Bivouac
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In our basic training while In the United States Army,
They hauled us in full combat gear and packs away,
Out in the Texas desert for three days for us all to play,
We set up our one man tents from our backs for the stay.
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Bivouac
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There were paved roads between the training areas there,
That we ran up and down as we moved along everywhere,
At a full combat run all through the day long as we trained.
Our first stop out there was firing at the M-14 rifle range.
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I received my expert metal for that old M-14 combat rifle,
That I carried with me everywhere on that training cycle.
We ran down the road moving very fast to a muddy lake,
Where we did swing on a long rope like Tarzan of the apes.
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To get across from a hill to the other side high in the air,
Some didn’t make it and fell into that muddy lake there,
As the rest of us yelled at them for slowing us on down,
As our food was waiting at our next stop on the ground.
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They hauled all our food to predetermined spots out there,
And we ate from our mess trays in that warm desert air.
The food tasted so good as we were working so hard,
As those drill sergeants removed every bit of our lard.
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That first evening, we hit the difficult combat training zone,
Where we crawled on our backs under barbed wire alone,
With live fire just over our heads with tracers we could see,
Making us keep our heads down crawling low with ease.
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The next day it was more of the same running to and fro,
Hitting all those difficult training areas on a very fast roll.
We pulled the pin on a hand grenade and gave it a throw.
Taking cover as we waited for that hand grenade to blow.
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We spend quite a while at hand to hand combat one day,
Just beating the crap out of each other along our way.
That one was fun for me giving some of the guys a whack,
With those padded sticks on their head, arms, and back.
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We ran and ran and ran and ran on that road in the desert,
As they primed us for the toughest event to make us hurt.
I never dropped out of anything out there on that Bivouac,
Keeping up with the younger guys there, staying in tact.
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The next day we started on a forced march in deep sand,
With all of our gear with us moving fast through that land.
My legs were burning with fire from that very fast pace,
Moving as if we were on some kind of a life or death race.
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I kept watching an old colonel on that march in the lead
Who looked like he was certainly 60 years old at least.
I thought to myself “if that old geezer can do, so can I,”
So I hung in all the way, often feeling as if I would die.
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This was that old colonel that inspired me out there.
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Then Bivouac was over and we had all survived the test,
Feeling like we were the platoon that may have been best,
Finding strength in ourselves from way down deep within,
To complete the training of the U.S. Army, making us men.
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By Bill
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Thanks for reading Bivouac,
Bill