God Bless the Forward Air Controller

God bless the Forward Air Controller,
With his target marker and his extra set of balls.
(The sky pilot said it
And you’ve got to give him credit,
For a son-of-a-gun-of-a-gunner was he:
“Praise the Lord and laser-paint the target
And we’ll all stay free.”)

God bless the riflemen and the field cooks,
The assistant gunners and loaders,
The quartermasters and the combat engineers.
(Shouting the Battle Cry of Freedom.
Springing to the call
Of their brothers gone before,
Shouting the Battle Cry of Freedom).

God bless the Drill Instructors and the Tops,
The Lances and the Specs,
The Pettys and the Command Master Chiefs.
(For the heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone,
But non-commissioned men
Will live and die among their own.)

God bless the screwballs, the misfits,
The shitbirds and the FNGs.
(Death where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling,
Oh Grave, thy victory?
The bells of Hell go ding-a-ling-a-ling
For them and not for thee.)
God bless the Fire Control System Specialist.
(For in despair I bowed my head,
“There is no peace on earth,” I said.
Then I heard the Sig Op say,
“Rounds are out and on their way.”)

God bless the dragoons, the powder monkeys
And the little drummer boys.
(May we fill their vacant ranks
With a thousand free men more,
Shouting the Battle Cry of Freedom.)

God bless those who shoot, move, and communicate.
God bless those who triumphed,
God bless those who tried.
God bless the quick and the dead.
God bless those who pray,
God bless those who stand and wait.
(And though this world, with devils filled,
Should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed
True hearts to stand before us.)