Tilted Forum Project Discussion Community - View Single Post - I Work for the D-N-D, Oy! Oy!

BigBen · 03-24-2005, 11:19 AM

Who is more important? The grunt that shoots the bullets or the PONTI (Person Of No Tactical Importance) that delivers the bullets to the front line?

One thing you have to get used to is the constant onslaught of insults and ridicule from your fellow soldiers. THE ONES ON THE SAME TEAM AS YOU. It is a simple case of human psychology, wherein the patient is whipped into a frenzy by being informed that they are the most important person in the group and without them the system would fail. The lower functioning soldiers really love this scenario, and grab on to this fallacy with both hands…

Infantry: We take and hold the ground. No one else can hurt us
Armoured: We run over the fuckers, shoot them, and are too fast to hit
Artillery: We don’t move fast, because we blow everything up before they even know it
Medics: We keep you dumb shits alive when something bad happens
Air Force: Yeah, we have it easy. Without us the bombs would be dropping on you right now
Navy: Can you swim? How about with all your gear on? Can you swim across the ocean with your gear on? No? Then you need us.
Communications: Can you hear me now? Good. If people don’t tell each other what they are doing, they soon kill each other by accident

Now everyone is told how important their role is, to help them with morale when the shit is not really warm and squishy. I have reverted to the thought of “I am doing an important job that is critical to the mission” once in a while, when the thoughts of WHAT AM I DOING HERE? Come in to hurt you.

Dear reader, please rest easy tonight knowing that everyone is important. The guy scrubbing the pots in the kitchen is ensuring that you have something to eat. The clerk who ‘rubber stamps the damn forms’ ensures that coordination occurs, and 50 people don’t try to get on a 5 passenger bus.

When we are by ourselves, with no civilians around to puff our chests out for, the contests quickly turn on each other. Infantry hates Armoured, because they get to drive wherever they go. Armoured hates Artillery because they are far from the front lines in relative safety. Everyone hates the Service Corps, because the work they do is never seen and always misunderstood. No one cares about the medics, because we all have first aid training. The fights can quickly turn violent.

“Armoured Rules!” comes a shout from the end of the barracks.
“Infantry!” and so on ad nauseum.

Worse, if there are different Units OF THE SAME BRANCH, you really have a mess on your hands. What do you fight about if there are 300 infantry guys standing around? The units come into play.
“1st Battalion is the BEST!” one infantry guy bellows, proud of his chain-of-command.
“2nd Battalion is Better!” comes the reply. Then the two must fight it out. Juvenile? Yes. Necessary? I say yes, considering the organizational culture.

Like a prison hierarchy, the strongest and best fighters quickly show their dominance. Isn’t that what we want from the Armed Forces? Dominance, aggression, and strong fighters?

What sucks is when someone calls you down and you are horribly outnumbered. You have to defend your honour, and that of your trade and unit. But what happens when there are 10 infantry guys, and you are the only artillery guy? You get your ass kicked, that’s what happens. Only once, and then you are part of the club (if you aren’t a total prick) until someone needs to establish dominance.

One task, I was quietly doing my job when I was informed by a group of young soldiers that I was “Useless”. They were trying to bait me into a fight, and I was in no mood to get jumped. I simply said “Yeah, maybe, but since I am driving out your meals to you, I suggest you take that comment back or the whole fucking lot of you will go hungry.” The young man committing the offence is quickly told to apologize. Worse still is if I cut off the coffee.

I was cornered like a rat in a cage one time, and about 5 guys decided to teach me a lesson in manners. I had to concede that they were better than I, or the beating would start.
“Oh, absolutely. You guys are hard core and I would never win a fight with any one of you. My unit sucks, my buddies suck, and as soon as I can I am going to my career manager and ask to transfer into your unit. Please oh please let me be one of the cool guys…” I wanted out of the situation, and was hoping the bait would work. It did.

Late that night, I was on fire watch (Overnight duty to ensure that no one catches on fire, don’t ask why) when I decided to wake up my new friends. With the heel of my boot to their nose. “Who’s unit is the best now, asshole?” I hissed, five times over.

The next morning, I got the beating of my life. My new friends did not appreciate the visit I had paid them, and gave it back to me in spades. I still have scars on my face, and every morning when I look in the mirror I think two things:
1. My unit is best.
2. Chicks dig scars.

Anyhoo, I took my lumps, because they were well deserved. The Sergeant knew what happened, and simply bellowed, “BEN! You are on night fire watch again.” And I smiled with swollen lips. I got to sleep during the day, but those assholes had to sleep with one eye open for the rest of the exercise.

03-24-2005, 11:19 AM	#58 (permalink)
BigBen Comedian Location: Use the search button	Who is more important? The grunt that shoots the bullets or the PONTI (Person Of No Tactical Importance) that delivers the bullets to the front line? One thing you have to get used to is the constant onslaught of insults and ridicule from your fellow soldiers. THE ONES ON THE SAME TEAM AS YOU. It is a simple case of human psychology, wherein the patient is whipped into a frenzy by being informed that they are the most important person in the group and without them the system would fail. The lower functioning soldiers really love this scenario, and grab on to this fallacy with both hands… Infantry: We take and hold the ground. No one else can hurt us Armoured: We run over the fuckers, shoot them, and are too fast to hit Artillery: We don’t move fast, because we blow everything up before they even know it Medics: We keep you dumb shits alive when something bad happens Air Force: Yeah, we have it easy. Without us the bombs would be dropping on you right now Navy: Can you swim? How about with all your gear on? Can you swim across the ocean with your gear on? No? Then you need us. Communications: Can you hear me now? Good. If people don’t tell each other what they are doing, they soon kill each other by accident Now everyone is told how important their role is, to help them with morale when the shit is not really warm and squishy. I have reverted to the thought of “I am doing an important job that is critical to the mission” once in a while, when the thoughts of WHAT AM I DOING HERE? Come in to hurt you. Dear reader, please rest easy tonight knowing that everyone is important. The guy scrubbing the pots in the kitchen is ensuring that you have something to eat. The clerk who ‘rubber stamps the damn forms’ ensures that coordination occurs, and 50 people don’t try to get on a 5 passenger bus. When we are by ourselves, with no civilians around to puff our chests out for, the contests quickly turn on each other. Infantry hates Armoured, because they get to drive wherever they go. Armoured hates Artillery because they are far from the front lines in relative safety. Everyone hates the Service Corps, because the work they do is never seen and always misunderstood. No one cares about the medics, because we all have first aid training. The fights can quickly turn violent. “Armoured Rules!” comes a shout from the end of the barracks. “Infantry!” and so on ad nauseum. Worse, if there are different Units OF THE SAME BRANCH, you really have a mess on your hands. What do you fight about if there are 300 infantry guys standing around? The units come into play. “1st Battalion is the BEST!” one infantry guy bellows, proud of his chain-of-command. “2nd Battalion is Better!” comes the reply. Then the two must fight it out. Juvenile? Yes. Necessary? I say yes, considering the organizational culture. Like a prison hierarchy, the strongest and best fighters quickly show their dominance. Isn’t that what we want from the Armed Forces? Dominance, aggression, and strong fighters? What sucks is when someone calls you down and you are horribly outnumbered. You have to defend your honour, and that of your trade and unit. But what happens when there are 10 infantry guys, and you are the only artillery guy? You get your ass kicked, that’s what happens. Only once, and then you are part of the club (if you aren’t a total prick) until someone needs to establish dominance. One task, I was quietly doing my job when I was informed by a group of young soldiers that I was “Useless”. They were trying to bait me into a fight, and I was in no mood to get jumped. I simply said “Yeah, maybe, but since I am driving out your meals to you, I suggest you take that comment back or the whole fucking lot of you will go hungry.” The young man committing the offence is quickly told to apologize. Worse still is if I cut off the coffee. I was cornered like a rat in a cage one time, and about 5 guys decided to teach me a lesson in manners. I had to concede that they were better than I, or the beating would start. “Oh, absolutely. You guys are hard core and I would never win a fight with any one of you. My unit sucks, my buddies suck, and as soon as I can I am going to my career manager and ask to transfer into your unit. Please oh please let me be one of the cool guys…” I wanted out of the situation, and was hoping the bait would work. It did. Late that night, I was on fire watch (Overnight duty to ensure that no one catches on fire, don’t ask why) when I decided to wake up my new friends. With the heel of my boot to their nose. “Who’s unit is the best now, asshole?” I hissed, five times over. The next morning, I got the beating of my life. My new friends did not appreciate the visit I had paid them, and gave it back to me in spades. I still have scars on my face, and every morning when I look in the mirror I think two things: 1. My unit is best. 2. Chicks dig scars. Anyhoo, I took my lumps, because they were well deserved. The Sergeant knew what happened, and simply bellowed, “BEN! You are on night fire watch again.” And I smiled with swollen lips. I got to sleep during the day, but those assholes had to sleep with one eye open for the rest of the exercise. __________________ 3.141592654 Hey, if you are impressed with my memorizing pi to 10 digits, you should see the size of my penis.