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NATIONAL SERVICE TUNE UP, RESULTS MAY VARY

national service

National service, boiled down to its essence, leaves one choice.

It starts with a free haircut, a new outfit, and a group of similarly motivated people.

Some are more motivated than others, but they are misguided.

How misguided? Enough to get their kinks pounded out with a tune up.

Jimmy joined the Army to be all he could be, and he wanted to be something other than what he was.

He had it figured out from the start. As soon as allowed, he traded up for cap-toed jump boots, a tailored uniform, and looked ready to take on the world with confidence.

But the world wasn’t quite ready for Jimmy’s version of National Service. It was the Army, not the Peace Corps or VISTA.

Jimmy knew his rights and thought they still applied in boot camp.

In the Army, at least during the first brush with the training regime, the goal is making the big ones little and the little ones big. The Army like an even playing field.

Jimmy didn’t understand the concept of blending in, giving effort, and keeping his mouth shut. If you wanted to be all you could be in those days, that was the path to a better tomorrow.

But Jimmy walked a different walk, and he let others know. He was a charger, a leader, a man made for better things than making a tight bed and keeping an organized locker.

Those were the low bars to clear to keep on the good side of authorities, also called Drill Sergeants.

Sergeants Daybell and Easterling ran their platoon, but they had a Senior Drill Sergeant to answer to, who had a company commanding Captain over him.

Jimmy was an excitable boy and didn’t like taking orders, but he listened and followed them right up until he decided he was special.

How special?

National Service Special Deal

The Army training process likes to keep new people on the jump. Everyone hustles. High school football teams work the same way between drills. Finish one and run to the next station.

Jimmy didn’t play high school football and it showed in his disdain. He knew he was better than the rest of the losers and suckers in the platoon. He might have been right, but it didn’t matter.

The Army likes to see how new guys respond to stress. They get results based on sleep deprivation and fatigue. If you can function while bone-tired and ready to drop, you pass.

Jimmy didn’t understand that part. He believed in ‘free will.’

One way to wear people down was taking long hikes called force marches. That’s where you walk in a loose formation up and down terrain separated by ‘fire breaks.’

Those are the dirt paths between potential fire fuel. Dusty on dry days, a low cloud of dirt filtered through the marching groups.

Every platoon, four in a company, competed to walk in front with the clear air. If you brought up the rear it was hard breathing.

Jimmy’s platoon won every competition but still walked at the end of the company because they didn’t win by a big enough margin to satisfy the drill sergeants.

Was it fair? No. Was it supposed to be fair? When is a stress test fair when the goal is to go to failure.

Since his platoon won the competitions to walk in front, but still got assigned to the rear, they were determined not to fail to show others they belonged in front.

The platoon in front got the honor of carrying the company guidon; the platoon in back carried a stick with Donald Duck’s head. The rest of the company responded to cadence with a manly “WHO’ as in, “Hut two, three, WHO.”

The last platoon carrying the duck head on a stick were instructed to respond, “Hut, two, three, Quack.”

Jimmy didn’t like the quack, the dirt, or the yelling, and he thought his feelings mattered.

During a rest stop were the Senior Drill Sergeant pointed to a water trailer, “for the pussies,” Jimmy sat at the edge of the fire break.

No one had said, “Sit down.”

When the drills said, “fall in,” Jimmy stayed down.

The Senior Drill saw him first and approached.

“Fall in.”

“No.”

“Fall in.”

“I don’t have to. I have rights.”

“Fall in. NOW.”

“My mom knows a congressman. I have rights.”

This happened in full view of the platoon and held up the force march.

Jimmy sat in defiance, a soldier in the new All-Volunteer Army he had joined. The Vietnam draft was over, but most of the drills were Vietnam Vets.

Senior Drill Sergeant knelt beside sitting Jimmy and repeated, “Fall in.”

But Jimmy had shut down and wasn’t going to budge. He had rights. This wasn’t the brown boot Army, or the black boot Army. New rules against beating recruits protected individual rights.

The drill gathered the front of Jimmy’s shirt in one hand and slapped his face.

“This is my Army, trainee, and you will listen,” he said, pushing Jimmy back with a few more slaps.

“Do you hear me?”

Slap.

“Are you listening?”

Slap.

“What do you do when I say fall in, mother fucker?”

Slap, followed by shaking and more slapping.

Senior Drill stood and told Jimmy, “Fall in.”

And just like that, Jimmy fell in and marched and shut up, and turned into a model soldier.

In the parlance of the trade, Jimmy got tuned up.

Who Needs A Tune Up Today

People who take an oath of enlistment for national service have a better grip on consequences.

The oath:

I, _____, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.” (Title 10, US Code; Act of 5 May 1960 replacing the wording first adopted in 1789, with amendment effective 5 October 1962).

Instead of breaking and entering places like the U.S. Capitol, think of the risks and consequences.

Before you whip out a pocket Constitution to argue the fine points of the founders, give yourself a tune up.

Instead of scaling walls and trashing offices, do something more creative.

Be helpful and work for the change you want within societal norms.

Try blogging. It’s very satisfying, but it’s work. Tune your brain to national service and leave a useful comment.

About David Gillaspie

I am a writer. This is my blog story day by day.