Roster Number 195 Poem by Cecil Poetry

Awake to headlight beams roaming across wary faces
Sit up from the cold dirt and scarf down some chow
Stomach doesn't feel right, barely hold it down
Off to the wood line for a quick relief
Piss is dark and discolored like coca- cola
Saddle up and push on anyway
You can't defeat me
I'm prepared to die
This is where warriors are made
Hours of slogging through the sand
Fight for every breath and hack up loogies between
Instructors see me weak so double my load
Splash through steady streams on knees so
weak
Whole body is numb I feel darkness creeping in
Collapsed in the dirt, failing my team
Back up and drone another
mile collapse, back up, down
Vomiting, choking, the medic holds me down
Push him away, then stumble through the dirt and puke
You're done
No, let me die
I prefer it to failure 100 times
Not my call the jig is up
Rhabdo, pneumonia, sepsis, heat stroke. Alive
Deep in that Hell is where demons like me thrive