Marine Corps Stuff...

So for those of you who loyally read my rants and raves let me start off with my normal disclaimer. To sum it up quickly if you're easily offended by colorful language, political commentary, religion bashing (that's what someone e-mailed me), sarcasm, etc. Please spare yourself the pain and hit the back button. This is the internet and therefore I have the privilege (notice I didn't say "right") to post whatever the hell I want. Additionally since I'm going to be talking about the Marine Corps I have to add that the views and opinions that are reflected in this blog are in no way, shape, or form, the views of the United States Marine Corps, the Department of Defense, the United States Government, or any other official type organization that may have Court Marshaling authority over my dumb ass. I think that covers about everything so off to the races...


Now this one is a little different primarily because even though my unexplained pissed off mood still resides in my little world this is more along the lines of thoughts that I've been musing over recently. For those of you who don't know I've been serving on Active Duty in the Marine Corps as an Infantryman for the past 14 years. Prior to the war breaking out I deployed, since the war broke out I've deployed, and due to a family emergency at the moment I'm non-deployable but still have many friends and Marines whom I've served with who are actively deploying. 


Most of the infantry guys you run across are fairly simple people. Now when I say that I don't mean the typical stereo type of "Ooh Rah dumb dumb grunt" I mean we have been humbled by what we have seen and by what we have done so we truly enjoy the simple things in life. The weekend BBQ's, the embrace of loved ones, the ice cold beer, the hot shower, a home cooked meal, the simple things that most take for granted. I'd also like to extend the fact that this goes for nearly all the ground combat arms side of the Marine Corps, this includes tankers, trackers, artillery, etc. We all get shit on pretty regularly and get asked to do more than your average Marine who, for example, may be a chair pilot in an administration shop. I'm not saying those other Marines don't serve a purpose because I like getting paid, I like having equipment that works, and having someone in the air above to light up a mountainside is always a good thing. However, their experience in the Corps isn't nearly the same as your average grunt. 


As long as I can remember I've heard the expression "You can't spell disgruntled without the grunt." This saying rings true on so many levels it's not even funny. Your average grunt and ground combat arms guys aren't as motarded (meaning motivated to the point of stupidity) and aren't nearly as happy with our lot in the Corps because we don't get treated quite the same. We get pushed out on some FOB (forward operating base) with little to no amenities and get asked to do a job that is pretty hard at times. That's fine, we accept that. After all that's what we signed up for and few of us will ever ask to do something different for the Corps. Now here is what upsets me. When the big wigs go out to visit the troops they don't go to places where most grunts live and work while deployed. They go to the big bases in the rear that have the DFAC chow halls, the movie theaters, pizza hut, subway, burger king, stores and shops, the hugenormous gyms, etc. Many of the people on these bases even live in small two person apartments with their own internet connection, air conditioning, and sometimes even cable TV. This is a far cry from the FOB I was at in Iraq where I nearly electrocuted myself and was thrown from the 16 foot high roof while trying to alter the ungrounded plumbing system in order to install a fucking washing machine so our Marines could wash their fucking clothes. We're grunts, we improvise, adapt, and overcome in any situation handed to us. However, the problem lies in the fact that those big wigs who come and visit never see that shit. They see troops living the good life at these major installations and think, "These guys have it great." Yeah deployment experiences vary. So what ends up happening is certain things get cut because the troops they saw are living great. When things get cut the people at these major bases rarely suffer. It's usually that Battalion of grunts living in squalor that lose out on various comfort items. Yet we push on, a little more disgruntled than normal, but we push on. 


Most of us aren't heroes, we do what we have to do to get that man to our right and our left home safe. Most of us have little regard for our own lives but guard our fellow Marines lives with a zealous passion that would rival the most dedicated terrorist or insurgent the world over. At our level patriotism is a foreign concept long since abandoned and left at home for those who live in peace and wave a little flag or sport the latest yellow ribbon. Some of us become heroes because of actions in combat or paying the ultimate sacrifice. Those who lay down their lives in order to save another Marine or in many cases civilians caught in a cross fire. Each and everyone of us leaves combat a different person. A part of you changes out there that is impossible to explain to anyone who hasn't experienced it. In a metaphorical way a part of us dies off and is replaced by something entirely different.


Some guys come back with some pretty significant issues, some come back without limbs, with physical scars from battle, and all come back different than when they left. We're all a little bitter at our non-combat arms cohorts who lived a better life and get talked to like their war heroes for even though they weren't exposed to the same things as the combat arms lot. Like I said before, we don't view ourselves as heroes and when someone refers to any of us as one we will normally look to the ground in an awkward sort of way because we just don't see it like that. Many of us have skeletons in our closets and demons in our souls from what we had to do and witnessed and the vast majority of us will take those skeletons and demons to our graves.


We attempt to assimilate back into the society we once knew but it's different. We're met by loved ones who think everything will be exactly the same upon our return and we all truly wish it could be. Some of us can't sleep, some of us are plagued with nightmares, some of us are tormented by our minds so much that suicide seems like the most viable option, and some of us shut ourselves out from as much of life as we can. Then some prick on the Hill talks about when he/she visited the troops and how good they have it over there. Then you get pissed off even more. If you're still in the Corps for a while you develop a hatred for non-combat arms people who lived in those nice places and run around talking about it and glorifying themselves and what they did. Meanwhile you don't even talk about it except with  a close group of people who you served with. It's kind of strange. Sometimes you feel like you did the work while others get the credit. Then you just push on and do your thing and ignore the rest.


This past weekend a Marine I was in charge of for a while arrived at Naval Medical Center Bethesda. He's in his early twenty's, from Pennsylvania, he loves to fish, hunt, and do pretty much anything outdoors. He screwed up a bit when he first got in and got into some trouble but no matter what he always had a smile on his face and was quick to crack a joke and laugh. Yet when we found out what happened to him the rest of the world was occupied with Steve Jobs untimely death so the fact that this young Marine was on a dismounted patrol, was struck by an IED, and lost both his legs above the knee was largely ignored. It was kind of crazy. I saw his friends on Facebook cursing Jobs and all those who posted about him because they were upset and rightly so. You see in a span of a week we lost two of our Marines in July, one to an IED and one to an accident here in the states. The wounds are still fresh then we have one lose both his legs and it hits home even harder, meanwhile, the world is concerned with a technology innovator and not our brother. Anger and rage rise up because people value the inventor of the iPhone more than the ones who make this country safe for them. It's a sign of the times I guess.


Yes, I understand that Jobs was responsible for some great things but the bottom line is this. If it weren't for that kid with a gun in some God forsaken place soaking up hardships without a second thought, watching his brothers get maimed and killed, silently hoping to make it home, and sacrificing his very soul the Steve Jobs' of the world wouldn't be able to do what they do. Yet his achievements are more important than the kid who years from now will be using his artificial leg as a stabilizing platform for his rifle when he goes hunting. 


Just a few things to leave you with here...


"People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf."
~George Orwell


Grunt:
Term of affection used to denote that filthy, sweaty, dirt-encrusted, foot-sore, camouflage-painted, ripped trouser, tired, sleepy, beautiful little son of a bitch who has kept the wolf away from the door for over 200 years.


~From Green Side Out by Maj. H. Gene Duncan, USMC Retired.


On that note, I'm off to shower, shave and then off to see a friend.