Some time after I got to Quanitco, armpit of the marine corps, I had to check in with PMO. PMO is an acronym for an organized group of buddy fuckers.
I can’t recall why we had to check in with PMO, never checked out with them.
Anyways, at the front desk, there was this really old guy, who was a private.
Now I don’t mean military old, as in 30, I mean real people old, like in grey haired retiree.
So I asked around what the story was. I got told that this guy was drafted for Vietnam, and went AWOL. Finally years later he wants to draw social security, but can’t. So he turns him self in. The punishment he got was being forced to serve out the rest of his enlistment. So that is why we had this geriatric private working the front desk at the police station.
I heard he later got promoted to PFC. Good for him.
Near the end of boot camp, and after, I heard the story of “Gay India”.
But first, an aside. This is a story that is going around the web. Claim is that it is from a marine recruiter.
Gotta love safety briefs
In boot camp, I was in Lima company.
There were comments about “Gay India”. After I graduated, my curiosity peaked and I enquired about why it was called that.
Story goes that a couple of recruits in India company decide they can’t take it, and want to be processed out. So they have someone send one of them a camera, and during the night, they go into the bathroom and snap photos of each other with the other recruits dick in their mouth.
They turn the photos over to the command and inform the command that they are gay and should be processed out.
Now here is where the story takes a twist I didn’t expect. Some higher up sits down with these two recruits, chats with them, asks them if it is really so bad. And then they change their mind and choose to stay.
So two guys, stuck someone else’s dick in their mouth to try to get kicked out, and ended up staying in anyways.
WTF?
In the military there are these things called “reenlistment codes”. There are good and bad codes and the code is listed on the long form of your DD214.
I have the good reenlistment code due to the lazy incompetence of my units career planner. My MOS, 0311, was full and I was at least were suppose to get some code that was slightly lesser than would mean to only call us back should we be absolutely needed. Might have even gotten a worse code, I don’t know.
When I went to EAS, I had to check out with the career planner. That stupid lazy fuck wouldn’t listen to me when I went to talk to him, and tried to get me to leave. I needed him to sign my discharge check out sheet and paperwork, so I wouldn’t leave. I think he mistakenly thought I was checking into to the unit, so he just signed it, and I filled out the rest.
After my paperwork was processed, and I had a day or two left before I was to leave, this guy tracks me down and is livid. He has a handful of paperwork he is insisting that I fill out and so on. I tell this staff nco that he fucked up and he needs to fuck off.
Fucker was too lazy to even argue with me about it.
ANYWAYS, there is a point to this story.
RE codes are suppose to be a military only thing, and you are suppose to use your short form version of the DD214 when you are outside the military. But many companies know about RE codes and want to know the potential hire’s RE code to see if they had issues.
So there are RE codes for bad attitude, failure to adjust, weight problems, etc, etc. There are also all sorts of old RE codes that have been depreciated.
When I was in, one time my peers and I were talking about RE codes and we looked up a list. There are all sorts of old, depreciated code. A code that says you can’t reenlist cause your dead. Other codes for if you are pregnant, sexual perversion, drug use, etc. There was even a code for being a minority.
Turns out there were old RE codes from when the military processed people out for being gay.
There is one list online that has at least 15 different RE codes for being gay. http://www.dallassecurity.com/Investigative_Services/Codes-SPNalpha.pdf
Back during this discussion we found out there was an old a RE code for “Homosexuality 1st Degree”. There is also a code for “Homosexuality 2nd Degree”.
That led us to wondering, “what the hell does that mean?” Is one suppose to be worse than another? Is it signifying the pitcher or receiver? Why would anyone care?
We never found out the answer to those questions. Don’t think any of us cared enough to find out.
We previously established our quintessential gyrene, Toxic. Here is the main story I wanted to share.
We were on a field op and we are in our encampment (not a proper patrol base, but just a designated location for us to stay in down time).
I’d come back from a . . uh. . . what should I call it? Not really a patrol, we were the aggressors, so it was go somewhere and die in place was our mission.
Some of the guys in the bivouac were goofing off and the like. One of the guys, quite the character, we shall call him Jalapeno. Pulls out some mini boxes of raisins. Asks if I want some, I say sure, and he tosses me a box.
It was common for us to have pogie bait (or should it be spelled pogue? I think pogue would be singular, so maybe pogue’?). So sharing some would be nothing out of the unusual. I open the raisin box and look and find they had filled one with little animal feces, maybe rabbit.
I gave some response like, “Very funny”, and I was about to toss the box in the fire, when Jalapeno asks for it back so he can get someone else. If I recall correctly, he pranks ol’Larry, who responded about the same as me. Someone, in this case it might have been me, suggested it was kinda stupid as no one was going to eat them. Jalapeno observantly notes that Toxic would just down a box with out thinking. We all agree. It gets planned out. We return to resting as we wait for the group Toxic is in to get back.
It played out exactly as planned.
We are all smoking and joking, Toxic’s group come back. Doff their gear and join the crowd. After a bit, Jalapeno, goes to his daypack, opens it up, and pulls out the pack of mini boxes of raisins. He asks if anyone wants any. I say that I do. He tosses me a box. I open it, take a glace that it isn’t the target’s box, and once I am sure they are actually raisins, I start eating raisins. Old Larry takes a box starts eating. Someone else might have taking some as well. Everyone was waiting, watching. Jalapeno turns to Toxic. “Want some raisins?” Toxic takes a box.
He opens the top. Pours the whole box in his mouth, chews, swallows.
This shit tastes like shit!
Toxic
I think I don’t have to explain how we responded to that.
Anyone else think the California Raisins are creepy as hell?
There was a guy in one of my units who looked like the Toxic Avenger. So he was called “Toxic”.
I’ve never seen any of the Toxic Avenger movies, but I’ve googled pics of the character.
I dunno, but calling this guy “Toxic” might be an undue insult to the Toxic Avenger.
Imagine Lennie, but dumber.
One evening Toxic is at the bar, and he is hitting on a women. As opposed to hitting a woman, a marine corps passtime. He tells her he is a marine. Her response. . .
Aren’t Marines suppose to be, like, fit or something?
Tangential story:
When I got to the duty station I spent most of my enlistment at, there were all manner of propaganda posters with various instructions and guides like, “Don’t beat your wife.”
At some point while I was there, someone, scanned those posters, and edited them to have different text.
I remember one had a red outline of a hand. The new text read, “Beat your wife to show her who’s right.”
Mind you, I was probably the only person who actually looked at these posters, so I found them rather funny.
Absolutely hilarious.
They were up for about six months or so before someone else finally realized what they were and then they were all torn down.
More Tangential-er comment:
For some reason, unknown to me, now when I tell this story people seem to assume that I was the one to have made the edited posters. Atlas, I lack the muse and spark of divine inspiration to think up such a deed. I also don’t know how to use photoshop.
It wasn’t me.
One time Toxic got in trouble for shitting out a third story window.
I’ve told people that there should be a cable T.V. show where a camera crew follows this guy around.
The problem would be that no one would believe it is real. People would just assume that there was a team of writers coming up with all the stupid antics. They wouldn’t believe it.
Toxic got kicked out. While there were many good reasons he should have been kicked out, the reason he did get kicked out was complete bullshit, in my opinion. But that is a story for a different time.
There was this 7 day field op we would do where we would get little rest and had a high ops-tempo. After one of these field ops, a few of us were in the barracks room with Toxic’s roommate talking about something or another. One of the guys complained that he didn’t even get the chance to change his skivvy shorts the entire field op. Somehow the discussion lead to this pair of skivvies getting stuffed in Toxic’s pillow case.
We joke about how nasty that is, how long it will take Toxic to figure it out, and I think I might have threatened to kill anyone if they did that to me, etc.
Not my skivvies, not my idea, as I said, I lack the Machiavellian instinct.But I was complicit in this event.
A period of time passes. I believe it was about six months, but I may well be wrong on that.
Suddenly, with no prompting I can I recall, I remember.
I remind the others.
We are laughing our asses off. We go find Toxic. Someone asks if he washed his linens. He says yes. Someone askes how often. He says every week. I asked if he washes his pillow case. He says every time.
This gaggle-fuck goes to his room. In front of everyone, I, as gingerly as I can, grab the corner of the pillow and shake it hard.
The skivvy shorts fall out.
We made so much fun of Toxic, over that. That nasty fucker didn’t even seem that bothered by it.
In hindsight, “Are we the Baddies?”
No, if you know Toxic, you’d feel this was justified.
I was writing this whole thing to set up for the story of how we tricked Toxic into eating shit. But I’ll save that for another day.
This shit tastes like shit
Toxic
That is cause it is shit!
the rest of us
Around the time I was getting out, someone I knew was in contact with Toxic. I got to talk to him briefly on the phone. I asked how he was doing, he said alright. He was working installing fire suppression system. He was back in the greatest state of the union, Florida.
As I talked to him, I managed to coax a little of the truth out. He told me he got caught drinking and driving, so he was not allowed to drive any more.
I facetiously reply, “All it means is that you can’t get caught driving with out a license.”
Well. . I got caught.
he replied in an oddly jovial confession
He was waiting on a court day or something. I wonder if he is in jail or not.
For shits and giggles, I just did a google search of his name. I found his mugshot. He has spent a while in jail.
I feel like I’m an awful writer. All day, everyday, I think of stuff I want to write about, but then when I sit down to type I draw a blank.
Shortly before EASing, I had this idea that I wanted to make a comic strip about my and similar experiences in the corps.
Turns out I can’t draw for shit.
Needless to say I was/am very jealous when the Terminal Lance comic strip came out. It was interesting watching the phases it went though. From being careful when Max was worried about getting in trouble from it. Then when he was free of the corps he could show his bitterness and disgruntledness. Then money started coming in and he became motto and pro-corps.
I don’t even have the wit and humor of the marincrops comic.
I was going to post an except from their site, but instead I just spend half an hour reading it all.
Why not? Comics like these express the spirit of the corps just oh so well.
Let me be clear, my price is 2 million after taxes and I’ll say what every pro-usmc thing you want and act as motto 4as you want. I’ll even get a reverse horseshoe and wear my reflector belt with with more pride than the gays have in their rainbow flags. I’ll dismiss everything else I’ve said as mere jokes.
But until a check clears, I’m going to be honest.
I was going to write so much more. . . but I’m drawing a blank.
Future subjects. Drunks, Fight Clubs, hazing, food, interesting characters. Etc.
