On battle fields we are not alone,
Kindred Hearts are with us ever;
For our scant thanks we here atone,
Such bonds we would never sever.

Strong armour clad like knights of old,
Tin-coated Mates give us rides,
Or unleash power that makes us hold,
Should luck run against the Tides.

Tease Gunners about their refinement?
Their response every jibe outruns;
It's sound that can crush encirclement ­
A ringing music from their Guns!

The Sappers are made from pure gold,
They clear dark holes and disarm mines;
Of them many great tales unfold,
That reveal how their mettle shines.

The Prontos achieve very much
With electronic magic;
Were we denied this vital crutch,
Then things could turn quite tragic.

The bold Hawkeyes deploy keen eyes;
They watch over us in battle;
When succour is sought, then we prize
An approaching rotor's rattle.

The Medical Folk held in awe,
And Padres attending the Fraught:
'Bout all that they give from their Core,
Can't be told in lines that are short!

We also thank those 'further back',
Who provide our wherewithal;
Or bring it forward right on track,
So momentum does not stall.

These compliments are somewhat mean,
Each story should be fuller told!
Our reliance has always been
On friends, cast from a gen'rous mould