Waiting on the Word: The chronicles of the time wasting shenanigans only found in the deadliest fighting force in the world…

Anyone who has ever served in the armed forces will tell you that not all time spent in the service of this great nation is productive. These are the stories of those times, told by those who lived them…

PART I: Grunts 1 – Tankers 0

Until getting Drill sergeant orders to Fort Jackson, I had very little contact outside of my MOS. I was born a grunt, raised by grunts, and embraced the lifestyle expected of any good grunt. The last thing we ever did was venture outside of our shit talking, tobacco chewing, womanizing, bar fight starting, and Jameson drinking, community. All of a sudden I found myself a minority in the melting pot of the Army, training the next generation of support soldiers.

We had just changed command and I had a couple of cycles under my belt. My new commander was a young captain who came from the armor side of the house. It took a couple weeks for him to settle in but I quickly found that he was very proud of his branch that he unfortunately mistook as “combat arms”.  A term thrown around far too loosely in my opinion. Slowly, as he became more comfortable with the personalities of the drill sergeants assigned to him, he became far too emboldened. He began the all too familiar trash talk that is customary between the “combat arms” folks.  We would exchange our friendly jabs about our respective choices in profession and have a good chuckle. No harm, no foul.

Then came the shot heard round the world. We were in the middle of basic rifle marksmanship which to those who have taught a bunch of fragile snowflakes how to end people’s lives know, it is comparable to a root canal by Dr. Kevorkian. During those weeks of hell on earth, I would come back from those long days at the range only to find anti-infantry memes posted all over the door to my office and papering my desk. I felt that it was my responsibility to defend the time-honored reputation of the infantry from the ghastly propaganda being spread in my workplace.





Utter. Bullshit. So with a few co-conspirators, who will remain nameless, we formulated an attack to end all hostilities and save my infantry brethren any further insult.  We decided since he loved his tanks so much that we would make him feel more at home by making his office look more like the inside of a tank. We went to the nearest Sam’s Club and bought $100 worth of tin foil. The next time I was on the roster for 24-hour duty, I worked through the night transforming his office into a shiny nightmare that could give even the most resilient of men a migraine after spending 10 minutes in its glory. I tin foiled everything but the floor to include the walls, ceiling, and furniture down to the individual jolly ranchers he had in a gum ball dispenser on his desk (fucking tankers). The look on his face when he came in to work the next day was priceless and the war was won…. Sorry, not sorry.



Don’t believe me? Look it up on U.S Army W.T F! moments on Facebook….we…ahem…I mean…I am famous.

Feel free to send me a story of your shenanigans, Ill post it because at the end of the day, no matter how much it sucked, nothing can replace the memories you make when you are in.






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