I AM writing a scalding message to the assholes that were running the 82nd replacement detachment when I came to fight. I also am writing this because I see too much and love these Soldiers in Gods Army.
I came to fight. I AM very well trained. I ran my career to be gumby and to run many operations in the field and in combat. I trained damn well hard to learn all I could about this ARMY. I went to every school I could and though not what “They” were looking for, I could have been all that was needed to save many, many lives.
Your first excuse was I did not show up on time – well, you wanted to PCS me out of it to start with. Next was I did not do what that school wanted. I never do but I learned. Your third was fitness – for that I admit I AM broken but I passed my physical test and more. I know my body and it was Able for Combat. I used to max my scores, given time I will again. I damn well loaded enough ammunition, food, and equipment in my time. I assure you, I will be in the shape you need.
I should have gone 18 series right after Airborne school. It may have been better, but I loved taking care of 177 MTOE strength Soldiers. The more I have, the more I can help. Little teams were never my thing and being such a strange person, I know it would have been awkward.
You denied me when I needed to be there. The stupid fucking department of the army wanted me to sit in garrison in Korea after I spent my whole career trying to build special capability units and my proficiency in field range centered logistics operations. We essentially built the finest special operations unit outside of JSOC. And they proved it when I was there and when I left. For some reason, you know it alls’ would not let me deploy light with units to THIS war. All of the other wars were okay.
As for you Command Sergeant Major that decided to take me on, fuck you. I could have saved many lives. I know how to take a convoy haji, or post it in the field away from contact. I can call in a nine line. I am not a tactical idiot. I can fire any weapon you hand me. I know the bad feeling when you are about to get hit, I know what tires and curbs and big bags on the road and bridges and tall buildings mean. I may could have waved a magic wand. You have no idea what was waiting in my arsenal.
Did you not have faith that I would protect your men? Was I so much less appealing to you because I fucked everything that moved before I decided to go back in and join the war with you? You know me not.
I joined the military to tab out. I did not, but that knowledge never went to waste. You spent more than $4 million on me and husked it away. You wasted six months of my life screwing around in the 82nd replacement detachment. You stupid fucks.
As for you “”other Sergeant Major’s, you were a Second platoon Sergeants who had an issue with me when I was but a lowly buck Sergeant. I could have ended your careers in Bosnia, or Kosovo or Cuba for losing sensitive items or many other un-professional reasons. I know I was un-profesional too, but accountable I was. And I was loyal.
Whatever, I backed you and my Commander and when I came to you ten years later -both of you, you were still the same self serving assholes I saw in the squad rooms. You did not like me then but I still went to bat for you at my own expense. I turned the unit upside down to make sure you or your Soldiers and my Commander did not have to pay for it or even have it mentioned anywhere. And when I needed your help, you both were the same back stabbing assholes I knew when you sat in those squad rooms.
I pray your Soldiers did not have to spend too much time with you because you really see nothing but yourselves. I will not tell you what conversations I had with your Soldiers in the barracks. And it always boiled down to that. I knew my units no matter how much time it took because I learned the serious nature of a line unit.
I scraped enough guts up from people putting guns to their own heads to know the limits of a young Men with stress and lonesome feelings. I tuned them in and was not always successful but I did my damnedest to try to see them eye to eye.
I learned to listen and that may have been a threat to you. It sure made our units solid having some asshole like me poking my nose in their rooms every night. We had good times and sometimes, I learned more about your Platoons than you did. I also learned about these men which is more than I can say for the likes of you.
I talked to them as a “dis-interested” party and it worked. Moved them here or there and sometimes backed your fucked up decisions. And sometimes I explained your logic to them. They were and are awesome people. Sometimes even backed them and took it to a higher level. Sorry to be such a meddler, but again, I AM the one that is supposed to pack them up when they get perished.
To you Command Sergeant Major that was always in the thick of it, I wish I was there with you all the time. You were always the leader I wanted and always on the front lines and I wanted to be there with you.
I wish I could have handed you a cup of coffee that day you lost that finest Specialist. That horrible day when you came back after scraping his body off of the metal of what used to be his vehicle. After he was blown up by some pussy assed haji with a remote. I wish I was there to make sure their feet could stay attached to their bodies after you pulled them out of the chassis. You as I know there was no way as time was short and it was kind of sporty out there that hot afternoon. You got them out. There was no way to keep it all together and that’s just how it was. Out by dark was the order.
I wish I was there when you set up the most bad assed perimeter around the Pentagon after some haji flew a plane into it. I wish I was there when you got your marching orders to Iraq to help you move it along. I wish I was there when your fuel tanker was blown to hell and you lost a good kid that day and There was nothing left. You spent hours looking for enough of him to send back home. All that was in your hand was a trash bag and you could not find but a ziplocks worth of this fine man who was loyal and kind. This man with an unborn at home. This man with a wife in poverty. A Man that would follow you anywhere. A good Soldier you wished you knew more.
I saw you one night after you pulled a good man with four kids at home out of a ditch and his neck was still dripping blood and you cradled him until he was taken away and you had to wear his blood on your uniform for a week. There is no scrubbing it out but it just looked black for the whole week. Your right arm and collar just looked black for a week and no one asked you why. They kind of knew why and no one asked you about it. You were not sure if you wanted to change your uniform when the replacement came in. You felt it would remove him from you.
I wanted to be there when your best friends were screaming while they were burning to death and gasping for air. Knowing that sound is ever haunting. Sometimes looking around to make sure they are not there burning again even in a living room or a diner or when sleeping.
I just wish they had let me be there in the flesh. I do not give a damn about my mortality, I want to share it with you, the most faithful and finest of all men on this planet. I would die for you any day and twice on Sunday.
Somehow I can see but I cannot see you know?