Somewhere in a muddy rice paddy lies a lucky rabbits foot, bloodstained and buried forever in the muck of war past.
not all who grew up enjoyed or detested the country life and the raising up of animals for slaughter... and thus the city boys who only hunted at best weekend brews and babes were inducted into the Marines and their new adopted father was the drill instructor who disciplined them with fear and pain and compassion he taught them to think of living beings as enemies when the situation called for it and to inflict deadly damage on any who would dare to attack the Semper Fi forces, farmed out to foreign lands we became the white meat sought for slaughter and so we slew and slew again, and men died like rabbits, pelted not in fur but in lead, rabbits who bit back in explosive bursts of rage, but we rid them not with BB's but with lead ballooning inside, and body bags replaced pillow cases for the remnants of what our leaders ordered killed. Later if your aim was good, and you showed immense courage under the hare triggers of their sharpshooters, you were given little ribbons much like the ones country boys won at fairs for their prized rabbits and a medal hung below to mark your rabid, rapid responses..... when the need to kill came due.
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