The average age of the Infantryman is 19 years. He is a short haired,
tight-muscled kid who, under normal circumstances is considered by
society as half man, half boy. Not yet dry behind the ears, but old
enough to die for his country. He never really cared much for work and
he would rather wax
his own car than wash his father's; but he has never collected
unemployment either.

He's a recent High School graduate; he was probably an average
student, pursued some form of sport activities, drives a ten year old
jalopy, and has a steady girlfriend that either broke up with him when
he left, or swears to
be waiting when he returns from half a world away. He listens to rock
and roll or jazz or swing and 155mm Howitzers. He is 10 or 15 pounds
lighter now than when he was at home because he is working or fighting
from before dawn to well after dusk.

He has trouble spelling, thus letter writing is a pain for him, but he
can field strip a rifle in 30 seconds and reassemble it in less. He
can recite to you the nomenclature of a machine gun or grenade
launcher and use either
one effectively if he must. He digs foxholes and latrines and can
apply first aid like a professional. He can march until he is told to
stop or stop until he is told to march. He obeys orders instantly and
without hesitation,
but he is not without spirit or individual dignity.

He is self-sufficient. He has two sets of fatigues: he washes one and
wears the other. He keeps his canteens full and his feet dry. He
sometimes forgets to brush his teeth, but never to clean his rifle. He
can cook his own
meals, mend his own clothes, and fix his own hurts. If you're thirsty,
he'll share his water with you; if you are hungry, his food. He'll
even split his
ammunition with you in the midst of battle when you run low. He has
learned to use his hands like weapons and his weapons like they were
his hands. He can save your life -- or take it, because that is his
job.

He will often do twice the work of a civilian, draw half the pay and
still find ironic humor in it all. He has seen more suffering and
death then he should have in his short lifetime. He has stood atop
mountains of dead
bodies, and helped to create them. He has wept in public and in
private, for friends who have fallen in combat and is unashamed. Just
as did his Father,
Grandfather, and Great-grandfather, he is paying the price for our
freedom.
Beardless or not, he is not a boy. He is the American Fighting Man
that has kept this country free for over 200 years. He has asked
nothing in return,
except our friendship and understanding. Remember him, always, for he
has earned our respect and admiration with his blood.

He is an INFANTRYMAN!