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Guardrail Day

Collsup : What’s he that wishes so?

        My Battalion Commander? No, my fair cousin;

        If we are mark’d for detail, we are enow

        To do our country loss; and if to live,

        The fewer men, the greater share of honour.

        God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.

        By Jove, I am not covetous for coins,

        Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;

        It yearns me not if men my AAMs wear;

        Such outward things dwell not in my desire.

        But if it be a sin to covet honour,

        I am the most offending soul alive.

        No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from Battalion.

        God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour

        As one man more methinks would share from me

        For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!

        Rather proclaim it, Battalion, through my host,

        That he which hath no stomach for this mission,

        Let him depart; his transfer shall be made,

        And a slot in Headquarters reserved;

        We would not suffer in that man’s company

        That fears his fellowship to suffer with us.

        This day is call’d the feast of Guardrail.

        He that outlives this mission, and takes leave sane,

        Will stand a tip-toe when this mission is nam’d,

        And rouse him at the name of Guardrail.

        He that survives this mission, and see old age,

        Will yearly on the vigil toast his Platoon,

        And say ‘To-morrow is Guardrail Day.’

        The he will strip he sleeve and show his scars,

        And say, ‘These wounds I had on Guardrail Day.’

        Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,

        But he’ll remember, with advantages,

        What feats he did on that mission. Then shall our names,

        Familiar in his mouth as household words–

        Greywar Collsup, Co-Co and Katphish,

        Kondor and Worthy, Pseudosoldier and Denmark-

        Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.

        This story shall the good man teach his son;

        And Guardrail, Guardrail shall ne’er go by,

        From this day to the ending of the world,

        But we in it shall be remembered-

        We few, we happy few, we MOPS platoon;

        For he this mission that shed days off with me

        Shall be my brother; ne’er so vile,

        This day shall gentle his condition;

        And soldiers in Battalion now-a-bed

        Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,

        And hold their manhoods cheap while any speaks

        That strummed with us upon Guardrail day.

Modified by Vince Colangelo