You may or may not recall me mentioning that once in a while I'm hit with the brief realization that I'm in the army, and it kind of surprises me. Well the rabbit hole has taken a sharp turn with a very steep dropoff.

An example of my inner dialogue if it were a two person discussion.

-Holy shit, I'm in Iraq.

+Nah, no way. This is just another field training exercise. Three weeks and its over.

-Kuwait was three weeks.

+No dude, that was NTC or something. Just a big elaborate gag and you Joes are the butt of it.

-That gunfire earlier, that wasn't a range.

+Bullshit. You've been hearing that for two years.

-What about the sirens?

+21 years.

-No man, this is it. This is the..."Super Bowl."

+Have you BEEN to the chow hall? Its the Tortilla Bowl and that's it. There probably IS no Iraq.

-No no, this is Iraq. Its sticking to my boots right now.

+You still should have gone to college.

-Fuck you.

It downpoured yesterday. Yeah, there's an interesting bit of news for you. When Iraq decides to rain, it doesn't fiddlefuck around like Fort Lewis. It was Forest Gump's "big ol' fat rain". And now the dirt (its more dirt/dust than it is sand around here) turned into mud. Mud that won't dry. Mud that stows away on your boots and adds ten pounds to them. Mud that gets all over the floors inside your tent, where one fuckwad managed to get everyone sick. The tent where you have to live with more roommates than you honestly want to count.

PSP deliver me from boredom. Nintendo DS deliver me from monotony. iPod deliver me from the droning noises. MWR gym deliver me from excess energy to keep me awake at night.

Latest pseudo-rumor I've been made privy to states that we mortards may hardly ever (if not NEVER) leave the FOB. Instead? Radio watch? Guard a Hajji shop? What? So I went through 14 weeks at Benning to be a fucking POG? So I threw away four years of my own life to sit in a fucking tent and read Parade Magazine or something equally nauseating? You're going to deploy me just to shit in my hand and pat me on the back and send me off to perform some menial task?

We've been the workforce of the platoon. Any time the office guys needed shit moved, of course WE were called to do it. The trend was set, and we became detail-bitches. This entire enlistment has been one Fuck You after another.

You can't have airborne. We didn't feel like putting it in your contract.

We mislead you about 11X. Looks like the dice didn't land in your favor. Instead of the 11B that you enlisted for in the first place, we're going to give you the bastard child MOS, 11C.

Oh, you don't look like you've received the Oz treatment enough (and yes, we mean the HBO version). Here, let's make you a driver.

Well fuck-a-doodle-doo, this little bastard still has a little bit of pride. Let's step on his nuts once and for all til they burst like grapes. How? Simple. We'll keep his ass on the FOB and have him make sure everyone signs in at the rec center. Or we could have him relieve those poor National Guard bastards at the chow hall, who check your ID and make sure your weapon is on Safe. Let's really get this son of a bitch. Crush his spirit and wring it out for all its worth. This shit is hilarious huh? Hahaha.

Well, intangible demons of Fuck-Youdom, I may still have one trump card. A couple of senior NCOs in line platoons have made it clear that if one were so inclined, one could elect to roll out with them.

Don't get me wrong, I don't have some masochistic death wish or anything, but if you aren't going to use me, don't waste my fucking time.


  1. julie anna said...
    You know, when the Ranger wrote about you, they called your writing 'poetry'. It's good shit, I must say!

    I really would be surprised if you end up spending all your time on the FOB, but if you do, that's so much less worry for your family back home. After all, you HAVE to come back home in one healthy piece, bitchin' more than ever! :)
    Strykeraunt said...
    This comment has been removed by the author.
    Strykeraunt said...
    " You know, when the Ranger wrote about you, they called your writing 'poetry'. It's good shit, I must say!"

    I totally agree!!
    Spc. Freeman said...
    The mud. I know that mud well. Shit is evil.

    Hey man, thanks for visiting my site. Always glad to hear from another serviceman, and I gotta say I do enjoy your writing. I expect to be linking you as soon as I get a moment to breathe. Meanwhile, I hope to hear from you again. Later dude.


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