Hearing morning bugle, I rushed to the flag-raising rite.
The ugly cotton-wadded quilt was deemed to be alright.
I was not up to the standard in parade and shooting.
Face with mud; helmet with leaves, I was camouflaging.
After training, all overseas students would be away.
The platoon leader was happy to be on holiday.
Cherishing our friendship, all people must say good-bye.
We drank wine in the graduation party and I did cry.
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Comments about this poem (Military Training by Charles WOO )
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