Posted on 05/21/2004 1:24:18 PM PDT by COBOL2Java
I, Rambo, swear to sign away 4 years of my mediocre life to the United States Army because I couldn't score high enough on the ASVAB to get into the Air Force, because I'm not tough enough for the Marines, and the Navy won't take me because I can't swim.
I will wear camouflage every day and tuck my trousers in my boots because I can't figure out how to use blousing straps. I promise to wear my uniform 24 hours a day even when I have a date. I will continue to tell myself that I am a fierce killing machine because my Drill Sergeant told me I am, despite the fact that the only action I will ever see is a court-martial for sexual harassment.
I acknowledge the fact that I will make E-8 in my first year of service, and vow to maintain that it is because I scored perfect on my PT test. After completion of my sexual...er...I mean Basic Training, I will attend a different Army school once every other month and return knowing less than I did when I left.
On my first trip home after Basic, I will walk around like I am cool and propose to my 9th grade sweetheart. I will make my wife stay home because if I let her out she might leave me for a smarter Air Force guy or a better looking Marine. Should she leave me twelve times, I will continue to take her back.
While at work, I will maintain a look of knowledge while getting absolutely nothing accomplished. I will arrive at work every day at 1000 hrs because of morning PT and leave every day at 1300 to report back to the "company."
I understand that I will undergo no training whatsoever that will help me get a job upon separation, and will end up working in construction with my friends from high school. I will brag to everyone about the Army giving me $30,000 for college, but will be unable to use it because I can't pass a placement exam. So help me God.
I, Squid, in lieu of going to prison, swear to sign away 4 years of my life to the United States Navy because I want to hang out with Marines without actually having to BE one of them, because I thought the Air Force was too "corporate," and because I thought, "hey, I like to swim...why not?"
I promise to wear clothing that went out of style in 1976 and to have my name stenciled on the butt of every pair of pants I own. I understand that I will be mistaken for the Good Humor man during the summer, and for Waffen SS during the winter.
I will strive to use a different language than the rest of the English-speaking world. using words like "deck, bulkhead, cover, and head" instead of "floor, wall, hat, and toilet." I will take great pride in the fact that all Navy acronyms, rank and ensignia, and everything else for that matter, are completely different from the other services and make absolutely no sense whatsoever.
I will muster (whatever that is) at 0700 hrs every morning unless I am buddy-buddy with the Chief, in which case I will show up around 0930 hours. I vow to hone my coffee cup handling skills to the point that I can stand up in a kayak being tossed around in a typhoon, and still not spill a drop.
I consent to being promoted and subsequently busted at least twice per fiscal year. I realize that, once selected for Chief, I am required to submit myself to the sick, and quite possibly illegal, whims of my new-found "colleagues." So help me Neptune.
I, Zoomie, swear to sign away 4 years of my useless life to the United States Air Force because I'm too smart for the Army and because the Marines frighten me. I swear to sit behind a desk and take credit for the work done by others more dedicated than me who take their job seriously. I also swear not to do any form of real exercise, but promise to defend our bike riding test as a valid form of exercise.
I swear to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States, even though I believe myself to be above that.
I promise to walk around calling everyone by their first name because I know I'm not really in the military and I find it amusing to annoy the other services. I will have a better quality of life than all those around me and will at all times besure to make them aware of that fact.
After completion of my "Basic Training," I will be a lean, mean, donut-eating, lazy-boy sitting, civilian-wearing-blue-clothes, chairborne Ranger. I will believe I am superior to all others and will make an effort to clean the knife before stabbing the next person in the back with it. I will do no work unless someone is watching me (and it makes me look good), will annoy those around me, and will go home early every day.
I consent to never getting promoted (EVER) and understand that all those whom I made fun of yesterday will probably outrank me tomorrow. So help me God.
I, state your name, swear...uuhhhh... high-and-tight... cammies...uhh... ugh... Air Force women... OORAH!
So help me Corps.
For all you Zoomies out there, please don't take umbrage, because I loved working with you guys.
What's the difference between being in the Air Force and being on welfare?
When you're on welfare, you have to go get your check.
During alerts and ORI's, it would crack me up to see you guys bitching about having to work 12 hour shifts. Of course, deep down inside, I was jealous. For me, it meant up to 4 days being stuck down in the wing CP, because only my battery commander and I had TS clearances.
At the time, Hahn was an F-4 base. One of my favorite stunts was to ask a fighter jock for assistance on aircraft recognition. I'd tell them that my platoon would normally score 95% on their aircraft recognition test, but for some reason, they always misidentified the F-4. FYI, the F-4 was probably the most recognizable aircraft in the Air Force, owing to its upturned wing tips.
Serving with the Air Force was a great motivational tool. We gave poor soldiers a choice: they could change their ways for the better, and continue to enjoy made to order omelets for breakfast, or: they could be shipped out to the 1st Infantry Division. Worked like a charm!
Finally, I recall Hahn having one of the first women to serve as Base Commander. Alas, I don't remember her name, but I do remember a verbal altercation between her and the Army Liasion Officer. She caught the ALO hatless one fine day, and sternly asked him, "Major, how am I supposed to distinguish you from the real pilots on this base?"
The Major replied, "Two ways, Colonel. First, I have a military haircut. Second, my boots are shined!" With that, he saluted, did an about face, and went on his way.
Finally, during her first ORI as Base Commander, she was miffed that I (a 1LT) would be called to the "Eagles Nest" whenever there was a NBC (Nuclear, Biological, and Chemical) input, even though her staff included a CPT as her full time Base Preparedness Officer. The Wing Commander was brief: he preferred my guidance to that of his officer.
Background: several weeks before my first ORI, I received NBC training at Vilseck, as one of my extra duties was NBC officer. During the first day of the exercise, an NBC input was delivered while I was briefing the Wing Cdr on our positions. After being advised that Ramstein had been "hit" by a Sarin attack, the CPT recommended Alarm Red, which meant that everybody outside had to put on their protective equipment.
At the time, I was a brash 2LT, and spoke up. The Colonels looked at me rather incredulously, and I said: Colonel, I recommend that you go to Alarm Yellow (no masks) for the following reasons: 1. Ramstein is 60 miles east of us. 2. The winds are westerly. 3. It's raining like hell outside, and Sarin is a nonpersistant nerve agent!
The Wing Cdr says, I like your idea! Behind him, I could see one of the evaluators (a Belgique LTC) nodding in agreement. From that day on, I was called up on every future input.
One last reason for enjoying my tour so much: Friday afternoons, hanging out at Eduard Kroth's winery in Zell-Merl. We'd talk cars, among other things, as Eduard and I sampled his vintages for several hours, starting with his Kabinett, and finishing with his Trockenbeerenauslese. He had a vintage of Eiswein that was so small, he typed the labels by hand!
Had I not been a "grunt" on a Zoomie base, I doubt I would have ever enjoyed the pleasures of living on the Mosel River.
Sorry! My beer goggles were fogged up and I missed the ;-)
LOL!!!! I understand completely. :-)
I received a medical discharge from the Army because of high blood pressure. On my last day, my 2nd Lt. said to me "Hey, join the Navy! They'll take anybody!"
Sometimes I wish I'd taken her up on that suggestion...
Thanks for understanding!
; )
OK OK ...........enough shots at the AF.
LOL.. You must know by now that we of Zoomie extraction are held to a much higher standard and therefore are destined to suffer the disparagement of the ASVABS-challenged.
I always loved being asked if I drove for Greyhound or Trailways.
I read poorly when I am sober. You type fast and I am a slow reader. Type slower next time.
At least they didn't think we were doormen.
I always liked a nice pair of properly faded dungarees myself but they don't wear them anymore. So instead of stenciling names on the uniforms they have embroidered patches sewn on. Great deal for the Navy Exchange Uniform Shops. Other than that mostly correct.
I went back into the reserves a couple of years ago, and now they wear what are basically Dickies pants. Iron-on crows and stencils are verboten.
I still have a ton of bellbottoms somewhere. I should sell them to a trendy retro clothes shop :)
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