by Nihil D. Benuche (Bulldog)
"Corpsman up!" was the call,
Loud and clear to be heard by all.
Up jumps a kid barely of age
Carrying his pack of medical aid.
Across the field running fast,
A zig, a zag, for death forever lasts.
Drops to his knees by the Marine's side,
Checking the wounds, the worse first to be worked.
Doc tells the young Marine in a soft gentle voice,
"You're doing fine. You'll be OK!
It's a going-home hit—your lucky day.
Hang in there, Marine the chopper's on its way."
Was it the truth or just a lie?
A corpsman has no time to worry or cry,
It's keeping this Marine alive that's his job.
Working as fast as the Lord allows
To keep another Marine from drifting into the clouds.
"Corpsman! Corpsman!" another cry.
With a quick hitch of the knot to stop the bleeding.
Up to his feet, off he's running,
Another Marine in need,
This corpsman is coming.
From Marine to Marine this corpsman does go,
In the hot sun, the rain, or the snow.
When the cry goes out he never fails to respond.
He's a Navy corpsman who serves with great pride
Saving Navy and Marine lives.
Wherever he goes he walks with great pride
Be it Heaven or Hell, he takes it all in stride.
He's a corpsman who served with the Marines.
What more can you ask
Of this lean, mean, life-saving machine?
* * *
The author: Nihil D. Benuche
(Bulldog), PFC, USMC, 1955–59