Poems praising the grandeur of the military academy and its outstanding achievements

Military school life is boring, and getting up early and going to bed late is also hungry and tired. As soon as the bugle sounded, the quilt was pulled open, and they lined up downstairs when they heard the whistle. After the exercise, the house is in place, and the breakfast is crowded and tired. I can't sleep for one or two classes, and the teacher can't ask questions. After three or four classes, the chest sticks to the back, and the chicken legs and braised pork fly around. After lunch, I went back to the camp to take a nap and studied in piles of stationery in the afternoon. Seven or eight classes are very tiring, and one-sex can't be deviant. From Sunday to the small meeting of the general assembly, the limited time is wasted. Occasionally get together in the dormitory, buy a bottle of wine and get drunk. If you are caught, you will feel unlucky. Prepare to fight, cheat in the exam and go home for free. The sentry on duty, the red card area has the least status. Military orders are like mountains. This is an army. It's okay to suffer a little. Go to no way back now, and get a lieutenant in four years.