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Thumping down the valley floor--
Contour flying--open door.
Squadron's choppers in a line,
The Air Assault goes in on time.
Heart is pumping--temples too,
Cobra Gunships--standing to.
Caribina locked in place,
Try to hide my fearful face.
Check my bag and check my rope,
God give me some bloody hope.
Rifle slung behind my back,
Grenades and ammo in my pack.
Machine gun belts cut in my neck,
Join the Gun Group on the deck.
Two fingers up--two minute test,
Check my kit and do my best.
Chopper flaring--out the door,
Stand on skids and count to four.
Throw my bag--back and behind,
Go! Go! Go!--you're on the line.
Thumb up bum--rappel to earth,
Clear the line and hit the dirt.
Pull the pack strap roll away,
God just get me through this day.
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