Ride Hard and Don't Fall off!!!!

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!