What an awful time, those few weeks dragged on and on!
But we've begun some real drill, I feel like a real troop.
I've been given some responsibility, I lug around these coolers,
With aching hands and burning arms, my lungs about to pop,
As we run up and down these stairs and all over fourth battalion!
Every chow I dread, every morning, pt, drill, I dread.
Us coolers run in every time drenched and drained.
I want to give up, I want to cry, it hurts, this is punishment for being garbage.
Then I lose my day pack when I'm pulled from class for those things.
For a week or two, or so it felt, I used my seniors! How embarrassing!
No Kevlar! I'm pulled from mcmap to do gear watch.
And lord, God! Those rifle stacks hit the deck like dominoes!
They laughed and said I didn't want to be there.
And then I'm pulled from a pt for gear watch. This is it.
I'm being sent home; I won't make it; this dream, it's dead.
I'm dead, I failed, there's nothing left for me in this life... I can't...
The defeat... The sorrow... I'm done for... Send me home, I've failed.
But alas...I just pray... And try... Not just yet... They'll never take me alive.
As things begin to look up! My day pack was found! I gushed with joy.
Maybe I will make it after all! Maybe I DO belong here!
But little did I know the many more challenges ahead.
This hardest time on the island is wrapped up with initial drill and a test.
We are not the stellar platoon, but we did well... I don't know if I could say the same for just myself.
