UPDATE: link to the original essay here (my opinion remains unchanged).
I try not to spend my time poop-hammering veterans that don't need it. Everyone's experience is different, and the fact that you served is 99 percent of all I need to hear.
But that being said, I, along with my combat MOS/Combat Service brothers and sisters, am a bit of an elitist. The guys that have spent their time living in places with light, noise and litter discipline with Death not only tuggin at their elbow, but tying off on it with a swiss seat are more likely to be the people that I tend to bond with. People who have seen the elephant are my people.
Long days in the Finance Office at Camp Phoenix or scheduling aircraft maintenance at Bagram are likely to get me shoveling a mountain of well deserved poo-poo on you.
So I don't feel bad for what I am about to do.....
Some female Chair Force Officer has an interview in Glamour magazine about her service in the 'Stan and how it took an "emotional toll" on her, even after she came home. I tried very hard to reserve judgment, because I know there is a special spot in Hell for the people that kick those with PTSD in any way while they are down.
So I read it (the whole thing), just to see. Might learn something you know.
"Wearing my bulletproof vest and helmet, carrying an M4 rifle and M9 pistol, with 225 rounds of ammunition strapped to my chest, I looked much tougher than I felt,'" she recounted.
Oh, I see. That sucks. I remember that, but carrying more like 300, more often. And further too, but please, continue...
Limited internet and phone service added to her feelings of vulnerability as did the fact she was a woman in predominantly a man's world.
Yeah I get it. Out of place as a USAF officer in an Infantry fight. Still not hearing anything about 40 minute rocket barrages or finding rocket shrapnel stuck in the fender of your truck or those very same rockets blowing holes in key parts of your firebase yet, nor am hearing anything about what your exact AFSC is that put you so close to this alleged action. So you can understand I am starting to get suspicious....
The the pretty brunette said that sexual assault a constant worry for her on the front line, because she ‘knew the stories’ and ‘overheard vulgar talk.
OH HEAVENS TO MURGATROID!!!! P.O.G. ALERT!! P.O.G. ALERT!! I facking knew it... They sucked me in... So then I got to read about all of her problems adjusting to her life back home.
She also found getting to sleep on her quiet army base an 'extreme problem', as she missed the white noise of war.
The lack of 'helicopters,' 'rumbling armored vehicles' and 'chatting smokers on break', she said, made for an 'unsettling peace'.
She was eventually diagnosed with chronic adjustment disorder - a milder form of post-traumatic stress disorder.
Evidently, Princess Fobbit can't sleep without the assorted noises of an army at war slowly rubbing her back so she can peacefully sleep, so she has a milder form of PTSD. Wow, I wonder what that is like? Some of us have other things to deal with.
Go ahead and read the rest of the useless article if you want, but do it only if you want to get a facking headache. Or you could take some time out of your day to head over to her blog here and spend some of your time clowning the bejesus out of Madame Chair Force.
How do I sleep? Awesome now that those cats in the mortar platoon aren't my early rising neighbors.