I opened my damn eyes.
I saw the same four walls that make my prison.
I knew I was still here.
In the Army.
In the Infantry.
So I rolled out of bed and lit a smoke and hoped that today would be better than yesterday. Hoped that I wouldn't do anything that I would regret. Hoped that I could get through another day without getting into something that I couldn't talk my way out of. I rubbed my face and felt that strange feeling that you always get when you rub your face really hard. I pissed and hoped that my morning hard-on would be down by the time that I had to go to formation. I shaved and put on my BDU's.
It's Thursday. On Thursday it's training day. At least, that's what they tell me. All it means to me and mine is that we go to work early without breakfast and stay late.
I pulled on my boots.
This Thursday, we get change of command. We're getting rid of the old Brigade Colonel and getting a new useless sack of shit that doesn't care about us. They volunteer us for missions to Bosnia, Macedonia, Albania, Somalia, or some such worthless fourth world country that ends in -a, so they can look like they're good leaders and we do all the work. They get promoted and lead other people who hate them into missions that no one believes in and we...well, we bitch and moan and miss our girlfriends, wives, dogs, children, etc. and work our asses off.
I shave.
It's time to go. I slip on my watch. I only wear it to work. To me, a watch is just another leash. If I'm off work, there's no need to be in a hurry or anywhere at any certain time. It's a symbol of responsibility and I'm trying to teach my self to relax a little. So for now the leash is on and I'm late.
I jog down three flights of stairs. My feet and legs ache from yesterday's little 6 mile run. I haul ass down to the formation point and fall in just as the 1st Sgt. calls us to attention. I'm getting too old for this bullshit. He rambles on in his fashion about the new colonel and what we're expected to do for today and we're released. Sgt. Clamens walks over to me and looks my uniform up and down. He notices the bleach stain on the leg of my pants. He notices the hole in the bottom of my jacket. He asks why I look so chewed up. I wonder if he's ever had an off day and if someone decided that that would be the perfect time to chew him out and what he thought about it. I don't say anything. He's pissed. I get the speech for the umpteenth time about how I'm the best trained, most decorated soldier in the office and it's my job to maintain the standard and set an example for the other guys. I don't say anything. He asks me if I give a damn about my job or my rank. I say nothing. Finally, he just shakes his head and goes to his car. It's only 0645.
Dave and I walk up to the motor pool. Normally we would drive in the BMW but today is COC; we have to walk since there are barricades on the streets where the parade will be. And of course that includes the street that the motor pool is located on because the COC is in our motor pool. At least I got out of the ceremony. Dave asks about Clamens and wants to know if I pissed him off again. Of course I did. Dave is amazed by the amount of shit I get away with on a regular basis. As we walk and smoke, I tell him about Phil.
Brent Phillips was a clerk in my office when I got to Germany. I don't think I've ever had a hero before but Phil was the man. He did what he wanted, when he wanted, all the time. Being fresh from AIT and Basic, I didn't know that was possible in the Army (without being an Officer). He lived with Joseph Poisson, a mechanic. And they were the darlings of the motor pool. Phillips knew everything about his job. If you wanted it, he could manipulate the system and get it. He smoked and drank and got women by the armload. He worked a lot without seeming to do anything. Everyone knew him and nobody would say anything bad about him to his face. He had a Class-A uniform with awards by the score. He was the shit. I want to be just like him and as luck would have it, he took me under his wing and taught me my job. He showed me everything he knew and I ate it up with a spoon.
To this day, I model my working self after him. I do what I can for whoever asks and remember their names so I can get it back later. I cheat the computer and go that extra mile for my team. If it can be done, it will be. I've got all the awards now and all the freedom that comes with being an indispensable part of the office. He told me that. He told me that if you can't be replaced you get a lot of slack for your own personal quirks. He told me as long as there's no one in your area better than you; they can't do anything to you. And he was right. I've done all kinds of insane shit and all I get is rewarded for it.
And that's what I tell Dave. Dave is my best friend here (and probably anywhere). He's a mechanic that hated the team that he worked for and so I got him a job in my office (that's another benefit of being the man: people listen to what you've got to say). So now he's a PLL clerk like me. And I help him as much as I can stand to. I'm still not a big fan of people in general but I can talk to them now and know them well enough to say the right thing when I need to.
We're at the gate now. For the life of me, I can't figure out why we've spent the last three days making my place of work look like no one works here. I'm not an officer though, so what do I know? He and I go on to the office. 1st Sgt. put out this morning that we shouldn't be at the motor pool unless we have vital work to do. So what does my platoon do? We all go to the office. Go figure, huh? It turns out that we actually have work to do. It's AMSS day and all the reports have to be run so everyone above us knows that we've actually been working for the past month. So I drink a lot of coffee, smoke some, and make sure that the reports all go out ok.
As I'm reading that paper, Minter comes over and asks me to look at Delta Team's computer. That's one of the things I like here: fixing computers. Since I came back from Bosnia, I've been repairing computers on the side to keep me occupied. And since Windows 98 just came out, there's plenty of work to be done. Apparently they've disabled the hard drive. So I go and take a look at it. It's a lot worse than they explained. Basically they've messed up the file allocation table and there's not much I can do for them except reformat the hard drive and I explain this to the team chief, but he wants me to recover the documents they have saved on the drive. So I've go to come back tomorrow with my repair disks and give it a try. It's finally lunch time. So Dave and I walk down the hill and play with his PlayStation until lunch is over. And it's back to the motor pool.
For the next few hours I move vehicles back to where they belong (we had to pull the into another motor pool to make room for the ceremony). Then we load parts onto the PLL trucks. I need to straighten the parts out sometime before I clear, my truck looks like shit on the inside. Maybe I'll do that tomorrow. I listen to the Master Sgt. complain about how we're all worthless and I go back to the office. Sgt. Clamens tells us to clean the office and I'm done. I go home and try to take a nap. But since I'm selling a lot of my stuff, I'm always getting up and answering the door. I sell one of my rugs and talk to a lot of people.
Finally the last person leaves... I pull off my shoes and lock the door. I close the shade and lie down in the bed. As I lay there looking at the top bunk, I think about how long a day its been and how many more I have to go... I doze off wondering if tomorrow will be any different... knowing that it's gonna be the same... hoping that maybe tomorrow will be different from yesterday... it'll be just another day.