Priest Blessing New Guys

We are getting ready to go on the offensive.   There is a priest blessing a group of soldiers who are interested with preparing their souls for worst case scenario, and they are receiving communion.   They all look new to the front, and rather naive.   Their uniforms are neatly pressed and shiny, which means the enemy will probably shoot at me before them as they appear to be less of a threat, that is if they can see me.  I am frustrated that the new soldiers and old soldiers look very different which puts everyone at a high risk.  The point of uniforms is to look well uniform.

I am sharpening my bayonette and looking at them in half disgust as I know they will probably be the first to fall as they have not made the proper preparation, though I am a bit obsessive with my gear.   I check to make sure I have enough rounds, as well as money and cigarettes in case I am captured or wounded.   It never hurts to grease the wheels so to speak.   I feel heavily laden with gear, but I feel safe and secure that I have the equiptment to do what I need to do.

Right or wrong, I kind of view them as superstitious and uneducated.   it would be better for them to be daily prepared rather than waiting for the last minute for spiritual peace.   They should be spending this time to get ready to prepare and to scout out the ever changing battlefield, and plan their movements.   There is too much equipment that is never used, but only dropped once.   They learn eventually, anyone who has been here for any period of time readies their gear and checks, rechecks adn recheck again.   I am tired of the old men risking danger and possibly getting wounded by bringing back the ill prepared on their backs.   I detest such senseless waste.

I have rubbed mud on my face, clothes and hands so I blend in as well to dry out my hands.   A nice new shiny helmet glimers in the sun and is a great target that gives away one's location.   I swill out my mouth with water to get the dirt out and to  quench my thirst.  I spit it out adn do not drink any as I do not want to have anything in my stomach in case I get wounded there.  I hand the water bottle to the water boy adn tell him to fetch me another.   The only thing that is clean is my rifle and bayonette.   I think I have something liek a condom at the end of the rifle to keep dirt out of the end until I fire.

I clear my nose into the ground as I do not want to waste a hanky, as I may need it as a bandage.   I wipe my hands on my trousers as a little got on them.

I am handed another bottle and I thank the man as I place it on my body.   I ready myself and sort of stretch, as I prepare myself mentally.   I look again at the men being blessed and I think to myself that they are stupid, as I doubt religion will get a man back safely from the battle field.  I think to myself  I need to bring back some meat, and perhaps a new rifle.   might be nice to send a Lee-Enfeild back home.   I get a mental image of someone running with a shoulder of beef, or at least somethign that can pass for beef, adn thinkingthat would be nice to have a full stomach of meat.   Boots are needed but are too difficult to procure.   I then think I can cut the laces off and stuff em in my shirt, but that would be too awkward.