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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Is it any wonder that on a recruit's first day of service he is befuddled? From day one he's told to do things by the numbers and his brain is muddled! From the moment he stepped off the bus, mean ol' sergeants began to yell! Sergeants, it seemed, were born to make life for raw recruits a living 'ell! He was herded to the barbershop where he was shorn of all his hair! He was as bald as a billiard ball, but the barbers didn't seem to care! Next on his rite of passage was to strip bare as the day he was delivered, To be poked, prodded and given shots as he moved along and shivered! Sergeants double-timed him to the quartermaster to be issued all his gear, Still smarting from all those shots he'd just received in his arms and rear! He drew a gun, socks, drawers, uniforms and a couple of pairs of boots, Then the sergeants taught him close order drill and how to make salutes! The next stop was at the mess hall where cooks concocted dubious fare, Mysterious vittles that in no way with his mom's cooking would compare! He was double-timed to his barracks where he was assigned a sagging cot. Along with fifty snoring and snorting troops, this was to be his hapless lot! He aspired to be a fighter pilot but the tests he couldn't comprehend, So he was assigned to the good ol' ground pounding infantry in the end! At the sound of "Taps" he felt mighty blue as he collapsed on his bunk. He was disillusioned with the whole affair and was in a dreadful funk! Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired © All Rights Reserved
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