Nope, I did not type that with a straight face. But it wasn’t exactly a grin either.
Via Nicki, I learned that Captain Comb-Over “always felt that I was in the military”. That “his experience at the New York Military Academy, an expensive prep school where his parents had sent him to correct poor behavior, gave him ‘more training militarily than a lot of the guys that go into the military.’”
I spent over 11 years in the military. Not a few years as a fancy preppie. My time was mostly spent freezing my ass off on mountaintops high enough that they adjusted the allowed time on PT tests, or sweating my ass off in deserts. Sometimes those were the same places. Although there was the time spent in the swamp trying to keep my M-16 working. I had to duck fire. I got to discover that the bore on a H&K G3 is actually a lot bigger than 7.62mm from the wrong end. The old-style MREs with dessicated pork pucks were evil. My deployment kit contained a personal supply of spices to make the stuff edible, if not palatable. I learned to miss C-rations.
All too often, showers were unavailable, or forbidden (because we barely had enough drinking water). We were ecstatic over finally getting field showers. The water was unheated, but the desert sun took care of that; sheer luxury.
All that was in support of my ‘real’ job of keeping radios — big enough to climb inside, and older than me — running, where I knew the joys of manning what amounts to an ARM homing beacon in a war zone.
I averaged 13 months at any location during those 11 years, before they found a worse place to send me. If I was lucky, I might get to take a whole 400 pounds of personal belongings with me. Sometimes it was just what would fit in the ALICE pack and parachute bag.
First class air travel didn’t happen. Sometimes I could fly cattle class commercial, but I also learned to value actually having backward-facing airline seats on a C-141B cargo plane. Because web troop seats on the C-130s weren’t near as comfortable. Or secure; I got my head busted open, and rendered semi-conscious, when the frame broke on one flight.
And I was just a frickin’ USAF REMF. Not a real soldier.
On one assignment, we lost a man simply because the Air Farce didn’t think it was worth evac’g him.
So, yeah, Trump; tell us what a military hero you were for going to prep school.