(no subject)
For some reason lately I have been inundated with memories. Seemingly at random and for no apparent reason I am recalling in vivid detail things that have happened in my life. It's very interesting. Well the process is, if not the entry. :P
I was thinking of my time in the military. I can honestly say that it wasn't all bad. I got really proficient in avoiding some of the nonsense that came my way. But it's like trying to dodge buckshot, most times.
I didn't remember really joining the Army. It all seems much like a dream, now. I do recall being pressured from all sides to do one thing or another. From Theresa I had the pressure of joining the military to start with. She was constantly on me about it. She would alternately say it was my only hope and kiss my ass by telling me I would be good at it. Like she would know.
I was planning on joining the Air Force. I had attempted to join the Air National Guard when I was 17, but I was denied the opportunity because I was taking ritalin at the time. But since that time I had been kind of enthusiastic about it.
However I was in a very impressionable state during that time. When I proclaimed that I was going to join the Air Force my mom's boyfriend asked, "What's wrong with the Army?"
If I knew then what I know now.
Later I was waiting at the building that the recruiters call home. The Air Force recruiter was off on some business and I was outside his door. The Army recruiter started chatting me up and talking about opportunities. He rolled out his spiel and I swallowed it.
I know now why he smiled so much when he saw me. I filled a very hard slot to fill for him. I was a college student with no criminal record and very high ASVAB scores (128/130 GT score) who was going into the Infantry.
At the MEPS station the recruiter there assured me that Infantry was just basic Army and I could change any time I wanted. Wow. How did I swallow THAT crap?
I don't know what possessed me. I was in quite a state for a long while there. I actually had some clarity in the Summer of 1993. I was on the verge of breaking up with Theresa and I was about to cut out on my recruiter. I had found out that if you don't go they can't do diddly about it no matter what you sign beforehand. I was ready to just go to my recruiter and tell him on no uncertain terms to FUCK OFF!
But for some reason I didn't. It was as if I had something pushing me along. I was in a haze from the moment I boarded the bus until about two years later when I talked Theresa into leaving me. I started to wake up, then.
But in the mean time I went to OSUT (One Station Unit Training) where Infantry go through an intense training period that is a much longer version of what every other member of the Army goes through before they go to MOS training.
We arrived at the 21st Replacement building on October 12, 1993. We stayed there for almost a month, though. That place was pretty miserable. There was no training going on there and we had to wait for a slot to open in another unit for our group to begin it. It was basically low-security prison. There were about 75 to 100 people in the one bay at any given time, all sleeping in the same area and sharing breath. I swear the same flu went around that place three times while I was there. We lived on our bunks and the only storage we had was a foot locker. We were expected to keep that immaculate. We were so damned bored. It was a relief to be put on a work detail, when we got the chance.
When I got there I was sick. I was puking my guts out and couldn't keep anything down. I went to the medics (all holdovers from basic with nothing better to do) who told me it was nerves. It was my first introduction to the Army medical system, where they don't take you seriously until they see something horrible going on and it's too late.
It was also a relief when I got my first wisdom tooth extracted during that time. I got a good week of convalescent leave and was expected to do nothing more than lay around in the bunk taking Tylenol 3 with Codeine. That stuff is awesome. Good sleep and dreams.
When I got my tooth extracted I also got my first view of the Vindictive Military Woman. At a bus stop I met a girl who bragged that she had recently gotten a "butter-bar" (2nd Lieutenant - Lowest Officer Rank) thrown out of the Army for sexual harassment. She bragged about it because she said the guy had just pissed her off and not harassed her at all. I don't know if she was trying to impress me but she started coming on to me pretty hard. I cringed from her like she was Typhoid Mary. I was glad to see that bus.
I must say I thrived when I actually got to training. I shed all the excess weight I had. My natural strength and intelligence served me well. Even my empathy with authority figures made my life easier. Basic Training was too easy for me. The mind games they tried to play I was apparently immune to. Nothing phased me. The months melted away like warm butter with the occasional really interesting or notable experience.
It so happens that I went to basic during the coldest winter in ten years at Fort Benning, Georgia. Admittedly Georgia doesn't get as cold as, say, New York, but it was pretty damned cold, nonetheless. There was one point where my freshly mixed orange juice congealed around my spoon while I ate my quickly cooling grey eggs. I had an orange-cicle. Our canteens were constantly freezing over. I learned in Basic that pine straw makes excellent bedding. You can cover up with it and lay on it. It blocks the wind and keeps the warmth in.
At one range we discovered that if we huddled in one of those aluminum latrines we could conserve some body heat in spite of the smell. People were standing on the lids of drop-toilets. Thankfully none lost their structural cohesion. ;)
I think one of the things they were trying to teach us is how to fight boredom when you have very little else to do. We had long terms during the weekend when we could do nothing but hang around the barracks. We were not allowed to sleep or read entertaining literature. No TV and no radio. Nothing. We got really inventive. My favorite tactic was to make it look like my wall-locker was locked and go to sleep inside it. The Drill Sergeants never found me... And I am sure I snored. I also had a nice stash of a couple of fantasy books under my wall-locker. I found that the bottom panel could be removed and hid them there. That's where I found that the fellow before me had a thing for porn, as well. Boy did THOSE make the rounds of the barracks.
We could polish boots or iron uniforms if we wanted. I think there was many a man-hour spent in the latrine for one reason or another. Oddly enough sleep was the primary motivation. That was where I learned to take breaks in the form of a snooze on the crapper. ;)
Of course that was where I learned that I could sleep anywhere under almost any circumstances. At my first duty station, Fort Hood, Texas, I slept in a moving Bradley. Now that is a sleeping FEAT. Standing up? no problem! I have even fallen asleep during a road march. Waking up while falling into a ditch isn't fun.
We could write letters, though. I had a very long journal made in the guise of writing letters. I wish I could find that thing. I wrote about a lot. Hell i don't even know what happened to any of my journals that existed before that life.
We got Christmas Leave, if we wanted it. I went back home and married Theresa. It was like I made a mistake within a mistake.
But eventually it ended. At the last week they started relaxing. We watched TV and they treated us like human adults instead of delinquent children. We ordered pizzas and bullshitted in the way I found that soldiers do with but one thing in common.
And it proved true for the rest of my time in the military. All of it did. And I have to look back and wonder how they managed to instill in us the ability to deal with all that crap that flies at you like buckshot.
Now some of us didn't take too well to it and they didn't last long in the real army. Failure to Adapt is a chapter clause that can get you thrown out pretty quickly, especially in the Army Infantry. There is a lot on the line.
I do remember some really notably good times. There was once on the SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon) range where I laid hidden in the tall grass in the sunshine and slept for hours. That was peaceful in spite of the smell of rifle cleaning solutions all over me.
And there were some really interesting times that were both good and bad. Like during the training on how to handle snipers. It was raining a rain that didn't care whether you had full wet-weather gear or not. And we had to crawl through the mud and the muck demonstrating our techniques. And it was COLD. When I stood there next to my friend, Doyle (last name) I felt that indicative drip down the crack of my ass. This indicates that the wet-weather gear has finally given up and told you that you are on your own. Apparently he had the same experience at the same time. We looked at each other knowingly and we laughed long and hard. I believe that was the most cathartic laugh I have ever experienced. After that the cold, the wet, and the mud couldn't touch us. We were invulnerable.
I was actually kind of sad to go. I had made friends in the soldiers and even in the Drill Sergeants there. We had been through something together that few get to go through, even in the Army and it kind of sucked to leave them. I felt a bond with that bunch that I have yet to feel with any other group.
I remember when Theresa picked me up. I wore the civilian clothes that I had in my wall-locker for so long but never got to touch except during Christmas leave, where I got married. They were loose and I was tight.
I put my duffle in the car and we drove off, back home to pick up my junk and move it to Fort Hood, Texas. And that's another story.
Editted to note that The Craft is one Sorry. Piece. of. Shit. Movie.
I was thinking of my time in the military. I can honestly say that it wasn't all bad. I got really proficient in avoiding some of the nonsense that came my way. But it's like trying to dodge buckshot, most times.
I didn't remember really joining the Army. It all seems much like a dream, now. I do recall being pressured from all sides to do one thing or another. From Theresa I had the pressure of joining the military to start with. She was constantly on me about it. She would alternately say it was my only hope and kiss my ass by telling me I would be good at it. Like she would know.
I was planning on joining the Air Force. I had attempted to join the Air National Guard when I was 17, but I was denied the opportunity because I was taking ritalin at the time. But since that time I had been kind of enthusiastic about it.
However I was in a very impressionable state during that time. When I proclaimed that I was going to join the Air Force my mom's boyfriend asked, "What's wrong with the Army?"
If I knew then what I know now.
Later I was waiting at the building that the recruiters call home. The Air Force recruiter was off on some business and I was outside his door. The Army recruiter started chatting me up and talking about opportunities. He rolled out his spiel and I swallowed it.
I know now why he smiled so much when he saw me. I filled a very hard slot to fill for him. I was a college student with no criminal record and very high ASVAB scores (128/130 GT score) who was going into the Infantry.
At the MEPS station the recruiter there assured me that Infantry was just basic Army and I could change any time I wanted. Wow. How did I swallow THAT crap?
I don't know what possessed me. I was in quite a state for a long while there. I actually had some clarity in the Summer of 1993. I was on the verge of breaking up with Theresa and I was about to cut out on my recruiter. I had found out that if you don't go they can't do diddly about it no matter what you sign beforehand. I was ready to just go to my recruiter and tell him on no uncertain terms to FUCK OFF!
But for some reason I didn't. It was as if I had something pushing me along. I was in a haze from the moment I boarded the bus until about two years later when I talked Theresa into leaving me. I started to wake up, then.
But in the mean time I went to OSUT (One Station Unit Training) where Infantry go through an intense training period that is a much longer version of what every other member of the Army goes through before they go to MOS training.
We arrived at the 21st Replacement building on October 12, 1993. We stayed there for almost a month, though. That place was pretty miserable. There was no training going on there and we had to wait for a slot to open in another unit for our group to begin it. It was basically low-security prison. There were about 75 to 100 people in the one bay at any given time, all sleeping in the same area and sharing breath. I swear the same flu went around that place three times while I was there. We lived on our bunks and the only storage we had was a foot locker. We were expected to keep that immaculate. We were so damned bored. It was a relief to be put on a work detail, when we got the chance.
When I got there I was sick. I was puking my guts out and couldn't keep anything down. I went to the medics (all holdovers from basic with nothing better to do) who told me it was nerves. It was my first introduction to the Army medical system, where they don't take you seriously until they see something horrible going on and it's too late.
It was also a relief when I got my first wisdom tooth extracted during that time. I got a good week of convalescent leave and was expected to do nothing more than lay around in the bunk taking Tylenol 3 with Codeine. That stuff is awesome. Good sleep and dreams.
When I got my tooth extracted I also got my first view of the Vindictive Military Woman. At a bus stop I met a girl who bragged that she had recently gotten a "butter-bar" (2nd Lieutenant - Lowest Officer Rank) thrown out of the Army for sexual harassment. She bragged about it because she said the guy had just pissed her off and not harassed her at all. I don't know if she was trying to impress me but she started coming on to me pretty hard. I cringed from her like she was Typhoid Mary. I was glad to see that bus.
I must say I thrived when I actually got to training. I shed all the excess weight I had. My natural strength and intelligence served me well. Even my empathy with authority figures made my life easier. Basic Training was too easy for me. The mind games they tried to play I was apparently immune to. Nothing phased me. The months melted away like warm butter with the occasional really interesting or notable experience.
It so happens that I went to basic during the coldest winter in ten years at Fort Benning, Georgia. Admittedly Georgia doesn't get as cold as, say, New York, but it was pretty damned cold, nonetheless. There was one point where my freshly mixed orange juice congealed around my spoon while I ate my quickly cooling grey eggs. I had an orange-cicle. Our canteens were constantly freezing over. I learned in Basic that pine straw makes excellent bedding. You can cover up with it and lay on it. It blocks the wind and keeps the warmth in.
At one range we discovered that if we huddled in one of those aluminum latrines we could conserve some body heat in spite of the smell. People were standing on the lids of drop-toilets. Thankfully none lost their structural cohesion. ;)
I think one of the things they were trying to teach us is how to fight boredom when you have very little else to do. We had long terms during the weekend when we could do nothing but hang around the barracks. We were not allowed to sleep or read entertaining literature. No TV and no radio. Nothing. We got really inventive. My favorite tactic was to make it look like my wall-locker was locked and go to sleep inside it. The Drill Sergeants never found me... And I am sure I snored. I also had a nice stash of a couple of fantasy books under my wall-locker. I found that the bottom panel could be removed and hid them there. That's where I found that the fellow before me had a thing for porn, as well. Boy did THOSE make the rounds of the barracks.
We could polish boots or iron uniforms if we wanted. I think there was many a man-hour spent in the latrine for one reason or another. Oddly enough sleep was the primary motivation. That was where I learned to take breaks in the form of a snooze on the crapper. ;)
Of course that was where I learned that I could sleep anywhere under almost any circumstances. At my first duty station, Fort Hood, Texas, I slept in a moving Bradley. Now that is a sleeping FEAT. Standing up? no problem! I have even fallen asleep during a road march. Waking up while falling into a ditch isn't fun.
We could write letters, though. I had a very long journal made in the guise of writing letters. I wish I could find that thing. I wrote about a lot. Hell i don't even know what happened to any of my journals that existed before that life.
We got Christmas Leave, if we wanted it. I went back home and married Theresa. It was like I made a mistake within a mistake.
But eventually it ended. At the last week they started relaxing. We watched TV and they treated us like human adults instead of delinquent children. We ordered pizzas and bullshitted in the way I found that soldiers do with but one thing in common.
And it proved true for the rest of my time in the military. All of it did. And I have to look back and wonder how they managed to instill in us the ability to deal with all that crap that flies at you like buckshot.
Now some of us didn't take too well to it and they didn't last long in the real army. Failure to Adapt is a chapter clause that can get you thrown out pretty quickly, especially in the Army Infantry. There is a lot on the line.
I do remember some really notably good times. There was once on the SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon) range where I laid hidden in the tall grass in the sunshine and slept for hours. That was peaceful in spite of the smell of rifle cleaning solutions all over me.
And there were some really interesting times that were both good and bad. Like during the training on how to handle snipers. It was raining a rain that didn't care whether you had full wet-weather gear or not. And we had to crawl through the mud and the muck demonstrating our techniques. And it was COLD. When I stood there next to my friend, Doyle (last name) I felt that indicative drip down the crack of my ass. This indicates that the wet-weather gear has finally given up and told you that you are on your own. Apparently he had the same experience at the same time. We looked at each other knowingly and we laughed long and hard. I believe that was the most cathartic laugh I have ever experienced. After that the cold, the wet, and the mud couldn't touch us. We were invulnerable.
I was actually kind of sad to go. I had made friends in the soldiers and even in the Drill Sergeants there. We had been through something together that few get to go through, even in the Army and it kind of sucked to leave them. I felt a bond with that bunch that I have yet to feel with any other group.
I remember when Theresa picked me up. I wore the civilian clothes that I had in my wall-locker for so long but never got to touch except during Christmas leave, where I got married. They were loose and I was tight.
I put my duffle in the car and we drove off, back home to pick up my junk and move it to Fort Hood, Texas. And that's another story.
Editted to note that The Craft is one Sorry. Piece. of. Shit. Movie.