Semper-Fi.
Updated on January 25, 2010
"Semper Fi."
I remember mornings
much like this one,
the oyster rotted
swamp stench breeze,
blowing across the
tarmac as we formed up
for a three mile
quick time march,
sometime around 5:00 a.m.
when the crack of dawn
was still squinting through
sleep clouded eyes.
Full back pack, rifle,
helmet, ammo belt and pain.
The cadence of the
drill instructor pummeling
our ears like a dentist
instructing us on filling
a cavity in our lives.
The scritch, scritch, scritch,
of many boots
meeting the pavement,
as he sang out,
"Eeelow right left,
rightyour, low right left,
rightyour low,"
While we beat feet like
lemmings to a distant war.
It was an eerie sound,
just the heavy breathing
of a platoon of men,
the clink-clank of
the metal nomenclature
on our weapons and the
rhythm of many leather
heeled appendages
all moving in perfect time.
Gooney birds above
accompanied us with
their sharp-beaked cries
of Weh-eh weh-eh,
reminding us of the f
act that they could simply
fly to a freedom we would
not know for many weeks.
Sweat trickles broke
the weary levy of our skin,
and poured down our
backs and faces relentlessly,
but yet there was a
beauty in such order formed,
and moved quickly
across great distances.
All to prepare us for
such marches to relieve,
other troops pinned down
and dying as they waited
and prayed for fresh meat
to add to the fodder.
In what seemed
hours later, we hit the barracks,
and showered off the
salt dried perspiration,
and marched off to the
mess hall to feast
at around 7:00 A.M. on
a menu of powdered eggs,
sausage, toast, orange juice,
milk, coffee, and grits.
Sometimes we got
shit on a shingle,
creamed beef on toast,
but we ate like ravenous beasts
knowing full well that
calisthenics awaited our full bellies
Long before the chow
we so enjoyed was digested.
We learned discipline
and the value of simple things,
as we studied the many
methods to move effectively
and the many more ways
to kill or be killed.
Sometimes I long for
those days when
my life is disordered,
In a lot of ways it was
easier to be part of a machine,
simply following orders,
everything laid out for you,
where the only requirement
you had was to obey.
Thus I reminisce
on a bygone time
as I stand on my deck,
sipping coffee,
in a chill breeze of
a dying October,
at the start of
another uneventful day.
©MFB III