Our kit is filled with gauze and tape,
We have no gun to shoot
Our place is with the Infantry,
We wear the same old suit.
Sometimes, they laugh and call us "Doc",
And think we're quite the jerk.
We lay around and roll the pills
While they march and do dirty work.
But when the angry bullets whine,
And blood flows fast and red,
We kneel besides our critic then
And treat his wounded head.
Our stretcher boys are in the lines
To bring the fallen in.
They brave the bullets just like you,
And hear the hellish din.
Our uniforms are starched with blood
Of comrades in the fight.
We fear the dawn we wake upon,
What was the score last night?
What fallen friend, who yesterday
Said "Medics do not fight",
Needs help these dirty hands can give
With bandage soft and white.
God bless each dirty bearded guy
Whose face we can't forget,
Who thanked us with his tear-filled eyes
For his last cigarette.
We watched them live, we watched them die,
Our hands with blood are wet.
We fold them to our breast and pray
For friends we can't forget.
Good morning to you too SM, nope heading in soon, hope to take care of business by noon, then back to the Canteen!!
You have a great day too Lady...