Patrol E

Missiles spiral overhead, 

Their now dull explosions integrating 

With the patterned clicks of guns, 

And the insidious crackle of hidden land mines 

Enfolding in a column of death and smoke

Its petrified prize. 

The symphony of sounds 

Seamlessly morphing 

Into a ridiculous melody:

One of laments and agony, 

Its harsh sounds 

Imbuing the shredded landscape 

With a nightmarish quality. 

My tortured senses protest, 

Their cries of indignation lost 

Amidst the clamour of soldiers, 

Rigid in place, 

Their minds and bodies slowly succumbing

To the inevitability of death. 

All previous remnants of glory, 

Of patriotism- gone, 

Obliterated by the incessant screaming 

Of the battlefield. 

This is what war feels like but it is also what Patrol E feels like when we are forced to get up at 6 in the morning to cook breakfast. 


Patrol E!

Patrol E!

Patrol E!

Patrol E is dead. I have killed it. May its memory last in peace. -Andrew Plotner, the last PL of E.


E is for

E is for energetic energy epic echo eager beaver


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The lacking state of youth

Kids these days with there awful shenanigans.

excuse me

look who's talking

says you

says you



wow what

wow what