The Infantryman - VANITY

Email | 16 Nov 04 | Just Dan

[Just Dan]

The Infantryman

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 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.

[sodpoodle]

As I read this - I pictured my son - thank you for sharing these beautiful words.

I wondered where he learned to sew.

[dinok]

The world has been kept from sliding in to chaos by young Americans in Uniform and a rifle since 1917. They are the best of us.

One of my family is burried in France. He was a 27 year old sergeant in the US Army. An immigrant from Greece...he never had a chance to have a family and leave children behind. But our family has honored him by naming sons after him and teaching them about his sacrifice.

SGT. Sideris Bollias, US Army, 11 Bravo (Infantryman), KIA 1918 France. RIP

[elbucko]

God bless these boys/men. I understand him. I was one, once. Lets make sure that we do as good a job caring for his interests at home, as he is doing the fighting for us so far away.

[Just Dan]

ping

[Little Ray]

I am the Infantry--Queen of Battle! For two centuries I have kept our Nation safe, Purchasing freedom with my blood. To tyrants, I am the day of reckoning; to the oppressed, the hope for the future. Where the fighting is thick, there am I…I am the Infantry! FOLLOW ME!


I was there from the beginning, meeting the enemy face to face, will to will. My bleeding feet stained the snow at Valley Forge; my frozen hands pulled Washington across the Delaware. At Yorktown, the sunlight glinted from the sword and I, begrimed…Saw a Nation born. Hardship…And glory I have known. At New Orleans, I fought beyond the hostile hour, showed the fury of my long rifle…and came of age. I am the Infantry! FOLLOW ME!


Westward I pushed with wagon trains…moved an empire across the plains…extended freedom's borders and tamed the wild frontier. I am the Infantry! FOLLOW ME!


I was with Scott at Vera Cruz…hunted the guerilla in the mountain passes…and scaled the high plateau. The fighting was done when I ended my march many miles from the old Alamo.
From Bull Run to Appomattox, I fought and bled. Both Blue and Gray were my colors then. Two masters I served and united them strong…proved that this nation could right a wrong…and long endure. I am the Infantry! FOLLOW ME!


I led the charge up San Juan Hill…scaled the walls of old Tientsin…and stalked the Moro in the steaming jungle still…always the vanguard, I am the Infantry!


At Chateau-Thierry, first over the top, then I stood like a rock on the Marne. It was I who cracked the Hindenburg Line…in the Argonne, I broke the Kaiser's spine…and didn't come back 'till it was "over, over there." I am the Infantry! FOLLOW ME!


A generation older at Bataan, I briefly bowed, but then I vowed to return. Assaulted the African shore…learned my lesson the hard way in the desert sands…pressed my buttons into the beach at Anzio…and bounced into Rome with determination and resolve. I am the Infantry!


The English channel, stout beach defenses and the hedgerows could not hold me…I broke out at St. Lo, unbent the Bulge…vaulted the Rhine…and swarmed the Heartland. Hitler's dream and the Third Reich were dead.


In the Pacific, from island to island…hit the beaches and chopped through swamp and jungle…I set the Rising Sun. I am the Infantry!


In Korea, I gathered my strength around Pusan…swept across the frozen Han…outflanked the Reds at Inchon…and marched to the Yalu. FOLLOW ME!


In Vietnam, while others turned aside, I fought the longest fight, from the Central Highlands to the South China Sea I patrolled the jungle, the paddies and the sky in the bitter test that belongs to the Infantry. FOLLOW ME!


Around the world, I stand…ever forward. Over Lebanon's sands, my rifle steady aimed…and calm returned. At Berlin's gates, I scorned the Wall of Shame. I spanned the Caribbean in freedom's cause, answered humanity's call. I trod the streets of Santo Domingo to protect the innocent. In Grenada, I jumped at Salinas, and proclaimed freedom for all. My arms set a Panamanian dictator to flight and once more raised democracy's flag. In the Persian Gulf, I drew the line in the desert, called the tyrant's bluff and restored right and freedom in 100 hours. Duty called, I answered. I am the Infantry! FOLLOW ME!


My bayonet…on the wings of power… keeps the peace worldwide. And despots, falsely garbed in freedom's mantle, falter…hide. My ally in the paddies and the forest…I teach, I aid, I lead. FOLLOW ME!


Where brave men fight…there fight I. In freedom's cause…I live, I die. From Concord Bridge to Heartbreak Ridge, from the Arctic to the Mekong, to the Caribbean…the Queen of Battle!
Always ready…then, now, and forever.


I am the Infantry! FOLLOW ME!

http://www.benning.army.mil/fbhome/followme/

[sodpoodle]

Yes - thank you for leading.

[Little Ray]

Ah, I was Cav, not Infantry. Just thought they needed the poetic tribute to the Infantry. When somebody posts something about the Cav, I'll post Fiddler's Green.

Wish I was young enough to go back.

[Darksheare]

Bump.