Of Pens and Swords

Just think

If I would have not given up my free ride to USMAPS and the Point when I was a private, or went to OCS like two of my BN commanders told me I should do, I could be a Major right now.I’d most likely be an S3, being stressed out by a BC that is stressed out by BDE, trying to fulfill a damn near impossible training schedule, keeping in the field or keeping one company at the tire-house, one at the rifle range, one on patrols, trying to figure out how and when to get the training in for the annual EIB cert, tasking HHC with a million police calls around post while still trying to get all the paperwork done for the whole battalion. I’d be sucking up my freetime trying to finish up my masters. I might have a girlfriend, though no kids, never married. I’d realize I’d have to get married in order to have a serious look for BC. I’d have to find the woman who is educated and can put on at least one little function a week for all the staff’s wives, or the officers wives, where she could (and would have to) head up the BN FSG, probably be a full-time volunteer at ACS or something on post.

I would have just come from commanding a line company (though I’d try and avoid from ever commanding an HHC, my luck, that would happen to me)(even more of my luck, they’d probably make me command another HHC at either BDE or DIV) I’d sort of be sick and tired of commanding, though I’d miss it, I’d miss running with my soldiers everyday, miss pinning on their EIB’s or Air Assault wings, congratulating them on finishing Ranger school (finally). Instead I’d be scheduling all the courses, making sure the company commanders have implemented a training schedule for all the non-AASLT personnel, making sure that Team leaders are being trained up for Pre-Ranger, Squad leaders are being trained up for Ranger, and all companies are training up for the EIB. I’d be making sure the companies were out keeping the training cycle in the upper half of the oscillation, trying to never drop below the halfway mark, though I know it’s going to happen once a year.I’d be scheduling diversions away from training occasionally to help promote esprit de corps and just to take their minds off the constant headache of always being on their toes, never resting their minds.

I’d be considering that I never really wanted to go past being a platoon sergeant, and now I’m trying to be a BC. I’d realize that I’d never want to go beyond being a BC, though knowing my luck, it’d get sucked into being the hmfic of BDE. I would have most officer’s dislike me because I’d rely on the power of the NCO’s, ensure that they either did their job, or moved on to another unit. I’d make a new LT’s life a living hell, just to do it. Make him rely on his platoon sergeant and his squad leaders for leadership, rely on his company commander for mentorship. I would unemotionally charge the CO’s with damn near impossible tasks due to the manning requirement being higher than they have men, and watch them go from being bewildered to confused to pissed in a matter of seconds that I could even suggest that, and just tell them to Do It Captain, I’m not telling you how. I’d have them pissed and taxed, which sets the stage for them one day being the 3.I know I’d fight and rage against being a politician, though I know I’d get sucked into it by just proximity and the inherent nature of the beast. I know I’d hate it and be unfulfilled. Just to add salt to the wounds, I’d be put into a staff position at Division or higher, dealing with the kind of people I have to deal with now. I would hate most of my peers most likely, and would openly tell them that on a daily basis. They’d still get ahead because their lips were stitched to some COL’s ass, who’s lips where stitched to some Generals ass, and since the whole train only moves in one direction, they’d get pulled ahead. I would take a sore pride in not being on that train, and would feel defeated because that wasn’t the Army I joined and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I gave up that ride I had a long time ago, because I saw it for what it was…something that could and would have more potential for me to be in a position that I didn’t want to be in, a political arena in which I don’t care about, but had to deal with anyways.

The irony to all this. My last posting on active duty put me square in the middle of political hell, with a unit on constant deployment on peacekeeping missions but trying to kid itself that it was still combat ready. The division had only a few sane officers, one being thankfully the CG. A lot of other senior staff still believed that 3 years in Bosnia and 2 in Kosovo made the unit a stronger fighting force…when they also knew that they hadn’t practiced their wartime mission in 5 years…So they kidded themselves, kidded each other, and tried to blow smoke up the CG’s ass. I truly enjoyed working for him…he called their bluff by sending them to the field for months on end, watching them fail and fail, trying to mentor them back into a warfighting stature though the battalion commanders were company commanders on the same peace keeping missions. Instead of trying to solve the problems and become a fighting force, however, a lot of officers went the other direction and started blaming everyone else for their lacking. And once that started it became a frenzy. It very quickly filtered down to the NCO’s as well, and the same thing happened. Training ceased, posturing started…

Then I get here, to this place. I’ve written about here enough to paint that picture. I’m just curious…how in the world did I end up here? Why am I lucky enough to survive severe accidents, being shot, stabbed, fragged, and having a 500lb bomb dropped on me with little or no serious damage but my luck just ends there and I end up in places like this. Places where it’s thrown in my face that I will not go any farther, I will not have a positive influence, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. I could have died soo many times but all I end up with is odd scars and vague memories of the incidents, but my luck doesn’t go that way…I don’t understand how this machine is compensated, how the hell I end up here.

Oh well, thats the end of my daydream for the day. I must note that besides a seriously lacking dog and pony show, that happened to yet again fall on my day off, nothing notable happened this week. People are getting ansy for getting out of here, though its still months away. I’m afraid it’s going to lead to some dumb decision making because the blinders are being put on as we speak.

I have to note that I miss my girlfriend. If it wasn’t for Jessica, I’d probably have given less of a fuck about being here than I already do. Sounds hard, but it’s true. This woman is the one stable point in my life. She’s done it all on her own will as well…there isn’t anything but just her want that keeps her there for me. She’s given up who knows what to sit there patiently and wait. I don’t mention her near enough in this blog, and that might give an impression that she’s not as important. This is the farthest from the truth that can be had.

Letter to the editor

Tell me what you think. This is what is being submitted to the stars and stripes…

Proximity to Combat Badge (PCB)

I’m writing for all of us that serve our country, and do wish we had the opportunities that our comrades in arms up north had, such as serving in a combat environment. We, the ones in the rear with the gear, so to speak, would give almost anything to participate in such a historic event. We’re not all the burlesque desk jockey’s that we’re made out to be.

The simple fact of the matter is that most of us won’t ever get to see the chance to get north. The fact that we get awards for giving our all at our jobs is besides the point. After a while, one can see the mere mockery of receiving an ARCOM for doing power-point presentations, or how the fact that we receive commander’s coins from every CO here can be a distortion of the fact that it’s the right time, right place type of award. We seriously work hard at performing our duties, and all the additional duties such as police call, the once a month guard duty, or headcount, can seriously put a strain on our manning abilities, and our free time. These additional duties aren’t even recognized usually with the exception of the token AAM. None of these awards can be worn on our duty uniform, however, like the coveted Close Combat badge or the EIB. There is nothing to show the world our sacrifices when we walk by them in the airports going home. Sure, we get the combat unit identifier patch on our right sleeve, but hey, we have to deal with the pressures of the possibility of terrorist threats here as well.

I’m suggesting an award that a forum of us have come up with. We’d like to see it called the Proximity to Combat Badge, or PCB for short. I feel that the fact that there isn’t such a thing for us is making a mockery of our true sacrifices. We’re not here impersonating soldiers, but are true soldiers.

Lakeside Park