The Volunteer

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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.

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