CrazyBrave83
04-29-03, 04:56 PM
Hey all...I figured you guys would appreciate this little piece my mom e-mailed to me.
If anything it may be a bit of motivation to the other Poolees, I know it certainly made me have more pride in my decision.
And to all the current (and former) Marines, thank you for your service, you are all truly superior people.
Anyway, the piece is called "The Infantryman" (author unknown)
The average age of the Infantryman is 19 years. He is a
short-haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is
considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the
ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his
country.
He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own
car than wash his father's; but he has never collected unemployment
either. He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an
average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten
year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with
him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a
world away.
He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and
155mm Howitzers. He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was
at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well
after
dusk. He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him,
but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less
time in the dark.
He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade
launcher and use either one effectively if he must. He digs foxholes
and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional. He can
march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march. He
obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without
spirit or individual dignity.
He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one
and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle.
He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own
hurts. If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you
are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the
midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they
were his hands. He can save your life - or take it, because that is
his job. He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the
pay and still find ironic humor in it all.
He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his
short lifetime. He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and
helped to create them. He has wept in public and in private for
friends who have fallen in combat and> is unashamed.
He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body
while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to
'square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove
their hat, or even stop talking.
In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their
right to be disrespectful. Just as his Father, Grandfather, and
Great-grandfather did, he is paying the price for our freedom.
Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting
Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years. He has asked
nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.
Remember him always, for he has earned our respect and admiration
with his blood.
If anything it may be a bit of motivation to the other Poolees, I know it certainly made me have more pride in my decision.
And to all the current (and former) Marines, thank you for your service, you are all truly superior people.
Anyway, the piece is called "The Infantryman" (author unknown)
The average age of the Infantryman is 19 years. He is a
short-haired, tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is
considered by society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the
ears, not old enough to buy a beer, but old enough to die for his
country.
He never really cared much for work and he would rather wax his own
car than wash his father's; but he has never collected unemployment
either. He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an
average student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten
year old jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with
him when he left, or swears to be waiting when he returns from half a
world away.
He listens to rock and roll or hip-hop or rap or jazz or swing and
155mm Howitzers. He is 10 or 15 pounds lighter now than when he was
at home because he is working or fighting from before dawn to well
after
dusk. He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him,
but he can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less
time in the dark.
He can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade
launcher and use either one effectively if he must. He digs foxholes
and latrines and can apply first aid like a professional. He can
march until he is told to stop or stop until he is told to march. He
obeys orders instantly and without hesitation, but he is not without
spirit or individual dignity.
He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one
and wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry.
He sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle.
He can cook his own meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own
hurts. If you're thirsty, he'll share his water with you; if you
are hungry, his food. He'll even split his ammunition with you in the
midst of battle when you run low.
He has learned to use his hands like weapons and weapons like they
were his hands. He can save your life - or take it, because that is
his job. He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the
pay and still find ironic humor in it all.
He has seen more suffering and death then he should have in his
short lifetime. He has stood atop mountains of dead bodies, and
helped to create them. He has wept in public and in private for
friends who have fallen in combat and> is unashamed.
He feels every note of the National Anthem vibrate through his body
while at rigid attention, while tempering the burning desire to
'square-away' those around him who haven't bothered to stand, remove
their hat, or even stop talking.
In an odd twist, day in and day out, far from home, he defends their
right to be disrespectful. Just as his Father, Grandfather, and
Great-grandfather did, he is paying the price for our freedom.
Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting
Man that has kept this country free for over 200 years. He has asked
nothing in return, except our friendship and understanding.
Remember him always, for he has earned our respect and admiration
with his blood.