THANK A VETERAN, THEN BRACE YOURSELF

Everybody knows you can’t thank a veteran without a veteran story in return, so:

I served in the medical community doing pre-physical work ups on my civil service patients in South Philadelphia.

It was a remote clinic administered from the Army hospital in Fort Dix, New Jersey although there was a Navy hospital just up the street.

I also drove the ambulance when the clinic got a call on the red phone, the emergency hot line.

It’s always stressful coming up on people in distress, but that’s the job.

For some reason the hospital company at Dix was commanded by an infantry captain with a mean streak.

His big day was PT Day, physical training day where he pushed the hospital company through their monthly fitness test.

When I joined his group he took a special interest since I might have been the fittest person he’d seen; I was a couple of weeks out from my Army wrestling team try-out and in pretty good shape.

The captain had a job to do so I don’t blame him for singling me out.

I was used to it by then.

I got singled out in Boy Scouts as an example of how not to pack a backpack. (My Mom helped.)

 

Scout Master: This pack looks like your mom packed it.

Me: She did.

 

With practice, I got better.

So there’s hope for everyone.

 

Singled Out? Then Let’s Go

Captain Kickass had his routine down.

Friendly with an undertone of condescension for the soft people under his leadership.

Used to the hustle of competitive guys, now he had people at hospital pace.

And me.

Most of the guys endured the captain’s big day with the unspoken agreement to not strain themselves.

Their attitude was understandable. This wasn’t some kind of bootcamp pecker measuring day where getting one-up on anyone for anything was important.

These guys were career guys who knew the drill.

I was a guy eliminated from the reason I joined the Army in the first place by a West Pointer.

And I was competitive enough to standout to the captain, who saw a chance to make the new guy his new bitch.

Instead, he found someone in better shape than he was;  bigger, faster, and stronger.

And younger.

Did I help him improve when he didn’t win our contests? Probably.

I’m sure my coaching was just what he needed after a run.

“Try a little harder, Sir. You’re getting closer.”

 

Mental Conditioning Moment

People who have never served in uniform are confused about the role they’d play.

They seem themselves looking sharp in Army Blues, or Navy Dinner Dress Whites.

They don’t see themselves standing in front of a screaming maniac with huge fucking teeth chopping his knife hand and woodpeckering  foreheads with his hat brim.

No one sees that until it’s them, or the guy next to them.

Did I get the treatment? I did, with a side of disappointment and regret.

My Drill Sergeant singled me out, rightfully so, as a leader of men. He invested time and resources to show me the way.

I went to leadership school as icing on the career cake.

Then I failed horrible: I wouldn’t lie.

 

My guy put me in charge of his platoon. It was great when things moved along.

Then the platoon screwed up one night, some of them got hurt, and I refused to say they were all present and accounted for when they weren’t.

The next day my guy demoted me from platoon guide to squad leader, then dropped me from squad leader to nothing, just another trainee.

Apparently I was supposed to feel bad.

Based on his spit spewing scream job punctuated by that god damn hat, I was supposed to feel worse than anything or anyone and driven to reclaim my leadership status.

But I called my Dad for advice. He’d been through it with the Marines from trainee to Drill Instructor.

Here’s what he said:

 

“Leadership in boot  camp doesn’t mean a thing. It’s just the Drill Sergeant auditioning for a promotion if he finds good soldiers early.

You were the first in your training cycle. You’ll probably have two more. You’re doing fine.”

 

He was right about the platoon leaders. With each new one the guys came to me for advice. I kept it simple.

 

“The new guys sucks. Do we have to do what he says?”

“Yes.”

 

Thank A Veteran

My example showed my leadership.

We were standing in line waiting to do a lap on the jungle gym before breakfast.

I was ribbing the guys in line and the new platoon guide dropped me for twenty push-ups.

After I told him it was a good warm-up he gave me twenty more.

I shit-talked him for one hundred push-ups. Luckily I’d been practicing.

The Drill Sergeant asked what was going on.

The new guy said discipline.

He asked me if I’d had enough.

“Yes, Drill Sergeant.”

 

Back in line, the new guy said, “I could never do that many push-ups.”

“Yeah, I know, but now the guys will think they can.”

“That’s why you wouldn’t shut up?”

“Yes. You’re not that bad a guy.”

“We could be friends.”

“No, you’re not that good a guy.”

“What?”

“Just kidding, buddy. Drop and give me twenty you fat fuck. For the sake of friendship.”

“Really?”

“I’ll count. One, two, three . . . Let’s go.”