It will be sixteen years next month that I’ve worn this uniform. Actually, not this exact uniform, I have purchased some new ones over the years, but I do still wear my original dog tags issued to me at Fort Dix, New Jersey in 1987.
It was a warm day that spring when I nervously started my career as a soldier. It began with a roar, literally. My drill sergeant, Drill Sergeant Blue screamed at me, and all my brethren, for what seemed like hours, but was probably just half of one. “Pick up your Gottdamned bags and put them in the Gottdamned barracks…NOW you Gottdamned maggots!”
On a very hot day in June, Drill Sergeant Blue took his “Gottdamned” platoon on a 22-mile foot march complete with helmets, load-carrying vests, ruck-sacks filled to the hilt, and our M-16 rifles. I swear he didn’t sweat a drop, but we did! He was kind enough to stop periodically and allow us to drink from our canteens.
“You now have 5 Gottdamned minutes to drink water and change your stinking sweaty nasty maggot infested socks…MOVE!”
He also offered us words of encouragement along the march, especially as we neared the end, “Let’s go you Gottdamned maggots I wanna get there before my next birthday! Don’t tell me you Gottdamned maggots are tired?! Stop your crying or I’ll call your Gottdamned mammas and tell them to send a Gottdamned bus ticket for you to go home!”
In addition to adding some interesting phrases to my vocabulary, Drill Sergeant Blue taught me a valuable lesson in discipline that day. Once we arrived at our destination, a sandy area in the middle of nowhere called Paragon Trail, Drill Sergeant Blue gave the command, “HALT you Gottdamned maggots!”
I don’t know if I’ve ever felt such a feeling of relief though it was quickly followed by an incredible thirst. While chugging down water from my up-turned canteen, I was stunned when it suddenly disappeared. My empty hand still cocked above my pursed lips, I quickly looked down for it when my eyes met those of Drill Sergeant Blue’s and his weren’t happy.
“What the hell do you think you are doing Hook?! Did I tell you to drink your Gottdamned water?! Did anybody tell you to drink your Gottdamned water?! Do you think that you are better than the rest of the Gottdamned platoon Hook?!”
Turning to face the rest of the hot, sweaty, and no doubt thirsty “maggots” he went on, “Hook here thinks he is better than the rest of us…he’s decided to have a drink while the rest of us stand here with Gottdamned cotton mouths in this Gottdamned heat…isn’t that right Hook?”
Of course I wasn’t given the chance to answer, nor could I think of a good answer if I had, so I stood there feeling guilty and dumb and not so thirsty anymore. “O.K. you Gottdamned maggots, since Hook is so Gottdamned thirsty I want all of you to give him your canteens…NOW you Gottdamned maggots!!!”
Immediately, some 50 canteens or so piled up on the sandy ground around me. “There you go Hook, drink until your kool-aid pumping heart’s content…the rest of you Gottdamned maggots follow me!” Off they went to set up our bivouac site, leaving me standing amidst a sea of canteens that I refused to drink from feeling like a complete schmuck.
I have never forgotten that lesson in discipline and try to instill, though with a less colorful use of the vernacular, the same sense of discipline in my soldiers today…the Gottdamned maggots! Thanks Drill Sergeant Blue. Sgt Hook out.
Posted by Hook @ 0415 zulu | | Permalink
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