What Is A
Soldier?
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 - 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.
-Author
Unknown-
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