'Echo' gun it fires a round,
we listen for the splash.
We get a line correction,
and I'm busting for a slash.
'Echo' gun it fires again,
this round it just can't miss.
I'm sitting here as Number 2,
still busting for a piss.
So it's Add 200, Drop 200,
something must be wrong.
I'm sitting on this bloody trail,
and I've been here so long.
'Echo' guns it fires a blind,
"two minutes lost!" says I.
I turn and face my Number 1,
but he can't tell me why.
'Echo' gun it fires once more,
a round goes through the sky.
Me knees they are all twisted,
I feel like I could die.
So it's Add 200, Drop 200,
load a round and shoot.
Me legs begin to tingle,
there's water in me boot.
'Echo' gun it scores a hit,
"Too Late!" I want to cry.
For nature wouldn't let me wait,
now me trou' will never dry.
Mike Subritzky
(Dedicated to that nameless FO who, during an Annual Camp fired 27 rounds in
adjustment...Yes Sir, you know who you are!).
© Mike Subritzky - The Flak Jacket Collection
