The Number Two's Lament

'Echo' gun it fires a round,

we listen for the splash.

We get a line correction,

and I'm busting for a slash.

'Echo' gun it fires again,

this round it just can't miss.

I'm sitting here as Number 2,

still busting for a piss.

So it's Add 200, Drop 200,

something must be wrong.

I'm sitting on this bloody trail,

and I've been here so long.

'Echo' guns it fires a blind,

"two minutes lost!" says I.

I turn and face my Number 1,

but he can't tell me why.

'Echo' gun it fires once more,

a round goes through the sky.

Me knees they are all twisted,

I feel like I could die.

So it's Add 200, Drop 200,

load a round and shoot.

Me legs begin to tingle,

there's water in me boot.

'Echo' gun it scores a hit,

"Too Late!" I want to cry.

For nature wouldn't let me wait,

now me trou' will never dry.

©Mike Subritzky

Dedicated to that nameless FO who, during an Annual Camp, fired 27 rounds in adjustment.

Yes Sir, you know who you are!