Le rire du Sergent - Sgt B. No More
Last weekend was my very last drill. I never thought six years could blow by so quickly. As usual, all the important people told me that I would miss it and be back soon. I am not so sure about that.
It is a bittersweet parting. I know a lot of people fail to understand it when I say that. Reactions I have encountered on other blogs ran along the line of why-don’t-you-reenlist-and-go-kill-babies-in-Iraq if it is a bittersweet parting. This comment revealed the person’s obvious lack of intelligence. Only a minority of choices in life is clear-cut. Those usually aren’t important ones. (Which kind of OJ am I buying today? Oh oh oh Tropicana is on sale.) No point in trying to explain that to him. I doubt he ever partook in anything as painfully hard, yet as satisfying as being a jarhead. I do not believe in the cliché that you have to be one of us to understand how I feel. I do believe you must have worked through hardships, and yet have felt satisfied to understand my position.
In no particular order this is how I feel about this parting: I will miss leading my platoon, taking care of them, planning events. I will not miss the last minute disruption caused by the brass, or the complete clusterfuck that is getting dates set for an AT. I only once went on the AT that I had first been assigned to. I will not miss the chicken shit of people being all kinds of happy because I am not wearing socks with my sandals during a MC function or some other silly bullshit. I will miss the camaraderie. I will miss speaking my mind without caring about PC crap. I will not miss a certain Major in S-3 scolding me for refusing to work full days for ½ pay because somebody fucked the fund request in the training plan. I will not miss that I have been waiting for several hundred dollars worth of pay since August.
Quite possibly the hardest part was handing over my platoon to a man that I utterly despise. I know him to be a cheat, thief, and a liar. I prevented him to be promoted several times for varied reasons: clear lack of intelligence, no initiative, being overweight… The brass I complained about earlier decided to give him his third stripe because he re-enlisted. How fucked up is that? I was utterly disgusted. I picked up Sgt in three years and three months and I had to hand out my boys to someone who could not get there in eight years.
Semper Fi
It is a bittersweet parting. I know a lot of people fail to understand it when I say that. Reactions I have encountered on other blogs ran along the line of why-don’t-you-reenlist-and-go-kill-babies-in-Iraq if it is a bittersweet parting. This comment revealed the person’s obvious lack of intelligence. Only a minority of choices in life is clear-cut. Those usually aren’t important ones. (Which kind of OJ am I buying today? Oh oh oh Tropicana is on sale.) No point in trying to explain that to him. I doubt he ever partook in anything as painfully hard, yet as satisfying as being a jarhead. I do not believe in the cliché that you have to be one of us to understand how I feel. I do believe you must have worked through hardships, and yet have felt satisfied to understand my position.
In no particular order this is how I feel about this parting: I will miss leading my platoon, taking care of them, planning events. I will not miss the last minute disruption caused by the brass, or the complete clusterfuck that is getting dates set for an AT. I only once went on the AT that I had first been assigned to. I will not miss the chicken shit of people being all kinds of happy because I am not wearing socks with my sandals during a MC function or some other silly bullshit. I will miss the camaraderie. I will miss speaking my mind without caring about PC crap. I will not miss a certain Major in S-3 scolding me for refusing to work full days for ½ pay because somebody fucked the fund request in the training plan. I will not miss that I have been waiting for several hundred dollars worth of pay since August.
Quite possibly the hardest part was handing over my platoon to a man that I utterly despise. I know him to be a cheat, thief, and a liar. I prevented him to be promoted several times for varied reasons: clear lack of intelligence, no initiative, being overweight… The brass I complained about earlier decided to give him his third stripe because he re-enlisted. How fucked up is that? I was utterly disgusted. I picked up Sgt in three years and three months and I had to hand out my boys to someone who could not get there in eight years.
Semper Fi
Labels: Marine Corps, Military, Platoon, Sergeant
posted by Sgt. B. at 10:07 AM
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