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!