The Military Man
05-10-2003, 11:13 PM
#1
Pr0n King
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Join Date: Nov 2002
Location: The Land of Rocks
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The Military Man
The average age of the military man 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 did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, 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.
__________________
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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 did his Father, Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, 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.
__________________
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05-11-2003, 01:39 AM
#2
VIP Member
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Join Date: Nov 2002
Location: Lastweek Lane - Watertown, NY
Posts: 10,133
Car Info: 02WRXpseudoSTiWannabeWagon
How to understand what it is to be a Ranger
Dig a hole in your backyard while it is raining. Sit in the hole while the water climbs up around your ankles. Pour cold mud down your shirt collar. Sit there for forty eight hours, and, so there is no danger of your dozing off, imagine that a guy is sneaking around waiting for a chance to club you on the head or set your house on fire. Get out of the hole, fill a suitcase full of rocks, pick it up, put a shotgun in your other hand, and walk on the muddiest road that you can find. Fall flat on your face every few minutes as you imagine big meteors streaking down to sock you... Snoop around until you find a bull. Try to figure out a way to sneak around him without letting him see you. When he does see you, run like hell all the way back to your hole in the backyard, drop the suitcase and shotgun, and get in. If you repeat this performance every three days for several months, you may begin to understand why an Infantryman gets out of breath. But you still won't understand how he feels when things get tough.
This is the creed that I try to live by.
05-13-2003, 07:44 PM
#3
Registered User
Join Date: Dec 2002
Location: Cali
Posts: 2,980
Car Info: Pilot & Prius.
05-14-2003, 02:31 AM
#4
Registered User
iTrader: (2)
Join Date: Nov 2002
Location: AWD Culture
Posts: 1,145
Car Info: White on Gold STi
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.
This was one of the reasons I stayed in.
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