Please take a moment of silence today to remember those that gave everything for this country and our way of life. Regardless of how you feel about the war on terror, or past wars, some Marines, Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Coasties have given everything for a cause. That, in the least, deserves a minute of respect.
Never forget. Lcpl Crass, PFC Patton, PFC Pietrek, Sgt Washington, Capt Terhune, Lcpl Whitacre, HA Burnett, Cpl Robles, Lcpl Howey, Lcpl Windsor, Lcpl Timberman and all the other Marines, Sailors, Soldiers and interpreters of 2/7, Operation Iraqi Freedom, Operation Enduring Freedom and the Global War on Terror. I miss all of you. Thank you for your sacrifice.
If you knew a member of the Military who served with 2/7 and sacrificed his or her life for our freedom, please comment with their name.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Mexico
I don't have enough time to be posting on here frequently right now. I'm going to Mexico this summer to learn Spanish. While I'm there I want to make at least weekly updates. I'll try to do it all in Spanish and write out an English translation below it.
I'm pretty damn excited.
I'm pretty damn excited.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Don't spit on me and don't cry for me.
So a few of my friends have pointed out the way the America as a whole is treating veterans of the global war on terror is very weird. It used to be that a returning veteran was someone that employers looked for, people looked up to and if people didn't like the veteran they would just leave them alone (WWII era).
Then the veteran became a focal point of blame. A veteran was a baby killer, suicidal and homicidal, generally thought of as crazy. People looked down on veterans, spit on them and excluded them. Many veterans threw away or burned their uniforms because they were tired of being treated like shit (Vietnam era).
Today veterans are looked at like we are broken. Employers don't want to hire us because we might be a liability, thanks to movies like "Home of the Brave." Every time I tell a professor I was in the Marine Corps they get misty eyed and tell me they are sorry. I don't want your tears. I don't want your damn apology, I want people to be fucking thankful and I want to be treated like a fucking person, not damaged goods. I'm not saying I want a parade in my honor or that I want everyone I meet to say thank you, that's not what this is about. This is about actually taking care of veterans.
Why do veterans need to be taken care of? We did a service for the citizens of the United States at less than minimum wadge, making literally 10 times less what I would with the same job in the private sector. And now active duty personnel are being asked to do just as much for less money. The Veteran's Affairs is constantly trying to restructure the Post 9/11 GI Bill so that they don't have to pay veterans as much. I gave up four years, some give two, others twenty, and some gave everything.
How can the problem be fixed? Two things. The first thing that should be done is that the Veteran's Affairs should be restructured and doctors, psychologists and other medical personnel should be held responsible for not diagnosing veterans with PTSD when they have it as well as being held responsible for diagnosing veterans with PTSD when they don't have it. And second, employers need to be reasonable, being a veteran should be a selling point. We have discipline, good work ethic, and generally know the limits of our capabilities. To hire a veteran with an honorable discharge is to hire someone that you know can stay out of trouble or at least out of the limelight. You also know that they can be committed to something for an extended amount of time. I don't know what is bad about those qualities.
Then the veteran became a focal point of blame. A veteran was a baby killer, suicidal and homicidal, generally thought of as crazy. People looked down on veterans, spit on them and excluded them. Many veterans threw away or burned their uniforms because they were tired of being treated like shit (Vietnam era).
Today veterans are looked at like we are broken. Employers don't want to hire us because we might be a liability, thanks to movies like "Home of the Brave." Every time I tell a professor I was in the Marine Corps they get misty eyed and tell me they are sorry. I don't want your tears. I don't want your damn apology, I want people to be fucking thankful and I want to be treated like a fucking person, not damaged goods. I'm not saying I want a parade in my honor or that I want everyone I meet to say thank you, that's not what this is about. This is about actually taking care of veterans.
Why do veterans need to be taken care of? We did a service for the citizens of the United States at less than minimum wadge, making literally 10 times less what I would with the same job in the private sector. And now active duty personnel are being asked to do just as much for less money. The Veteran's Affairs is constantly trying to restructure the Post 9/11 GI Bill so that they don't have to pay veterans as much. I gave up four years, some give two, others twenty, and some gave everything.
How can the problem be fixed? Two things. The first thing that should be done is that the Veteran's Affairs should be restructured and doctors, psychologists and other medical personnel should be held responsible for not diagnosing veterans with PTSD when they have it as well as being held responsible for diagnosing veterans with PTSD when they don't have it. And second, employers need to be reasonable, being a veteran should be a selling point. We have discipline, good work ethic, and generally know the limits of our capabilities. To hire a veteran with an honorable discharge is to hire someone that you know can stay out of trouble or at least out of the limelight. You also know that they can be committed to something for an extended amount of time. I don't know what is bad about those qualities.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Team Rubicon
A friend of mine started up a volunteer organization that teams veterans up with doctors and sends them to disaster areas around the world. The organization is called Team Rubicon. They have recently responded to the tornadoes here in the United States and have deployed to numerous countries around the world (Turkey, Haiti, Japan, Chile and more), not only helping in crisis situations but also on general humanitarian missions.
Check them out by clicking here. Donate by clicking here or if you are a veteran or work in the medical field why not volunteer.
If nothing else show your support for these hard working people by following them on twitter or liking them on facebook.
Check them out by clicking here. Donate by clicking here or if you are a veteran or work in the medical field why not volunteer.
If nothing else show your support for these hard working people by following them on twitter or liking them on facebook.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
I miss it.
It's been a few years now since I was in the deserts of Afghanistan. My time there sucked, I'm not gonna lie, but damn do I miss that shit. I miss patrolling after you just got back from patrol. I miss not being sure what was going to happen on the next patrol. I miss being covered in sweat because the humvee has no a/c and probably never did. I miss looking over and my driver and teasing him, saying that he would one day be the Sargent Major of all this shit. I miss yelling at my boot in the turret because he is a dumb ass.
I remember one night we were on a patrol to a place that I couldn't tell you the name if I remembered. I had a big dip of grizzly wintergreen from God knows where in my mouth. We were the second to last truck in the patrol of four truck. My driver, for whatever reason, couldn't see through any NVGs. His eyes just couldn't handle it or something. We were driving probably 25 or 30 mph and I was having to tell him every move he had to make. We were driving for about and hour and we started to fall behind so I told him to speed it up. He reluctantly did so. I continued to scan the route ahead, not for IED's, but for big rocks or bumps in the way. Ahead I saw something on the ground but I couldn't really tell what it was. We started getting closer and I realized it was a Soviet fighting hole left unfilled and weathered since the '80's. As were were going my driver started to go towards it so that we could go in the general direction as the rest of the patrol. When he started to do that I yelled at him, "Stop." He kept up the speed and the direction and simply yelled back, "what?" Humvees are loud, lets just get that out there, but I am even more loud. So we are still flying towards this hole and I start realizing the immensity of the situation: We are driving a vehicle that has 5 people in, it's dark and my driver can't see shit, the original vehicle was meant to be about a ton but it has 2 more tons of armor on it, we are traveling at about 40 mph and still headed towards a giant hole in the ground that nobody has bothered to fill in for the past 25 years. I yell at my driver again. "Stop. Fuckin' stop dude. FUCK DUDE, STOP THE GODDAMN TRUCK!" My driver slams on the breaks and we stop less than five fucking feet from this piece of shit hole. Even though one of us might have died that night we all laughed about. I still laugh about it, its one of my favorite stories. But its something I will never be able to do again. Even if I went back in right now my education would at least get me promoted, which means I would be in place where I couldn't fuck around anymore. If I went back in as an officer it would be even worse. Fuck, it's like I'm having a midlife crisis.
Right now I'm sitting in a library typing this up on my laptop. I got out of the Marine Corps nearly three years ago and now I miss it every day of my life. I'm happy though, I am a college student and I'm doing well. I am happily married and have been for over a year. My wife doesn't understand why I miss it or what I miss or any of it. I don't try to push it. It seems like living with the part of my life behind me though is almost like retiring or sending kid off to college, where a part of your life is gone.
I remember one night we were on a patrol to a place that I couldn't tell you the name if I remembered. I had a big dip of grizzly wintergreen from God knows where in my mouth. We were the second to last truck in the patrol of four truck. My driver, for whatever reason, couldn't see through any NVGs. His eyes just couldn't handle it or something. We were driving probably 25 or 30 mph and I was having to tell him every move he had to make. We were driving for about and hour and we started to fall behind so I told him to speed it up. He reluctantly did so. I continued to scan the route ahead, not for IED's, but for big rocks or bumps in the way. Ahead I saw something on the ground but I couldn't really tell what it was. We started getting closer and I realized it was a Soviet fighting hole left unfilled and weathered since the '80's. As were were going my driver started to go towards it so that we could go in the general direction as the rest of the patrol. When he started to do that I yelled at him, "Stop." He kept up the speed and the direction and simply yelled back, "what?" Humvees are loud, lets just get that out there, but I am even more loud. So we are still flying towards this hole and I start realizing the immensity of the situation: We are driving a vehicle that has 5 people in, it's dark and my driver can't see shit, the original vehicle was meant to be about a ton but it has 2 more tons of armor on it, we are traveling at about 40 mph and still headed towards a giant hole in the ground that nobody has bothered to fill in for the past 25 years. I yell at my driver again. "Stop. Fuckin' stop dude. FUCK DUDE, STOP THE GODDAMN TRUCK!" My driver slams on the breaks and we stop less than five fucking feet from this piece of shit hole. Even though one of us might have died that night we all laughed about. I still laugh about it, its one of my favorite stories. But its something I will never be able to do again. Even if I went back in right now my education would at least get me promoted, which means I would be in place where I couldn't fuck around anymore. If I went back in as an officer it would be even worse. Fuck, it's like I'm having a midlife crisis.
Right now I'm sitting in a library typing this up on my laptop. I got out of the Marine Corps nearly three years ago and now I miss it every day of my life. I'm happy though, I am a college student and I'm doing well. I am happily married and have been for over a year. My wife doesn't understand why I miss it or what I miss or any of it. I don't try to push it. It seems like living with the part of my life behind me though is almost like retiring or sending kid off to college, where a part of your life is gone.
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