I get out to the trucks and open my hatch;
Check the sandbags, give a look around at
Name-tape defilade to make sure I can see
But still have decent protection. I check my
Magazines and the various grenades I keep
In an ammo can right below the hatch, near
The radio controls; I put my vest on tight,
Fasten the collar across as much of my throat
That it’ll cover. Store my helmet inside and
Pull on my CVC helmet and adjust the mic.
Sleeves down, gloves on, glasses, goggles.
One last check around at the sandbags and hodge-
Podge of steel plate we’ve rigged to catch shrapnel.
All these little bits of the ritual during pre-mission
Checks; I like my ten fingers, my hands, two arms and
My eyes and ears. I like my two legs – and I like all
My soldier’s bits and pieces right where they are, too.
You hedge your protection bets because where those
Parts end up – still attached or not – mostly results
From a cast of the die anyhow.