THE SENTRY
In a foxhole not to deep
Sits a Grunt in need of sleep
With rifle lying across an arm
At the ready to sound alarm
An ammo belt on his hip
With LBV so it won't slip
His eyes roving in an arc
Squinting, peering through the dark
Ears listening for any sound
Rocks in tin cans all around
Barbed wire across the front
But nothing scares this 03 Grunt
Chilly night winds upon the hill
Not enough to deter his will
Head is sheltered in his pot
As such is the 03's lot
Grenades hanging on his chest
Bayonet at his side with all the rest
In his pocket there is gum
For contentment in the glum
If it rains that's OK
He's all prepared anyway
Heat and hell he takes with a grin
This 03 Grunt is trained to win
Any enemy lurking about
Had better take another route
The 03 Grunt will deal the cards
With sights set for three hundred yards
This 03 Grunt has his orders
Daring any to cross his borders
He's a creature of the night
Solely saying what's wrong or right
If it's tough he won't be grieved
He's on the job until relieved
Where-ever he is he owns the land
Be it forest or desert sand
Be the place dry or muddy
Makes no difference to him or his buddy
Where ever it be he'll hold the line
Planting both feet saying "This Land Is Mine".
Copyright EC Reh 1999
