The Volunteer

The Volunteer by Bob Moore (c) 2019 A volunteer is worth, a thousand conscripts so they say I would never volunteer, if I had my own way but when the sergeant says, two volunteers, that’s you and you. you have to grin and bear it, and do what you are told to do It may just be KP, or police the parade ground but it could be latrine duty, digging trenches in the ground then you have to go, and fill the old ones in hold your nose, and gag a bit, the air in here is thin Sometimes you go out on patrol, to see what’s to be seen I’d rather be warm in my bunk, than walking jungles green then someone yells out “contact” and you just hit the ground and swear and keep your head down, as you chamber another round Then contacts lost, if it ever was, more than a nervous call now back to base, and thankful, as into the bunk we fall tomorrow it will all start again, and if good luck goes my way I will not be volunteered, and I will last another day.