March 29, 2010
Camp Leatherneck, Afghanistan
20:15
Random News: I have a strange urge to watch an early Akira Kurosawa film, one of the post war ones done in the 1940's.
We're done working now, and we're going to get sent out to a couple different areas in Afghanistan which are not surprisingly shittier than the place we're in now.
There's a group of people in the Marine Corps who think it's cool to go on convoys, and the security platoon invited LS Marines to go on convoys if we wanted to. One dude asked, "Milas, wanna go on a convoy?"
I immediately responded, "Hell no!"
"Milas isn't going? Figures," someone said.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I turned around and almost slapped the dude in the face. Obviously, he hadn't stood in ten angel ramp ceremonies, a 21 year old man crying in formation while bodies are walked past.
Here's why I'm not going on a convoy unless I have to:
The last angel was a U.S. servicemember who became a double amputee after getting blown up. He bled heavily and suffered until he died shortly after.
The angel before that was a tripple amputee who also survived only to suffer for the rest of his short life.
The one before that was a guy in an MRAP turret. The driver somehow managed to roll the vehicle. The gunner on top had no time to tuck in or get pulled in. He was chopped in half. I watched as two caskets were loaded onto the plane for that one person weeks ago.
Convoys are not recreational experiences. They're seriously dangerous operations that should not be taken lightly. The only people who joke about them are those who haven't gone on them, or those who don't know the detailed results of explosions. Or, if they're just a plain immature freak, like most people in the USMC.
The good news is that I don't really care that I'm going to have to move. I'm going to be going with my Staff Sergeant, who personally said:
"Milas, you surprised me. You went from some guy at Mojave Viper who lots half his gear to the guy who runs the show when I leave."
"You've proved to a lot of people that you're ready for NCO leadership."
So I think I'll be in good hands. (I'll explain the Mojave Viper thing when I get to it in the other blog, probably not for a while though, so don't worry about it.)
Another thing on my mind is Final Fantasy III. That may sound random, but I've been playing this game for almost a year now...seriously. It's kicking my ass. The first two kind of felt like chores, but this one is insane. I made a goal about a year ago to play all of them through; it may take a lot longer than I want it to.
I'm reading a book called "The German Army on the Somme, 1914-1916" which is about what the title describes. I will follow that with "All the Kaiser's Men," "The Weimar Republic," and "What I Saw," which is a first hand account of life in the Weimar Republic.
If you're interested to know why I'm so interested in Germany between WWI and the 1920's, I'll explain it sometime.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
More Stupidity Part 4
March 26, 2010
Camp Leatherneck, Afghanistan
02:13
Whoa, it's been a while. Sorry. I either haven't had much to say, or I've just been too exhausted after work to pour out my thoughts in these entries. I've always got limited time to write on this blog, so I'm always feeling pressured to write fast instead of good.
Anyway.
If you know me, you know I'm pretty laid back. I try to remain that way at all times and not get stressed out about things, or at least not show that I'm stressed out about something.
Today I reached my boiling point and exploded at someone. There was totally merrit in me yelling at the person, but it was just as surprising to me as it was to anyone else in the room. I'm getting more and more tired of people who don't take any responsibility for their mistakes. Seriously, like John Hammond from Jurassic Park, I don't blame for their mistakes, but I do either ask that they pay for them, apologize for them, or try and correct themselves. When someone has so many second chances to correct themself after making mistakes and still does not, I get pissed off. Tonight I got really pissed off.
Anyway, what else? I'm getting replaced already. My replacement has been working with me probably since just after my last blog post. He's got the job; I don't even need to be there. That either means the job's easy or I'm a good teacher.
I'm glad I'm leaving now though, I hate what the Bastion A/DACG is going to become. There are so many changes getting made for no reason and so many more high ranking people that are going to be around.
For the past month it has essentially just been me and three other people from my MOS running the place, not counting the forklift drivers. Since there were no NCOs around, my billet was pretty much the senior one, although I was basically delegating things that needed to happen instead of actually telling people what to do. Not that big of a deal.
I'm spent.
Camp Leatherneck, Afghanistan
02:13
Whoa, it's been a while. Sorry. I either haven't had much to say, or I've just been too exhausted after work to pour out my thoughts in these entries. I've always got limited time to write on this blog, so I'm always feeling pressured to write fast instead of good.
Anyway.
If you know me, you know I'm pretty laid back. I try to remain that way at all times and not get stressed out about things, or at least not show that I'm stressed out about something.
Today I reached my boiling point and exploded at someone. There was totally merrit in me yelling at the person, but it was just as surprising to me as it was to anyone else in the room. I'm getting more and more tired of people who don't take any responsibility for their mistakes. Seriously, like John Hammond from Jurassic Park, I don't blame for their mistakes, but I do either ask that they pay for them, apologize for them, or try and correct themselves. When someone has so many second chances to correct themself after making mistakes and still does not, I get pissed off. Tonight I got really pissed off.
Anyway, what else? I'm getting replaced already. My replacement has been working with me probably since just after my last blog post. He's got the job; I don't even need to be there. That either means the job's easy or I'm a good teacher.
I'm glad I'm leaving now though, I hate what the Bastion A/DACG is going to become. There are so many changes getting made for no reason and so many more high ranking people that are going to be around.
For the past month it has essentially just been me and three other people from my MOS running the place, not counting the forklift drivers. Since there were no NCOs around, my billet was pretty much the senior one, although I was basically delegating things that needed to happen instead of actually telling people what to do. Not that big of a deal.
I'm spent.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Early Risers
March 14, 2010
Camp Leatherneck, Afghanistan
01:28
The other day, after I'd been asleep since maybe 2:30 AM, the lights in the tent flipped on at 06:00. That's AM. That's too early. Not...enough...sleep...
People started walking around kicking all the LS Marines' cots and waking us up. "Morning cleanup!" or as Sgt. Ebonics says, "Get up, mownin' cleanup!"
I just stood next to my bed and waited for nothing to happen while the two brooms in the tent were divided between 116 people. And then I went back to sleep, it was pretty worthless. Another one of those really pointless/senseless/useless mornings that I keep finding myself experiencing. If it's not one thing with the other Marines in my tent, it's another. They don't understand our jobs, they don't care, and they don't want to understand or care. It's also PERFECT that the company 1st sgt and gunny are both former drill instructors and can't seem to leave the drill field behind.
When I went back to sleep finally I had one of the worst nightmares I've ever had. Usually I can take something from nightmares to use as story ideas, but this time, I was just really disturbed.
I'm standing in Camp Leatherneck, people are walking around as usual, nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly, one of the alarms goes off. We all know what to do, but everyone's just looking at each other with that "is this for real" kind of thing that happens when people are in large crowds and they're waiting for one person to react so they can all follow the lead.
I hear a whistling in the air, like the sound of a bomb falling and think "oh shit, this is for real."
I see a three foot tall concrete barrier and dive behind it. You know those dreams where you try to run, but can't? I always have dreams where I try that or I try and punch someone but I can't get enough momentum and my fist doesn't do anything. Well, when I jump to take cover, I just hover in the air. I'm thinking "I'm going to die, or at least take shrapnel" and it's taking forever for me to hit the ground and get behind cover.
As I'm falling through the air, there's an explosion ahead as one of the mortar rounds hits a small shack and blows it to pieces. The sky turns black, filled with smoke and I finally hit the ground as another round hits somewhere else. When I get the courage to look up over the barrier I at first think everyone's fine and no one's hurt, but then I hear someone scream loudly. One of those really awful blood curdling screams that sends chills down your spine. And then I see a man ahead of me standing, clutching his neck. Blood starts to pour out from behind his hands and out of his mouth. He's been hit by shrapnel in the neck and now he's bleeding to death and someone is screaming at the top of their lungs and no one seems to know what to do because more rounds are landing in the distance.
And then I woke up, literally out of breath. I don't think I've ever had that reaction to a nightmare before. It was pretty awful.
In other news, remember the augment Marines I talked about a few blogs back? The ones that have different MOS's and got stuck helping us out because we were short handed?
Turns out I'm actually pretty attached to them now. One got sent away and another one got sent to the other shift, so now we're left with one. I actually miss the other two, they were good guys. I'm going to miss the guy we have now if we lose him when we move to the FOB in April. Oh well. They definitely surprised me though; they picked up our MOS faster than we are able to even with a 5 week MOS school. Good job fellas.
Peace.
Camp Leatherneck, Afghanistan
01:28
The other day, after I'd been asleep since maybe 2:30 AM, the lights in the tent flipped on at 06:00. That's AM. That's too early. Not...enough...sleep...
People started walking around kicking all the LS Marines' cots and waking us up. "Morning cleanup!" or as Sgt. Ebonics says, "Get up, mownin' cleanup!"
I just stood next to my bed and waited for nothing to happen while the two brooms in the tent were divided between 116 people. And then I went back to sleep, it was pretty worthless. Another one of those really pointless/senseless/useless mornings that I keep finding myself experiencing. If it's not one thing with the other Marines in my tent, it's another. They don't understand our jobs, they don't care, and they don't want to understand or care. It's also PERFECT that the company 1st sgt and gunny are both former drill instructors and can't seem to leave the drill field behind.
When I went back to sleep finally I had one of the worst nightmares I've ever had. Usually I can take something from nightmares to use as story ideas, but this time, I was just really disturbed.
I'm standing in Camp Leatherneck, people are walking around as usual, nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly, one of the alarms goes off. We all know what to do, but everyone's just looking at each other with that "is this for real" kind of thing that happens when people are in large crowds and they're waiting for one person to react so they can all follow the lead.
I hear a whistling in the air, like the sound of a bomb falling and think "oh shit, this is for real."
I see a three foot tall concrete barrier and dive behind it. You know those dreams where you try to run, but can't? I always have dreams where I try that or I try and punch someone but I can't get enough momentum and my fist doesn't do anything. Well, when I jump to take cover, I just hover in the air. I'm thinking "I'm going to die, or at least take shrapnel" and it's taking forever for me to hit the ground and get behind cover.
As I'm falling through the air, there's an explosion ahead as one of the mortar rounds hits a small shack and blows it to pieces. The sky turns black, filled with smoke and I finally hit the ground as another round hits somewhere else. When I get the courage to look up over the barrier I at first think everyone's fine and no one's hurt, but then I hear someone scream loudly. One of those really awful blood curdling screams that sends chills down your spine. And then I see a man ahead of me standing, clutching his neck. Blood starts to pour out from behind his hands and out of his mouth. He's been hit by shrapnel in the neck and now he's bleeding to death and someone is screaming at the top of their lungs and no one seems to know what to do because more rounds are landing in the distance.
And then I woke up, literally out of breath. I don't think I've ever had that reaction to a nightmare before. It was pretty awful.
In other news, remember the augment Marines I talked about a few blogs back? The ones that have different MOS's and got stuck helping us out because we were short handed?
Turns out I'm actually pretty attached to them now. One got sent away and another one got sent to the other shift, so now we're left with one. I actually miss the other two, they were good guys. I'm going to miss the guy we have now if we lose him when we move to the FOB in April. Oh well. They definitely surprised me though; they picked up our MOS faster than we are able to even with a 5 week MOS school. Good job fellas.
Peace.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
War Movies
March 7, 2010
Camp Leatherneck, Afghanistan
01:55
I've been watching a lot of movies at work lately when there's down time, or just plain when no one's talking to me. I take off my headphones when someone walks in the door or when I hear something on the radio, so it takes me a lot longer to finish a movie than it would if I was un-interrupted.
I also started reading Twilight, but...ehem...that's a different blog post.
I was watching The Thin Red Line the other day, and I watched Flags of our Fathers today. They're really good examples of the kinds of war movies I enjoy and believe in. I rarely can accept a war movie that shows the winning side of the fight. I don't feel that's the correct way to make an anti-war film (which they all should be) and elicit a proper response. How can you really make a statement about war when the main characters come out on top and everything ends happily? That would suggest that "hey, it's alright to go to war, as long as you win!" and that doesn't really make sense.
The Thin Red Line and Flags of our Fathers show the "winning" side of WWII, but they really delve into the cost of victory in those two seperate instances. The Thin Red Line especially is a pretty downbeat movie, and Flags is as well, though it's a little more accessible.
I'm more interested in war movies that show the other side of the conflicts such as Downfall, Letters from Iwo Jima, Stalingrad, and even Gods and Generals since this country seems to classify the CSA as the "bad guys" of the war.
These movies make so much more sense to me, especially when the antagonists of the movies are people we've always known as the good guys in the past. I think it puts things into perspective better when characters are shown reacting to similar situations in similar ways, but they're on the opposing side of what we're used to viewing. All Quiet on the Western Front is a good example of this, as all actors are American with no foreign accents and they act very American, though they're wearing a different uniform and fighting the French.
This was just on my mind when I got off work, so I thought I'd mention it.
Camp Leatherneck, Afghanistan
01:55
I've been watching a lot of movies at work lately when there's down time, or just plain when no one's talking to me. I take off my headphones when someone walks in the door or when I hear something on the radio, so it takes me a lot longer to finish a movie than it would if I was un-interrupted.
I also started reading Twilight, but...ehem...that's a different blog post.
I was watching The Thin Red Line the other day, and I watched Flags of our Fathers today. They're really good examples of the kinds of war movies I enjoy and believe in. I rarely can accept a war movie that shows the winning side of the fight. I don't feel that's the correct way to make an anti-war film (which they all should be) and elicit a proper response. How can you really make a statement about war when the main characters come out on top and everything ends happily? That would suggest that "hey, it's alright to go to war, as long as you win!" and that doesn't really make sense.
The Thin Red Line and Flags of our Fathers show the "winning" side of WWII, but they really delve into the cost of victory in those two seperate instances. The Thin Red Line especially is a pretty downbeat movie, and Flags is as well, though it's a little more accessible.
I'm more interested in war movies that show the other side of the conflicts such as Downfall, Letters from Iwo Jima, Stalingrad, and even Gods and Generals since this country seems to classify the CSA as the "bad guys" of the war.
These movies make so much more sense to me, especially when the antagonists of the movies are people we've always known as the good guys in the past. I think it puts things into perspective better when characters are shown reacting to similar situations in similar ways, but they're on the opposing side of what we're used to viewing. All Quiet on the Western Front is a good example of this, as all actors are American with no foreign accents and they act very American, though they're wearing a different uniform and fighting the French.
This was just on my mind when I got off work, so I thought I'd mention it.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Something Humorous
March 3, 2010
And his looks like this:
Camp Leatherneck, Afghanistan
10:17
I thought I'd tell a funny story today, since, well...I woke up to one.
Let's call him...SSgt Albert. He's my company Gunnery Sergeant. Well, I woke up to him kicking my cot and saying "Milas..." "Milas..." and did I mention kicking my cot? It was pretty irritating. You see, SSgt Albert is an 18 year Staff Sergeant, and looks like he's about to die. He's one of the most incompetent Marines I've ever seen, if not THE most incompetent.
There were two Marines from my platoon that were supposed to be up at 06:00 to take a piss test, and apparently they were late, so for some reason this Staff NCO comes straight to my bed while I'm sleeping (not to my Corporal, why would he go to the guy in charge?) and asks me where they are.
Of all the people in my platoon that are asleep, he goes straight to me. He's notorious for being a little bitch and going straight to E-3s and below and not to NCOs or other Staff NCOs. He knows they have no respect for him, therefore, the only people he has total control over are junior enlisted. Weak titty milk...
Since my rank looks like this:
And his looks like this:
I kind of have to listen to him.
So, I sat up and looked at him, confused as hell, and he said:
"Where are Hill and Hoaglund?" in his old man voice, sounding like he's having a hard time making his toungue move in his mouth.
"Uh...there're not here..." I muttered, looking over at their empty cots. So, they probably went to take a piss test. Is that far fetched?
"They didn't show up this morning! Where are they?"
"Uh..."
"Well, I need you to get up and go find them..."
And since I'm an E-3 and he's an E-6, what can I say? The Corporal a few racks down woke up and looked over, but instead of actually doing something about the situation and asking why a company guns was interrogating one of his Marines, he rolled back over and went to sleep. Typical LS NCO.
"I don't care if you have to go out in PT gear...or whatever...they need to come find me. I don't care how many chow halls you have to go in...this'll go straight to the Sergeant Major if they're UA...do you think they'd be in the internet center...?"
"I don't know..." I answer, just sitting there. Seriously...this guy came straight to me. What the hell is his problem? He's had a problem with our platoon since Mojave Viper, but that's another blog entry.
I start getting dressed and another Staff Sergeant walks into the tent, asks SSgt Albert what's going on.
"These Marines didn't show up to the piss test...who're they with?" he turns and asks me.
"LS..." I say, almost a triuphant answer for him to hear.
"Do you guys have a logbook in here?"
"Yes."
He starts paging through it, doesn't find their names. "Well, they didn't sign out, figures..."
I finish getting dressed and as I'm walking out I hear him say something like:
"Well, take that book with you; shove it up their asses..." before he storms out.
I walk around Leatherneck for about five minutes before I see SSgt Albert walking towards me about 100 feet away, so I change directions and walk away. And just like I suspected, Hill and Hoaglund had been there and done that; they were sleeping when I got back to the tent. I wish I could make this story as funny to you as it is to me, but it's impossible for me to type the way this guy talks. If I ran on every word in a sentence together to make one super compound word, that might do it. He sounds like an old man who can't talk, and on top of that, he's a horrible leader with terrible judgement. He's been promoted five times in the length of time it'd take someone to become a First Sergeant, and he's been a drill instructor, so he should at least be an E-7. I'd just like to know where he went wrong in his past. Maybe I could understand him then.
Until that moment, I have to put up with his persistence in waking LS Marines up early.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
The Marine Corps Today
March 1, 2010
Camp Leatherneck, Afghanistan
09:44
Today I was waiting in line to do another weigh-in. I weighed 164 lbs this time, by the way. I guess I gained ten pounds last month? Okay...
Anyway, while I was walking back after finishing, I started thinking about how the military is changing and how it used to be. A few things came to mind. There's this new tattoo policy. Apparently, no one is allowed to have tattoos that show while in PT clothing (shorts/t-shirt, etc.). If you already have them, they're "grandfathered" so they're ok, but a Sgt. today had to sign a page 11 because of his tattoos. A page 11 is a record of some type of counseling that goes in your service record book. Everyone had to get checked with their tattoos last month to make sure of...something...I'm not really sure. To see if they need counseling for the new policy I guess.
Hmm...the Marine Corps is now only accepting the good looking people. If they go back to taking people with high school diplomas then they'll be accepting only the good looking and the "smart" people. I guess it doesn't matter how badly you want to serve your country. If you're really a fascist, then you'll sacrifice your desire to get tattoos to join the USMC. That's what I thought about today. If you find that offensive, sorry, but every time I see a Marine now I get this image of a Nazi. Not to mention the people who are weak/short/ugly are constantly berated by others, no matter how proficient they are at their job. The fact remains: they just don't look perfect, so why let them forget it? That's our new mindset, and I guess it travelled all the way up the chain of command.
If you're only taking this with a grain of salt, then hear this:
I was watching AFN (Armed Forces Network, the most obnoxiously annoying TV channel I've ever had the displeasure of watching) and this commercial popped up. I didn't really catch the message, because I couldn't hear anything. All my senses gave way to sight when I saw that in the commercial, there were young children prancing around in Army digital camouflage uniforms.
My jaw dropped, and the only two words that came to mind?
Hitler Youth
Camp Leatherneck, Afghanistan
09:44
Today I was waiting in line to do another weigh-in. I weighed 164 lbs this time, by the way. I guess I gained ten pounds last month? Okay...
Anyway, while I was walking back after finishing, I started thinking about how the military is changing and how it used to be. A few things came to mind. There's this new tattoo policy. Apparently, no one is allowed to have tattoos that show while in PT clothing (shorts/t-shirt, etc.). If you already have them, they're "grandfathered" so they're ok, but a Sgt. today had to sign a page 11 because of his tattoos. A page 11 is a record of some type of counseling that goes in your service record book. Everyone had to get checked with their tattoos last month to make sure of...something...I'm not really sure. To see if they need counseling for the new policy I guess.
Hmm...the Marine Corps is now only accepting the good looking people. If they go back to taking people with high school diplomas then they'll be accepting only the good looking and the "smart" people. I guess it doesn't matter how badly you want to serve your country. If you're really a fascist, then you'll sacrifice your desire to get tattoos to join the USMC. That's what I thought about today. If you find that offensive, sorry, but every time I see a Marine now I get this image of a Nazi. Not to mention the people who are weak/short/ugly are constantly berated by others, no matter how proficient they are at their job. The fact remains: they just don't look perfect, so why let them forget it? That's our new mindset, and I guess it travelled all the way up the chain of command.
If you're only taking this with a grain of salt, then hear this:
I was watching AFN (Armed Forces Network, the most obnoxiously annoying TV channel I've ever had the displeasure of watching) and this commercial popped up. I didn't really catch the message, because I couldn't hear anything. All my senses gave way to sight when I saw that in the commercial, there were young children prancing around in Army digital camouflage uniforms.
My jaw dropped, and the only two words that came to mind?
Hitler Youth
Friday, February 26, 2010
More Stupidity Part 3
February 26, 2010
Camp Leatherneck, Afghanistan
01:25
Did I ever mention that my battalion's t-shirt, which was supposed to represent each company in the deployment, had a spelling error on it? Instead of saying "ALPHA/BRAVO/H&S/ENGINEERS," alpha was spelled "APLHA." And they wanted $11 for it, which I didn't waste. I spent $10 on a VMGR-352 t-shirt instead, the C-130 squadron I work with. Don't worry, I'm not revealing anything classified, you can look up on wikipedia where they are right now.
I bring up the CLB-6 shirt because they've really pissed me off again. Aside from the fact that there's an ENORMOUS rumor spreading about us all going to Delaram, a FOB in the middle of nowhere, and absolutely no one in the chain of command clearing any of this up for us, more stupid stuff is happening. The normal bus to work didn't go this morning...and no one...told...anyone...
Once again, LS Marines: Fuck you.
You've said it before 2nd MLG, and I'm sure you'll say it again during my next two and a half years.
And...there's been some kind of pink-eye breakout in my tent of well over one-hundred individuals. Something like six people have it, so to somehow cut down on the spread of it, everyone decided to take out everything in the tent and sweep out the dust. See...because dust and dirt is what gives you pink-eye. It's got nothing to do with not washing your hands and then touching your eyes, oh no no no, not at all. So, let me get this straight one more time Bravo Company. You decided...to sweep the dust...in Afghanistan...and to do so...you had to move my shit and make me re-arrange it all over again? I think this is More Stupidity Part 3 going on 4 already.
There was another angel flight today. I was pretty upset because there were less than 20 of us out there. It was an ANA soldier in a body bag with the Afghan flag hanging over him. Why didn't he deserve a full ceremony conducted by mortuary affairs? Why in the hell weren't there any Afghans there? Why did no one seem to care at all except a few of us?
He didn't die for the U.S., so I guess it doesn't matter. I mean, we're only doing all this for Afghanistan, right? At least some shiny collars could go through the motions and make it look like they care when one of their allies dies in their war.
Don't worry, shiny collars, I'll salute him for you. I only leave the operations desk without anyone to answer the phones, anyone to answer the radio, or anyone to answer the other radio that the planes call in on every time I go outside for an angel flight. Sorry, company commanders/battalion commanders/regimental commanders; I'm probably out of line here. I know you're probably too busy to come out of your offices to salute one of our friends who died for his country that we're trying to save. Oh yeah, you weren't in your office anyway. Someone was answering your phone for you while you strolled around with your entourage "inspecting" places of work under your command.
"Looks squared away, Marines," you say? I know it does, sir. I swept it five minutes before you walked in the door, and I threw away my empty water bottle to make it look like I'm not a shit bag and I actually care, or is that what my NCOs want you to think?
Until next time...
Camp Leatherneck, Afghanistan
01:25
Did I ever mention that my battalion's t-shirt, which was supposed to represent each company in the deployment, had a spelling error on it? Instead of saying "ALPHA/BRAVO/H&S/ENGINEERS," alpha was spelled "APLHA." And they wanted $11 for it, which I didn't waste. I spent $10 on a VMGR-352 t-shirt instead, the C-130 squadron I work with. Don't worry, I'm not revealing anything classified, you can look up on wikipedia where they are right now.
I bring up the CLB-6 shirt because they've really pissed me off again. Aside from the fact that there's an ENORMOUS rumor spreading about us all going to Delaram, a FOB in the middle of nowhere, and absolutely no one in the chain of command clearing any of this up for us, more stupid stuff is happening. The normal bus to work didn't go this morning...and no one...told...anyone...
Once again, LS Marines: Fuck you.
You've said it before 2nd MLG, and I'm sure you'll say it again during my next two and a half years.
And...there's been some kind of pink-eye breakout in my tent of well over one-hundred individuals. Something like six people have it, so to somehow cut down on the spread of it, everyone decided to take out everything in the tent and sweep out the dust. See...because dust and dirt is what gives you pink-eye. It's got nothing to do with not washing your hands and then touching your eyes, oh no no no, not at all. So, let me get this straight one more time Bravo Company. You decided...to sweep the dust...in Afghanistan...and to do so...you had to move my shit and make me re-arrange it all over again? I think this is More Stupidity Part 3 going on 4 already.
There was another angel flight today. I was pretty upset because there were less than 20 of us out there. It was an ANA soldier in a body bag with the Afghan flag hanging over him. Why didn't he deserve a full ceremony conducted by mortuary affairs? Why in the hell weren't there any Afghans there? Why did no one seem to care at all except a few of us?
He didn't die for the U.S., so I guess it doesn't matter. I mean, we're only doing all this for Afghanistan, right? At least some shiny collars could go through the motions and make it look like they care when one of their allies dies in their war.
Don't worry, shiny collars, I'll salute him for you. I only leave the operations desk without anyone to answer the phones, anyone to answer the radio, or anyone to answer the other radio that the planes call in on every time I go outside for an angel flight. Sorry, company commanders/battalion commanders/regimental commanders; I'm probably out of line here. I know you're probably too busy to come out of your offices to salute one of our friends who died for his country that we're trying to save. Oh yeah, you weren't in your office anyway. Someone was answering your phone for you while you strolled around with your entourage "inspecting" places of work under your command.
"Looks squared away, Marines," you say? I know it does, sir. I swept it five minutes before you walked in the door, and I threw away my empty water bottle to make it look like I'm not a shit bag and I actually care, or is that what my NCOs want you to think?
Until next time...
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