The Infantryman

[frisco-kid]

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, 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 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. 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 his 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. 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.


He is an INFANTRYMAN!

[DMZ-LT]

GEZZ you guys are tearing me up today. GREAT poem , thank you Tom. Right on the money too. But lets not forget the CAVALRY , The ARTILLERY and everyone else who made sure that when we pulled the trigger something went BANG . might add a line to your poem '' He believed in luck ''










''

[b3196]

Thanks John
Bob K

[39mto39g]

There was a lot of people that kept infantry ready. While at Dakto I used to watch while the tanks and APCs and mine sweepers went out on the dirt road every morning to clear mines so that the duce and a halfs could drive the road to deliver the food that the cooks would cook to feed the medics, staff officers, clerks, dishwashers, mortor pits, supply ,BN officers and even the infantry that was on guard around the perimiter. I can't see one job any better or worse than another.
One day they paved the dirt road with assvault, it didn't change anything, the tanks still went out, the trucks still convoyed, the cooks still cooked, and the infantry still did what they do.
I would like to see anyone identify an infantry guy at a base camp, They all look the same.
Ron

[Bill Farnie]

Sorry Ron but I know that I could pick out the grunt at a base camp. Just look into the eyes.

[MORTARDUDE]

The few times we were at Cu Chi, it wasn't very hard to find the grunts.......They were the ones WITHOUT spit shined shoes, starched jungle fatigues, colored division patches, various wire and cardboard contraptions in their boonie hats, etc. etc.

All the names on The Wall are heroes, no matter their MOS or service.



Larry

[splummer]

I didn't think then, that there was much difference.

[39mto39g]

The times I was at a base camp was spent useually with out a shirt or hat. But I kinda agree with you , there were a few times that looking at there eyes you could tell. But sometimes those base camp guys cought there full share of shit and the eyes were theres also.
Ron

[splummer]

I thought then, that we all were pretty much the same.

[Robert Ryan]

The eyes said it all then, and still say it today.