Military Mottoes and Commandments

[paracowboy]

The Commando's Prayer

Give me, my God, what you still have;
give me what no one asks for.
I do not ask for wealth, nor success,
nor even health.

People ask you so often, God, for all that,
that you cannot have any left.

Give me, my God, what you still have.
Give me what people refuse to accept from you.
I want insecurity and disquietude;
I want turmoil and brawl.

And if you should give them to me,
my God, once and for all,
let me be sure to have them always,
for I will not always
have the courage to ask for them.

Corporal Zirnheld
Special Air Service
1942

you're missing the last verse:
The Commando's Prayer
Give me, my God, what You still have;
give me what no one asks for.
I do not ask for wealth, nor success,
nor even health.
People ask You so often, God, for all that,
that You cannot have any left.

Give me, my God, what You still have.
Give me what people refuse to accept from You.
I want insecurity and disquietude;
I want turmoil and brawl.

And if You should give them to me,
my God, once and for all,
let me be sure to have them always,
for I will not always
have the courage to ask for them.

Give me, my God, what You have left over,
Give me what others want nothing to do with.
But give me courage too,
And strength and faith;
For You alone can give
What one cannot demand from oneself

Corporal Zirnheld
Special Air Service
1942

 

[navymich]

Okay, time for some nauticalness in all of this:

The Laws of the Navy

Admiral Ronald A. Hopwood, RN (ret.)

Now these are laws of the Navy,
Unwritten and varied they be;
And he that is wise will observe them,
Going down in his ship to the sea;
As naught may outrun the destroyer,
Even so with the law and its grip,
For the strength of the ship is the Service,
And the strength of the Service, the ship.

Take heed what ye say of your Rulers,
Be your words spoken softly or plain,
Lest a bird of the air tell the matter,
And so ye shall hear it again.

If ye labor from morn until even,
And meet with reproof for your toil,
It is well – that the gun may be humbled,
The compressor must check the recoil.

On the strength of one link in the cable
Dependeth the might of the chain;
Who knows when thou mayest be tested?
So live that thou bearest the strain!

When a ship that is tired returneth,
With the signs of the sea showing plain,
Men place her in dock for a season,
And her speed she reneweth again.
So shall thou, lest, perchance thou grow weary
In the uttermost parts of the sea,
Pray for leave, for the good of the Service
As much and as oft as may be.

Count not upon certain promotion,
But rather to gain it aspire;
Though the sight-line end on the target,
There cometh, perchance, a miss-fire.

Can'st follow the track of the dolphin
Or tell where the sea swallows roam?
Where Leviathan taketh his pastime?
What ocean he calleth his home?
Even so with the words of thy Rulers,
And the orders those words shall convey.
Every law is as naught beside this one—
"Thou shalt not criticise, but obey!"
Saith the wise, "How may I know their purpose?"
Then acts without wherefore or why.
Stays the fool but one moment to question,
And the chance of his life passeth by.

If ye win through an African jungle,
Unmentioned at home in the press,
Heed it not; no man seeth the piston,
But it driveth the ship none the less.

Do they growl? It is well: be thou silent,
So that work goeth forward amain;
Lo, the gun throw her shot to a hair's breath
And shouteth, yet none shall complain.

Do they growl and the work be retarded?
It is ill, speak, whatever their rank;
The half-loaded gun also shouteth,
But can she pierce armor with blanks
Doth the paintwork make war with the funnels?
Do the decks to the cannon complain?
Nay, they know that some soap or a scraper
Unites them as brothers again.
So ye, being Heads of Departments,
Do your growl with a smile on your lip,
Lest ye strive and in anger be parted,
And lessen the might of your ship.

Dost deem that thy vessel needs gilding,
And the dockyard forbear to supply?
Place thy hand in thy pocket and gild her;
There be those who have risen thereby.

Dost think, in a moment of anger,
'Tis well with thy seniors to fight?
They prosper, who burn in the morning,
The letters they wrote over-night;
For some there be, shelved and forgotten,
With nothing to thank for their fate,
Save That (on a half-sheet of foolscap),
Which a fool "had the honor to state—."

If the fairway be crowded with shipping,
Beating homeward the harbour to win,
It is meet that, that lest any should suffer,
The steamers pass cautiously in;
So thou, when thou nearest promotion,
And the peak that is gilded is nigh,
Give heed to thy words and thine actions,
Lest others be wearied thereby.
It is ill for the winners to worry,
Take thy fate as it comes with a smile,
And when thou art safe in the harbour
They will envy, but may not revile.

Uncharted the rocks that surround thee,
Take heed that the channels thou learn,
Lest thy name serve to buoy for another
That shoal, the Courts-martial Return.
Though Armoured the belt that protects her,
The ship bears the scar on her side;
It is well if the Court shall acquit thee;
It were best hadst thou never been tried.

Moral

As the sea rises clear to the hawse pipe,
Washes aft, and is lost in the wake,
So shall ye drop astern all unheeded,
Such time as the law ye forsake.
Take heed in your manner of speaking
That the language ye use may be sound,
In the list of the words of your choosing
"Impossible" may not be found.
Now these are the Laws of the Navy
And many and mighty are they,
But the hull and the deck and keel
And the truck of the law is - OBEY.

 

[navymich]

The Sailor’s Psalm

(Psalm 107, verses 23-30)

They that go down to the sea in ships
and occupy their business in great waters;
these men see the works of the Lord and His wonders in the deep.
For at His word the stormy wind ariseth which lifteth up the waters thereof.
They are carried up to heaven and down again to the deep;
their soul melteth away because of the trouble.
They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wits’ end.

So when they cry unto the Lord in their trouble,
He delivereth them out of their distress.
For He maketh the storm to cease so that the waves thereof are still.
Then are they glad because they are at rest;
and so He bringeth them unto the haven where they would be.

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The Naval Prayer

O Eternal Lord God,
who alone spread'st out the heavens,
and rulest the raging of the sea;
who has compassed the waters with bounds
until day and night come to an end;
be pleased to receive into Thy almighty and most gracious protection
the persons of us Thy servants,
and the Fleet in which we serve.

Preserve us from the dangers of the sea,
and from the violence of the enemy;
that we may be a safeguard unto our most gracious Sovereign Lady,
Queen Elizabeth,
and her Dominions,
and a security for such as pass upon the seas upon their lawful occasions;
that the inhabitants of our Commonwealth may in peace and quietness
serve Thee our God;
and that we may return in safety
to enjoy the blessings of the land,
with the fruits of our labours,
and with a thankful remembrance of Thy mercies
to praise and glorify Thy Holy Name;
Amen.

First published in 1662 in the Book of Common Prayer,
The Naval Prayer has remained mostly unchanged since then,
with the exception of a change to the name of the monarch ,
the change from "Empire" to "Commonwealth", a more recent
deletion of the phrase "though Jesus Christ ourt Lord near the end."

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The Naval Hymn

Eternal Father, strong to save,
Whose arm hath bound the restless wave,
Who bidst the mighty ocean deep
Its own appointed limits keep:
O hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea.

O Christ, whose voice the waters heard,
And hushed their raging at Thy word,
Who walkedst on the foaming deep,
And calm amidst the storm didst sleep:
O hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea.

O Holy Spirit, who didst brood
Upon the waters dark and rude,
And bid their angry tumult cease,
And give, for wild confusion, peace:
O hear us when we cry to Thee
For those in peril on the sea.

O Trinity of love and power,
Our brethren's shield in danger's hour;
From rock and tempest, fire and foe,
Protect them whereso'er they go:
Thus evermore shall rise to Thee
Glad hymns of praise from land and sea.


The Naval Hymn was written in 1860 by the clergyman William Whiting,
after surviving a storm on the Mediterannean Sea.
In 1861, John B. Dykes set it to the tune "Melita".

 

[navymich]

Naval Toasts of the Day

In the navy there is a toast for each day of the week. Normally these toasts are used at special occasions and mess dinners, but they may be used at any time.

Most recently the toasts were changed to better reflect the current "Navy". The "current toasts" are listed first and it is those that are authorized for use in todays navy.  In brackets are the "traditional toasts".

Monday ~ OUR SHIPS (OUR SHIP AT SEA)

Tuesday ~ OUR SAILORS (OUR MEN)

Wednesday ~ OURSELVES (OURSELVES)

Thursday ~ OUR NAVY (A BLOODY WAR OR A SICKLY SEASON)

Friday ~ OUR NATION (A WILLING FOE AND SEA ROOM)

Saturday ~ OUR FAMILIES (WIVES AND SWEETHEARTS reply: MAY THEY NEVER MEET)

Sunday ~ ABSENT FRIENDS (ABSENT FRIENDS)

 

[daftandbarmy]

General Orders for Sentries
There are 12 general orders and they are the same wherever and whenever a Marine is on interior guard duty.  Marines are required to know and memorize these general orders and be able to recite them whenever they are called upon to do so.

1. To take charge of this post and all government property in view.
2. To walk my post in a military manner, keeping always on the alert, and observing everything that takes place within sight or hearing.
3. To report all violations of orders I am instructed to enforce.
4. To repeat all calls from posts more distant from the guardhouse than my own.
5. To quit my post only when properly relieved.
6. To receive, obey, and pass on the sentry who relieves me all orders from the commanding officer, field officer of the day, officer of the day, and officers and noncommissioned officers of the guard only.
7. To talk to no one except in the line of duty.
8. To give the alarm in case of fire or disorder.
9. To call the corporal of the guard in any case not covered by instructions.
10. To salute all officers, and all colors and standards not cased.
11. To be especially watchful at night and, during the time for challenging, to challenge all persons on or near my post, and to allow no one to pass without proper authority.
12. To walk my post from flank to flank and take no shit from any rank.

 

[The Bread Guy]

Tommy
by Rudyard Kipling

  I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o'beer,
  The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
  The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
  I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:

O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's ``Thank you, Mister Atkins,'' when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's ``Thank you, Mr. Atkins,'' when the band begins to play.

  I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
  They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
  They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
  But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

  Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
  Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
  An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
  Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.

Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy how's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

  We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
  But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
  An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints:
  Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;

While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind,"
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind.

  You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires an' all:
  We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
  Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
  The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.

For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country," when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
But Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool - you bet that Tommy sees!

 

[daftandbarmy]

Standing Orders for Roger's Rangers:
1. Don't forget nothing.
2. Have your musket clean as a whistle, hatchet scoured, sixty rounds powder and ball, and be ready to march at a minute's warning.
3. When you're on the march, act the way you would if you was sneaking up on a deer. See the enemy first.
4. Tell the truth about what you see and what you do. There is an army depending on us for correct information. You can lie all you please when you tell other folks about the Rangers, but don't never lie to a Ranger or officer.
5. Don't never take a chance you don't have to.
6. When we're on the march we march single file, far enough apart so one shot can't go through two men.
7. If we strike swamps, or soft ground, we spread out abreast, so it's hard to track us.
8. When we march, we keep moving till dark, so as to give the enemy the least possible chance at us.
9. When we camp, half the party stays awake while the other half sleeps.
10. If we take prisoners, we keep'em separate till we have had time to examine them, so they can't cook up a story between'em.
11. Don't ever march home the same way. Take a different route so you won't be ambushed.
12. No matter whether we travel in big parties or little ones, each party has to keep a scout 20 yards ahead, 20 yards on each flank, and 20 yards in the rear so the main body can't be surprised and wiped out.
13. Every night you'll be told where to meet if surrounded by a superior force.
14. Don't sit down to eat without posting sentries.
15. Don't sleep beyond dawn. Dawn's when the French and Indians attack.
16. Don't cross a river by a regular ford.
17. If somebody's trailing you, make a circle, come back onto your own tracks, and ambush the folks that aim to ambush you.
18. Don't stand up when the enemy's coming against you. Kneel down, lie down, hide behind a tree.
19. Let the enemy come till he's almost close enough to touch, then let him have it and jump out and finish him up with your hatchet.

.... and the full version in the original wording (this would likely be harder for your average Ranger ca. 1759 to digest!):

A Plan of Discipline Extracted from the Journals of Major Robert Rodgers http://www.rogersrangers.org/rules/index.html

 

[geo]

THE SAPPER'S PRAYER

"Almighty God, we pray to thee to bless the Canadian Military Engineers. May our bridges always stand, and our charges never fail, our members be ever loyal, and our officers worthy of their loyalty. May we work diligently in all our purpose and be skilled in our trades; steadfast for Queen and Country everywhere. Amen."


THE MOTTO

The Engineers motto "Ubique" means "Everywhere". Because hey, we are!!!

 

[17thRecceSgt]

Alittle something from our Regimental Journal 1998-1999...

Between the security of childhood and the maturity of adulthood, we find this fascinating group called soldiers.

They come in assorted sizes, in tanks, trucks, on the battlefield, in various camps, in bars, in love and always in debt.

Girls love them, they are the heroes to boys, towns tolerate them, and the government, at times, supports them.

A soldier is laziness with a deck of cards, bravery with a tattooed arm, and a Protector of the Earth with a C7 and fine-tuned recycling skills.

A soldier has the energy of a turtle - until a button is pressed; the slyness of a fox, the brains of a hidden genius, the stories of a sea captain; the sincerity of a liar: the aspirations of a Casanova, and when they want something it is usually associated with a request form.

Some of their interests are:  the opposite sex, smoking, the odd run or beer, tall tales, and the overwhelming desire to strike an idiot.

Their dislikes are:  wearing outdated uniforms, answering letters, the old man, fast-air and wakey-wakey.

No one else can cram into a combat shirt pocket a little black book, a crushed pack of smokes, a picture of their loved ones, a comb, a church key, and old pass stub, and what's left of last week's pay.

They like to spend their money on:  smokes, their Mess, music, some on poker, and the rest foolishly.

A soldier is a magical creature, a breed of their own.  Who else is willing to work for low wages, eat IMPs, work in all kinds of weather, and have no luck at lastings relationships.

You can lock them out of your home, but not your heart.  You can scratch them off your mailing list, but not out of your mind.

There are your one and only red-eyed good for nothing bundle of worries, who is willing to sacrifice it all.  But all your shattered dreams become insignificant when they come home all weathered and worn and stressed to the max and says....

HI YA HONEY, I'M HOME!

*Editted for plagiarism  :

 

[paracowboy]

Alittle something from our Regimental Journal 1998-1999...

Between the security of childhood and the maturity of adulthood, we find this fascinating group called soldiers.

They come in assorted sizes, in tanks, trucks, on the battlefield, in various camps, in bars, in love and always in debt.

Girls love them, they are the heroes to boys, towns tolerate them, and the government, at times, supports them.

A soldier is laziness with a deck of cards, bravery with a tattooed arm, and a Protector of the Earth with a C7 and fine-tuned recycling skills.

A soldier has the energy of a turtle - until a button is pressed; the slyness of a fox, the brains of a hidden genius, the stories of a sea captain; the sincerity of a liar: the aspirations of a Casanova, and when they want something it is usually associated with a request form.

Some of their interests are:  the opposite sex, smoking, the odd run or beer, tall tales, and the overwhelming desire to strike an idiot.

Their dislikes are:  wearing outdated uniforms, answering letters, the old man, fast-air and wakey-wakey.

No one else can cram into a combat shirt pocket a little black book, a crushed pack of smokes, a picture of their loved ones, a comb, a church key, and old pass stub, and what's left of last week's pay.

They like to spend their money on:  smokes, their Mess, music, some on poker, and the rest foolishly.

A soldier is a magical creature, a breed of their own.  Who else is willing to work for low wages, eat IMPs, work in all kinds of weather, and have no luck at lastings relationships.

You can lock them out of your home, but not your heart.  You can scratch them off your mailing list, but not out of your mind.

There are your one and only red-eyed good for nothing bundle of worries, who is willing to sacrifice it all.  But all your shattered dreams become insignificant when they come home all weathered and worn and stressed to the max and says....

HI YA HONEY, I'M HOME!

Written by Cpl D Ferguson.

hmmm, Cpl Ferguson may owe Pat O'Relley some money.

 

[17thRecceSgt]

Really??

Well thats great   :.  I have only seen this in the Journal of that year..and now..its someone else's??   :

Post editted accordingly...

 

[Jacqueline]

Captain Kurtz      From Apocalypse now...

I've seen horrors... horrors that you've seen. But you have no right to call me a murderer. You have a right to kill me. You have a right to do that... but you have no right to judge me. It's impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror. Horror has a face... and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies. I remember when I was with Special Forces. Seems a thousand centuries ago. We went into a camp to inoculate the children. We left the camp after we had inoculated the children for Polio, and this old man came running after us and he was crying. He couldn't see. We went back there and they had come and hacked off every inoculated arm. There they were in a pile. A pile of little arms. And I remember... I... I... I cried. I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out. I didn't know what I wanted to do. And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it. I never want to forget. And then I realized... like I was shot... like I was shot with a diamond... a diamond bullet right through my forehead. And I thought: My God... the genius of that. The genius. The will to do that. Perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. And then I realized they were stronger than we. Because they could stand that these were not monsters. These were men... trained cadres. These men who fought with their hearts, who had families, who had children, who were filled with love... but they had the strength... the strength... to do that. If I had ten divisions of those men our troubles here would be over very quickly. You have to have men who are moral... and at the same time who are able to utilize their primordial instincts to kill without feeling... without passion... without judgment... without judgment. Because it's judgment that defeats us.

 

[daftandbarmy]

Military Instructions by Frederick the Great


"The great dependence of our troops is in attacking, and we should act very foolish part to give up this point without good reason."


http://www.pattonhq.com/militaryworks/frederick.html

 

[cplcaldwell]

"De l'audace, encore, de l'audace, et toujours de l'audace"

 

[Marauder]

It's American, but Rangers are a certain breed unto their own, I have found.

THE ROAD MARCH
Airborne Ranger Operations Order

Weapon, ruck sack, combat load 100 lbs., field uniform. A team made up of men with individual missions but one objective, to execute the mission and survive until extraction. Each individual functioning as one. One Ranger gets emotional, others suffer. One Ranger gets arrogant, others die.

Move out to UH-60 Blackhawk helicopters, rig for jump, load, transport to DZ, jump. Gather at assembly point, check equipment, and move out.

Leadership in front of split column, both sides of the road. Night, black, luminescent Ranger "eyes" bobble on the back of the Patrol Cap in front of you. Shut up. Follow. Obey. No nice here. No home and cookies and TV, just pain and suffering. No warm and fuzzy anywhere near this place. Just sacrifice. Just harsh, cold, hard reality stripped of any embroidery or romance. Just pain and sweat ahead all night.

Lt. leads with R.T.O., men follow, Platoon Sergeant takes up the rear security position 50 feet behind the main body. We are aware of his presence back there. 50 yards ahead, 2 man front security team. Their death will buy us reaction time. 50 yards behind, 2 man rear security team. Suffice it to say, this is the Ranger battalion, there aren't any stragglers anticipated. Anyone close to being unfit for this unit would have been DX'd back in the early qualification process.

Platoon moves out, easy, accordion effect until the pace is set. The pace is a ball buster. Initially, it's hard to believe the Lt. actually thinks he can maintain it. Can't think about that now, move out, let's go. Adjust the 100 lbs. of shit on my back, squirm, settle in, lean forward, hump! Ruck sack straps digging in. Pain, sweat, I can't believe how heavy this fucking ruck sack is. "Can I make it?" creeps into my mind. Fuck that thought. That thought IS the enemy. Last time that phrase enters my grape. Keep that bitch out at bayonet point. That will kill you, thinking like that. Fight the pain. Fight through to the other side of it. Laugh at it. Endure. Lean forward, make friends with the pain. Talk to it. Tell it you're gonna kick it's ass.

Then it happens. Always the new guys. The cherries. The bitchin', complaining, questioning begins. Like stupid little kids in the back seat of the Station Wagon they say, "How much further?" "My straps are loose." "Are we gonna break soon?" These whining bastards. All I want to do is cap them off with a .45 slug to the fucking temple but ammo is more valuable to you than they are at this point. These newbies may have bodies that were strong enough to get this far in the Ranger's, but their minds have yet to mature. No problem. That's what Corporals are for. The bitching ends as abruptly as it began with a calm death threat from the Corporal that anyone who breaks silence again shall be fucked over big time. Instant silence. Corporals are more feared than long term pain. A Corporal is a fledgling Non Commissioned Officer; if he fucks up so what… he's just busted back to his previous rank where he can resume hanging with his buddies. He is the one to be feared; he really has nothing to lose.

The Lt. doesn't notice the repartee' behind him. He's thinking of the pace count, the azimuth, contingencies, Operations Order, enemy situation, artillery support, mission, men, and his own pain last. Silence again. Only the sounds of the entrenching tool clacking hypnotically on someone's rucksack frame, the shifting of cloth on nylon web gear, and the panting, coughing, cursing of men in the middle of an effort to perform the mission and survive in order to make it back to clean sheets, hot chow, ice cold brew and a babe or two. Time to reflect later. Time to heal, always later.

Second phase begins. As I strain forward, I see a black figure coming nearer in reverse. He's in the center of the tank trail, and he's slowin' down. The unbelievable happens. This clown is bowing out. He's quitting. A word that is even difficult to enunciate as a Ranger. The first thought you have is "Hey, Dickhead, get your sorry ass back in formation." The point of no return with a quitter is when he falls behind the Platoon Sergeant. You just ain't allowed to get behind that guy. The only option is to help this bastard. So men begin to whisper, "Shithead, gimmee your weapon, gimmee your base plate, tripod, something." "We'll split it up. You'll make it!" After all, anybody can have a bad day. Besides, part of the Ranger Creed is, "Never will I leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy." But all this dead man walking says is, "I can't make it." "I can't do it!" Well fuck me to tears, that's it for me, we offered and you are too stupid to listen so, "Fuck You!" And I mean that from the bottom of my heart. You reject the team and you reject life. A man who quits must be turned from. He sets a precedent of weakness that may drag others on the brink of quitting down with him. Other cherries may forget about making it all the way and quit too. A quitter never existed. He was simply never here to begin with. The Platoon Sergeant acts decisively in order to squelch any further dissension in the ranks. He strips the guy's equipment off of him and literally beats his ass down to the ground, kicking him off the trail. He then calls for volunteers to go back and pick up the equipment. We may have lost the "man" but we still have the supplies. But now the team has to hump more weight. The quitter never thinks about others and the extra weight they will have to carry in his absence, oh no, he only thinks of himself. This is arrogance. The ambulance following the road march picks his bruised and bloody body up and carries him back to the "World" where the Black Chinook picks him up and we never see him again.

After that debilitating episode, you resume the pain. Lean in. Sweat, snot, drooling, blisters. You get mean. Hard. No bitching. No negative or weak thoughts. Just mean. You look forward to the ambush just so you can share pain with others. Inflict pain. Yeah. That will be good. One thing becomes obvious, if you come this far; you'll make it. The worst is the beginning, staying the course is where a man finds his feet. Routine may be boring but if you do it long enough you get there. The mission is a good one. The men you are with are good men. Training is good for detecting quitters so they can be eliminated. In combat you only want tested men with you. There's camaraderie among those left. You can count on these guys and they on you. All types, ghetto rappers, white farm boys, city boys, no matter, Americans. Every one. Tonight we're brothers. Bound together by shared pain and a shared mission. You care about these guys. You'd share your last chow with these guys. Water, ammo, pogey bait, all shared. Nothing spoken. There's a mutual respect because you and they are all faithful to the execution of the mission and each other. They can hang.

Camouflage melts. Muscles explode with searing shots of pain as fresh blood courses through your veins as you rearrange you ruck sack. Breathing hurts. Then as if in a dream we're down. Word passes back that we've reached the ambush site. We move in to occupy our space along the perimeter. For the next hour we clear fields of fire, check commo, set up firing positions, leaders move up and down the line to ensure correct placement and that interlocking fields of fire are established. A terse reminder to wait for the green star cluster before attacking, to sweep the kill zone together so that no one makes a salient and gets shot by his own men. Then after we are set in and ready, we try to stay awake and ready and we reflect on what we've been through. The ambush itself is a piece of cake, killing is easy, the road march is the bitch.

The Road March accomplishes many things:

A.) It allows you to challenge your soul.
B.) It teaches you the importance of teamwork.
C.) It provides a mirror reflecting who you are.
D.) It exposes all good and bad in yourself.
E.) There's no way to hide on a road march.
F.) It strengthens trust in your leaders.
G.) It toughens you mentally.
H.) It beats complaining right out of you.
I.) It orients you to authority.
J.) It makes you think about others.
K.) It matures you.
L.) It makes you more objective.
M.) It provides a frame of reference for suffering.

The Road March is the crucible in which the soul is refined. Pulling a trigger is easy. Humping the load over the distance is where you find out who will be on the ambush site to pull the trigger with you.

In the Battalion, after the mission, you go out to a bar. Drinking, eating, laughing. Talking shit to your Ranger Buddies. Suddenly a cherry who made the hump steps inside the bar. Funny he doesn't look new anymore. Cuts on his face. Bruised. Walks with a limp. But the Mother Fucker made the hump. Before we call this cherry over to proceed with the brain damage, one of the old timers leans in close and whispers, "Man that's one ruck sack humpin' son of a bitch!"

The Road March defines you. Never quit.

Come in ugly if you have to, but come in.

Ranger Creed

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Recognizing that I volunteered as a Ranger, fully knowing the hazards of my chosen profession, I will always endeavor to uphold the prestige, honor and high esprit de corps of my Ranger Regiment.

Acknowledging the fact that a Ranger is a more elite soldier who arrives at the cutting edge of battle by land, sea or air, I accept the fact that as a Ranger my country expects me to move further, faster and fight harder than any other soldier.

Never shall I fail my comrades. I will always keep myself mentally alert, physically strong and morally straight; I will shoulder more than my share of the task whatever it may be, one hundred percent and then some.

Gallantly will I show the world that I am a specially selected and well-trained soldier. My courtesy to superior officers, neatness of dress and care of equipment shall set the example for others to follow.

Energetically will I meet the enemies of my country. I shall defeat them on the field of battle for I am better trained and will fight with all my might. Surrender is not a Ranger word. I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy, and under no circumstances will I ever embarrass my country.

Readily will I display the intestinal fortitude required to fight on to the Ranger objective and complete the mission, though I be the lone survivor.

Rangers Lead The Way!