Watching the Ripples Radiate.
Author: marshalg

Chapter 45
The Recruit

The Recruit

 

 

 

What would it be to be a soldier
To seek the God of war,
To make your mind a death machine
To long for peace no more.
To make your sinew hard as iron
Your muscle ripcord tough,
To make your thinking mercy free
Your heart enshrined in rough.
Conformity in dress attire
Meticulous black shine,
The gun oil on your sidearm
That rigid stance in line.
The taughtness when you march en mass
The crunch of boots on stone,
The flash of steel with bayonet thrust
That splash of blood on bone.
 
The hatred for the enemy
A lust for bloody war,
Abhorrence for your personal style
Just compliance with the corps.
The stare that sees a thousand yards
Those backs are ramrod straight,
The disciplined magnificence
Our Corps d’Esprit is great!
 
Afghanistan & Gaza
Mogadishu and Tehran
The terror strips are global
And they’re hell for beast and man.
To imagine you’ll enjoy yourself
Is crazy to extreme.
If you’ve seen a mates face liquefy
In a flailing shrapnel stream.
If you’ve felt the fear of God nearby
When rag heads mount a charge,
With the shriek of “Allah Ahkbar”
And the stench of death at large.
 
“See The World”, the poster said
“Free Training for a Trade”,
Develop stiffness in your spine
With the army you’ll be made.
Comradeship, companionship
Is the essence of the force,
A fast, pack march of twenty clicks
And chanting till you’re hoarse.
The Sergeant kicks your backside
The corporal licks your boots,
Lieutenant has you eating lead
Whist digging trenching routes.
The Major trims his moustache
The General drives right past,
Dismissing all the riffraff
Who are well beneath his class.
 
This-is-the-Army 
All khaki and brassy shine,
You get to brandish rifles
And wear berets when in line.
So pull that chin in soldier
Keep the thumb straight when you march,
Or we’ll have you peeling spuds or worse,
We’ll ream your young white arse.
 
You wanted to be manly
You longed to measure up,
You signed up to be counted
With a brimming, full, gold cup.
So give it all you’ve got young man
Bend your back and be a knave,
Or they’ll make your life a purgatory
You’ll be damned or be enslaved.
Now your in for the duration
Make the most of what you’ve got
Or they’ll court marshal YOU tomorrow
And with pageantry.. BE SHOT!

Marshalg
Mangere Bridge
27th April 2008

 

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