The howling wind blew cold
as the sky darkened,
and our hearts turned bold
with every sign passed,
leading to Chesty’s gate.

The sentry stood erect
as the bus approached.
He was aptly direct
with his left hand aimed
at recruit processing.

The thunder rumbled close
as their boots hit tar,
rushing towards the post
like gate left ajar,
prepared to attack foes.

The drill instructors roared
as they ordered us
to get off the damn bus!
Like boars, we shuffled
onto yellow footprints.

The Recruits we were called.
Heinous civilians that needed to be trained
or end up ashamed
and with no distinction.

The hallowed grounds that stood beyond
rested the souls of those who’ve gone before.
They paid the high price and made the ultimate sacrifice
for freedom.

The drill instructors warned:
Only the brave should
proceed if they dared
to live by a code
and make the transformation.