Another day, another 10 hours wasted....
So, in a fit of right-thinking (a seldom-occurring event, I might add) they decided we should conduct a review session for tomorrow’s counseling examination. They blocked off 2 hours to study for a 30 question multiple guess… covering subject matter that only took 2 hours to teach in the first place!
Mmmkay, once we get past that little piece of wisdom, try this on for size: they scheduled an hour for bayonet cleaning! Now, anyone who’s ever served a day in the Army knows the issue bayonet is basically a big frickin’ knife that breaks down into three components, none of which require an hour to clean singularly or collectively. I mean, even if you stirred concrete with the damn thing on Thursday and waited ‘til Monday, it wouldn’t take that long.
Oh, wait, it gets better.
Since we were going to be in “the field” today, we were scheduled to eat MRE’s (Meals, Ready to Eat) for lunch. Although the training had been cancelled last night, nobody thought far enough ahead to alert the dining facility of our need to eat lunch. Since Fort Benning allegedly proscribes eating MRE’s in garrison during training, we had to march away from the watchful eyes at Building 4 (The Infantry Hall, home of Benning’s leadership) back to our barracks, get issued MRE’s, and THEN be released for an hour to eat wherever we wanted to.
So, in effect, it went like this: “Here’s your MRE for lunch, since we were either unable or unwilling to procure your meals in the dining facility. Now, since we are perfectly aware of the fact that none of you want to actually eat this meal, feel free to go away for 60 minutes and find your own chow.” Arrrgh. I swear, my bullshit meter is about worn out from its hourly journey to the end of the numbers, waaaaay into the red “Danger, Will Robinson” territory.
Now, one bright and shining moment to tell you about – we were, in fact, released early for the day today, probably as they had no other meaningless tasks for us to perform. That gave me ample opportunity to turn in my dress uniform for cleaning, and get a few name plates made. I got a haircut too, although I think it may have looked better before its battle with the clippers. I swear some of these Benning barbers must be on a work release program from the meth rehab clinic. I’ve never felt more sets of shaky hands holding clippers to the back of my head in my life. Anyway, this shining moment has dulled for me already – word on the strasse is they’re trying to call all of us back to school as I write this for one more formation – as if we’re running short on those – to put out more useless information. As yet I’ve received no calls, so I can truthfully say that I’ve not ducked any, or avoided any calls at all… but that’s not to say that I won’t if the opportunity presents itself!
I have to say before I close this – not as a cop out or anything to those who may ultimately read this little blog – but by and large, the vast majority of the Drill Sergeant Leaders (DSLs) at this school have it together. They’re great NCO’s, solid drills, and I wouldn’t mind either working with them or spilling a beer with them sometime in the future. On the flip side, there are a few who make this time at DSS creep by. You can spot them a mile away – or hear them, more appropriately. To those few I say this -- whether or not you’re acting the part for us is immaterial – we understand what one must do to be an effective leader. We’ve been doing it long enough on our own. What we need from you is not to be treated like privates (even if we act like them on occasion), we need your guidance on how to deal with them in this new environment that many of us haven’t experienced since we went through it the first time. You see, we’re good NCO’s – and we all have a pretty fine-tuned sense for bullshit when we smell it. Frankly, this whole course REEKS of it on a semi-regular basis.
I apologize for the rancor at the end. This is a little therapeutic for me, frankly, and if I didn’t let loose a little that would be bad on me.
I tell ya, I’ve never missed broadcasting more than I do right now. Here’s hoping duty on the trail won’t be as insanely retarded as these 9 weeks, 2 days, have been thus far.
Oh, well. All I can say at this point is – 23 days and a wakeup – as Gunga Dan used to say at the end of the CBS Evening news – “Courage!”