Free At Last, Free At Last! Thank God Almighty, I'm Free At Last!

Today's my ETS date, the official end of my term of service, and I admit... I am bitter. Angry, even. In fact, I'm downright pissed off.

It's like a movie or book ruined by a shitty ending. The first half, my time in the artillery, I'll treasure for the rest of my life. It wasn't all good times, and a lot of it sucked hard, but... it was worth it. We did good, things I'm still proud of having been a part of. There are people whose lives are better for what we did, and I'm a better man for having been a part of that.
Too bad I've been watching it all unravel over the last couple of years.

The second half, my years in that goddamned military intelligence company as a UAS operator, I'll regret for the rest of my life. I made some good friends there, but it was a waste. Thanks to that company, my career is over and I'll never fly UAVs again. The only part I do not regret is having done what's right - even if it did cost me my career.
The watershed moment for that one was coming back after having spent a month filling an E-7 slot (and doing it better than the E-7's, being as I was significantly more proficient with the UAS than they were) and being counseled by the recently promoted E-7 sex offender that I was ineligible for promotion thanks to the results of a psych evaluation. Never mind that I had debunked the evaluation and gotten a second opinion which explicated that the first was full of shit, never mind that the psych eval contradicted the rest of my psychological history and was internally inconsistent, I was *clearly* unfit for service.
And so I was (and am), but not for the reasons A-Co 1 BSTB claimed. In just a few short years, the military had changed. Some - not all, but some - of the difference can be explained on the cultural differences between the artillery and the MI. On-High claimed it was a return to the 'higher' pre-war standards, blind to the contradiction inherent in such an idiotic supposition that there could be a higher military standard than being fit for service in a wartime... and that standard could involve only the most superficial and banal traditions, the only purpose for which seems to be innovative inertia and intellectual laziness. So yes, I was unfit for service because I am a man of honor, someone whose moral integrity remains unimpeachable, and someone who recognizes that loyalty and duty are not things to be casually tossed aside.

But most of all, America, I'll hold a grudge against you. You miserable bastards, who elected Obama and that pack of Democrats for the purely selfish reason of wanting 'free' healthcare and with the promise of getting back at those evil rich people who've somehow made your lives so miserable (never mind your having made incredibly stupid decisions, it's all someone else's fault). You sorry sons of bitches who elected the Great Peacemaker, and in so doing pissed away everything I worked for my adult life, pissed away the sacrifices of thousands of servicemen, pissed away thousands of Iraqi lives just so you could feel better about yourself and have the temporary illusion of peace and the even more ephemeral illusion of security. You worthless wastes of oxygen who haven't the faintest notion of honor, loyalty, or duty who thought only about what you could steal through taxation, whose only impetus to vote was a childish need to have the government provide for you.

Well, what do you have to show for it? What did you win by ending the war? What did you gain by the Affordable Care Act? Is your life better for trying to wrap yourself in the comforting protection of the government. How has your life been improved by one of the most scandal-ridden, opaque, diplomatically inept, economically incompetent, arrogantly condescending and wasteful administrations in American history?

'Cause I can tell you what we've lost.

Heartbreak in Iraq

Seventeen hundred Iraqi troops died yesterday in an attempt to defend their country from the militants ours and their civilian governments assured us all were no longer a problem. The heart-wrenching story of a nation falling, of this generation's South Viet Nam (a prophecy, it seemed, the American civilians were determined to fulfill - congratulations, you win, good job)... is being largely ignored.

Fuck your celebrities and athletes. Fuck Game of Thrones. Fuck Starbucks. Fuck all this other shit that Americans *clearly* think is more important. Fuck civilians. The only thing that disgusts me more is the realization that in another decade you spineless, limp-wristed assholes will be chomping at the bit to go fuck up another country, throw away thousands of your own defenders, throw away billions of dollars, and then cut and run before the job's done.

But hey, at least the wars are over and we got free health care, right?

I might be a little angry about this.

Getting Out

First and foremost, I am not getting out because the deployment and operations tempo was too much. I'm not getting out because I couldn't stand going to foreign countries with absolutely miserable weather and even more miserable people. I'm not getting out because the pay's too low or because the sergeants were mean to me or any of that pissy shit. I joined because I was a believer, and I'm leaving because I am not. Not anymore.

I'm getting out because I've realized something. Something important, something crucial, a fundamental flaw in what I was trying to do. I joined the Army to serve my country and defend liberty, but the only means the military force can serve that end is through coercive force (whether it be violence or merely the threat) - and it can only do so in the final extremity. The military cannot protect freedom, it can only - through coercion - create an environment wherein free men might institute a government that safeguards and fosters their natural rights. That oft-repeated and cherished myth that the military fights for your freedom is... just that. It's a myth. It's fallacious. The military can no more create freedom than can that thug on the corner with the pistol (commonly referred to as a 'police officer'). The threat of force does not and cannot make someone free. The only thing we can do is intimidate and kill those who threaten freedoms. Unfortunately, while we pursue those who threaten American liberty with all the eager grace of a hippopotamus, Americans have been steadily losing the struggle for liberty on the home front.

I'm getting out because of Americans. I'm getting out because they are unworthy. I'm getting out because America would rather be coddled, taken care of, looked after, and feel safe than live in the dangerous, risky, real world. I'm getting out of the Army because Americans no longer want to be free men, because the most fervent desire, the secret hope of the majority of this country is that they no longer need suffer the burdens of freedom. I understand - I really do. I understand their cowardice, their complacence, their short-sighted, narrow-minded, desperate and burning need to feel safe in this scary, scary world.

I do, after all, recall being a small child.

I am no longer a child. Neither is anyone in this country with the right to the vote, at least not physically or legally. However, I am neither the parent nor legal guardian of the American people. I will not accept the responsibility of their protection whilst also being beholden to their insane whims. I will not fight for them, will not put my life on the line for their liberties while they vote again and again to put into power those whose sole objective is the subversion of the Constitution, which James Madison wrote to limit the powers of the government, and in so voting they subvert my every endeavor. I will not fight for a country which has betrayed me time and again, and betrayed everything which I have fought for time and again.

I will not.

Me, Shitbag?

It's funny how one incident can give a commander a completely wrong picture about someone. I was kinda-sorta-but-not-really related to the incident, but TRADOC being TRADOC I got dragged along for the ride. It basically meant that me - a specialist, an E-4, a junior enlisted soldier - had to sit there and try not to pay too much attention to the captain chewing out the sergeant. The captain thought it proper that the sergeant have a battle-buddy, and I don't outrank the captain.
But I thought it was pretty darn disrespectful to the sergeant, so I apologized to him for that as soon as we were clear.
Details aren't terribly important, it was one of those "What were you thinking?" type things. Because it wasn't me being the dimwit and instead someone I respect the hell out of, I won't relate 'em. The captain came away from this little meeting thinking of this sergeant as a lying self-centered bastard. That's the opposite of true. SGT Suhr's one of those sergeants who looks after his joes and tells us the God's honest truth. If he told me the sun was set to rise at 2359 tonight, I'd know it was 'cause he was damn sure the sun was set to rise at 2359 tonight. Apparently I'm disloyal, too, 'cause I didn't immediately leap to be present for my superior's dressing-down. Like I said, it's funny wrong an impression of someone you can get if you only know them from one interaction.

Also, you ever notice how you think of all the right things to say immediately after the door's closed, precisely the moment they stop being useful things to think of?

"I hate this formation and everyone in it" or "Why Schnepp owes the retention NCO a swift kick in the balls"

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.