At this morning's official Signal Regimental Week Prayer Breakfast, the Chaplain -- speaking on the seven Army values -- described a scene in the latest Kevin Bacon movie, Taking Chance. Bacon's character is escorting the body of a fallen Marine home for the funeral, and at the airport security checkpoint he refuses to remove his dress uniform coat festooned with medals, ostensibly because it was his sacred honor to wear the uniform while performing his duties. I haven't seen the movie, but I presume that after some edge-of-your-seat moments of consternation, the TSA agents reluctantly let him on through with little more than a wand wave.
Nice try, Hollywood -- but in real life things ain't so easy. A couple of years ago I also volunteered the same duty, for my friend who had taken his own life. I too was told to keep my uniform on at all times until I got to my final destination, but at the first security checkpoint at 0600 at OKC, I faced a similar decision. Only I figured it was better to meekly comply than to be taken to some moldy storage closet and accused of hating America whilst being waterboarded for three hours by some huge, greasy, underpaid TSA agent as the plane takes off with my friend's coffin in it. My duty was to escort my comrade's body to its final resting place, not wake up in an undisclosed location and get my 15 minutes of fame on CNN because I've got a bone to pick with the collective ignorance of the TSA. I even let them scan my backpack which had the folded flag in it, that I would ultimately present to my friend's widow at the funeral.
Of course I had to strip down to my socks, pants, and undershirt in front of everyone, and when I complained I was pulled aside for "special screening," even after I broke protocol to reveal my mission. Now in that tense moment I didn't imagine some action-packed scene where I grab the agent's gun, shoot my way onto the plane and highjack my way to Atlanta just in time for the funeral -- I would never have dreamed of that, not even for a fleeting second. Even if I had to take a rubber glove for the team (which I thankfully did not), I was going to accomplish my mission. But I at least got to tell the TSA supervisor that it was a shameful moment in our country's history when a man in uniform had to be subjected to such nonsense. I later wrote a strongly-worded letter to the TSA on their website telling them they should be ashamed of themselves, but I have yet to receive my apology. And I refuse to be nice to any TSA agent until I do.
But none of that sells movies, or makes for good points in Chaplains' sermons.
Now quick, who can connect Kevin Bacon to Kenneth Branagh, using only military-themed movies?
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Thursday, April 16, 2009
All hail the Signal Corps!
An email went out this week from our higher headquarters with two rather odd attachments: an .mp3 file and lyrics to the US Army Signal Corps Regimental song. The email came from a high-ranking Sergeant Major, who passed on word from other even higher-ranking Sergeants Major that every Soldier in the Signal Corps must know the lyrics and tune for official ceremonies and the like -- and even exorted leaders to ensure that we are all practiced. I just learned that our subordinate company formations -- in a "combat zone," mind you -- will now practice two days a week.
{insert facepalm here}
Every Soldier knows the Army Song, and we sing it at official ceremonies. I confess that after my first 11 years as a Signal officer, I never knew there were lyrics until last year, when I arrived at this unit and overheard two younger troops singing it loudly to their First Sergeant. Whenever I hear it, I make up words in my head to the very Sousa-esque tune: "We are the Signal Corps, if you don't like it, you can kiss our ass," over and over again. Keeps me awake at ceremonies, anyway.
No other Army branch would dare to be so gay as to even have a song -- other than the Field Artillery, but theirs is just the Army song with lyrics about cannons and howitzers, as if there were a difference -- much less make everyone sing it. Not only that, but our leaders apparently expect us to know it sober! Manly branches like Armor or Infantry don't do such things, unless of course there are copious amounts of adult beverages being consumed first. Our song is kinda catchy, but it's no Ballad of the Green Beret. And I can't freakin' get it out of my head now.
If the Military Intelligence Corps had a song, it would of course be Secret Agent Man, which, many years ago during my training to be a Counterintelligence Special Agent (no kidding), I once attempted to sing at a karaoke bar with a bunch of my classmates. Everyone was drunk so it didn't matter that we didn't know the lyrics, which is pretty much the point of karaoke anyway. Good times.
Which brings me to another, somewhat salient point. Most people who know me ask why I didn't become an MI officer. I told them that the one thing I learned at OCS was that everyone wants to be either Infantry or MI, because they think they're the sexiest branches of the Army -- they think that Infantry is all about killing bad guys, which it pretty much is, and that MI is all cloak-and-dagger, which it most certainly is not. Well that, and I also learned how to sleep standing up. We also used to sing the OCS song every night before bedtime, but I would be hard pressed to sing even the first line of Benning School for Boys (its original title) nowadays. OK, maybe the second line escapes me.
I told the Sergeant Major in our higher HQ that I would gladly express my displeasure to the Chief of Signal the next time he is in town -- but only after I hear him sing it.
{insert facepalm here}
Every Soldier knows the Army Song, and we sing it at official ceremonies. I confess that after my first 11 years as a Signal officer, I never knew there were lyrics until last year, when I arrived at this unit and overheard two younger troops singing it loudly to their First Sergeant. Whenever I hear it, I make up words in my head to the very Sousa-esque tune: "We are the Signal Corps, if you don't like it, you can kiss our ass," over and over again. Keeps me awake at ceremonies, anyway.
No other Army branch would dare to be so gay as to even have a song -- other than the Field Artillery, but theirs is just the Army song with lyrics about cannons and howitzers, as if there were a difference -- much less make everyone sing it. Not only that, but our leaders apparently expect us to know it sober! Manly branches like Armor or Infantry don't do such things, unless of course there are copious amounts of adult beverages being consumed first. Our song is kinda catchy, but it's no Ballad of the Green Beret. And I can't freakin' get it out of my head now.
If the Military Intelligence Corps had a song, it would of course be Secret Agent Man, which, many years ago during my training to be a Counterintelligence Special Agent (no kidding), I once attempted to sing at a karaoke bar with a bunch of my classmates. Everyone was drunk so it didn't matter that we didn't know the lyrics, which is pretty much the point of karaoke anyway. Good times.
Which brings me to another, somewhat salient point. Most people who know me ask why I didn't become an MI officer. I told them that the one thing I learned at OCS was that everyone wants to be either Infantry or MI, because they think they're the sexiest branches of the Army -- they think that Infantry is all about killing bad guys, which it pretty much is, and that MI is all cloak-and-dagger, which it most certainly is not. Well that, and I also learned how to sleep standing up. We also used to sing the OCS song every night before bedtime, but I would be hard pressed to sing even the first line of Benning School for Boys (its original title) nowadays. OK, maybe the second line escapes me.
I told the Sergeant Major in our higher HQ that I would gladly express my displeasure to the Chief of Signal the next time he is in town -- but only after I hear him sing it.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Another FAIL pic
Seems to be a running theme lately. Several weeks ago, this water truck struck and killed 10 camels (10 camels! Ah, ah, ah...) on a road up in the northern desert country. Or as I prefer to call it, the Great Sea of Nothing. I think the driver survived, only to pay through the nose for killing the white camels, which are rarer.
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