Either Way, It's an Education

[Chintee]

I need college,
And they need me.
So, I joined the army.
They said they'd pay me,
Tuition and all.
Then, I got a call.
It was my recruiter,
"It's time to go!"
What's next? I didn't know.

I needed college,
They said they needed me.
Now, I'm stuck in the infantry.
I wanted education,
What I got wasn't what I expected.
I was almost home, but Bush got re-elected.
So, back I went,
To fight another year.
Would I come back soon? Oh dear...

All I wanted was a schoolin',
It appears as if they schooled me.
Alas, make love roughly the Army.
I just want to go home,
Grab a beer with my father,
Maybe wrestle with th' brother.

My buddy got shot,
He wanted education too...
But, his brain's turned to goo.
He's not alone,
Another comrade went crazy.
Shakin' violently, askin' for a "Mrs. Daisy".
I hope that won't be me,
After all, the years have only been three.
Then, I get that education for free.

These fuckers don't quite,
This ji-whatchacallit won't end.
I don't even know what I'm to defend.
I just wanted a goddamn education,
Not of this kind...
This violence, it's messing with my mind.

I thought I saw a ghost,
It was just a hallucination though.
I think it was Edgar Allan Poe.
He said something about Annabel,
Gave me a lesson on Ms. Lee, metaphorically.
It seems, Annabel's another name for my sanity.
Never mind that nonsense,
I've got a towelhead to shoot.
Damn, missed, all I blew off was his foot.

I'm saying goodbye to that education,
The one I desired to achieve.
It's in Death, now, that I believe...
Not in God, nor education,
Hell, not even in democracy...
That these bullets set men free.

Yes, Death, he's staring my way
He's just another towelhead,
Without a scythe, holding up my name, on led.
A name he's firing at my skull,
That is, a bullet for me, and me alone.
It's stricken, or has it? I'm in some zone.
It's painless right now,
Upon impact, before death.
A millisecond later, blood impedes upon breathe.

It was just an education I wanted,
Simple as that, nothing more.
Not this, not death, nor war.

[Edna Sweetlove]

This is good stuff! You get more exalted karma! Is this based on personal experience or just a general loathing of military dishonesty and violence?

It remind me slightly of a song made popular by the Dubliners (lyrics: Billy Connolly). WHAT? I hear you say! Edna likes the Dubliners? Yes she bloody well does. Ronnie Drew, Sean Cannon, Barney Mckenna, John Sheehan and Eamonn Campbell, begorrah! And we'll never see the likes of Luke Kelly again!

Here's the lyrics:

I'm lying in bed I'm in Room 26
Thinking on things that I've done
Like drinkin' with squaddies and bullin' my boots;
I'm countin' the medals I've won.
These hospital wards they're all drab lookin' joints
But the ceiling's as much as I see;
It could do with a wee touch of paper
And paint, but then again maybe that's me

Oh, Sergeant, is this the adventure you meant
When I put my name down on the line?
All that talk of computers and sunshine and skis
All I'm asking you, Sergeant, where's mine?

I've a brother in Glasgow with long curly hair
When I joined up he said I was daft;
He's says shooting strangers just is'nae his game
That brother of my is'nae saft;
But I can put up with most things I've done in my time
I can even put up with the pains;
But what do you do with a gun in your hand
When you're faced with a hundred odd wanes?

Oh, Sergeant, is this the adventure you meant
When I put my name down on the line?
All that talk of computers and sunshine and skis
All I'm asking you, Sergeant, where's mine?

[johnny nobody]

But what about fat, ugly people, people with no brains and no ability? Where else can they earn respect except in the Army? After all, when you have a machine gun in your hands, anyone will call you sir.

[Chintee]

That is an awesome song lyric, and I'll have it on my computer before the night is through! This isn't based on an actual experience, it was written after I visited the recruiter and took the "ASVAB" test. I've had a few comments now that thought it was from personal experience - I must admit, it was an awesome feeling knowing that some readers assume it's from experience, I didn't think I had the talent to write like that before.

At the time, I had felt fairly suicidal, and I figured if I wanted to die but couldn't do it (if not simply with loved ones in mind), the better method to take would be something indirect. I visited the recruiter to look into it, I went downtown and took the ASVAB test. Something about the whole process though, the recruiters, the financial bait and stability promised made me feel uncomfortable, even less free, less human - like I'd be muzzled and made in their image. Then I thought about if I had enlisted, where I would end up both physically and mentally - I didn't think that I could maintain a mental stability under conditions like those in the middle east, where I surely would've ended up. So, with all that in mind, I put it to poetry.

@johnny: If we're to believe Hollywood, a select few heroes among us would spit on the fat, ugly dolt with a machine gun. Just a few... the rest I imagine would urine themselves and stutter, "y-y-yes si-sir-sir!"

[Edna Sweetlove]

It's like the old joke:
Q. What do you call a three foot retard midget with a machine gun?
A. Sir.

[Barry Hodges]

I heard the same joke.