Diesel Bombers - Hats off...

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 howitzer.

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

a nd 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.