STORY BEHIND THE POEM ONE
MAG RADONS
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We were on Squad Training day
today. Our first stop in training was to attend the range for training
and qualification. Everyone was standing around drinking coffee and chatting
before the day got going. The range staff asked us to get our equipment
together and put our guns and ammunition on the table for inspection.
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Suddenly, Garry got a panicked
look on his face and started searching around for his gym bag and equipment.
After a few minutes of fruitless searching, Garry realized he had left
his bag, gun, ammo etc at home. All of it except for one fully loaded magazine.
This he carefully laid on the table hoping we wouldn’t notice.
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Not really the kind of thing
anyone will miss on a day at the range. Garry quickly explained that he
had gotten all his gear together when he got up in the morning (at the
ungodly hour of 5 am), and placed it by the front door so he couldn’t miss
it. He then grabbed a quick breakfast, got a cup of coffee and headed out
to his car. Unfortunately, through the back door.
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Someone called out to Garry,
"just one mag eh Radons?" At that point, I picked up my pen, flipped over
to the back of a target and started writing. Before my first drill, the
poem was done and sitting on the table. Garry came over, read it to himself
and started giggling. I always like that kind of a reaction from a "victim".
Garry commented that he thought he was going to sneak through his whole
career without being the subject of a poem. He has about 6 months left
until retirement, but, I’m sorry Garry, you didn’t quite make it. Garry
in fact stood up during coffee break and read the poem to everyone present.
So now it is posted here for your enjoyment as well.
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