REPORT ON COMPETITION NO. 35
ON the assumption that the Light Brigade has by now been transformed into a mechanised unit, the usual prizes were offered for a poem (of not more than 24 lines) commemorating a dashing attack by the Brigade's tanks on a strong point in the Siegfried Line. It must be confessed that this competition was a flop. The entries were few, and their standard was indifferent. Towan- bucket was the only competitor whose entry reached even the standard suitable for a second prize. A book token for Li is. he accordingly gets, and the first prize is withheld.
Prize-winning entry. THE TANKS GO IN.
There was hardly a cheer as we slipped in the gear And rattled at speed toward the talus, For our Light Brigade Tanks weren't offering thanks For the hell that would presently hail us.
We were fifty machines—and you know what that means Against Jerries in concrete emplacements: Just a handful of peas in a go-as-you-please With Death spouting red from steel casements.
But we called on no god as we churned up the sod, With the shells popping sweetly around us, For in this sort of fair, it's Old Nick in the chair, And we knew that his devils had found us.
From the first it was plain that our charge was insane, But the Light Brigade chaps aren't quitters ; So we thundered along, with our guns going strong, Breathing hopes that the Jerries had jitters.
* * Well, you know how it went: we just made a small dent In the talus H.Q. wanted taken: Out of fifty tanks, two, and they twisted askew, Returned to the lines badly shaken.
Dick Williams and me, we both got the V.C., But there wasn't the ghost of a rumour That they had on the mat the blue pencil Brass Hat Who committed the perishing bloomer.
TOWANBUCKET.
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