THE SOLDIER
Between the security of childhood and the insecurity of second childhood, we find a facinating group of humans called Soldiers.
They come in assorted shapes, sizes, weights, and states of soberness. They can be found anywhere on ships, in camps, and even in the bush, in bars, in love and always in debt, girls love them, towns tolerate them and the government supports them.
A soldier is laziness with a pack of cards, bravery with a tattooed arm and a protector of land with a sawn off Shotgun under his arm, he has the energy of a turtle, the slyness of a fox, brain of an idiot, inspiration of a cassanova and when he wants something it is usually connected with a swig.
Some of his likes are women, girls, females, dames, and the opposite sex, he dislikes answering letters, wearing his uniform, superior officers, army food and having to get up in the morning, No one else can cram into a uniform pocket, a little black book, a packet of cigarettes, a photo of a current girlfriends, a comb, bottle opener, keys of womens apartments, and whats left of a fortnights pay.
He likes to spend his money on girls, horses, a lot on beer, the rest foolishly.
A soldier is a magic creature you can lock him out of your home but not your mind.
You might as well give in, he is your long away lover, your only blurry eyed good for nothing, bundle of worry and all your dreams become insignificant, when your soldier knocks on your door and looks at you with those bleary bloodshot eyes and says" HI YA HONEY"
'Author unknown, Believed to date back to the Singapore crisis, WW2.