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.
