Infantrymen believe in no color but smoke, tipped rounds, VS-17 panels, and the blood of the men with them.
They care not who or how their men choose to love or fuck, for they know you cannot choose who you love in this world; only who you fight.
Their religionis based on life or death, and each man chooses his own path of belief.
Their word is their bond, their fear is the pillar upon which their courage is perched: the greater chance of fear, the greater the courage.
Do not attempt to understand him, for he is beyond your comprehension.
When he loves, he loves passionately, even if its only a night in her bed.
He fights a hate as well, a hate that poisons the blood. Any fight started with that hate in his blood, will surely see it spilled before the moonrise.
Death would be a welcome rest from a world that does not understand him, a government that fears him, and whatever “family” he has to hold whatever is left of a fractured soul.
Death can wait; there is work to do tonight.
You weep for this man, these men, when they come home?
They weep for you, for you will never know the true love of brotherhood nor the passionate hell of combat.
Move out of their way, for they are infantrymen. They are here to lead you. #11b #devilsinbaggypants #whitedevil #weareourbrotherskeepers