My mom died when I was young, and I didn’t have any brothers or sisters. So that also made me kind of a loner and self-contained. My hard work at school paid off, and I went to study at West Virginia University when I was 18. I decided I should study Russian as that seemed to be the most important foreign language at the time. I vividly remember hearing JFK’s speech on the radio where he said: ask not what your country can do for you but what you can do for your country. The first time in my life I can remember crying was the day he got shot. I was never very sensitive emotionally, but there were always a few things that would play a chord on my heart strings. I learned about Stoic philosophy early and life and found it useful. I particularly enjoyed Epictetus. I forget who said it, but the two quotes that always came to my mind in troubling times were: everything weak feels itself attacked if touched and don’t argue about what a good man is, just be one.
With my Russian degree complete, I applied to the Foreign Service through the State Department. As I had no overseas experience, I was rejected. My dad suggested joining the Army as an officer. He said the pay is good and you can write your own ticket. What sealed the deal was when mentioned that with my Russian knowledge, it would be easy to get a military intelligence job and likely a cushy billet in a place like Germany. My dad mentioned volunteering for occupation duty after WW2 just to enjoy the sights of Europe. I wish I had spoken to him sooner about it, so I could have done ROTC in college. I had read about West Point and the requirements seemed onerous. Fortunately, there was an alternative: Officer Candidate School or OCS.
In 1967, I was accepted into OCS and from there did basic, infantry, airborne, and officer training. I remember the first time a drill sergeant yelled at me. It was like someone threw a handful of nails at my face. Even for a 22-year-old college grad like me, Fort Benning was a hard job. Eventually, like the rest of the training platoon, I learned how to march, shoot, and salute. The obstacle courses were fun, but what I really liked was learning how to throw grenades and shoot machine guns. Earlier on, the long hair and beard I had grown in college got shaved off. It was sort of fun to watch it all hit the floor at the same time, like a sheep getting sheared. Infantry training was only a few weeks longer. It was mostly running around in the woods while practicing small unit tactics. The woods around Fort Benning weren’t too different from the kind I spent by boyhood romping around in, so I felt at home.
Airborne school was more interesting, though I questioned the need for all the running. Running can cause stress fractures, which make injury much more likely when landing during a parachute jump. The force of landing from a paratrooper jump is about the same as jumping down from a height of eight feet, which is very likely cause injury without careful technique or if there is a pre-existing stress fracture. Several trainees ended up getting medical discharges for exactly that reason, and it happens every training cycle. Oh well, such things were above my grade. I had no power to change them. This was about the time in my Army career where I decided the only person I could rely on for my safety was me. The first jump, sometimes called the Hollywood jump, is done without a combat load in the daytime, which makes it easier. To pass the course, I had to do four more jumps, including one at night and out of four different kinds of aircraft. All those jumps were with a full combat load, which means you must pull a strap on your leg to release your gear right before landing. Landing with 40 pounds of stuff strapped to your leg often causes permanent injuries. As was to happen many times in my Army career, through a combination of prudence and luck, I avoided injury.
Officer Candidate School was much easier. It was like being in elementary school again, at least from my perspective. That’s where I met Barry Delmar. He was the only black candidate in the class. As we were both soft-spoken bookworms, we became friends. Officers who came from this course were derisively called 90-day Wonders during WW2. Equivalent German officers got far more training before they were allowed to lead men into battle. Given the Army’s need for officers at the time, it was a sensible decision. I read somewhere there is not much of a difference in officer performance on basis of training, be it from West Point, OCS, or ROTC. All Army officers have a bachelor’s degree, aside from the occasional battlefield commission.
There was a time when Barry seemed a bit more down than usual, so I tried to cheer him up by telling him the story of Benjamin Davis. He was the first black cadet at West Point in about 70 years following the handful who came through right after the end of The Civil War. He was shunned by all the cadets; he ate and roomed alone for those four long years. Later, he became a fighter pilot with the Tuskegee Airmen and commanded the famous Redtail Squadron, which had a perfect combat record. Not a single one of the bombers they escorted got shot down. Davis later became a Lieutenant General in the Air Force. Delmar seemed to appreciate my encouragement. I got the feeling that he didn’t get a lot of that in his life.
The military had only been de-segregated 20 years prior, and it had been only three years since the Civil Rights Act of 1964. I could see a kind of sadness in his face, but also a fiery determination. We didn’t get much free time at OCS, but Barry and I made the most of it. We had both been lucky enough to grow up in places with good libraries and had spent a lot of time reading the classics and the encyclopedia. He didn’t talk much, except with me and I once asked how he had such a large vocabulary. He answered that he once decided to read the dictionary. It was clever because a dictionary is much shorter than an encyclopedia but contains the same information in condensed form. Later, I learned that Malcolm X read the dictionary in prison to become a better public speaker.
Barry told me he grew up in a town called Amity in Washington State. We exchanged addresses and promised to visit each other when we were out of the Army. It gave us both something to look forward to. After OCS graduation, we wished each other luck and went our separate ways. We both had a copy of a picture we took of ourselves and a few other classmates we were friends with.
When I was writing this, I was trying to give my version of Rambo a more plausible backstory rather than the portrayal of him as a flightless Superman with a machine gun.
This is my first foray into long-form fiction. In the past 3 weeks, I’ve written another 16 short stories amounting to about 22 thousand words. Ray Bradbury said it’s impossible to write 52 bad short stories in a row, so I have another 36 more to write.
I figure if I write enough and show it to enough people, the right person will see it eventually and I can start getting paid for it.
When I joined the Air Force (52 years ago yesterday, TYVM) I wanted the full-blown experience in Basic. Obstacle Course with machine guns overhead, the hand-over-hand on a rope, crawling under barbed wire. Nope. I described the experience as “Boy Scout camp” except that at BSA Camp Zia I fired off a lot more than the 50 rounds that we did for qualifying at Lackland (48 out of 50 in the bullseye).
Kept me out of the jungles of Viet Nam, though.
In real life, I volunteered for a deployment to Syria with 5th Special Forces group in the spring of 2018. So did about 20 other guys (all Arabic linguists) from my battalion. In the end, only 2 of us were picked and I wasn’t one of them. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride. I felt proud about putting my name on the list though.
I didn’t want to get stuck being a gate guard or shuffling paperwork while I waited for the NSA to bring me on board. That happened surprisingly quickly. I did intel work for many combat operations. It was cool.
Around the five-year mark, I concluded the Army wasn’t going to work for me long-term for various reasons, but I hoped to get a job a civilian linguist either as a contractor or with NSA. The story of how that fell apart is in my autobiography, which I am also sharing here in installments.
When I think about all the people I knew who didn’t make through training or couldn’t get a clearance, or got a medical discharge, I feel lucky. It was a long shot for me to get into the Army at all, let alone NSA.
I still haven’t figured out what lucky is. Was an event luck, or a curse? What would have happened if you weren’t in the army? You will never know. What else do we do but stumble through life?
Good point. I used to wonder how my life would have been if I had stayed in Chicago and sat for the police exam I was invited for. Now I’m kind of glad I got out of there in 2013 before the crime got even worse.
It stung to get fired from 3 engineering jobs in a row, but if that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have joined the Army and become a linguist, which was my goal in 2003.
The service did one thing good for me, however; it ignited a distrust of the government which flamed into existence a few years later. I was a Democrat when I joined (they were against the VietNam war). By the time I got out I was disgusted with government incompetence. R for a few years, then L for a few years, now an-cap.
Took me a little longer to discover reality, I worked with some Ls in Madison, WI of all places. They seemed nice
I was momentarily confused, thinking THIS was your autobiography. When the narrator mentioned crying over the JFK assassination, I thought, “Wait! How old ARE you??” (Reading on my phone, overlooked the Fiction tag.)
***
Obstacle Course with machine guns overhead, the hand-over-hand on a rope, crawling under barbed wire
***
I wanted all that too, which is why I joined the Army. The generous enlistment bonus merely sweetened the deal.
Well, Air Force. I did crawl under barb wire with machine guns firing over head and much more in Army BCT.
I would ask where everyone is, but I know the answer. The entire Glibertariat goes to dinner at 6-7 CST, regardless of geographical location. Someday science may have a label for this phenomenon, which somewhat resembles the sympatico of menstrual cycles between female roomates.
Not I.
Dad eats on Old People’s Time, and since I work 6-2:30, I don’t have that much of an issue with an early dinner.
Nonsense.
I was trying to figure out what went wrong with my latest Print. It failed so spectacularly that I’m baffled.
I did a full reset (cleaned build plate and vat, re-levelled, etc), and hopefully the next print works.
Temperature? Humidity?
🤷♂️
It’s actually been less humid than on days where things worked. Does cooler temperatures hurt resin?
I know the filament printers need to stay cool. I would bet there is a tight temperature range on resin.
I assume it’s already well ventilated? Resin gas buildup could soften your build. Science!
I’m not sure about that Given that depending on the filament, you have to heat the build plate to at least 60 commie degrees to adhere would indicate that a warm environment isn’t that much an issue. But some filament types soak up humidity like sponges, so that needs to be monitored.
And there’s no way built up fumes would interfere with a 35micrometer layer of liquid at the bottom of a vat of liquid being bombarded by UV light. (Besides, the ventillation is why that room is cold.)
1730MDT here. Yummy, yummy stuffed peppers.
And the simpatico cycle has been thoroughly debunked. Totally random, regardless of roommates.
Been chasing issues with my domain-LAN today and suddenly things straightened out. Don’t know what I did but I’m not touching it.
Go Packers!
Go fire Joe Barry.
I’m not eating, just watching football.
At 6 central, I watch the news and Wheel of Fortune with my husband (we began doing this ironically; it is no longer ironic).
At 7 central, I do my medical transcriptioning.
Growing up, weekdays would wrap up with Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy, then it was bedtime. Except those nights when Star Tek was on, where we’d get another hour before bedtime. This was the end of the 80s and the start of the 90s, and we did not have cable most years.
UCS would put on his gray pajamas, and climb into his gray bed and go to sleep promptly as a child.
And you’re always going to be Number 2.
I’ve shit out the remnants of Firsts that you consume like a ravenous beast if allowed to do so.
That was oddly appropriate this morning.
I did my Benning School for Boys in ’66, I was 29 when I graduated. I got a branch transfer to Signal Corps, since that was where my EM time was.
A third of the guys didn’t make it to graduation, about 40% of the class were college options and they mostly did well. I left Sam’s Finest in ’76 and headed off to college.
90 day wonders? We called them “shake and bake”.
I did my time at Benning, too. +5 jump chump
Good writing, Derpy.
I can’t personally relate, but I can follow along.
I read about your car wreck. Hope you are feeling better. I’m lucky that I’ve never been in a bad car accident.
Thanks. Yeah, I’m feeling a bit better. In some ways the 2nd day is worse with the muscle aches etc.
Still need to go see a neurologist but I think the back injury is just a matter of time and taking it easy.
Ya know, Im not a doctor. Or lawyer. Or litigant. Or Law Enforcement.
But given your “condition”…..should you be behind the wheel? I’m going to say that you shouldn’t be driving.
I agree. I’ve decided to be an Uber/Lyft girl from now on. I feel lucky to be alive and that no one else was hurt.
Public transportation ain’t too bad here either.
It sucks but… yeah, that’s a prudent move.
Not sure “full self-driving” will quite work out but at some point it may be good enough to deal with a driver having a seizure.
Glad you’re still in one piece, btw.
Sad to hear you had an accident!
“It Came From Beneath the Sea” monster would die of fentanyl poisoning as soon as it came ashore in San Fransisco, if the movie was reshot.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=CQ2hUGRp__I
AIDS from the dirty needles.
I think you people need to do more coke.
I wish.
They told me to be less white, so…
Derpy I’m enjoying the John Rambo origin story so far.
I’ve been in my garage stuffing rod into slits and then laying down some cock.
In non-innuendo speak, I’ve been putting backing rod into my garage’s concrete stress cuts and then filling them with concrete caulking.
The first statement sound much more fun. In both cases my back and knees are still going to be sore tomorrow.
Yesterday I finished prepping and packing my hot peppers for fermentation. I got about three full quart jars. One jar is all black and yellow cayenne, the second is all red Serranos, and the third is the real spicy one with Chinese lantern peppers and carrots. In all three I put one or two one moth fermented garlic cloves.
I’m kinda drunk.
But ya know, at this point, Id like to see Israel let loose all its nukes. Ideally pointed and Tehran, Riyadh, Amman, Tripoli, et al. Jut get it over with.
Finish off most of Africa and Boko Haram; put Indonesia back into the ocean.
Just get it over with.
I’m thinking there’s a reason the military frowns on drunk guys being on watch in nuke silos.
Course, other people voted in access to the nuke football to a guy with senile dementia, so their nuclear precautions might have a bit of a security hole.
‘Splosives, sorry to hear about your accident. I knew I guy in college, played poker with him, who had a grand mal while riding a motorcycle. The scars from where they unwrapped the barbed wire from him were very impressive. That said, my own, non-epileptic crash was much worse, so it really doesn’t matter what causes it, they just suck.
Anyway, the wife’s paranoid episode has worked itself out, and seems to be playing out in her favor. She is being moved up the org chart, and getting three supervisors to manage her 9ish underlings. So, win? Not sure. The freak out has been averted, but she is not allowed to send emails when angry/paranoid.
And, finally, I am not allowed on Gunbroker when I have had a few beers.
I saw a video of Trump bitching about Biden’s giveaway to Iran a month ago. It seemed almost prophetic.
But what really struck me is just how much Trump has aged in the last few years. He’s not Biden bad, but he’s starting to look like Grandpa rather than Cheeto-Emperor persona Trump.
All Army officers have a bachelor’s degree, aside from the occasional battlefield commission.
This is a somewhat recent development. That wasn’t the case for the Army of VN era. Lt Calley, among others, didn’t have one. I was trying to find when it was instituted and came across a nugget that 1/2 of CPTs in 1970 didn’t hold a degree. I can remember when I got in in the 90’s there was a deadline for CPTs and below to obtain a degree. Up to that point, it was only required beyond that. Even today, you can attend NG OCS with two years of college as long as you finish your degree within a certain period.
Oh, I forgot about the junior military academies. Dunno about now but twenty years ago, NMI cadets would graduate with an associates degree, receive a commission, and then finish their degree elsewhere. Knew two of those LTs.
The rule in the 1990s was you couldn’t be promoted to Captain w/o a Bachelors. That effectively grandfathered in the few older officers w/o a degree. By the late 90’s you had to have a degree to get a commission.* Around 2000 I had to show transcripts proving I had a degree before they cut orders for me to attend the War College.
*Some state OCS programs would still let you commission with an Associate degree but the Feds would withhold recognition of rank if you didn’t get the BA within 36 months of commission. That caused some issues with NG officers in flyover country. I am not sure what was policy in place during the dark days of Iraq when the Army was desperate for bodies.
Ah, to CPT not beyond. Misremembering what the cutoff was.
The 90s was also when the Army added PLDC as a requirement for promotion to SGT.
And BNCOC for E6! My SSG squad leader never went to it, just PLDC (or it’s equivalent, I think there was another name before it).
Getting a slot became a major hurdle for promotion. My battalion had one slot per course. Not as bad as when the Army created the 97L MOS, reclassed people, but didn’t yet have a MOS course. Sorry, you can’t be promoted because you aren’t MOSQ.
Hah! My favorite reclassification story was a guy who had been an 88M but ended up in an infantry company in the Guards. Was in the position for years before he finally was required to do the mosq class the year he was scheduled to (and did) ETS. Buh bye drills and final AT.
Good morning all!
Today, the band everyone loves to hate, but secretly listens to, Genesis.
Los Endos.
The Brazilian.
Share and enjoy!
Peter Gabriel Genesis was fine but Phil Collins Genesis was and is no bueno.
Good morning, Beau, Stinky, Roat, Sean, and Don!
My boss fancies he has eclectic musical tastes because he likes Genesis with Peter Gabriel AND with Phil Collins.
Heh. I never cared for Genesis until Gabriel left. Oddly enough, I enjoyed his solo albums. I finally appreciated Gabriel-era Genesis with Steve Hackett’s “Genesis Revisited” recordings.
I can’t identify anything they did prior to the change.
Or, I’m so oblivious that I can’t identify the band from the work.
Get up and get some*, Glibs!
🌄🍩
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=O3dWBLoU–E
🎶🎶
*for varying values of “some”.
Benning
Mom’s dad was there 1942. I went around it today and am 100 miles away.
My dad mentioned….
all the shitty and boring and pointless things that the Army did with him, so I never considered the military. I have never met a man I wanted to take orders from.
Mornin’, reprobates!
Good morning, ‘patzie! How are you and yours today?
Morning, GT.
Good morning, U. How are YOU?
I overslept, and having no food in the house had to rush to get something from the store, but made it back with three minutes to spare to connect to work. I’ll have to run out at lunch again to visit the butcher to restock. (The open at 10am, and I wouldn’t have had the time before work anyway)
I was lazy over the weekend and didn’t get out to replenish my stock of Atkins lunches, so it’s probably Timmy’s again today.
Oh – and there’s a frost advisory here that my phone refused to stop reminding me about, so I should get out the door early in anticipation of scraping my windshield for the first time this season. Yay.
I have to close the front window and put my Resin printer away for the winter. At least I got one last perfect print last night. But the house is cold, so the ACs are coming out of the windows and I’m going to let the solar oven kick in.
I know what you mean….. pretty soon it will be cool enough to open the windows at night. Maybe another 2 months….
Solar oven?
Sunlight warms my house to higher than the outside temp if I don’t control the inside temp.
Snow zones signs and markers went up on the passes since last week. Getting closer.
I restocked yesterday with $5.99/lb NY strip steaks, as did the youngest Patzerprior to returningto school in Scranton. I do not expect to see that again.
Any idea why the dip happened?
No idea. That price is a special, limit 5 lbs, with the (free) membership. Unlimited amounts for $8.99. They must have a good buyer.
OK – and mornin’, UCS.
Saw the doc yesterday, he assured me everything is OK. I was a bit con ernes by some unwanted blood, it’s apparently “normal” when you have a stent.
My colleagues (including my boss) I Tel-Aviv are “enjoying” a bit of time off to take care of more important things. Which means I am sleeping with my cellphone next to me since they are not around to deal with overnight issues. I’m OK with that, wouldn’t want to trade places.
I was at the wedding of.the daughter of Mrs. Patzer’s maid of honor last month. Her brother married an Israeli girl many years ago and emigrated to Israel. They were there with their three sons, a out the same age as my two. Nice young men.
Found out yesterday they’ve been called up from the reserves. I wouldn’t want to trade places with their parents.
I’m glad I am mostly confined to quarters. I’m not sure how I’d react if confronted by the terrorist apologists in NYC. Oh wait, we are meeting our goddaughter for lunch in the Heights Saturday. An opportunity to practice stoicism?
Morning. I’m sorry to see you’ve been ghosted.
Happens every year about this time.
Remain stoic, leave if it gets weird. And good morning.
Holy crap….. Tucker Freakin’ Carleson….
Dude is slowly becoming one of us. Freed of editors and corporate handcuffs on Twitter, Tucker takes on US government support of foreign interventions. He questions how any American can take these positions, and then he says:
“I’m not talking about the true believers, the war-mongers..and those exist… I know them. I’ve met them. And none of them have normal sex lives…”
Dang, son!
1930’s Japanese domestic politics, without the competence
He’s right, you know.