From the last fox-holes of Bataan
To the desert’s bloody sand,
From jungles of New Guinea
To the barren Arctic shore,
Eve’ry-one in the service knows
That where’er the Army goes,
The Medics will be with them through the war. For our field ambulances sturdy jeeps
Bring back our wounded fighting men
To where aid stations stand and surgeon’s hand
Will let our warriors fight again. To many wounded men’s surprise
When they open first their eyes,
They’ll think they’ve passed thro’ heaven’s gates
To reach the golden shore.
Sometimes perhaps they may be right,
If there’s first to greet their sight,
A G-I angel from the Nursing Corps. Working with hypo needles fine
And their swabs of iodine,
The Army Medics carry on
Through bombs and shot and shell.
And tired litter squads will find
Wounded soldiers left behind,
And bring them from the very gates of hell. While the artillery and infantry
Will blast the foe with arms they bear,
Those in the Medic Corps will die before
They fail the red cross flying there. From the last foxholes of Bataan
To the desert’s bloody sand,
From jungles of New Guinea
To the barren Arctic shore,
Ev’ryone in the service knows
That wher’er the Army goes,
The Medics will be with them through the war. | 
