Archive for the ‘Army’ Category

One day, back when I was still enlisted, I returned from leave to discover a new NCO in our office. For purposes of this site, I will call him SSG Figurine.

The first thing I noticed is about him is that he sat apart from all of the other soldiers in the room, and just kind of watched us. Is was kind of disconcerting. Occasionally, he would jot something down in a notebook. But even when he was writing, his attention would remain on us as we went about our work.

It was like he was the Jane Goodall of PSYOP troopers. Which, when you consider,the mentality of the average soldier, is a surprisingly good analogy.

So after a few days of this, I started asking questions. What’s the deal with the new guy? Does he actually do anything? Why is he taking notes on us?

Nobody had any real idea. Officially, he was a new senior illustrator for the Product Development Detachment that I worked in. But no-one ever saw him go near a computer, or draw anything. Rumors where beginning to circulate that he was a CID plant. (For non-Army that’s Criminal Investigation. Internal affairs for the Army. Speculation began to spread about who he was investigating, and for what.

If anyone attempted to speak directly with SSG Figurine he would be polite, but would pretty evade or ignore any questions about his previous units, or anything related to our job. And no one was allowed anywhere near his notebook.

After about a week of this he took to wandering around the office. He’d look over your shoulder while you were working, and ask odd questions. Sometimes he’d take notes off of what you told him.

“What are you working on today Specialist?”

“I’m making a poster for the anti-mine campaign in Mozambique.”

“I see.” scribble “And why are you using that photograph?”

“Ummm…because it’s a picture of the kind of landmine that is being used over there.”

“I see” scribble scribble “So what do you think about SGT German?”

“What? The guy in Headquarters?”

“Yeah him.” scribble

“Ummm he’s okay I guess. Why are you writing this down?”

“No reason. Just mind your own business Specialist.” scribble scribble

So as you can imagine after about a month everybody was really skitish about him. Some people were downright terrified of him.

And right when everybody was at their most paranoid, there was some kind of meeting with all of the E-5’s on up, at company headquarters. And SSG Figurines strange conduct was brought up, along the idea that he was a CID plant.

“Oh, I’m not CID” he revealed. “I was just bored, and had a notebook.”

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There was a chill in the air as the soldiers of the 876^th EN BN loaded up for their logistical ground assault convoy. The weather here in Iraq had dipped down from the 140 degrees that most soldiers experienced when they had first arrived, medic to a frosty 65. Our mission was a night move, shop our purpose logistics, drugs and the reason was to gain some of the excellent equipment being left for us by our state’s outgoing Guard units: Task Force Dragoon.

The final pre-combat checks and inspections were complete; everyone was talking via the radios, weapons were given their functions checks, and the route was deemed clear according to the latest intelligence. I gave the final safety brief, reminding all of the participants of the places that we would travel past during our trip. Upon leaving the gate it was ”Go Time”. Our crew-served weapons gunners scanned their sectors, the drivers focused on the road laid out ahead of them, the passengers scanned the sides of the road for possible IEDs, and I kept constant communications flowing with our air support who was watching our progress from the sky.

We were making great time as we passed by Fallujah, one of the apexes of the Sunni Triangle. You could see the walls and towers of the Abu Gharaib prison complex as we passed Abu Gharaib. Once we reached Baghdad we got turned around on an onramp, but quickly righted ourselves. We were passing through the second of the Sunni triangle cities.

As we passed by Camp Taji and its high walls my thoughts passed to my brother who is stationed there, and reflected momentarily that even though I am thousands of miles from my home, that a person with whom I had lived under the same roof with for fourteen years of my life was only a mile away. My thoughts quickly returned to the duty at hand as a call came up on my radio. A convoy ahead had been hit with an IED. This served as a grim reminder to maintain my focus. EOD was on the scene, and the area would be cleared by the time we made it to that area.

A quick stop by Camp Anaconda for fuel allowed us to stretch our legs and prepare for the final leg of our journey. We would bypass Balad next, and then Sumeria. Coming up to Tekrit we saw that the road was blocked off entering into the city of Saddam Hussein’s birth. We knew that this was coming and took the detour around the third corner of the Sunni Triangle. Soon we were able to take the bypass of Bayji, where we were warned not to go because “there are bad people there”. Eventually we arrived at our final destination; Camp Sumeral. I looked at my Global Positioning System (GPS), and noticed that we were very close to the city of Mosul, and the countries of Turkey and Azerbaijan.

We had made great time, arriving two hours ahead of schedule. With the exception of the Baghdad turnaround, it was a flawless convoy.

On the way back we were also making great time. Because of this I allowed my soldiers time for Pizza Hut or Burger King at Camp Anaconda. They had performed exceptionally and this was a reward that they could not receive at any post near Ramadi.

This turned out to be a good choice because as we prepared to depart Anaconda I was informed over the radio that an IED had been initiated on a convoy just south of Anaconda on the route that we were to take. Had we not allowed the extra time for pizza it would have been our convoy hit with that IED. The return trip back was thankfully uneventful.

Thank God for lifesaving Pizza.

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Here it is, allergist you Monday morning list of things you should probably not do.

(Submitted by Kennes Hendrickson)

• Not allowed to send soldiers to the motor pool for a can of air.
• Not allowed to send soldiers to the 1sg to ask for the pricky-8 for the radio
• Even if the platoon sergeant thought it would be funny
• Must not remove a soldiers canister from their gas mask
• Even if they are sleeping on duty
• Not allowed to send soldiers to range control to get keys to the drop zone
• There is no such duty to paint the flight lines
• Not allowed to refer to subordinates as my minions
• Not allowed to refer to subordinates as my little bastards
• Not allowed to tape corporals to chairs with 100 mile hour tape during lunch hour
• Nor allowed during duty hours
• Not even if they flunked out of jump master school twice
• Can not order soldiers to throw rocks at the same corporal
• Can not set up trip wires in the scif at Ft. Bragg in order to make the roving gaurds trip
• Not supposed to laugh at the NCOIC when she trips over the trip wire
• Not allowed to sell TA-50 on e-bay
• Not even if it is your annoying room mates TA-50
• Not allowed to call your 1sg a LEG even if he is one
• Can not laugh at your 1sg for being a reservist, pills because they have feeling too
• Must not tell locals in Hawaii that your MOS is Sub-terrain Pineapple growers, even if you work under a pineapple field and can not say what you do
• Not supposed to tell people they hate me because I am black, especially if I am white
• On Sicily drop zone at 0100 when the platoon sergeant is looking for his poncho, not supposed to take the token Mexican kid to him
• Can not hide your platoon sergeants poncho from him on jumps
• Not allowed to ask the battalion CSM why you always have to remind him he is a sergeant major
• Can not inject the “Army, it’s so easy a caveman can do it” picture into a power point presentation intended for the battalion commander
• Even if he thinks it is funny
• Can not even attempt to DX my neighbor
• Not allowed to have an EPW camp of field mice in an MRE box
• Not allowed to execute mice that were captured during time of war
• Birth certificate and high school diploma do not count for promotion points
• During war fighters can not brief the ACE chief on enemy activity in Rhode Island
• Even if you believe they are communist
• Can not fuel a generator while smoking a cigarette
• Not allowed to ask your CO for beef jerky, even if he did horde it on the show Survivor
• Not allowed to put a bumper sticker on a religious soldiers car that reads “WWSD” with small print reading “What would Scooby Doo”
• Not allowed to link all laptops together to play 2 vs. 2 command and conquer generals
• Not allowed to take the CO’s proxima projector to make a movie theater inside the t-scif
• It is frowned upon to teach a private MP that is 4th general order is to guard his post from flank to flank and take no shit from any rank
• Even if the MP NCOIC taught it to you
• Not allowed to hide in shelter halves to avoid work
• Can not perform an L shaped ambush on your SGL at PLDC with blank rounds
• During a brass shake down can not tell the drill sergeant “Your ass, my ammo”
• While as a drill sergeant can not give your soldiers ecstasy

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story by Donny, abortion written with help by skippy

One bright spring day our platoon was tasked with some combat training. specifically we were assigned to attack a fake village that would be populated with other soldiers pretending to be third world residents. Our goal was to neutralize HVTs. For the benefit of the non-military readers an HVT is a High Value Target. In other words the guys that we want to do bad things to.

The training village was a cluster of six buildings, illness ranging is size from a small single room dwelling to a large 2 story house. This building was practically a mansion by the standards of the other buildings, shop with several interconnected rooms. There was even an escape tunnel leading out of the village.

These buildings, like all urban combat simulators were constructed with thick slabs of concrete, to create a maximum of durabilty with a minimum of cost. Which are two desirable features for a building if you plan on letting soldiers run amok without any serious adult supervision.

My squad was the main effort, and so the large two story building was our target. We dismounted our Bradleys, sprinted to the building, and entered through a window. As we climbed the stairs we encountered light enemy resistance, which we quickly and professionally put down.

Once on the second floor, we began clearing all of the rooms. Within a short period of time we had swept through the area, and had already captured or killed every HVT except for one. And we only had one room left to check.

So my squad stacked up and I got the be the breacher. Again for the non-military types here, a breacher is the guy who gets the break the door down. As soon as he does that everyone else runs in, the goal being to put as many soldiers through the door as quickly as possible.

So I forced the door and watched my squad storm in to the sound of gunfire. As I tried to join them in the assault I collided with a team-mate who was standing in the doorway laughing. Despite the clear presence of an armed hostile my squad instead of opening fire, was doubling over with laughter. Feeling disgruntled I shoved my way into the room while shouting “What the hell is so funny?”

And then I saw.

Remember how I mentioned the nice thick walls in this place? Well aside from being durable thick cement also blocks sounds. And so the nice Sergeant who was playing the role of enemy combatant had not heard the raid starting. And having been left with some privacy for a while, he decided to conduct a private “weapons inspection”.

He was in fact rather enthusiastically in the middle of said inspection when my squad, rather rudely, broke the door down and barged in.

Now to his credit, he was able to change gears, and weapons, rather quickly. He dropped his gun, grabbed his rifle, and began what could under the circumstance only be referred to as a valiant last stand.

Unfortunately for him he had been caught with his pants down, red handed as it were.

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While I was in Bosnia I got to witness some truly awe inspiring disregard for appropriate conduct.

Now to preface, many of the rules and regulations the military inflicts on its soldiers are ridiculous. And a silly regulation should probably be mocked. But you should still follow it, especially if you are a leader. And if you are going to ignore it and just do what you want, you should at least have the courtesy to attempt to hide it from your soldiers.

So while I was deployed in Bosnia I got to work with Reservists for the first time. In fact, about half of the PSYOP forces in Sarajevo were deployed from the Reserves. My section lucked out, in that the most senior of the illustrators in country, a man who I will call Specialist Dart, had extensive training and experience with graphic design from his civilian job. So he taught me all about Photoshop, vector graphics, and Quark.

Unfortunately not all of the Reservists had similar amounts of applicable job experience. But most of them where willing to sit down and learn their way around the software and other job requirements.

But the video productions section had an NCO who I will call SGT Screecher. Now SGT Screecher was a very nice lady who had a few issues. The first is that she had absolutely no idea how any of the equipment in here section worked. She had transfered from some other area and received on the job training for her current assignment. Her on the job training more or less consisted of someone waving a pencil and shouting: “Abracadabra….you’re now qualified to lead video production!” And unfortunately for everyone, she didn’t want to learn. Basically, she had too much of an ego to allow a bunch of lower enlisted types to teach her how the equipment worked. So she just sat around her section being annoying until a higher ranking NCO kicked her out.

So she was now banished from being in the same office as the soldiers she was technically “leading”.

Which was no big deal to me, because I was in another section entirely.

Which leads nicely into my problem. My section leader was a man I will call SGT Horndog.

As you may guess from the name, SGT Horndog took one look at SGT Screecher and decided:

“I’m going to hit that so hard, whoever can pull me out again will be the next King of England!”

As nearly any soldier who has deployed can tell you, these “deployed romances” happen from time to time. And by “time to time”, I mean “near constantly”. In this particular case it was notable because weren’t particularly good at hiding it. But that special kind of “not hiding it” where they act like they are concealing their real actions with an almost ninja-like ability.

I named her SGT Screecher for a reason.

So besides keeping other soldiers up at odd hours, she would hang around my office making goo-goo eyes at Horndog and basically acting like an infatuated teenager. Seriously, she usually referred to him as “Honey” or by his first name while in uniform and on duty. (For purposes of this story I will say that his first name is Pookie.)

You know those people who are going through the nauseating “Yay I just started dating someone” phase? That was her. Except that she had rank and wasn’t above throwing it around if someone was mean to her “Honey”. I actually got chewed out once for trying to demonstrate a better way to make a layout to SGT Horndog. (Please note: I was an illustrator. This was my job.)

Aside from clogging up our space, and giving us a serious case of cooties induced diabetes, she also made an email account on every computer in our office.

Now this was in the mid-nineties before computers had multi-gig hard drives. We did graphic production and had itty-bitty drives to store it on. We had to use external storage media, such as Jazz and Zip disks, simply because we couldn’t fit all of the material we were working with onto our system at the same time.

So we had a special (read: crappy) computer just for email accounts, in the back.

Unfortunately for us, SGT Screecher didn’t like that computer. So she would just help herself to the workstations. She would even try to kick soldiers who were working off of the workstations so she could spend her afternoons sending emails to every person she ever knew.

And our NCOIC wouldn’t do a damn thing about it because he wanted to keep getting some.

One day SPC Dart (remember him?) had enough.

“SGT you can’t keep using these workstations for personal email. There’s no room for files we need already, plus we need the system to get the next magazine print set-up.”

She gave him a petulant pout, “Well Pookie would give me access to this system whenever I want!”

“SGT, would you like a quick rundown of all the things that SGT Horndog will give you whenever you want that I won’t? Because orgasms are pretty close to the top of that list.”

And with that she turned red, and ran away, never to bother us about email again. And my section lived happily ever after, except for SGT Horndog.

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This weeks list of bad military ideas comes from an Army Cadet in the Australian military. Which should probably be terrifying if you are a soldier in the Australian military.

(Submitted by Cadet Who?)

• Must not refer to a lanyard as a “ropey thingy”
• Must not use a lanyard to hang an NCO, salve no matter how much I hate them
• Must not use wit to come up with “funny” rhymes about NCO’s
• The chain of command doesn’t care how long I have played PS2 for, medic I still have to do drill
• Ghostmas is not a real religious holiday and I shouldn’t take time off cadets for it
• I am not the crazy cat lady
• I must not make my personal army of cats
• I am not in charge of the zero gravity universe
• There is no such thing as the zero gravity universe
• I am no longer to do the “Eden” dance
• I am no longer allowed to dance the “Krystal”
• Walter the bank guy (deal or no deal) is not my home dog
• Using large amounts of hair gel causes cancer and hair loss, doctor think about it
• I am not the president of Uzbekistan
• I am not to cover the parade ground with sand and create a Zen garden
• I am not allowed to re-enact anything from Jackass
• I am not to see how many marshmallows I can shove up my nose
• When in cold conditions, I am not allowed to lick poles
• I am not allowed to steal the company’s flag, this achieves nothing
• I am not to push that button on the radio while someone is talking
• I am not to inquire how to make “cadet cocaine”
• I am not to flatten my face against windows
• I am not to convert people to “The Dark side”
• “The Dark side” does not have cookies
• I am not to go into the Q store and become “The Magical Scrim Monster”
• I am not Fergalicious
• I am not to encourage other cadets to irritate the NCO’s
• “Point and laugh” is not a drill move
• I am not to go on a mission based solely on pushing over sleeping cows
• I must not put the bandages used for First-Aid lessons in my mouth, I don’t know where they’ve been
• I cannot fly and I should not test this
• There’s no such thing as “scrim attack”
• Manikin look-a-likes of me don’t replace me at lessons, camps or parades
• I don’t know kung-fu, and I should not say this
• I do not have an evil twin
• I am not to get other sections lost on purpose, even if it is funny
• The SSGT is not a member of Al-Qaeda
• Saying that I was dropped on my head at birth does not justify anything bad I have done
• I am to speak English at all times, Not German, not Chinese, English
• I am not bringing Sexy back
• If I start seeing Leprechauns, I’ve drunk too much coke
• I am not to do anything I saw in the movie “Jarhead”, especially “field f**k”
• I am not to taunt the air-force cadets anymore
• The SSGT is not a ferret, even though with his new hair style he does look like one.
• New recruits are not “cannon fodder”
• I must not itch myself with a loaded steyer

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Well technically I’m, putting this up on Sunday night. But I’m pretty that most of you aren’t reading this until Monday morning.

It’s occurred to me that some readers who were not in the military might not get all of the acronyms and Army-speak. If your confused, feel free to ask in the comments section. I’m sure one of the various service people who reads this will be able to answer. If enough people ask, I may just make a lexicon for the site.

This week’s update comes from Kyle Harth. Who was probably a very interesting person to serve with.

• Wearing donated women’s clothing, in the G-1 shop, does not make them process your OPFUND paperwork faster.
• It is not acceptable to get smashed at the local guest house, sharing land navigation point numbers, while you are supposed to be in the woods.
• Soldiers are not allowed to cut open artillery simulators and ignite the piles of gunpowder.
• Throwing disposable lighters into the fire barrels is not the correct way to get a better position for warming up.
• When forced to go to AA, after your Field Grade Article 15, it is not appropriate to say, “Because of my alcohol related incident, I don’t drink anymore…I don’t drink any less, either!” (Although this will ensure that you don’t have to go to anymore of those stupid meetings.)
• “Get the %#@* out of my HMMWV, or I will tie you to it and drag you behind”, is not the correct way to deal with journalists in a combat zone.
• Mowing the letters “FTA” into the grass while on Extra Duty is not appreciated by the CSM.
• Burning giant bales of marijuana is not the correct way to keep warm after destroying a warlord’s compound.
• Running from the MPs, while wearing togas and laying down a “smoke screen” with a stolen fire extinguisher, out the window of your vehicle, is not authorized.
• Hawaiian shirts, baseball hats, and shorts are not appropriate attire, when manning the MK-19, during a rocket launch site recon.
• Utilizing the PT route to race your friends home drunk in your “blacked out” POV, is usually frowned upon by the MPs and your Command Staff.
• Servicemembers are not allowed to request to use the breathalyser at the MP station to “see who knows how to party”.
• Especially if you’re driving.
• Even if you tell them it’s OK to arrest all of you so that you can blow.
• CS grenades are not to be used in European basement clubs.
• CS powder is not to be sprinkled on the top of your neighbor’s barracks room door then gently closed and re-locked with the keys you stole from the CQ.
• Stealing a few pieces to the CSM’s 2000 piece puzzle every time you are called into the OPS Center is awesome. But only if you are not caught.
• Soldier’s shall not steal the Commander’s vehicle and go to WVU for a night of drinking. Even if when you get there, several other Teams are there in a stolen 2 ½ Ton.
• Airborne operations are not to be performed while still intoxicated from the night before. They are especially not to be done in tandem with your other “E-4 Mafia” brother’s, consecutively, for several years.
• The Army did not send you to 13 months of medical training so that you could refer to IV’s and Oxygen as “Hangover Helpers”, and live your life through “better chemistry”.
• While it’s an awesome way to save money, you are still considered a thief if you are caught using a stolen ladder to swipe the Scout Platoon’s beer from the second story windowsills during “outdoor beer season”.
• “Survival Training” is not an appropriate response when caught shooting wild game with a cleaning rod and blanks.
• AR 670-1 does not (apparently) allow for the BDU trousers to be worn tucked into your snake skin cowboy boots. (Even if you lost a bet because your buddy drank piss from said boots.)
• While assigned to (or visiting) Camp Vance, you are not allowed to dress in drag, and pose for “The Men of Man-Love Thursday” calendar.
• During training exercises, machine-guns cannot be abandoned because they are too heavy to E&E with…even if you remove the firing pins and take them with you.
• It is illegal to call your car in stolen after you have abandoned it off-post, after running from the MPs, and taking out a large section of perimeter fence.
• Golf Carts are supposed to be used on the Golf Course. Any other use is unauthorized. Like joyriding while drinking beer, then writing “Go Navy, Army Sucks” on them, and abandoning them in front of the SEAL’s barracks.
• It is against Military and Civilian Law to use an F-470 Zodiac to raid lobster traps while in Dive School.
• Repositioning the Commander of Area 51’s vehicle, ever so slightly, every time he enters the OPS briefing, is…well…super damn funny!
• UAV’s will not be used to “check out chicks”. Nor will Rotary Wing Assets, NVGs, Thermals, or Long Range Photography Equipment.
• A CALFEX is not the appropriate place to drop acid.
• When giving a survival class on cleaning wild game, you are not allowed to eat raw pig’s liver, even if it was an appropriate response to someone’s smart-assed comment.
• T-shirts displaying the words “$@*# you, you $@*#ing $@*#!” are not to be worn during Military Christmas Parade processions.
• Mortar rounds fired on “Delay” are not to be used for trying to uproot trees on the range.
• A 72 hour pass given with a promotion and your EIB, does not authorize you to rent a car, get drunk, and roll it two and half times.
• “En’Shallah” is not to be used as a response to why you are doing something that is unauthorized. (Even if it’s appropriate to the demographic that you are in.)
• E-4’s are not allowed to pose as civilians so that they can get loaded at the Officer’s Club and pick up chicks.
• When planning for small boat operations, the command element will not approve nude beaches as potential Beach Landing Sites.
• Teddies and lace panties will not be worn under the military uniform when showing up for a rectal exam.
• “How do you know how fast I was going if you don’t have a radar gun?” is the wrong response to give a Brigade Commander when seen racing your four wheeler around the airfield (at about 50 mph).
• The Desert Boonie Hat, even if you hate wearing it, can not have four inches added to the brim, and eight inches added to the crown, so that it looks like “Cat in the Hat.”
• It is punishable under the UCMJ to possess (and use) an MP badge, if you are not an MP.
• Setting up a “secret communications frequency” in order to play Guns and Roses, while performing a ground invasion, is…you guessed it, not authorized.
• You are not allowed to “shoot for beers” while conducting marksmanship training.
• Personally owned watercraft (jet skis) are not supposed to be transported on military trailers, in convoy.
• Being assigned as the Battalion Military Vehicle Drivers Training NCO, does not give you the right to invite all your friends and relatives for some “four wheeling” on post.
• Simmunition is supposed to be used to engage targets, center mass. Intentionally shooting at the nuts is frowned upon.
• “Kangaroo Court” is not an authorized form of Military Tribunal.
• Possession of uniforms, in your wall locker, with different ranks and unit insignia will tend to arouse suspicion among your superiors.
• Pen Flare/Cluster Flare/Parachute Flare wars can, and will, start forest fires…which, oddly, you will be held responsible for.

And lastly:

• Making E-4 three times in four years does not mean you can’t make E-7 in SF.

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And before I show the list, SPC Jeremy Johnson wanted me to tell you about Operation Happy Note.

In his own words”
“These guys are sending musical instruments to deployed soldiers, which is fucking awesome, and I figured its the kind of thing that you would plug on your site.”

Well spotted Jeremy, and consider the info passed on.

(Submitted by SPC Jeremy Johnson)

• Not allowed to tell my LT “I don’t have to listen to you, you’re just a Lieutenant!” (Note that this never actually stopped me)
• Not allowed to remove computer equipment to install a microwave in the shelter.
• Not allowed to remove computer equipment to install a mini-fridge in the shelter.
• Not allowed to install an X-Box in the shelter.
• Not even if I give the LT a turn.
• Not allowed to convert my Humvee into a Pirate Ship.
• Not allowed to ‘just’ fly a Jolly Roger from the antenna mount.
• Not allowed to slash the tires of Vehicles that park in my spot.
• Even if they belong to other units.
• Especially if they belong to another Country.
• Not allowed to exchange my M16 for a Pistol, “Because it’ll be more fun.”
• Not allowed to Exchange my M16 for a shotgun, “Because all the cool kids have one.”
• Not allowed to exchange my M16 for a Sub-Machine Gun.
• Ok, I can, but only if I can find one for the commander too.
• Not allowed to shoot at Civilian Contractors in Suburbans if they’re tailgating me. That job belongs to the LT. (True story, don’t ever give that guy the finger)

(Submitted By Joshua Nolan)

• Cannot ride a quad-barreled APC designated for the Iraqi Army like a rodeo star.

• The answer “You might.” is not consent to attempt to jump a 3 foot sand berm in an 18-wheeler after running over the “DO NOT ENTER” sign.

• Cannot attempt to jump anything in an 18-wheeler.
• Dr Pepper is not basic pyro issue.

• Cannot start a pillw fight on an airliner and blame PTSD.

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So a few years back the Army decided, in its infinite wisdom, that it had too many Staff Sergeants.

And so, as the Army sometimes does when this happens, it decided to offer incentives to any E-6s that would volunteer to leave the service early. And someone whimsical came up with a rather creative incentive system.

The volunteer could choose any two spots on their body, and an Army medic would measure the distance between them, and award one hundred dollars for every inch.

The morning the program opened, the medic, a Specialist, who had drawn the measuring detail received his first volunteer.

“Alright Sergeant before we get started I am required to ask you what your MOS is, and why you wish to leave the Army.”

“Well Specialist, I’m a mechanic and I was going to ETS next year anyways and I figure I could use the extra money, so why not get out now?”

‘Fair enough Sergeant. Where would you like to be measured?”

“From the tip of my left middle finger to the tip of my right middle finger.”

The specialist took his tape measure, and checked. “Okay Sergeant, you measure at 66 inches, go ahead and take this form to the Captain at the desk outside and he will cut you a check. Please send the next candidate in.”

The second candidate, a tall man, entered and was asked the same question.

“I’m a 25S, which means I work with satellite communications systems. I’m about to get married, which means I could use some extra money. And since civilians with my training make some serious money, I figure that now is a good time to get out and start a family.”

“Fair enough Sergeant, where would you like to be measured?”

“From the bottom of my feet to the top of my head.”

This man was six foot eight, and the Specialist told him so. “That comes to 80 inches, please give this form to the Captain at the desk outside and he’ll take care of your check. Please send the next man in.”

The third NCO walked in, limping badly. He too was asked for his MOS and his reason for leaving the service.

“I’m an 11B, infantry. I have seen too many combat tours, and my Humvee hit an IED a few months ago. I only recently got out of the hospital, and it is only a matter of time before my paperwork catches up with me and I get a medical discharge. So I might as well take the money and run while I can.”

“Sounds like a plan Sergeant. Where would you like me to measure you?”

“From the tip of my penis to the base of my testicles.”

“Wait, what?”

“Did I stutter soldier? I said from the tip of my penis to the base of my testicles.”

“Sergeant, I don’t mean this as an insult to your manhood, but wouldn’t it be a better idea to-”

“I SAID THE TOP OF MY COCK TO THE BACK OF MY SACK TROOPER!” the Sergeant bellowed while dropping his pants, “NOW GET TO IT!”

Feeling awkward, the Specialist got on his knees and gingerly brought the tape measure forward. Taking a quick look, he gasped and jumped back.

“Sergeant! Your balls are missing! Where are they?”

“Fallujah. Now pay up.”

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Last week I played a prank on my readers, by leading them along about an unpleasant subject, before turning it into a joke. If you just got here, go ahead and read it now, I’ll wait.

I’d say that I am sorry for doing that to my regular readers, but let’s face it. You know that I’m not, and that’s probably why you keep reading my site. Because you know that I have the capacity and the willingness to turn painful emotional turmoil into a bad pun. That’s just the kind of service I like to provide.

But it has been pointed out to me that this is a serious issue that needs to be addressed publicly more often.

We currently have a suicide epidemic amongst those that serve. Take a look at this article.

Over 6,000 veterans killed themselves in 2005. That’s more than we have lost in combat since operations in Iraq began.

And so I am going to talk about the same thing, but this time no jokes.

Pretty much everything I described about my problems coming home from Kosovo was true, with the exception of the model part.

I got back to the states and took leave right away. I was a little weirded out at first, which I just attributed to having been home for only a week or so. I noticed that I now had issues with being in crowded areas. And once a friend of mine tried to run up and hug me. I reacted by stiff-arming her hard in the chest with my left hand, while reaching my right arm to my side where my (now imaginary) rifle would be hanging, to make sure she couldn’t grab it. Which was a tad embarrassing.

Upon returning I was sent to language school.

Unfortunately I stopped falling asleep at night. I lashed out at my teammates, and I couldn’t concentrate or study worth a damn. Which made trying to study Arabic go from a rather unpleasant exercise in futility to nightmarishly unpleasant exercise in futility. I tried to talk about it with a few of the soldiers I worked with, but was mostly left with the impression that they thought less of me for bringing the subject up. So I quit trying to talk about it. And so I just got worse.

Maybe soldiers are better about this sort of thing now. I certainly hope they are. But if one of your buddies has started acting like an ass lately, talk to him about it. Make sure he’s alright. I know that it can seem like the sorta thing that rough-tough, high-speed, low-drag troopers shouldn’t worry about. He might even make fun of you. But would you rather suffer through an uncomfortable conversation, or find out that one of your pals was in serious pain, in need of help, and that you didn’t do anything to help?

Eventually my team SGT decided that something was seriously wrong and did send me to the medical center to speak to a shrink. And I was diagnosed with PTSD. And my treatment was Wellbutrin and sleeping pills.

Because if there’s one thing a soldier with PTSD needs, its a bottle of sleeping pills. Don’t worry though, he wasn’t completely irresponsible. He asked if I was suicidal first. Its not like a soldier would ever lie about something like that, and besides, I’m sure that the nearly half an hour he spoke to me gave him enough of an impression of who I was and how I was doing.

So let’s recap. Half an hour with a doctor. Two bottles of pills, and an appointment to come back in a few weeks to see how I was holding up.

Things did not improve significantly. Maybe Wellbutrin has helped some other people. But in my case, it just made me feel hyper, frantic, and hostile. Also, it made Dr. Pepper taste funny for some reason.

Fortunately I did happen to have a decent social support network outside of the military. I have a family that gives a damn about me, and I had plenty of non-military friends that I spoke to. And they also noticed I was acting different since I had gotten back.

And what turned out to work for me was talking about my issues with people I could trust. And it didn’t get better overnight. But over time, it did. I quit taking the pills and told Army mental health “Thanks I feel fine now all better!” for pretty much the same reasons. Because they weren’t doing a darn thing to make me feel better. And I talked it over with my friends a whole bunch more. After a few months I started to feel a little better. And after about a year or so I was pretty much over it for the most part. Although I’m still not all that comfortable in crowds anymore.

Now I’m not claiming that pills are always going to be bad for you. Nor am I saying that talking to your friends fixes everything.

There are good and bad doctors in the Army, and I think I just happened to draw a bad one. And the pills didn’t help me. But talking it out did.

So if you feel like you are having any trouble coping after a deployment, talk to someone about it. If you don’t feel comfortable talking with those you serve with, talk with your family, or friends outside of the service. Check with the mental health people in your branch of service. If you don’t want to talk about it with your chain of command, lie about having an STD scare and go anyways. If you do go with military mental health services, remember that they should be making you feel better, not worse. If they make you feel worse, speak to someone else, or try to find a private therapist or councilor. Talk you your Pastor, Rabbi, or High Priestess. Look online for support groups. Hell post anonymously in the comments on my site if you just can’t find anyone else to talk to, please just talk to someone.

And for everyone who has had any experience with problems like this, please share any information on any resources you happen to know about that could help.

Some Resources:

Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR)

National Center for PTSD

PTSD Support Services

Military One Source – Anonymous mental health care for people in the service.

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