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Get American Conservative Daily delivery dailyMarine Corps Poetry: When I Was A Boot Marine
Carl | November 13, 2012
When I was a boot Marine,
A rifle wrapped in Cosmoline
Was issued me
In 1942.
‘Twas not a new issue,
It had been around
And had seen
Another war
Before I hit
The ground.
They dubbed it a
Springfield of 1903,
And gave it away
To kids like me,
To have and to hold
And care for
As careful
As could be.
Its stock was grained
And smooth as glass,
The color rich and tawny.
You could tell
It had had good care
From every Joe
And Johnny.
There was nothing
Automatic
About that old ’03,
You had to operate
The bolt
Before you did
The squeeze.
The bolt slid back
With quiet ease,
The trigger pull
Was firm
And when it fired
A lusty sound
Did assault your ears!
It had a hearty recoil
That let you know
Its power,
You knew you were
Firin’
With every jolt
And noise.
When layin’ on the muddy ground
Or from some ol’ foxhole,
You could count on every shot
A goin’ where it was told.
You hugged it closely
To your cheek
And snug against
Your shoulder,
The two of you
Became as one,
Like a good
Ol’ buddy.
When standing at parade
Or passing in review,
That rifle handled nicely
Like a fitted suit of blues.
No matter where I took it,
On land or sea of foam,
I could always count
Upon it
No matter where I roamed.
Robert L Cook
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