Of Pens and Swords

This is the major disconnect with the real Army and the REMF Army. The front 15% knows that an act will probably just get your performance shot down. They’re going to be more worried about those two basic responsibilities that should always be uppermost in the mind…Accomplishment of the mission and the welfare of their soldiers. The REMF Army, however, knows that their mission is not so important as they like to make it seem. The mission isn’t defined by an OPORD at 530am local, it’s just to suck up a year of being here and well, get the power point done by noon. Thank the Gods that there are no less than 3 people to get those slides done, or someone would actually have to work…

Basically, my complaint this hour is the fact that actually trying to inspire and motivate isn’t nearly as important as acting and looking like something. I wonder if it’s a command directive to be fraudulent…

I’ve been officially told not to be critical of anybody here. The reason is that I’m making people angry. I’ve been told that even though things are being done wrong, completely and in the light of day, I am not to bring it to anybody’s attention. I’ve been essentially told not to be an NCO and just let the wrong be wrong, because I’ll be out of here in 7-12 months, and it’s no big deal. Just let it slide.

Ok. No problem. This is, after all, your Army and not mine.

Back in ’96, I almost got out, ETS’d, the first time. I came within 4 days of it to be honest. My plan was to go to a train station in Paris France, to one of the few Foreign Legion recruiting stations that I could find information about, and enlist. We worked with a few of them on some sort of thing once, and I was totally impressed. They were the hard core of the hard core, and it didn’t even get to their heads that they were just bad mother fuckers. I had no idea if I would be able to make it, but I wanted to try.
What impressed me most was that they soldier for soldiering sake. It wasn’t financial gain, nor loyalty to any flag. They just did it. They were more keenly attuned to their environment than the wildlife. They spotted a badguy that we missed, and they didn’t even pay him mind, because he didn’t really offer a true threat.

Oh well, so much for that little story.

We moved into the new hootches. It’s not too terribly bad, though there isn’t anywhere to put a hard-on and a hand to use. The only other complaint I have is the mattress. At first, I was pretty happy that we had new mattresses and they were pretty firm. Now, those things hold your form really well, but if you feel like moving to your side or back, it still has your impression in it, and you have to wait for it to readjust. That part sucks. Other than not being able to beat off occasionally and having a wierd mattress, I guess it’s not too bad. I’ll wait about another 3 months though, I’m sure people will get tired of each other. I’m more looking forward to listening to the rumor mill and hearing about the females hehe. I’m sure they’ll be at each other’s throats in half the time.

Anyways, time to feed the stomach. It’s been the regulated 16 hours since my last meal, so I guess I could eat something.

Hasta

So we moved into the detention center. That, however, isn’t the biggest part of the game.

Up until now, the micro-management has been kept within different sections, but now the mighty 1SG has been voted MicroManager Supreme. The royal sceptre of rolled counseling statements firmly grasped within her iron right hand, she lays command via email in a mighty fashion. She will be remembered for all eternity, or until the exchange server crashes and PST files are deleted.

I remember way back when, before the age of supreme micromanagement, when the 1SG would call great meetings in the early twilight, and hold counsel with the sometimes feudal Platoon Sergeants, and great decisions of command maintenance or how the CCP will be handled during the battle would be made. Then the ominous lords of men, the Platoon Sergeants, would gather the blood-drinking Squad Leaders, and disseminate the orders from up on high. Those days are gone, it seems, and a new day has dawned.

It will be known forever as the Information Age. The age where the dreams of paperless offices generate more paperwork than before, and where one never, ever, has to see who’s in charge. Let his or her voice reign over Email! Now, in the matter of hours, I receive more information from the Micromanager Supreme than I know what to do with, everything on how to clear a weapon, pull guard duty, and what fates befall you in the event of a tragic accidental discharge. I have been properly trained now to accomplish my task of thwarting the invaders from our hallowed terrain with a beautifully crafted Power point presentation. It’s colors and shear size swallowing up my inbox inspire me to be the greatest warrior of the Information Age.

Now there is no need to have a section sergeant to properly train myself or my soldiers in the art of war, because we have the gift of the gods called Visio, to properly show my patrol routes, the schedules I will keep, the armor I will wear, calculated to the finest detail. The 2 pound document on how to properly clear my weapon.

It does not matter that some of the information is incorrect, and has been brought to the attention no less than 3 times of my senior leadership. It does not matter that people instructing this particular class are ignorant of how to properly clear any weapon in the US inventory without this power point presentation. It only matters that you follow the instructions given to you by Micromanager Supreme to the letter, never question, for these slides of insight will further enhance your victory in the combat of boredom! All hail the Information age! and with it, the taste of old man, or woman, behind! Hip Hip, Hooray!