Tuesday Trot Through the Blogoshpere
The Warrior Caste

Note to Donnie

Hey D-

First, I gotta say that I am damn proud that we have people like you ready to go. Seriously, man, I am in awe of you signing back up and walking the walk. We need more soldiers like you (except Airborne qualified...what?...). Regardless, we have to have a few beers before you head downrange, my friend (with Eric the Marine).

Anyway, I just wanted to pass along some advice for you since you have been out of the service for a few years. Things might have changed since the last time you wore a uniform.

Remember years ago when we were young(er) officers, ready to go, get things done, make things happen?

Remember how, when you transferred to a new post, and you wanted to get your quarters furnished, you would bring a bottle of Jack Daniels for the Sergeant at the housing warehouse. Pass him the bottle and you would get leather furniture (for a Colonel) instead of wooden furniture (for a Lieutenant).

These are the things that Mustangs know about. Knowing these kind of things gave us an advantage over our West Pointer counter-parts. Needed a range? Pull the bottle of Jack out of your car and slip it to Range Control Sergeant and *voila!* your unit is on the range. We could make things happen with a kind word or a bottle of Jack or a thinly veiled threat to beat the shit out of some pompous-ass paper-pusher.

Well, the Army doesn't work that way any more. I know, it's sad. It's really fucking sad.

Three years ago, I was trying to get a Sergeant a physical in order to attend Air Assault School. She was a last minute approval so she wasn't scheduled for a physical, and I knew I was going to have to try something to get her one. I thought two nice bottles of Jack and Jose' might get her in the door. The Hospital NCO told me to take my bottles and shove it.

That's when my Sergeant Major brought bran muffins to the Hospital NCO.

That's right, fucking B.R.A.N. M.U.F.F.I.N.S.

Next thing you know, my Sergeant had her physical. My Sergeant Major just laughed and said, "Sir, it REALLY is the new Army." He patted me on the back while I cursed Clinton and his wilting of the military...

That's when I knew my time had arrived to start thinking about a career in I.T. where booze is still an appreciated form of bribery.

Good luck, my friend!

"Rangers Lead The Way!"...to the fucking Bran Muffins.