Spit and Polish

One of the fun things about blogging is poking good natured fun at other bloggers. Of course, you must accept it coming back at you with interest!

One blogger I’ve enjoyed poking is Old AF Sarge.

http://oldafsarge.blogspot.com/2015/06/the-army-and-me.html

We have gone back and forth about starched fatigues, haircuts, bloused trousers and spit shined footwear.

My Army service was 1963-1966. We were a large Army then, and filled with people who were drafted. Drafted troop’s motivation was suspect. It wasn't until I was out a few years that I began to understand why the NCOs were so adamant about appearances. It was all about installing discipline, unit cohesion, and unquestioned obedience to orders. When an NCO hollered “frog” you didn't ask why, you jumped. Have a slob in your squad? Kick his ass until he got straight, or spend considerable time in uncomfortable physical conditions. Yeah, mass punishment. Can you spell, “Front Leaning Rest”? “Double time, harsh”?

I had NCOs that were both WWII and Korean War vets. Many more were Korean War vets. They had first hand knowledge of the consequences of lack of discipline, unit cohesion and not instantly obeying orders. Perhaps they were training to fight the last war but they damn sure weren't going to lose that last war. Bayonets may be obsolete, but twenty hours of bayonet drill will change your mental outlook.

Consider for a moment the job of an Army line NCO. The smart men were joining the Air Force or Navy. We will disregard, for the moment, the particular mind set of the men who joined the Marine Corps. The line NCOs took whatever the pipeline gave them and made soldiers out of them. First, they made everybody tired and kept them tired.  Then they pounded in the lessons one bite at a time. That carried on through advanced training, at least in combat arms, and on to the line units.

In my float bridge company in Germany, we operated in two states, field or garrison. In the field we worked. Appearances didn't matter, clean or dirty uniforms didn't matter, and spit shined boots didn’t matter. In garrison, it was just the opposite. Why did I work hard on my appearance? Every NCO had a hammer and I didn't want to look like a nail.

I have a friend who was a Marine for ten years in the 80’s. He tells me the Marines were much the same except recruits were already of the mindset the Army NCOs had to force.

My friend and I do a lot of teasing. One year, on the Marine Corps birthday, I called him. The conversation went like this.

“Happy birthday, jarhead”

“Thanks, ditch boy. Now go spit shine your shovel”.

I happened to be at his house this past Sunday and pointed about it was the birthday of the SENIOR service.  All I heard was some mumbles.

My view of today’s Army is that, for the past two decades, they have shown they're damn good at what they do. Hopefully the next administration will quit smelling unicorn farts and let the military be military and not a social Petri dish.

For everyone who has served, thank you.

You'll Be Sorry

Tam has an amusing post, “Imagine Airman Johnny’s disappointment……….” about  farm tractors used by the military.

http://booksbikesboomsticks.blogspot.com/

There are many of us who can relate if we grew up as cowboys doing those glamorous cowboy occupations, fixing and building fence, and stacking hay bales.

We head off to the US Army with great anticipation, expecting to drive tanks and shoot large guns. Once there, we learn of a military specialty called, “Combat Engineer”, where some aspects are  building barbed wire barriers and stacking sand bags.  Little training is needed by cowboys.

We spent one entire week learning about barbed wire entanglements. First, you have your basic barbed wire and specialty anchors.

Then you have some truly nasty stuff called concertina wire. 

After building the barrier, you learn how to defeat it.

One unpleasant fact you learn is Combat Engineers are primarily assault troops, clearing the way for the Infantry through barbed wire and mine fields. Gee, isn’t that special.

After spending a week wrestling with the wire, you must gather it up and store it properly, so the next trainees can use it. You didn’t think the training cadre was going to do it, did you?

Back to the training.  About two hours into the course, Private Cowboy is taken aside by one of the Staff Sergeant cadre teaching the course.  The conversation goes something like this.

SSG: “ Son,  you have done this before. I’m going to make you an Assistant Instructor.”

PVT: “Yes, Sergeant. So when these dummies over tighten the wire and it breaks, it will wrap around my legs instead of yours?”

SSG:  “I KNEW you were experienced.”

PVT:  “Yes, Sergeant.”

SSG: “You see son, I can’t Whomp these dummies along side the head. If you decide to Whomp one, I won’t see you do it.”

Those 60’s era Army NCOs  were a kind and gentle group, oh yes they were. Just ask one.