You're lazy. Yes, YOU.

I've been thinking a bit lately about "life after the military." I'm not sure how it's going to go. I'm working my way through the VA and the Medical Review Board to be medically retired from the military. I considered staying in, and I've given quite a lot of thought to it, but in the end I realized that with my injuries, I would not be able to perform as a 'normal' person would in a combat zone. The damage to my spinal cord is too great; I have great difficulty with bodily functions which seriously hinder my ability to get through a day without some special considerations and a good deal of time devoted to them. As such, I'm now thinking about what will happen when I return to the civilian world.

While I was in Afghanistan, I met a British contractor one day; another Marine and I were standing post at the ECP (front gate) and he came out to wait for a local to show up to talk to him. It was about 0430, 0500, somewhere in there, so there wasn't much going on. And while standing there, we started to talk to him.
The Marine with me was interested in the possibility of doing some contract work after he left Active Service- he was supposed to EAS (Exit Active Service) not long after we returned from the deployment- and he asked the man why he'd decided to be a military contractor.

The man told us that he'd been in the British army for.... a long time. I seem to recall that it was somewhere around 20+ years. (for some reason, British men seem to stay in the service far longer than most Americans)
On leaving the service, he tried to apply himself to the civilian workforce, but found himself constantly frustrated and confounded by the civilian attitude toward "work" he found there. He told us that whereas in the military, there is a strong sense of brotherhood- a PFC has a connection to the Sergeant Major, and at each rank there is a strong bond between peers- in the civilian world, everyone is out for themselves. No one does work "because it needs to be done"; you only work because you're paid, and you work absolutely NO more than you're paid to. In the Marine Corps (and possibly the rest of the US military, but I only have experience with the Corps) you work because you're told to, and you're expected to, and because it must be done. If you get off work at 2300, and are woken up at 0300 by your NCO calling to say that you have to get back right now, you go. You don't argue; you don't complain to him/her. You'll whine to/along with the people who are similar rank, but you won't ever let those below you see weakness, and you won't admit to your 'boss'(es) that you hate being there. It has to be done; they're in charge; you *do*it*. That's all there is. No argument, no questioning, just action and reaction.
So, the contractor had ended up leaving the civilian workforce in disgust and frustration, and found his niche as a contractor. He was still a civilian, so he had personal freedoms, but contractors are primarily prior-military men, so they all understand and still share that sense of strong brotherhood.


The only time I was able to take leave while I was stationed in Hawaii, I was waiting in the Honolulu airport for my flight- it was late at night, and I was flying to  LAX, then BWI- and I couldn't help but stare at some of the civilians who were waiting for boarding around me. And I have a very clear memory of a man who walked up and fell into a seat a few rows away from me in the terminal..... This man was perhaps in his 30's or 40's- lower-middle-aged- and I swear must have weighed about 300 pounds- *none* of it muscle. I think he would have had the "pear" shape (which I find myself fighting to avoid now, as sedentary as I am in the hospital) except that he was simply too large; everywhere his body should have tapered, there was more fat. He had a slight shape to him, but it was more like an upside-down, deformed Red Delicious apple than a pear.
This man was wearing his flip-flops- one of which was broken, and was being held together with Scotch tape- his loose, paint-stained pajama pants, a baggy T-shirt (not sure how he found one large enough that it was still baggy on him, but it was clearly quite stretched even so) which was *full* of holes and had a few threads hanging from its stitching, a grimy baseball cap. (inside the terminal....) It didn't look like he'd shaved in two or three days, and there was a little crust of food in the corner of his mouth.
Overall, pretty nasty even to other civilians. But I noticed that a few other people looked up as he walked in and collapsed in his chair, but then everyone looked away. There were no signs of disgust to be found. And I realized: it's just another person. He's allowed to be like that. It's not "unacceptable" for him to look like that. In fact, if I had gone to him and told him that he was fat, his shirt was full of holes, his pants were sagging around his gelatinous rear end, and he needed to shave, he would have been first shocked, and then angry; I would almost certainly have found myself in some trouble for speaking to him thus.
Marines have a dress code, even while on leave. While I know very few people who follow it to the letter- I don't actually own a single Polo shirt, and it calls for a "collared shirt"- it does mean that anyone may, and will likely, correct you if you're out in public in some unacceptable attire. No gaping holes in clothing; no rude or ATOD-promoting T-shirts; NO flip-flops (the only exception being if you are stationed, and at the time physically in, Hawaii- Lava Dogs are permitted to wear flip-flops because of the overwhelming local culture and the climate) and the list goes on. Essentially, you are expected to- required to- look professional, clean, and respectable at ALL times. While on leave, you're still required to shave- no Marine is allowed to have facial hair other than eyebrows and a regulation-compliant mustache. (which often ends up being referred to as a "Hitler-stache") Marines aren't just called on to be, and look, clean and professional in uniform, while someone in charge is standing in front of you; we are expected to maintain certain standards everywhere we are, whomever we're with, whatever the circumstances. Wounded Warriors, some of them multiple-limb amputees, are held to a certain dress code: black bottom, green top, or the Marine Corps jogging suit, or OD Green sweats. It doesn't matter if it's cold out and you have no black pants or green sweatpants; you meet the standard. There is no confusion or questioning it; you just do. It's not an issue because we are Marines.

You live with that mentality for long enough, and you find the way you think and the way you perceive things, and other people, changing. Whereas a civilian would have seen that man in the airport and perhaps been disappointed he was fat, or at least a little disgusted at his unkempt, dirty clothing, they wouldn't have been outraged. It wouldn't necessarily be "unacceptable" to them.

(I don't really know where I'm going with this- I'm kind of just ranting)

I am, to be honest, not all that excited about leaving the Corps.
Things *work* in the military, and especially in the Corps. Marines do what they have to do, because they know that it has to be done. And  there's a very good chance that they've actually done it correctly, because they *know* that someone will review their work, and that they *will* catch Hell if they haven't done it to the best of their abilities. You always know, without a doubt, that when you need a brother to lean on, you can take your pick of a dozen of the most dangerous, crazy, stupid, loyal, honest guys you'll ever know. And you won't just be on the phone- your boy is racking out, and you call him and say you're in some bad shit, and he'll stay on the phone- all the way over to your room, where he'll sit down with you if you need him there.

... I just hear things like the universal 'joke' of 'calling in sick'; a generally accepted measure to get a day off. Hey, I get it- sometimes you need that time. You have concerns and a life outside of your job, and sometimes the two don't get along well. But the fact that people are so lackadaisical about such things makes me wonder if they're actually going to be there when they need to be.

Anyway, I'm finished, because I don't really know what else to say.