I've come to a conclusion. I hate the Army. I really, truly, deeply, hate the Army.
Here's why:
I just spent an hour and a half doing 'PRT'. I broke a sweat because it was really hot out. Half of the exercises involved holding my knees in a really painful position for two minutes a pop. The NCO leading PT thought this was good PT. Here's a hint, folks, it's not physical training without movement. I specify knees because mine are fucked up courtesy three years running around with full battle-rattle on and playing artillertard in between being a discount infantryman. This is not a concern for fobbits, whose knees only hurt if they used 'em to get promotion points.
I have to come into work several hours early to get a flu shot. I am twenty-two years old and healthy as a horse. Why the holy heavenly monkey-fuck am I getting a flu shot?
I apparently need to file a pass to go to Tucson, Arizona. It's an hour's drive away. This is for 'accountability'. The command also likes to ignore the policy letter they put out stating that us prior service jackasses are to be treated as permanent party... and permanent party doesn't have to file a pass to go seventy fucking miles. But we do. Apparently, my class leader (an E-5) is not qualified to be able to track me down after I tell him, "Hey, Sergeant, I'mma gonna go to Tucson". No. I need to file paperwork one week in advance my request to go to Tucson.
But I don't need to do this for Tombstone.
First Sergeant will state he looks out for all his soldiers, MOS-T and IET alike, then he'll only give IET kids the opportunity to go train up for the bigger UAS. His reason? The ERMP units already have NCOs. Because, y'know, apparently I've been promoted without anyone telling me. Finance does not approve of this as a reason to give me back-pay.
If I get a private back-talking, I'm not allowed to snatch him up and give him what-for. I have to tell the platoon sergeant that the private was misbehaving. Yeah. That's effective at instilling discipline.
If a private back-talks to a sergeant who isn't cadre, the sergeant is not allowed to smoke the private. He has to tell the platoon sergeant that the private was misbehaving. Yeah, that's gonna teach these pukes respect for the rank.
This while the First Sergeant tells us that all the MOS-T soldiers are NCOs and supposed to lead the IET pukes. How? They're goddamn civilians in uniform, how the hell can you expect them to act like soldiers?
Whatever happened to the Army I joined? Y'know, the one where they believed in the carrot and the stick, not just the carrot? Oh, right, we gotta be nice now. It's the kinder, gentler Army. Because that gets shit done.
I have to stand in formation for an hour and a half listening to Top, the Captain, and a butter-bar who I've spent more time in Iraq than he has in the service (ROTC/West Point don't count, jackass) give me a safety briefing. Thank you very much, I did not know I was not supposed to drink and drive.
I keep hearing about this spice shit. I wanna try some. I'm not kidding, every goddamn briefing involves spice someway, somehow.
At one point in my career I had to carry around five pieces of headgear. Five. FIVE. I do not have five heads. Why the fuck do I need five pieces of headgear? Here's why: I had the balaclava for when it was below 20. I had the watch-cap for when it was between 20 and 32. I had the beret for when I was out of the motor pool and it was above 32. I had the patrol cap for when I was in the motor pool and it was above 32. I had the ACH for when I was driving a military vehicle, and yes I had to have it in reach at all times even though I didn't have a license. Yes, the temperature would range like that in a single day. No, it still didn't make sense to have that many goddamn hats. If it does make sense to you, suck-start your weapon.
I am fully capable of driving a vehicle without a crash helmet. For that matter, I'm fully capable of climbing a vehicle without a crash helmet. Don't point out that helmets won't do shit for the neck. Or the hip. Or the ankle. Or the arm. The head's the only part you might hit when you fall off the truck, after all.
I've never touched alcohol in my life, and now I wanna drink. If nothing else, taking scoops out of my brain might help these command decisions make sense.
There are a great many sergeants for whom NCO stands for "No Chance Outside". I've only met a handful who were good at their jobs. The good ones don't re-up 'cause they can find a better job that has twice the pay with half the bullshit.
I spend one month's worth of time out of any given year sitting in the CP standing by. This is not unusual, and in fact some guys spend even more time standing by. This is 'cause the higher-ups won't release us until they're done doing the work they've been putting off to the last minute, even though we were done right after lunch.
There's the simple, easy way to do things that is immediately apparent to anyone with a brain in their skulls. That way is not the Army way. The Army way requires that you file at least three different documents at least a week in advance before, that you receive a three-hour safety brief, that you compile a composite risk management work packet, that you bring along five times as many people (in which case the shithead NCOIC will ensure everyone is working) or half as many people (in which case the shithead NCOIC will be nowhere to be found and half of those people won't be doing a damn thing) as are required for the task, and afterwards that you conduct an after-action review that takes - at the barest mininum - thirty minutes. Any attempts to deviate from this mandatory procedure will result in anything from a negative counseling to UCMJ.
Last but not least: I had to listen to some fuckwit in a fancy suit talk about how we've lost the war just to score in an election, then I had to put on my battle-rattle, mount up in the MRAP, and go out on patrol.
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