Remembrance Of All Troops Who Served!

#1
Average teenager vs 19 year-old PFC

Your alarm goes off, you hit the snooze and sleep for
another 10 minutes.
He stays up for days on end.
-- --
You take a warm shower to help you wake up.
He goes days or weeks without running water.
-- --
You complain of a "headache", and call in sick.
He gets shot at, as others are hit, and keeps moving
forward.
-- --
You put on your anti war/don't support the troops
shirt, and go meet up with your friends.
He still fights for your right to wear that shirt.
-- --
You make sure your cell phone is in your pocket.
He clutches the cross hanging on his chain next to his
dog tags.
-- --
You talk trash on your "buddies" that aren't with you.
He knows he may not see some of his buddies again.
-- --
You walk down the beach, staring at all the pretty
girls.
He walks the streets, searching for insurgents and
terrorists.
-- --
You complain about how hot it is.
He wears his heavy gear, not daring to take off his
helmet to wipe his brow.
-- --
You go out to lunch, and complain because the
restaurant got your order wrong.
He does not get to eat today.
-- --
Your maid makes your bed and washes your clothes.
He wears the same things for months, but makes sure
his weapons are clean.
-- --
You go to the mall and get your hair redone.
He doesn't have time to brush his teeth today.
-- --
You are angry because your class ran 5 minutes over.
He is told he will be held an extra 2 months.
----
You call your girlfriend and set a date for that night.
He waits for the mail to see if there is a letter from home.
-- --
You hug and kiss your girlfriend, like you do
everyday.
He holds his letter close and smells his love's
perfume.
-- --
You roll your eyes as a baby cries.
He gets a letter with pictures of his new child, and
wonders if they'll ever meet.
-- --
You criticize your government, and say that war never
solves anything.
He sees the innocent tortured and killed by their own
government and remembers why he is fighting.
-- --
You hear the jokes about the war, and make fun of the
men like him.
He hears the gun fire and bombs.
-- --
You see only what the media wants you to see.
He sees the bodies lying around him.
-- --
You are asked to go to the store by your parents. You
don't.
He does what he is told.
-- --
You stay at home and watch TV.
He takes whatever time he is given to call and write
home, sleep, and eat.
-- --
You crawl into your bed, with down pillows, and try to
get comfortable.
He crawls under a tank for shade and a 5 minute nap,
only to be awakened by gun fire
-- --
You sit there and judge him, saying the world is a
worse place because of men like him.
If only there were more men like him??


If you support your troops, send this on.

I do and I just did.
 

Auld-Yin

ADC
Kit Reviewer
Book Reviewer
Reviews Editor
#3
Prefer Kipling's poetry in support of the troops. May be more than 100 years old, but still rings true.
 
#4
I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o'beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:

O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's ``Thank you, Mister Atkins,'' when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's ``Thank you, Mr. Atkins,'' when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.

Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy how's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints:
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;

While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind,"
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country," when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
But Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool - you bet that Tommy sees!
 
#5
Auld-Yin said:
Prefer Kipling's poetry in support of the troops. May be more than 100 years old, but still rings true.
Like this?

"Yes makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.

Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"

But it's the "thin red line of 'eroes" whrn the drums begin to
roll-"
 
#6
You beat me too it Mark! But then my typing was never that fast!
 
#8
I'll have to stop copying from books, it never got me anywhere at school.!

Kipling may have been writing in the 1890's, but 'Tommy' still has resonance these days, particularly in the attitudes of many members of the public to the military. Oh and he wrote a few poems about Afghanistan as well......
 
#9
I like Kipling's Epitaphs of the War 1914-1918. There is one he wrote with his son in mind, that I memorised immediately....

A SON
My son was killed while laughing at some jest. I would I knew
What it was, and it might serve me in a time when jests are few.

As this is the current affairs thread and not literature et cetera, I might topically remind us all of this one too...

THE COWARD
I could not look on Death which being known,
Men led me to him, blindfold and alone.
 
#10
There is a whole great thread of war poetry but this is a favourite of mine (and has the Afgan bit at the end

When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East
'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast,
An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased
Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier.

Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
So-oldier OF the Queen!

Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day,
You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay,
An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may:
A soldier what's fit for a soldier.

Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . .


First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts,
For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts --
Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts --
An' it's bad for the young British soldier.

Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . .

When the cholera comes -- as it will past a doubt --
Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout,
For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out,
A' it crumples the young British soldier.

Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier . . .

But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead:
You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said:
If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead,
An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier.

Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . .

If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind,
Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind;
Be handy and civil, and then you will find
That it's beer for the young British soldier.

Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . .

Now, if you must marry, take care she is old --
A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told,
For beauty won't help if your rations is cold,
Nor love ain't enough for a soldier.

'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier . . .

If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath
To shoot when you catch 'em -- you'll swing, on my oath! --
Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er: that's Hell for them both,
An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier.

Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . .

When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck,
Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck,
Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck
And march to your front like a soldier.

Front, front, front like a soldier . . .

When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch,
Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch;
She's human as you are -- you treat her as sich,
An' she'll fight for the young British soldier.

Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . .

When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine,
The guns o' the enemy wheel into line,
Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine,
For noise never startles the soldier.

Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . .

If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,
Remember it's ruin to run from a fight:
So take open order, lie down, and sit tight,
And wait for supports like a soldier.

Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . .

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.

Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
So-oldier of the Queen!
 
#12
Yes, I've got something in my eye too. Oh and I've just been fifteen minutes searching for my Kipling...so that will be "What have you got your head stuck in that poetry nonsense when the shed needs a new roof" from the Fenian Bride all morning!
 
#13
much prefer Mr Kipling's work to that American nonsense.

Support your troops by forwarding on a trite email?
 

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