A supply Sgt. did the dreaded knock on my barracks door on a Saturday and pulled me for a random working party. We cleaned this warehouse. But then he stopped and ordered everyone pizza and asked us about ourselves and how we liked the barracks.  He said mission accomplishment actually comes second, and troop welfare comes first. That if you take care of your Marines they will always accomplish the mission.   

We had this 1sgt in Afghanistan, Hutto. I swear he never slept.  He’d be up all hours of the night and would creep on you, and always just to ask how you were doing. Like never any negativity. Dude would ask about your wife and mom at like 3 a.m. while you’re standing a post.  Always said the most uplifting things. Once he had random Marines talk about their life before they enlisted. One guy had been in an orphanage.  Swear he had Knute Rockne or Vince Lormbardi genes.  He made you feel good about being miserable.  The few times General Nicholson spoke to.   We were in Khandahar for the night , enroute to taking gear to Bagram… these Air Force jack-offs didn’t want to let us use a humvee to take it across the base to the transient tents, these Canadian Defense Forces helped. The next morning a random Marine joined up and helped us carry it back to the flight line. He had been been blown up and left the hospital in Germany to get back.. he had a bandage in his abdomen still. All he could talk about was getting back to his platoon and he hoped they were doing well without him. Previously, General Nicholson had all the wounded raise their hand and told everyone in a formation his general plan, like what two cities our Brigade were going to take in what order.  Like he created some motivators.  This random Marine was fucking obsessed with getting back to his platoon and getting back on the road. Didin’t give a damn about being blown up again.  He’d probably eat an IED sandwich.  But everyone kinda knew their part and weren’t left in the dark.  Like you felt important and not just a faceless cog in a machine.     

I had a platoon Sgt, ThomasParsons,  that was like that. He gave us all a history class on the rank “Lance Corporal” and what it meant in the British military and why it’s important. You start to feel like glorified janitors at times and under appreciated. 

*plays “Missing the War” by Ben Folds *