Nobody Asked Me…

• They operate and drive carriers, submarines, battleships, etc that are small floating cities unto themselves. They work in efficient harmony, constant danger, unending stress. . . and yet look at how many actively seek to re-enlist.

• They staff, maintain and operate Air Force bases all over the world that ARE small self-contained cities. The Wing Commander, usually in his late 30’s/early 40’s is the mayor or city manager, Base Commander as the mayor pro-tem, etc and the purpose of these cities is to maintain, operate and fly the most sophisticated aviation machines ever known to mankind and do so with a safety record that is unparalleled.

• Army bases/posts/forts have the manpower, hardware and artillery to virtually wipe any city in the world off the face of the map, and the infantry’s heart and soul is made up of young men still in their teens.

When is the last time anyone has seen that kind of cohesiveness, efficiency and unit-integrity in the private sector?

I sure as hell haven’t and after leaving the Air Force and earning my degree, I started at the bottom and retired from a corner office–and worked on both coasts and everywhere in the middle.

In the military, if you f’d up, someone got hurt. . . or worse. In the civilian business world, if you f-up, you generally get promoted because to punish you would invite a lawsuit and “wrongful termination” or allegations of a “hostile work environment.”

Hostile work environment my ass. Try a pitching, rolling carrier deck, or up/downloading nukes on a B-52 or B-1, filing out the back of a C-130 in turbulent skies because you’re an airborne soldier and that’s how you get delivered to the scene of YOUR work environment.

Try a job in which you’re paid a fifth, or less, of what the same or a similar job in the private 8 – 5 sector pays and nobody is going to ever scream or shoot at you.

Hostile work environment my ass.

What’s hostile is the attitude too many of our great “academic” and political thinkers have towards those who wore the uniform, who wear the uniform, and who desire to wear the uniform.

There is where MY hostility gets directed.

Well written my friend!

But remember that this is a very old problem. It goes back as long as there have been people who were willing to fight for others who are either unable or unwilling to go in harm’s way to protect their fellow citizens.

Rudyard Kipling put it far better than I ever could. 

Tommy

I went into a public-‘ouse to get a pint o’ beer,
The publican ‘e up an’ sez, “We serve no red-coats here.”
The girls be’ind the bar they laughed an’ giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an’ to myself sez I:
O it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, go away”;
But it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it’s “Thank you, Mister Atkins”, when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but ‘adn’t none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-‘alls,
But when it comes to fightin’, Lord! they’ll shove me in the stalls!
For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, wait outside”;
But it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide,
The troopship’s on the tide, my boys, the troopship’s on the tide,
O it’s “Special train for Atkins” when the trooper’s on the tide.

Yes, makin’ mock o’ uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an’ they’re starvation cheap;
An’ hustlin’ drunken soldiers when they’re goin’ large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin’ in full kit.
Then it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, ‘ow’s yer soul?”
But it’s “Thin red line of ‘eroes” when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it’s “Thin red line of ‘eroes” when the drums begin to roll.

We aren’t no thin red ‘eroes, nor we aren’t no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An’ if sometimes our conduck isn’t all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don’t grow into plaster saints;
While it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, fall be’ind”,
But it’s “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there’s trouble in the wind,
There’s trouble in the wind, my boys, there’s trouble in the wind,
O it’s “Please to walk in front, sir”, when there’s trouble in the wind.

You talk o’ better food for us, an’ schools, an’ fires, an’ all:
We’ll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don’t mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow’s Uniform is not the soldier-man’s disgrace.
For it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Chuck him out, the brute!”
But it’s “Saviour of ‘is country” when the guns begin to shoot;
An’ it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ anything you please;
An’ Tommy ain’t a bloomin’ fool — you bet that Tommy sees!