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The Boy Entrant Ode
by The Late Charles Truman 25th Air Wireless

From lowly backgrounds we all came
Thought not good enough for Apprentice fame
Accents strong dressed Sunday best
We arrived to begin our determined quest

Allegiance given dressed in blue
Heads held high what a mottley crew
They broke us down and built us up
Whatever became of that flabby pup

The square to bash and back to school
The room to bull the daily rule
Short arm inspections, naked shame
Fit and healthy was the name of the game

Each week we'd wait for the special day
The point in time we lined up for our pay
Stepping forward, SIR, Knife Fork and Spoon
Here's seven and a tanner, now leave the room

To the NAAFI for a tuppenny tea
Bromide laced it was said to be
Off to the Astra like a band of brothers
One cigarette shared with fourteen others

The infamous Anson for most first flight
The parachute straps pulled far too tight
Your turn has arrived, all wish you luck
You walk to the aircraft like a crippled duck

Stood to attention at the end of the bed
The kit inspection all of us dread
"Not good enough" would yell the C.O.
Out of the window our kit would go

Marching to work they could not fault
We improved each day our sliding halt
"That's not the drill" the D.I would bark
But to us brats it was our trademark

Half way through, we are beginning to win
No longer sprogs, new entries are in
We are different from them, one can tell
Our caps are slashed and propped so well

Berets shrunk and shaped to fit
We do look different, well just a bit
Now senior entry, we have a ball
Trade training finished, we know it all

One week to go to your passout parade
You are all getting ready for the final charade
You do feel different from all of the rest
You've beaten the system and passed the test

Postings through you study the maps
Discard the checkered bands from around your caps
Kitbag shouldered, you are ready to go
Saying farewell to the friends you know

We are all getting older, maybe putting on fat
Remembering the days when we were a brat
Memories fade, what the hell
We've all joined this club with a tale to tell

© Charles Truman 2001

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