Beware the call of the mighty Blue Falcon.
He prowls the skies searching for his next target. He is a bird of prey, but he preys not on the typical feast of field mice and smaller birds. No, this great azure raptor seeks only those to whom it is close… for you must be it’s buddy, in order to be buddy-fucked. When you feel that warm splat of milky blue shit on your shoulder, you know you’ve been hit.
The Blue Falcon comes in many forms, but usually it’s the careless friend of yours that unintentionally (or intentionally–for the true assholes) manages to screw you over in some way or another. The Blue Falcon is merely a guise for the infamous Buddy Fucker, an alternate form of being for when he is in the skies, on the prowl. In all actuality, it can be really easy to fuck your buddy over in the Marine Corps, without even realizing it. You can have the best of intention and good will, but if you find that you’ve fucked your buddy, you shouldn’t be surprised when he pulls the wings off and calls you by your true name…
The Marine Corps is all about the brotherhood. I know it’s a cliche, but it’s largely true. If there’s one thing I took away from my drunken rendezvous with SgtMaj Kent this weekend, it was that human interaction is an important, yet fading part of a good Marine Corps. Too many officers, commissioned and the non, are so quick to push paperwork down your throat instead of actually talking to you, man-to-man. Email has replaced conversation, with comically long and obtuse signature lines replacing an honest, ‘thank you.’
The CO that slams you with an NJP before even trying to fix the situation with counseling is just as much the fucker of buddies as the falcon of the skies.
Don’t be the falcon, be a man. If someone is acting out, there’s always a million ways around it before anything official needs to be done, potentially ruining someone’s career.