill 'em
We'll still give 'em hell
We'll drop down ourselves
And wipe 'em out with our smell
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![[Graphic] Snapshots from the 464th Bombardment Group.](../images/flagd.jpg)