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DANJANOU
03-12-2004, 11:07 PM
I just found this posted (by another infanteer obviously) at another site and just had to share it.

In the beginning God created the Heavens and the Earth and the Infantry. And God looked upon the Infantry, saw that it was good, and said unto them "Thou art my chosen children. Take thou dominion over the Earth; over the fish of the Sea, the birds of the Air, and all of the Key Terrain."

And as a mark of His favor the Lord placed in the hands of the Infantry the sacred relics: the Apostolic Anti-Armor Weapon, the Catholic Claymore, and the Marian Machine Gun. Likewise gaveth the Lord unto the Infantry the Rucksack of Repentance, the Radio of Redemption and the Rifle of Rectitude. Lastly, unto the Infantry, and most divine of all, the Lord gaveth the Holy Hand Grenade. For the Infantry's sustenance the Lord declared "Four shall be thy food groups: Coffee, Tobacco, C-Rats, and Alcohol. Shun all other unclean food and drink." And the Infantry dwelt in the land therein.

And time passed, and the Infantry cried out unto their God saying "Lord, help us, for we are weary." And God smiled upon the Infantry, for they were blessed. Then the Lord took the fattest and laziest of the Infantry and set them upon beasts of burden. And these He called Cavalry. And as the Cavalry became fatter, lazier and heavier still they were known as Armor, or DAT's for short. And the Lord looked down upon the Armor and saw that it was mediocre. The Lord then said "Oh, well. Thou canst not win them all. Let them lead in case of landmines." To the DAT's the Lord said "Quiche shall be thy food, and bottled water thy drink. Touch not the sacred chow of the Infantry." And the Infantry and the Armor dwelt in the land therein.

And time passed and the Infantry cried out again unto their Lord saying "Lord help us, for we are weary." And God smiled again upon the Infantry, for they were his chosen. Then God took those of the Armor with butts like baseplates and breath like sulfur and tiny, tiny pee-pees and these He made Artillery. But God saw that the Artillery, too, was mediocre and said unto Himself "Oh well, garbage in; garbage out." Unto the Artillery He said "The big guns shall atone in part for thy diminutive other stature. Tryst thou not to hurt thyself." To the Infantry the Lord said "When the night is darkest these shall light the way . . . more or less. When the approach is most open these shall, occasionally -- with luck, confound the enemy's sight. When thou callest for fire support these shall -- eventually -- provide it with high explosive, cluster munitions and, best of all, nukes." But the Lord cautioned the Infantry to never, never, never trust TACFIRE or any other electronic computer in the hands of the Artillery. And the Infantry, the Armor, and the Artillery dwelt in the land therein.

Then the Artillery created the Air Defense Artillery; but quickly asked forgiveness. And time passed and the Infantry called out yet again unto their God, saying "Lord help us, for we are weary." Again the Lord looked with favor upon the Infantry. He took those of the Armor, Artillery and Air Defense Artillery who most liked to play in the mud and these he made Combat Engineers, and those who dwelt in darkness and spoke in riddles and these he made Military Intelligence, and those with thieving hearts and these He made Quartermasters, and of those who neither sowed nor reaped and were most fond of hammering square pegs into round holes He made Adjutants General. Of those who liked to tinker with good equipment until it broke He made the Ordnance Corps. Of those whose penchant was poison He made Cooks. Of those who ran around in circles He made the Transportation Corps. Of the least articulate He made Signalers. Of the mindlessly doctrinaire and arrogant He -- reluctantly -- created Military Police and Inspectors General (though the Lord admitted, to Himself, that He was probably only providing employment opportunities to Satan's minions). Of those who dealt in controlled substances He made the Medics and of those whose minds had been destroyed by the same made He the Chemical Corps. Yea, the Lord of All filled up the MTOE. And the Infantry, and the others, dwelt in the land therein.

Time passed, but yet, again, the Infantry cried out unto their God, saying "Lord, help us, for we are weary. And the Heavens darkened, and the clouds gathered. The lightning spaketh and the Infantry abased themselves before their God, for they were sore afraid. And the Lord spoke with anger, asking "How canst thou yet be weary? Have I not made the Armor and the Artillery to support thee? Have I not made of the detritus of the earth Quartermasters and Adjutants and Signalers and Transporters and a host of others to assist thee? Verily, have I not even made Military Intelligence, although it were a contradiction in terms?" Humbly the Infantry abased themselves again before their God, crying "Lord, it is of these that we are weary."

Amen, Amen

Johnnyringo
03-12-2004, 11:36 PM
AMEN

AFG
03-13-2004, 02:46 AM
roffles

Javehn
03-13-2004, 04:48 AM
What a blasfony . Unbellievable .
Infantry are made to serve brave tankers , and not otherwise .

digrar
03-13-2004, 05:19 AM
The Infanteer

He is born of the earth on the day he enlists
He is sentenced to life on the soil
To march on it, crawl on it, dig in it, sprawl on it
Sleep on it after his toil.

Be it sand, rock or ice, gravel, mud or red loam
He will fight on it, bravely will die
And the crude little cross telling men of his loss
Will cry mutely to some foreign sky.

He’s the tired looking man in the untidy garb
Weather beaten, foot sore with fatigue
But his spirit is strong as he marches along
With his burden for league after league.

He attacks in the fate of murderous fire
Crawling forward, attacking through mud
When he breaks through the lines
Over wire and mines
On the point of his bayonet is blood.

Should you meet him untidy, begrimed and fatigued
Don’t indulge in unwarranted mirth
For the brave infanteer
Deserves more than a sneer
He is truly the salt of the earth .

digrar
03-13-2004, 05:22 AM
Men may argue forever on what wins their wars,
And welter in cons and pros,
And seek for their answers at history’s doors,
But the man with the rifle knows.

He must stand on the ground on his own two feet,
And he’s never in doubt when it’s won,
If it’s won he’s there; if not it’s defeat,
That’s his test when the fighting is done.

When he carries the fight, it’s not with a roar,
Of armoured wings spitting death,
It’s creep and crawl on the earthen floor,
Butt down and holding his breath.

Saving his strength for the last low rush,
Grenade throw and bayonet thrust,
And the whispered prayer before he goes in,
Of a man who does what he must.

And when he’s attacked he can’t zoom away,
When the shells fill the world with their sound,
He stays where he is, loosens his spade,
And digs his defence in the ground.

The ground isn’t ours till he’s there in the flesh,
Not a gadget or bomb but a man,
He’s the answer to theories which start afresh,
With each peace since war began.

So let the wild circle of argument rage,
On what wins a war comes and goes,
Many new theories may hold the stage,
But the man with the rifle knows.



Author unknown.

Javehn
03-13-2004, 05:32 AM
Blasfony . Here is the real song for you . Good old Russian song translated to English .



The tanks were rattling like a thunder
The soldiers went to final fight
And here they carried young commander
With head all broken outright

His tank was hit by armor-piercer
So say goodbye my dear crew
Four silent corpses on the hillside
Will add to fair morning view

And now the vehicle is a-burning
Wait for the shells to detonate
You wanna live to see this morning
But you're too weak and it's too late

So they'll extract you from the remnants
They'll put your coffin on the clay
And fire & thunder from the mainguns
Will see you onto your last way

For now the telegrams are flying
To tell the friends and relatives
That their son is never coming
And never getting any leave

And there's that photo on the bookshelf
Collecting dust for years on end -
In uniform,
with shoulder-boards on...
And he will never be her man.
In unifo-orm,
wI-EEEEEEth
shoul-der-bo-ards OOOOOOOn...

And he will never be her man.

UkrainianAmerican
03-13-2004, 09:02 AM
Blasfony . Here is the real song for you . Good old Russian song translated to English .



The tanks were rattling like a thunder
The soldiers went to final fight
And here they carried young commander
With head all broken outright

His tank was hit by armor-piercer
So say goodbye my dear crew
Four silent corpses on the hillside
Will add to fair morning view

And now the vehicle is a-burning
Wait for the shells to detonate
You wanna live to see this morning
But you're too weak and it's too late

So they'll extract you from the remnants
They'll put your coffin on the clay
And fire & thunder from the mainguns
Will see you onto your last way

For now the telegrams are flying
To tell the friends and relatives
That their son is never coming
And never getting any leave

And there's that photo on the bookshelf
Collecting dust for years on end -
In uniform,
with shoulder-boards on...
And he will never be her man.
In unifo-orm,
wI-EEEEEEth
shoul-der-bo-ards OOOOOOOn...

And he will never be her man.
Can u post the russian version as well?

Javehn
03-13-2004, 09:42 AM
Can u post the russian version as well?

But offcorse -


ПЕСНЯ ТАНКИСТОВ.

Моторы пламенем объяты,
И башню лижут языки.
Судьбы я вызов принимаю
Прямым пожатием руки.

Не жди пощады, враг не дремлет,
Огонь пощады не дает,
И взрывом сорванную башню
На сотню метров отнесет.

И пела, лязгая, машина,
Осколки сыпались на грудь.
Прощай, родная, успокойся,
И про меня навек забудь.

Прощай Маруся дорогая,
Прощай КВ, братишка наш.
Четыре трупа возле танка,
Дополнят траурный пейзаж.

Нас извлекут из – под обломков,
Поднимут на руки каркас,
И залпы башенных орудий
В последний путь проводят нас.

И полетят тут телеграммы,
Родных и близких известить,
Что сын Ваш больше не вернется
И не приедет погостить.

Навзрыд заплачет мать – старушка,
Рукой слезу смахнет отец,
И дорогая не узнает
Каков танкиста был конец.

И будет карточка пылится,
На полке позабытых книг.
В танкистской форме, при погонах,
И ей он больше не жених.

Повторить 1 куплет.

Две последние строки каждого куплета – 2 раза.

UkrainianAmerican
03-13-2004, 10:38 AM
Can u post the russian version as well?

But offcorse -


ПЕСНЯ ТАНКИСТОВ.

Моторы пламенем объяты,
И башню лижут языки.
Судьбы я вызов принимаю
Прямым пожатием руки.

Не жди пощады, враг не дремлет,
Огонь пощады не дает,
И взрывом сорванную башню
На сотню метров отнесет.

И пела, лязгая, машина,
Осколки сыпались на грудь.
Прощай, родная, успокойся,
И про меня навек забудь.

Прощай Маруся дорогая,
Прощай КВ, братишка наш.
Четыре трупа возле танка,
Дополнят траурный пейзаж.

Нас извлекут из – под обломков,
Поднимут на руки каркас,
И залпы башенных орудий
В последний путь проводят нас.

И полетят тут телеграммы,
Родных и близких известить,
Что сын Ваш больше не вернется
И не приедет погостить.

Навзрыд заплачет мать – старушка,
Рукой слезу смахнет отец,
И дорогая не узнает
Каков танкиста был конец.

И будет карточка пылится,
На полке позабытых книг.
В танкистской форме, при погонах,
И ей он больше не жених.

Повторить 1 куплет.

Две последние строки каждого куплета – 2 раза.
Very nice. Almost made me cry.
:hug: