Where the fighting is hardest, there will I be.
Let them come if they dare, we’ll be there.
What a positively horrible weekend. Another weekend in the trenches.
Now you all know that I love the army very much, even on its worst days. I like to complain about everything because it gives me a sense of control in a world full of chaos. But this weekend was particularly rough. I almost thought about defecting to Canada, but then I realised that it’s winter and it’s probably frigid up there right now.
So at any rate, what made this weekend so ghastly? Let’s start out with a FULL THREE DAYS. We only do these full three days once or twice a year, and usually we go down to the Vietnam-era labour camp and just getting down there, setting up shop and getting back takes up half the drill period. Makes time go by much faster.
When you sit with people for three days straight, you start seeing things about them that you really don’t care to see. Personalities start coming out. Everything becomes a melodrama. I found myself annoyed more than once.
Friday, I had to give my class and I’m grateful to Waders and SF for helping me out on it. You know I got these metal jonts in my mouth now and I can hardly speak. All this eloquence training gone out the window as I speak and slather all over people. Truly annoying. I’m glad it was well received, and stuff like this is putting me on the map so I can make E5. I’m an ambitious little somebody, not because I’m all Army Strong or whatever, but because I want the money. I plan on retiring from the Army so I can live a good life and sail around the world with my pool boy when I’m 65 1/3, or whatever the retirement age is.
Saturday morning we got up to take the PT test. I was more prepared in October because me and Burks had been brutality training while we were in PANAMAX, but when they postponed the crap till November, I got kind of lazy. I do workout everyday, but not everyday is a brutality workout. You can’t do brutality for two months straight, but I couldn’t slack off. I must say I’m disappointed in my peers that they didn’t pass because it makes them targets for some of the BS that is now going on in the unit. I’ve been doing my HUMINT collecting again and I’m seeing some very strange and suspicious things going on.
I’m not going to post it here because one must be careful about what she writes on the internet, just know that we all need to be on our Ps and Qs these days now that certain things have come to pass. And that’s all I’m going to say about that.
I feel like I could have done much better on the run but failure to drink enough water and trepidation of running on a goose-shit slicked track forced me to slow down. I did 17:24 or something like that, and I know I can run much faster. I was praised by some senior NCOs for being a motivator to my fellow junior soldiers, but I sometimes see this as patronising. The thing is my age. Yes, I’m a junior soldier and I probably don’t know as much about the Army as I should, but I’m very grown and have been working and out in the real world for quite some time. I’m not doing anything special other than what a woman my age should be doing: handling business.
PT made the rest of the day draining. I like to go to sleep immediately after working out but unfortunately there’s no such luck. It also didn’t help that SPC Nosey McBrowniePants gave a horrendously long briefing on purpose because she was annoyed that no one in her section was helping her out. You know I will be the first one to tell you to do your job, but seriously, sometimes it’s really not that serious. It was too ridiculous to be believed that she actually wanted us to individually test on treating a severed limb, a class we’ve had a hundred and one times. I would want to save a fellow soldier’s life, and I hope they would save mine, but the raw truth is that I would probably pass the fuck out if I saw blood spurting out of a wound like I’m in the murder scene of Saw VII: Let the Bloodbath Continue.
Then all that drama that occurred after the class. Completely unnecessary. People were screaming each other. Tempers flared. Everyone being all overdramatic. Attitudes hot. I don’t really have time for all that. It’s just unnecessary to me. I prefer to be laidback. I know I’m a class clown when I goof off with my friends but that is in private and not for outsiders to see. I’m into keeping a low profile, and I’ve noted to a close friend that it’s time for the men and boys to separate.
I say that not because I’m trying to become Sergeant Major of the Universe but because even if I never get promoted, I just don’t want to be seen as “that person.” I see what they do to people they don’t think highly of. You become the butt of everybody’s jokes. You become the person they run to when they have a shit detail. Remember SPC I Slept With My Own Brother (that’s a story for another day.) Anyway, she was the unit gofer, and not in a good way. Anything that was shitty they tasked to her. The worst jobs, like the one time we had to have guards, they put her on the very late night shift, standing outside all night watching some weapons when it was freezing cold. She always had to be A-driver in the HMMMVVV or whatever the damn nomenclature is. She was the one being sent to get shit like mayonaise and toilet paper.
That’s humiliating and irritating to me. I don’t want to be that one, so if it means sitting in a hole by myself while everybody else jacks off, I guess that’s what I’m going to have to do. Because seriously, the first time someone asks me to alphabetise mop handles, I’m going to wig out and it’s not a pretty sight when I get to cussing, because I make people cry.
So by Sunday, it was glaringly apparenty that no one had any real desire to be there. Best friends were ready to stab each other. I snapped at a certain witless specialist because she’s so spacey and silly that I can’t believe she’s managed to make it through all 25 of her years without doing herself serious injury. Actually, that can be debated, but she truly is a lost cause and every time I see her face to face, I’m reminded of all the reasons why I stopped spending time with her in the first place.
Then I had to jump in someone else’s ass because he acts like a mildly retarded 4 year old. Seriously? I know it’s because his mother wipes his ass for him and if he had to take a shit on his own he would fail. I’ve had to cuss him out a few times this year, but I see it’s time for an annual refresher cuss out. I saw that he was getting on SF’s nerves but she doesn’t have my savoir faire. She did try to say something to him but she doesn’t come across right and someone had to check her.
See, what you do is, take his ass out back and beat him with a wet stick, then he won’t act like that anymore. It’s a damn shame, and he’s like 25 years old. When are you ever going to grow up? And the other one, his ass is 40. I’m not sure who told him that he was apart of the crew, but his application was denied. How someone married him is quite beyond my capacity. He’s a know-it-all contentious bastard and I wish his paperwork would hurry so he go away to his training and be gone for some months so I wouldn’t have to see his ass.
Okay, see, I said I wasn’t going to take this to that level and apparently I’m there and back again.
Anyway, Sunday during first formation I was awarded an ARCOM. It was completely unexpected. I figured I would get a certificate just for breathing, or at the very least an AAM just because nobody had to ask me to take a shit. I was proud to be recognised for doing something good. A lot of times, I feel like those of who work hard are being overlooked because we’re not apart of the get-a-long gang. Someone told me that I was slowly working my way into the In-Crowd, but I don’t feel like I need to be in order to achieve something.
Unfortunately, that is not the way of the world.
So, in three weeks we get to come back and do this shit all over again. Mandatory fun day, showing up for a gay holiday party that is always geared towards families, leaving those of us unmarried, childless people to feel even more like losers than we already do. I hate stuff like that.
le sigh. I make everything so difficult.