Operation: WTF (Day 275)

It’s All So Clear Now

“I have no idea what any of this means. I’m just signing it because someone ordered me to.”

I haven’t been back in this shit pit for 48 seconds and already I want to punch myself in the face.  I thought my high from R&R would last at least a few days, keep me in better spirits but I see it wasn’t a powerful enough drug.  Truthfully, it was more hassle than it was worth.  I did have a good time but the military can suck the life out of everything.  If there’s ever a next time, and I’m hoping there never will be, I probably won’t bother.

At any rate, I have discovered the essence of the culture of the Army.  I now understand why Soldiers do not speak up when they see something wrong.  I think I get why we fail at preventing suicide and sexual assault, and why so many Soldiers do stupid things like piss on dead bodies.  Let me caveat by saying that to my knowledge none of these incidences have occurred in this unit.  In fact, I’d be the very last person to know about any major problems, I’m simply trying to point out a few home truths.

“I wouldn’t say anything. Problems usually go away if you just ignore them.”

I think Soldiers of any rank don’t bother pointing out things that are wrong because it’s almost a guarantee that no one will listen, no one will care or that someone who thinks they are smarter will rebut the obvious with something less obvious.  Why report sexual assault up the chain of concern when the NCO above you will try his best to convince you that you were not sexually assaulted, that you just misunderstood the situation.  Why report your battle buddy is suicidal when your next line supervisor will say, “Oh, he’s always like that.”  Forget about the fact that you can witness with your own eyes that something is dreadfully wrong.

I think a lot of NCOs think they are somehow geniuses just because they have reached the rank of Sergeant or higher.  The Soldiers below them are led to believe that anyone with some stripes is somehow smarter than them and knows everything.  No, this is not true.  Many NCOs are just good at playing the game.  They know how to show up in the right place, at the right time, in the right uniform.  There is nothing special about that.  This is basic.  As long as you do what you are told, you will get promoted, and as a senior NCO once told me, “Rarely will an NCO be removed from his position due to incompetence.”

That is because paperwork is required and another NCO has to be the one to do the paperwork.  If they are both rock-heads, who is going to be the one to figure it out?

Soldiers are supposed to be able to go to their NCOs with any issues.  The NCO may not have all the answers, but what makes him a good NCO is that they are able to find out where they can get the answers.  They don’t stop until that Soldier’s issue has been resolved.  At least, that is my opinion of a good NCO.  That NCO should also realise that just because they came up with a solution or a decision, it doesn’t mean that it’s the RIGHT one.  I think this is a big problem.  It’s like, thanks for applying some thought, but we need follow through.  And this is where another NCO or Soldier will point out inconsistencies and errors, but that first NCO is having none of it.

Big Sarge said that since Osama bin Laden is dead, we don’t really have to patrol anymore. Everything’s cool.

He came up with a decision and everybody should rock with it, regardless.  Forget about if it’s unsafe, illegal, stupid, dangerous, etc.  That NCO is proud of whatever he came up with and if you don’t like, eat it.  I think some NCOs feel like if you question their decision you are questioning their authority.  This is not always the case.  Questioning authority does not have a place in the military but questioning illogical, unsafe, stupid, dangerous and illegal decisions in the appropriate manner should be encouraged.  We should not be a society of idiots following idiots, scared to say anything because they don’t want to be That Guy.

Look where that has gotten us.  Extremely high suicides and suicide attempts.  Extremely high occurrences of sexual assault and sexual harassment.  Occurrences of fraud, waste and abuse of government equipment and funds.  Young Soldiers following NCOs to their detriment, like pissing on bodies, Abu Ghraib and the NCO who allegedly shot up the village in Afghanistan.

On 1 June, I will have been an NCO for one year.  I have made a lot of mistakes, but thankfully none of them were illegal, unsafe or dangerous.  Most of my mistakes were stupid and most of them have only involved myself, and not other Soldiers.  I do have good examples of NCOs above me, but I think I have more bad examples.  I feel like I am smart enough to wade through the bullshit, to decipher what is good and what is not, but not everybody is.  There are a lot of us new Sergeants, but not all of us is able to figure it out.  Some of them just follow the person above them, whether they are a good example or not.

I’ve been in the Army 8 years and I have 10 credits at the local community college. Just do what I say and we’ll be all right.

But what I have also seen in my short time as an NCO, is that I am discouraged from making too many waves.  I will grant that sometimes my approach is not the best, but most of the time it’s the sake of even asking the question.  “Don’t ask too many questions.”  “You’re making too much sense.”  “Don’t ask why.”  “Just do it.”  “This is the Army.  It’s not supposed to be logical.”

But why?  Why does it have to be that way?  The American Army is the best trained, best equipped, best funded army in the whole wide world.  Why should we not also be the smartest?  Because we lack common sense and critical thinking skills.  In all the leadership courses and classes and crap I’ve been to since joining the Army, not one of these classes has addressed critical thinking skills.

Ever.

Why does no one see this as a problem?

Operation: WTF (Day 273)

“It’s like in the great stories, the ones that really mattered.  Full of darkness and danger, they were.  And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end.  Because how could the end be happy?  How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened?  But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow.  Even darkness must pass.  A new day will come.  And when the sun shines, it’ll shine out the clearer.  Those were the stories that stayed with you.  That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why.  I do understand.  I know now that folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t.  Because they were holding onto something… that there’s still some good in this world.  And it’s worth fighting for.”

 

 

Operation: WTF (Day 250)

After the Fact

Thanks anyway, jackass.

I guess some people do not realise that you really can be a day late and a dollar short.  Nothing is worse than someone beating his chest with pride simply because he took action after the fact.  It’s like, “Great job, guy, but we could have used your help like two hours ago.”

It’s really a slap in the face.  It’s like they could not be bothered when it was really needed.  Now they think they’ve done something but really they haven’t.

You’re really not helpful at all, and nobody likes you.

Operation: WTF (Day 249)

100 Days…

One day is just the same as any other.

Apparently today marks 100 days until we get home.  I would not, if I were you, begin making any plans based on this information, as I really have no idea how accurate this is.  I did not get this from anybody in charge, nor was there any official announcement.  There is a board at work where someone has been keeping track of the days, and I don’t know how they arrived at 100 more days to go.

At any rate, it doesn’t even matter.  Everyday is the same whether it is 200, 100 or 50.  Even 50 days is almost two months, so 100 days is not really anything to get excited about.  I really only wanted to remark on this because in the 249 days I’ve been activated, it seems a lot has happened, at least for me.

The other day we were all talking and we came to the conclusion that this really isn’t all that bad.  I can’t exactly agree with that, because this is probably the worst thing I have ever experienced, but I do begrudgingly admit that some good has come from this pile of shit-turds.  By the time this is over I will have completed two military schools.  It was pretty much impossible for me to do that back home.  I kept getting bumped off for someone who had a higher priority than me.  Back home I still had my civilian considerations to worry about, preventing me from doing what I needed to do without notice.  Here, well, my life belongs to Sam and it didn’t matter.  I got all that crap knocked out, and this is a good thing.

Have a nice life, Student Loan. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

Secondly, my financial situation has increased by leaps and bounds.  No more debt; no more student loans.  I do not owe a single person on this planet a brown penny.  At the end of September, every penny I earned stayed in my bank account.  I was able to set up that “emergency fund” all the financial gurus talk about.  You know, where you’re supposed to have 6-8 months’ living expenses saved up.  When you pay rent, a car note and all that other crap who can save up that kind of money?  Except for my phone bill (because I was too lazy to turn it off), I don’t have any other bills.  If I were back home, I’d still be plugging away at that damn student loan that’s been hanging over my head since 1998.

Even minor things have looked up for me.  I’ve improved my run time in various distances.  I’ve lost weight.  I started grad school.  I even reconnected with a long-lost family member, which I find to be weird, considering the distance.  Here we are, 10000 miles and we were able to establish the relationship we could never get going when we were practically next-door neighbours.

When I see this, that’s when I’ll get excited.

Don’t get me wrong, this is still quite shitty and I will never willingly do this again but at least I got something out of it, even though it is not everything I had hoped for.

Optional, For Use On Longer Entries #13

O Fortune,
variable
as the moon,
always dost thou
wax and wane.
Detestable life,
first dost thou mistreat us,
and then, whimsically,
thou heedest our desires.
As the sun melts the ice,
so dost thou dissolve
both poverty and power.

This was featured on Dancing with the Stars this evening.  I haven’t heard it in so long; it just brought back a flood of memories from my early college days at University of Arizona.  I never knew what the lyrics were to the song that used to make us all crazy.  Now that I understand what the song is actually about, I think it fits well.  I miss all those guys I used to party with.  I wonder what you’re all up to now.  Hope you’re doing well.

Operation: WTF (Day 244)

As the World Turns

We can't even look out, because there's no windows.

On the whole, there aren’t too many positive aspects about a deployment.  I can’t think of anybody who’s like, “This is fun!” or “I’m glad I’m here.”  Sure, there’s a few of us who are rather ambivalent.  They could take it or leave it, or it’s not really that bad.  These are mostly “glass is half full” people, insane people who could find something positive about being punched in the face.

For the rest of us, or maybe just me, we could come up with a laundry list on what sucks about deployment.  Some things are worse than others, though.  Sure, it’s ghastly we’re corralled in pens the same as any illegal immigrant awaiting deportation.  The food sucks.  It’s hotter than two rats in a sock.  The living conditions are sub-standard and inhumane.  We’re treated like recalcitrant toddlers.  We have less freedoms than inmates.  I could go on and on.  These things suck, but you know what sucks the most about deployment?

Life goes on.

That’s what sucks.  Everywhere the world is still turning, but you’re stuck here in this same spot and there’s nothing you can do about it.  Back home, life is continuing.  It would be easier if you could just press pause on your life, come here for a year and then press play when you get back home.  I guess it’s a good thing that nobody can control time, or we might get stuck here in an infinite loop of subhuman horrors.  Everything you left behind has continued and when you get back, you’re in this mad rush to try to get into the swing of things again.  You might find that everything has changed.  Everyone has changed.  People you know, you don’t know anymore.  Things you love, you don’t love anymore and maybe vice-versa.

I do not know which is worse:  nowadays or back then.  Nowadays you can always stay in touch with the rest of the universe with every modern convenience like email, Facebook, Skype.  But then you hear about everything that is going on that you can’t take part in.  Back then, maybe you got a letter in the mail with a brief outline of what’s been happening, only for you to return home to find out that everything has changed.  So which is worse:  finding out now or finding out later?

10,000 miles from everything that matters.

Someone remarked to me the other day that he didn’t want another deployment because he was afraid the few friends he had would disappear.  He said something to the effect that his friends were friends as long as he was around but they weren’t the type to keep up a “long-distance relationship.”  That’s sad, and I think quite a few of us are in that same situation.  You’re close pals with someone, but when you’ve been gone a whole year, your close pal might be close pals with someone else.  What’s even worse is if you have a husband/wife/BF/GF and you discover they’ve lost that loving feeling.  Deployments seem to exacerbate all the things that are already wrong in any given relationship.  You might be on the rocks, but you were trying to hold it together, and a deployment just killed that shit deader than dead.  Or you’re trying so hard to keep it going, but it’s hard to be romantic 10,000 miles away.

Then you have all those people who just do not understand.  You either came here because you were ordered or you stupidly volunteered thinking that you were going to do something important.  Whatever the case may be, other people don’t get it.  They like to send you invitations to things you know you won’t be able to attend, or they’ll go on for hours about whatever they just did that was so much fun and sorry you couldn’t be there.

“When are you coming home?”  “What are you guys still doing there?”  “I thought the war was over.”  “President Obama said….”

You know what, I don’t know anymore than you do.  I just know that as the world turns, I’m still here.

Operation: WTF (Day 230)

Mutha Fuckas

Have a bowl of Mutha Fuckas and mind your own business.

I would like to ask all my church-going friends and battle buddies to pray for me because I am truly about to punch somebody in the face.  It is like nobody wants me to a peaceful, calm individual.  Every time I mellow out and relax a little bit, start to feel comfortable, someone does or says something to get me irritated all over again.  And the sad part was that today was a good day at the end of a string of good days.  Me and my battle buddies are out, having a good time, going for a nice little jog, having a friendly challenge.  I have been improving my run time consistently.  I feel like I have lost a little weight (even though the scale don’t say so).  Generally, it has been peaceful.  I still can’t wait to get on the first plane back home to America, but my usual angst-anger-bitchiness has been at an all-time low this week.  So why do these people persist?  Why, God?  I don’t question you but help me understand because I am just confused right now.

Like the minute I walk in the door, someone passed on some information to me that was just so patently ridiculous that I hardly even knew how to respond.  And it is one of those things that you cannot react to because it will only cause more trouble.  I am almost certain as to the source of this foolishness, but if I try to address the situation it can be easily turned around to make me look like the asshole.  I am just so fed up.  I have been trying so hard to do the right thing.  I don’t want to make trouble for myself or my team.  I realise I have probably messed up a lot of things and burnt some bridges that can never be amended.  All I can do is try ride out the rest of this debacle without any further incident.  BUT PEOPLE JUST PERSIST.  I swear, you think I am just talking.  I am dead serious.  I took boxing for two years.  I may not be Laila Ali, but if I catch you at the right moment, I got a mean-ass right hook.  JUST FOR YOU.

Operation: WTF (Day 229)

Food Nazis

The sinks at the chow hall are not authorised for foot bathing.

Anybody been in the chow hall lately?  I don’t go often, very randomly for breakfast and parboiled steak and frozen pre-made fried shrimp night.  Other times I avoid the place like the plague.  At any rate, I have noticed the uptick in signage around the place.  So, apparently, the sinks at the entrance of the chow hall are only for hand-washing.  All this time we’ve been here and I did not know that.  Like I said, I don’t go up to the chow hall often, choosing to lay in bed starving, rather than to make that almost one-mile walk through an open field of rocks and sand.  I always thought the sinks were a place I could shampoo my hair.  They remind me of the sinks you see in a beauty parlours, or the foot baths in a nail salon.  I did not think anybody would mind if I started giving myself a pedicure in one of the sinks.  Now because they put up those signs, “These sinks are for hand-washing ONLY,” I now understand that you are not supposed to use the sinks for hoe baths.  Thanks for clearing that up and I am sorry if I offended anyone.

A recent Army investigation has discovered that these things are death traps.

And speaking of idiotic signage, I have now learned that hot foods cannot go in small to-go containers.  The Army usually does everything with safety in mind, so I can only guess that putting hot food in a small container presents some kind of danger to Soldiers.  Probably a Soldier was killed when he accidentally put hot food in a small to-go container.  You know how the Army can get after a senseless Soldier death.  They immediately ban it, even if the chances of further death and dismemberment are small.  I am surprised we did not have to have a brief about it.  To ensure that all Soldiers comply with this safety precaution, the chow hall has set up a manned to-go box station.  The Soldier posted there is to make sure that everyone else knows that hot foods do not go in a small container.  You can only put hot foods in the large container.  After a lengthy Pentagon review, large containers have been approved for the use of hot foods.  But you’re only allowed one.  And that Soldier posted there is going to make damn sure of it.  ONE large container and ONE small container, and you better not put any hot foods in that small container.  Your life is at risk.

I tell you, I am so glad that the Army puts safety first.  You do not know what a relief it is to me to know that he is looking out for me so that I do not have to.  The chow hall has no less than NINE guards posted around the establishment to ensure everyone’s safety.  Doesn’t that comfort you?  This morning I went to the chow hall to get an egg and I noted these nine guards.  There is one guard posted at each serving area.  Then there’s the guard at the to-go box station.  There are two more guards standing between the food serving area and the dining area.  Then, on any given day, there are at least four or five guards posted at the back door to make sure that no one comes back in for dessert.  Apparently, that is also a safety hazard.  When you exit the facility to throw out your trash and then return to get dessert, that is a danger to other Soldiers, so the Army has thoughtfully placed four guards at the exit to make sure you don’t put my life on the line by coming back for that cookie.

Even though I feel much safer with the thought of nine Soldiers standing around the chow hall doing absolutely nothing, you know what I think?  I think they could take those nine assholes and send them over to the other chow hall so they can open that bitch up again so nobody would have to stand in line for 25 minutes to get some undercooked and tasteless food.  Has anybody else noticed how ridiculous it has gotten lately?  Last night at dinner, the line was so long that it escaped out of the T-wall barriers and was halfway to the front door of that place across from the gym.  Frequently at midnight chow you will wait 15 minutes or longer because they only open one serving line.

I think, instead of ten people standing around hawking how many cartons of soy milk or cookies a Soldier is taking out the chow hall, perhaps they should be put to work to figure out how to make the dining experience a little less like bullshit.  I feel like suddenly there has become this emphasis on how much food is leaving the chow hall.  I know that every Soldier should have the opportunity to eat, and I think for the most part they do.  I don’t think anybody has gone to the chow hall and they were COMPLETELY out of food.  You may have gone and discovered there was no more jell-o at the salad bar, or no more macadamia cookies, but you’ve never gone up there and there was no meat or all the side dishes were gone.  The only reasons Soldiers are stocking up on food is because they are actually eating it and not throwing it away at the end of the night like the chow hall does.  The next time you do head count, just watch.  At the end of the meal, the workers grab up those pans, whether there is still food in them or not, and stack them up together and send them off to be scraped and washed.  They do not save that shit.  So who cares if some Soldier comes in and asks for 19 pieces of chicken?  Maybe he’s taking it back to his buddy who is stuck at work.  Oh, but you’re not allowed to do that.  According to the sign, only ONE meal per ID card.

Yeah, a little less stupid signage and a little more common sense, please.

 

 

And where the hell is the lemon cake?  Send one of those nine useless bodies to find out what happened to the lemon cake.  Nobody likes that dry fake ass Wal-mart brand white cake, and you know it.

Operation: WTF (Day 224)

One Ill Turn

 

Every time a Soldier does something stupid, another Soldier has to sit through a brief about it.

Operation: WTF (Day 223)

And Don’t Forget My Black T-Shirt

It looks like this, but better... because it was MINE.

If you don’t know where that line came from, you probably don’t listen to a lot of Ben Folds Five.  Don’t worry about that.  We’re not here to talk about Ben Folds Five.  We’re here to talk about the thieving jackasses at the laundry point.  I do not know why I act like I was born yesterday and just discovered how shitty people are.  This is not news to me, but once again I am completely astounded at the low-lifery of people.  Stealing clothes.  Really?  And you have a job, so I don’t understand what the problem is.  Why do you want someone else’s castoff garments, I just don’t get it.

So, I’m sure you’ve figured out by now that I have been a victim of theft by the people who work in the laundry facility.  At least three or four times a week I go in there with my clothes to get them washed.  I have not had any problems, except for random missing socks, this whole time I’ve been here.  I’ve been washing the same three running shirts and the same three running shorts ever since they allowed us to wear civilian PTs.  I go in there three times a week with a separate laundry bag for my civilian clothes.  I do not inventory my military stuff because I really don’t care about them like that.  I do care about my civilian clothes, stuff I actually paid for.  I take the time to inventory one black t-shirt, one black shorts, and one black spandex shorts.  I only bring one running outfit at a time, so they don’t get confused.  I do like the sign says.  I inventory when I bring the clothes in and I inventory when I get the clothes out.  Today, I got back one black shorts and one black spandex shorts.  Uhm, where is my one black t-shirt?  The guy is looking at me like he has never seen that black t-shirt before.  You know where it is.  You gave it to your wife or one of your girlfriends.

I want my shit back.

I have a valid claim because I followed all directions according to everything that is posted on the wall in there.  The guy made some big show of calling people all over the place.  I don’t care if he calls President Obama.  I would like to have my shirt back.  So then he asks me how much the shirt was.  The thing is, there is no price.  It is the shirt I got when I did the Monster Dash last year.  It is actually a very nice Under Armour shirt.  It was a surprising race premium because that particular race only cost $15.  A 5K can cost like $50 and most of the time they upcharge if you want a nicer t-shirt than the crummy cotton one they usually give out.  The shirt is really nice AND I WOULD LIKE TO HAVE IT BACK.

I told the guy it cost $40, which is reasonable.  Under Armour shirts are expensive.  I know everyone is thinking that I shouldn’t wear my nice stuff but when you bring the laundry people cheap shit, it gets faded or messed up and you end up having to buy something to replace it.  You spend more money that way.  If people would just be fucking honest and leave shit alone that is not theirs, then it would not matter how much I spent on a shirt.  I bought all those cheap spandex pants that ended up getting ruined.  Those cheap ass $10 spandex pants I bought at Wal-Mart before I left Fort Hood, they shredded while I was running because they probably turn the machines up to mega-agitation.  So then I went a spent a few extra dollars on more expensive spandex shorts and those gave me some kind of weird ass lesion on my ass.

Yeah, I know... ALL OVER HER ASS.

SIDE NOTE:  I know you’re like…. what the fuck?  Seriously, I bought these other spandex shorts that chafed badly but at first I didn’t put two and two together.  I bought the shorts, went running, took a shower and the next day my ass hurt, but I could not figure out why.  It’s TMI, but I don’t give a shit.  What does a person do in these situations?  There is no privacy here, even in the bathrooms.  There aren’t any mirrors low enough so I could see what was going on and it’s not like I can ask anybody without them looking at me like some skank.  Yeah, I could go to sick call, but can you imagine how that would turn out?  First you have to go to the Company and get a sick slip and you have to tell the people there what the problem is.  So I tell the 1SG I have unidentified marks on my ass, there is going to be some embarrassing looks and bizarre questions.  And then what?  Go to the TMC so some PFC can look at my ass?  No thanks.  And you know how rumours get started.  I can totally do without that in my life, so for like three weeks I was completely mystified until I was doing inventory at the laundry.  When I pulled the spandex shorts out of the laundry bag, I saw that the stitching is right on the ass crack.  WHO DOES THAT!?!?!  Cheap shit.  END OF SIDE NOTE.

That's for my black t-shirt!!

I have probably given you far more information than you require but at this point I really do not care.  I just want my t-shirt back.  The guy said to give him five days.  Five days for what?  So you can write to Taiwan for a cheap imitation?  No thanks.  If this dude don’t have my shit back in five days I’m punching him in the face.