Marine Corps Poetry: Shooting the Range

Carl | February 4, 2013

I ‘member when I

first shot the range,

’twas up at San Luis Obispo

and it was strange.

We had an early chow

and turned out into rain,

our ponchos on with

rifles in reverse.

It wasn’t any fun,

in fact it was a curse.

We marched up

a mountain road

a mile or two,

the rain began

to peter out, which

didn’t make us blue.

The range, it

was a sodden mess

with ground a little damp.

We laid down our ponchos

and snapped in all the day.

We took up the sitting position

with head ‘twixt our legs,

our backs were stressed,

we wished we were dead.

Then came the kneeling

with the rifle held out front,

that weren’t half as bad

as sittin’ in the mud.

Next came the off hand,

standing full erect

with rifle jammed

into my shoulder,

I was a bloomin’ wreck.

This was only a preview

of the coming infractions.

On the day before

we shot for keeps,

they led us to a

small-arms range

where we tried out

on a .22 caliber,

bolt action, too.

Did I mention that

we were shooting

with .03 Springfields

left over from WWI

’cause the Army had the

M1s out on maneuvers.

Well, we shot the range

and did it with style,

every man qualified

and a few shot expert.

We felt like real Marines!

Semper Fi! Ooorah!!

Contributor's website: http://semperfiparents.com

Filed Under Conservative Musings, Military / Soldiers

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