100 Things Entry 1: It's 99.999% Propaganda and Myth-Building
(Note: These entries aren't in any certain order. It's basically just what I feel like writing about at the time.)
Today, I'm clicking through Tumblr, and I see this quote:
"Being a Marine is a state of mind. It is an experience some have likened more to a calling than a profession. Being a Marine is not a job - not a paycheck; it is not an occupational specialty. It is not male or female, majority or minority; nor is it a rank insignia. Stars, bars, or chevrons are only indicators of the responsibility or authority we hold at a given time. Rather, being a Marine comes from the eagle, globe, and anchor that is tattooed on the soul of every one of us who wears the Marine Corps uniform. It is a searing mark in our innermost being which comes after the rite of passage through boot camp or Officer Candidates School when a young man or woman is allowed for the first time to say, “I’m a United States Marine.” And unlike physical or psychological scars, which, over time, tend to heal and fade in intensity, the eagle, globe, and anchor only grow more defined - more intense - the longer you are a Marine. “Once a Marine, always a Marine."
Oh geez.
I wonder ... who has time to sit down and think up this shit? Is there some poor schmoe stuck in a room, and if he doesn't come up with something STIRRING and PATRIOTIC and EXCLUSIVE and CHEST-BEATING each day, he only gets the Four Fingers of Death MRE, instead of the fettuccine alfredo MRE?
This is the kind of stuff that parents just eat up, and the stuff that really loses its lustre when you're sitting in 134 degree heat in Taqaddum, Iraq, or when you're explaining to the CO for the fourth time that his computer doesn't hate him and it only does what he tells it to and "sir, you really can't leave your passwords on a sticky note stuck to your monitor because that's a violation of security policies", or when you're on a 15 mile hike just because your battalion commander got a bug up his ass two weeks ago and really wanted to hike around "scenic Camp Lejeune".
Fun Fact #1: There is nothing scenic about Camp Lejeune.
People find out that I was a Marine, and are like, "oh my god that must have been so awesome! I totally can't believe you did that! What did you do?" They're always nonplussed when I tell them I fixed computers, went to meetings, maintained personnel databases, and filed paperwork.
Here's a little secret: 99.999% of everything public that Marines say and do is propaganda and myth-building. When you're a poolee, it's REALLY AWESOME. Because you have the POSTERS and the SHIRTS and the NOTEBOOKS and the PLANS FOR A SHITTY EGA/BULLDOG/K-BAR/SEMPER FI TATTOO and the VIDEOS and it all looks ridiculously cool, because you're going to get those fantastic uniforms and get a sword and fight dragons and shit, right? RIGHT! FUCK YEAH! OOHRAH!
When you're in boot camp, you're too fucking tired to really think about it ... and yeah, getting your EGA is fucking sweet because you're almost done and can eat real food instead of that no-fat no-salt no-flavor boiled slop you kept getting at the chow hall and FINALLY leave Parris Island, home of sand fleas and ridiculous humidity and those crazy-ass drill instructors.
Fun Fact #2: Parris Island - USMC boot camp location, surrounded by dangerous wildlife, where even the LDS missionaries will contact your DIs if they pick you up trying to run away - has a "We Hope You Enjoyed Your Stay" sign. Not even kidding. I have a picture of it somewhere in my boot camp photo album.
We all drink the Kool-Aid. I'm not saying it's always bad - I went into the Marines quiet, reserved, with almost no self-confidence, unable to really even look at people when I talked to them. Boot camp was easy for me because my drill instructors just yelled at me (my mom was really fond of out-of-the-blue fists and belts). I came out a loudmouthed asshole who doesn't give a fuck what anyone thinks. We're the biggest, baddest, angriest dogs in the yard and we get shit done and go home, without being fuckups like some other folks (well, except for scout snipers, who can't seem to get their shit together lately).
It's just that ... some people get a little more caught up in it than the rest of us. This phase rarely makes it into the fleet (after boot camp and combat training and your MOS school), but every once in awhile you get those people that really buy into all of it.
Fun Fact #3: When I joined the Marine Corps, the Commandant was Jim Jones, so the whole "drink the Kool-Aid" thing sort of took on a much darker undertone than I'd planned when I first started using it. Oops.
We do have the best looking uniforms, though. That bit isn't propaganda; that's just truth. ;)
Today, I'm clicking through Tumblr, and I see this quote:
"Being a Marine is a state of mind. It is an experience some have likened more to a calling than a profession. Being a Marine is not a job - not a paycheck; it is not an occupational specialty. It is not male or female, majority or minority; nor is it a rank insignia. Stars, bars, or chevrons are only indicators of the responsibility or authority we hold at a given time. Rather, being a Marine comes from the eagle, globe, and anchor that is tattooed on the soul of every one of us who wears the Marine Corps uniform. It is a searing mark in our innermost being which comes after the rite of passage through boot camp or Officer Candidates School when a young man or woman is allowed for the first time to say, “I’m a United States Marine.” And unlike physical or psychological scars, which, over time, tend to heal and fade in intensity, the eagle, globe, and anchor only grow more defined - more intense - the longer you are a Marine. “Once a Marine, always a Marine."
Oh geez.
I wonder ... who has time to sit down and think up this shit? Is there some poor schmoe stuck in a room, and if he doesn't come up with something STIRRING and PATRIOTIC and EXCLUSIVE and CHEST-BEATING each day, he only gets the Four Fingers of Death MRE, instead of the fettuccine alfredo MRE?
This is the kind of stuff that parents just eat up, and the stuff that really loses its lustre when you're sitting in 134 degree heat in Taqaddum, Iraq, or when you're explaining to the CO for the fourth time that his computer doesn't hate him and it only does what he tells it to and "sir, you really can't leave your passwords on a sticky note stuck to your monitor because that's a violation of security policies", or when you're on a 15 mile hike just because your battalion commander got a bug up his ass two weeks ago and really wanted to hike around "scenic Camp Lejeune".
Fun Fact #1: There is nothing scenic about Camp Lejeune.
People find out that I was a Marine, and are like, "oh my god that must have been so awesome! I totally can't believe you did that! What did you do?" They're always nonplussed when I tell them I fixed computers, went to meetings, maintained personnel databases, and filed paperwork.
Here's a little secret: 99.999% of everything public that Marines say and do is propaganda and myth-building. When you're a poolee, it's REALLY AWESOME. Because you have the POSTERS and the SHIRTS and the NOTEBOOKS and the PLANS FOR A SHITTY EGA/BULLDOG/K-BAR/SEMPER FI TATTOO and the VIDEOS and it all looks ridiculously cool, because you're going to get those fantastic uniforms and get a sword and fight dragons and shit, right? RIGHT! FUCK YEAH! OOHRAH!
When you're in boot camp, you're too fucking tired to really think about it ... and yeah, getting your EGA is fucking sweet because you're almost done and can eat real food instead of that no-fat no-salt no-flavor boiled slop you kept getting at the chow hall and FINALLY leave Parris Island, home of sand fleas and ridiculous humidity and those crazy-ass drill instructors.
Fun Fact #2: Parris Island - USMC boot camp location, surrounded by dangerous wildlife, where even the LDS missionaries will contact your DIs if they pick you up trying to run away - has a "We Hope You Enjoyed Your Stay" sign. Not even kidding. I have a picture of it somewhere in my boot camp photo album.
We all drink the Kool-Aid. I'm not saying it's always bad - I went into the Marines quiet, reserved, with almost no self-confidence, unable to really even look at people when I talked to them. Boot camp was easy for me because my drill instructors just yelled at me (my mom was really fond of out-of-the-blue fists and belts). I came out a loudmouthed asshole who doesn't give a fuck what anyone thinks. We're the biggest, baddest, angriest dogs in the yard and we get shit done and go home, without being fuckups like some other folks (well, except for scout snipers, who can't seem to get their shit together lately).
It's just that ... some people get a little more caught up in it than the rest of us. This phase rarely makes it into the fleet (after boot camp and combat training and your MOS school), but every once in awhile you get those people that really buy into all of it.
Fun Fact #3: When I joined the Marine Corps, the Commandant was Jim Jones, so the whole "drink the Kool-Aid" thing sort of took on a much darker undertone than I'd planned when I first started using it. Oops.
We do have the best looking uniforms, though. That bit isn't propaganda; that's just truth. ;)