One of the more distinct memories I have of my Army exerience is the TV programming they had for Army and Air force people in Germany. (Seemed like it was mostly for Air Force people although they had half the personell in country that the Army had then ) Being a film geek I'm critical of everything I see on the tube, and the purpose behind it. The military programming back then was no exception.
As you can imagine there were no real "commercials" in the sense that they were selling things, but as us production weenies call them: PSA's or public service announcements. They usual attempted comical stance's to get the points across to never leave your ID card lying around, not to drink and drive, never to turn on red in Germany, not to do this and that...But I noticed most PSA's were geared towards morale, which for a lot of people away from home was of course an issue. Surprisingly usually they rarely have military characters in them, but seemed geared more towards the wives and kids. Essentially they were pep talks on keeping the right attitude while overseas, during deployments etc. Myself, I was an 18-19 year old kid on an extended paid vacation, in a country with no drinking age, legalized prostitution and no speed limit on it's highways. Morale for me was no problem, but for too many people around me, namely older NCO's in my platoon and on my tank, I could see the pressure's from having a family and I did not envy them. When you're a young soldier, going to the field for the first time is just like camping but instead of a tent you have an M-1. But for the guys with wives and kids, whose faces I can vidly recal on countless cold, dark mornings as I write this, it was anything but fun. My tank commander, a thirty something year old E-7 rolled out of his bag on top of the turret every morning, sometimes under a blanket of snow, always saying the same thing: "f*ck this, f*ck this, f*ck this" , and I quess after thirteen years it got old, I know it got old after twenty four months for me.
Oddly enough, after a month in the field, (with seldom longer than another month before returning, early nineties budget cuts.) guys would be bitching about missing their families and I would say: "You could be in the Navy, they ship you off for six months." I would then tell them about my brother who did six months on IKE with five thousand other guys.
After a week or so in the field your tank commander is a little more loose around you, and you start to talk about stuff, especially at night on radio watch. I often asked my TC's why they stayed in so long, and the responses were that they just liked military life, not just the job and the benefits, but the whole package. And now that all the things I wanted before college don't seem like all they were cracked up to be, I see what he was talking about. A military career offers things that no pricetag can ever be placed upon. No employer is ever going to give you a home to live in, free legal councel, erect a community overseas for your family if they send you there, or evacuate your family from overseas in the event of a disaster, war or other threatening situation. When you add up all the often overlooked advantages and (if I may) perks of military life, that sixty or seventy K salary you might make before taxes doesn't seem that fantastic.
The bond and the the trust you place in the others around you is probably the most rermarkable thing about the military and you won't find it on any other job. When an jet taxies up to the cat shuttle on the flight deck, that 36 year old Hornet squadron commander, Anapolis grad, former Blue Angel, TOPGUN instructor, Serbian air campaign vet and future shuttle mission commander is depending on that eighteen year old kid from DeMoines to hook his plane right, and the ex-surfer kid from Cali' setting the weight on the catapult, and a dozen other young enlisted guys, or the crabs are gonna use his jet and his corpse for one real big condo. How the hell can he trust these kids so much? Simple, because he knows that they've been taught by experienced and dedicated navy cadre at a school and in a unit ran by other experienced and dedicated NCO's and Officers.
When I graduated from Army OSUT, the Gulf war was about to start and things didn't look good. I still remember all the retired Generals/analysts on CNN, talking about 30-50 thousand American dead: best case scenario. After our ceremony Our Drill Sergeant gathered us for one last speech before we were dismissed from under his supervision for good. I still remember his words:
"Whatever happens over there, or later on someplace else, always remember this: The most important thing to you is the man on your left and on your right. You are all brother's now and no matter what happens, if you are true to one another, you'll always come out on top of any situation. That bond is something that you have all forged here on your own and together with your own sweat, tears and even blood. What you have achieved here, today, can never be broken, and can never be taken away from you. With luck, you may never have to fight, kill, make sacrifice's or die, but from this moment forward until the day they bury you, you are all soldiers and I salute you."
As powerful as those words were, and what they meant that day, at that time, I never really understood their weight until last week when a close friend of mine's father passed away. A Korean war vet, at the funeral his VFA unit was all present, performing their usual ceremony when one of their own departs. None appeared younger than fifty. They all wore their uniform white shirts adorned with their medals, awards, rank and of course their decorated hats. One man always stood guard at the casket with a vintage M-1 carbine. At the close of the viewing each man marched up to the casket and saluted the deceased, saying: "Farewell comrade!" You could hear people throughout the parlor losing it. Poignant, does little to describe the moment. There was a special pride that I felt then, and that I'm sure my brother, also present, felt as well. Not in that we ourselves had done something special, or great, but because we shared a bond with these distinquished veterans because had stood in the ranks, even if for a short time. My Drill Sergeant was right, it is a brotherhood (and sisterhood) that can never be bought, broken, or taken away. Like those VFA members, when i'm sixty years old and sitting on the porch,(if I'm that lucky) I'll be thinking about the days I spent in uniform, tearing up the German countryside in my machine and the people I did it with.
I don't know how many work days I'll ever remember.
Of course, Saddam's war machine was mopped up in 100 hours following the most aggressive air campaign in history. I watched it all at home on leave. Luckily I never had to make any sacrifice's, get wounded, killed or take another human life, but I always knew, and I still know, that if I had been sent there I would have been confident in the face of the worst because of the people around me.
We've more or less kicked the living sh*t out of everyone stupid enough to face us on the sea, air and on the field of battle, and we've done it not just because of technology, but because of the dedication and trust we service members have had for one another over the ages. Wether or not I have the honor of rejoing the ranks as a Naval Officer is now up to the Doctors to decide, but I will always have that day outside of C-181 barracks in Ft. Knox Ky., when our DI saluted us after 14 weeks of wet, frigid hell.
Where else on Earth are you going to get that and a free haircut?
With that...
Fly Navy!
D
Edited by - Dave Shutter on 1 August 2000
