In the Veterans of Foreign Wars’ post, you must read Ex Bootneck’s dit:
When a person has served, they have served. No matter what job or what position they held. They ‘each’ were part of a military machine that went out and met the enemy ‘toe to toe’ by supporting each other from start to finish, sister and brother in arms, one and all.
From a rear echelon clerk, to a front line ‘fix-bayonets- up-and-at-em’ type of person… All, are warriors, ALL are equal.
I have yet to see ammo provide and sign its own documentation, and then transport itself from the rear, to magically appear on the front line.
I have yet to see ‘Intel’ gather itself, and then transfer into the correct format, and then distribute itself for the use and benefit of civilian and military personnel alike.
From the ‘oilers’ at sea, who pump fuel in all weathers, down to the guy burning garbage through the dirty wee hours? Each and every person is a cog that will not turn unless the ‘next-one-touching’ does the same.
The absolute stinking arrogance of any ‘narcissistic warrior’, who believes it is all about them, and no one else, makes my earwax steam at high pressure in anger.
(Let one of them say it in front of me that only ‘they’ have done their bit; and I will unleash such a bollocking that their great, great, grandparents will feel, and rise and stand to attention).
True dit with a little pre-explanation…
[‘42’ pronounced as ‘Four Two’].
[Robin Ross; ‘Commandant General Royal Marines’ a marines marine, a real growler and eater of junior officers; a friend to the lowest marine].
CGRM’s. Inspection at 42 Commando RM, Royal Marines Barracks, Bickleigh, Devon.
The whole Commando Unit was stood to in variety of roles and uniforms for a rolling inspection by the CGRM and his department; each fighting company (as previously ordered) dressed in an array of jungle, arctic, and desert warfare rig, as well as No 1 Lovat uniform, and No 2’ Blue’s ceremonial uniform.
HQ company stood to for their inspection in No 1’s (one hundred Marines, at open order in three ranks); CGRM walked slowly past the ranks virtually stopping at each marine and corporal to purr or growl a few words.
He stopped at one marine and asked the following…
“What is your name, and what job do you do, and how long have you been doing it”?
“Marine ‘Bloggs’ Sir, I am a chef, and have been for three years”!
CGRM went apoplectic and purple at hearing this and screamed…
“A Chef, a f*****g Chef, the f*****g Corps does not have f*****g Chef’s, we have f*****g cook’s, each day be proud of what you do young man, as I am of you”!!!
The three open ranks (of over one hundred marines) all winced and stopped breathing, as the ‘force ten’ bollocking resonated around them. Then (just as a pin was heard dropping some forty miles away) the CGRM stopped at the next Marine in line, and asked…
“What is your name, and what job do you do”?
“Marine ‘Smith’, Sir, I’m a cook, Sir”…
“Good man, and how long have you been a cook”?
“About twenty seconds Sir”!
CGRM burst into a rosaceous belly laughter at the young Marine’s showing of ‘Commando Spirit’. (As did those within ear shot, which was quelled into silence by the Regimental Sergeant Major, through the minuscule movement of one eyebrow)!
The day went on and ‘young Smithy’ went down into Corps folklore history.
That is a true dit.
Take from it what you will; the fact is that those of us who have served, have done so with great merit, and to the best of our capability, and of that we should all be proud of ‘each’ other.
We should also honour those who have supported us over the years, they too should be proud of them selves. If it were in my power to do so, I would award them each a badge of merit.
(23 unbroken years of Meritorious front line Service; Honourable discharge to pension. Seven medals, several wounds, and no psychological disorder. Non narcissistic, just realistic)…