The First 5 Friends You Should Make in the Army.

When I joined the army, family and friends who’d served gave me a lot of advice: Keep your head down, don’t volunteer for anything, keep your mouth shut, volunteer for everything, don’t piss off your noncommissioned officers, don’t eat the Omelet MRE.

All of this was good advice, but it was also all pretty obvious, (except the Omelet MRE bit, WHY DIDN’T I LISTEN!).

(You're Welcome!)

Honestly though, I wish somebody had sat me down and explained that in the profession of arms isn’t really about defending your country or killing the enemy. Sure those are the overarching themes, the ultimate goals if you will, but for a junior enlisted soldier the day-to-day mission is much more complicated then that.

For the low man on the totem pole and probably most of the guys farther up, the job is about covering your ass and making the right people happy.

A few veteran enlisted will advise a newly minted killer to immediately start sucking up to their direct supervisor, then continue they’re bootlicking on up through the ranks to their first sergeant, commander and beyond if possible.

I served as a junior enlisted soldier for five years and I’m here to tell you that this strategy is fine if promotion is your endgame, but if you are more interested in doing you’re job efficiently and surviving to tell the tale, perhaps you should try kissing these asses instead.

5. The Medic

If you’ve ever seen a war movie, you’ve heard a cast member scream “Medic!” as they franticly try to shove their own intestines back into their bodies.

In a combat situation a medic’s primary job is to keep the wounded alive long enough to evacuate them to a field hospital. 

This responsibility extends to enemy combatants, and medics are required to follow very specific care under fire protocols to save the maximum amount of lives.

Still, if all things are equal and both you and the guy lying next to you have gaping chest wounds, it pays to have a medic who likes you as a person.

When they aren’t going on combat patrols, medics run sick call, where soldiers go to seek initial medical treatment for anything from back pain to laryngitis. Medics in-process patients, take their medical histories and perform all of the menial tasks like checking temperature and blood pressure before a doc or more often a physicians assistant breezes in for about 45 seconds to decide if you are sick or not. It’s a shitty, mind-numbing part of the job, that recruiters sort of gloss over when trying to sell a potential recruit on the Army medical field.

Also, for every truly sick or injured soldier, there are two who are just looking to get out of work or an exemption from physical training.

Being on friendly terms with your unit medics goes a long way toward getting that pain in your ankle or appendix taken seriously.

My unit’s medic was a grizzled old Staff Sergeant who, early in my first deployment, said,  “If shit hits the fan, just hand me your SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon) and I’ll handle shit until somebody goes down.”

The man had more combat experience then Rambo, and he dug telling war stories, so I listened to a few, and bam! I was on his good side.

4. Supply

Whether you need printer paper or night vision goggles, the supply specialist is the person to see. They are responsible for every piece of equipment assigned to a unit, and as such can be complete Nazis about giving you the tools needed to complete even the most basic missions. Getting a new stapler can become a task worthy of Hercules himself if you catch your supply sergeant on a bad day.

The worst part is, nobody can even blame them for being assholes. Much of the equipment the supply room issues out is incredibly expensive, extremely sensitive or both. A single misplaced radio can lock a base down for hours while soldiers line up an arms length apart from one another and methodically search every square inch of ground the radio could have been dropped on.

Add to that the millions, if not billions, of dollars worth of lost equipment the army has to replace, and it’s easy to see why supply specialists act like trolls guarding a hoard of printer cartridges and Velcro unit insignias.

Thankfully I discovered that my supply sergeant loved Asian food more then most parents love their children.

A few tabs paid at the local Chinese Buffett and Thai restaurants and I was rolling in tape dispensers and cheap-ass pens.

3. Cook

A few veterans may say “Bullcrap” to this entry, to which I respond, “Suck it POGs!” (Don’t worry civilians, they know what it means)

It’s true that cooks aren’t held in the highest esteem at military bases in the United States. For the most part Dinning facility food is edible, but its hardly gourmet. Even at large forward operating bases in Afghanistan, Iraq or Kuwait, we pay third party nationals from countries like the Filipinas or Indonesia to work the chow line.

At control bases and joint checkpoints in Bumfuck, Nowhere, Afghanistan, however, food service specialists become minor deities.

U.S. Army doctrine identifies Mess (aka food) as a key component of morale, and never a truer word has ever been written for places without Internet connectivity or access to running water.

On these tiny bases, one 18-year-old kid could be in charge of ordering, preparing and serving food for dozens of soldiers, who have nothing better to do then eat and complain about the heat when they aren’t on guard duty or sucking on foot patrols in the middle of the desert.

I once saw a senior NCO with 15 years of service wash dishes for a private who’d probably been in for less then six months, just to ensure he got steak the following week.

I never spent more then a week at a time on one of those tiny bases, but every time I visited, I stocked up on cigarettes to bribe the cooks. (Yes, the army, like prison is run on a well-oiled barter system of cigarettes and favors)

2. Mechanic

The army runs on diesel. Unless you’re one of those poor light-infantry bastards who have to walk everywhere, you get around in a vehicle of some kind.

Unfortunately, the Army pays the cheapest SOBs on the planet to make its trucks, which means they break down constantly.

My Humvee once caught on fire… for no reason! AND THEY DIDN”T GET RID OF IT.

I apologize, this is obviously still a sore subject for me.

Everyday care and maintenance, like checking for engine leaks, changing air filters, or figuring out why the damned thing won’t start usually falls to the lowest ranking guy assigned to that particular truck, because it’s a pain in the ass and with rank comes privilege.

Mechanics only get involved if there’s a serious problem, (like an engine fire) and even then they moan and groan that you are taking them away from very important work.

Even after they get involved, most mechanics will only “advise” you before returning to their other “Work.”

Lucky for me, I was on very good terms with a number of my unit’s mechanics. When you’ve sung Lola and Hey Jude at the top of your lungs with a guy at 1:00 am on a Wednesday night, with a five-mile run waiting for you at 6:30, it tends to bring you together.

1. Human Resources 

(No Photos of human resource specialists were deemed interesting enough to include)

Anyone who works at a large corporation can tell you; human resources is a pain in the ass. This goes doubly for the Army. After all, it is a bureaucracy, and bureaucracies run on paperwork.

Human resource specialists are responsible for everything from delivering to processing awards, promotions, official reprimands and changes of duty stations to delivering the freaking mail, (Another one of those key components of morale) and as anyone who has spent more then 5 minutes in the Army will tell you, They are awful at their jobs.

Paperwork is lost constantly, which can mean (as happened to me personally) delayed vacations, or (as thankfully did not happen to me) delayed promotions.

As frustrating as these situations may be, you still can’t afford to blow your top when dealing with S1, because if you piss them off they’ll simply drag their feet all the more, and who’s going to stop them? Even your unit commander is afraid of them.

Instead, try to befriend at least one of the HR folks in your unit, they might still mess up your paperwork every now and again, but at least they’ll feel bad about screwing over a friend, and try to rectify the problem.

My in at the HR office was a young Kentuckian who lived on my floor at the barracks, who shared with me a love for cheap whiskey and Clint Eastwood. After a couple drunken weekends of Mexican stand offs and terrible Italian overdubbing, I had a friend and insurance against missing my next leave date. 

If you fail to befriend any of these people, because you are a social incompetent, the least you can do is make nice with the guy next to you, because god knows, if things get hairy, he’s the only one that will really matter.