Author: Maximilian

While I won’t say that this is necessarily a true story, I will say that no one I know has actually read the acclaimed Message to Garcia or any other book on the Commandant’s Reading List for that matter. In fact, before I made this strip I asked some of my friends if they had even heard of it, and one of them actually told me they had no idea what I was talking about.

I remember hearing it often though, “Message to Garcia time!” when something important needed to get done. I have never read this book; I can’t honestly say whether it’s good or bad. I’m pretty sure everyone knows the gist of it, but for being such a short book I’m slightly surprised that people haven’t read it. I guess my reason is that I just never really cared enough to do it, nor do most grunts I suppose. I know at one point in time, it was mandatory that Marines read the books on the List. Whether this rule was extinguished or just got lost in the bigger picture of fighting a war on two fronts I don’t really know for sure. I do know that military books tend to be written by military men (and women), and hence are overtly drawn out and boring.

The Commandant’s Reading List, like MCI’s, are one of those things that remain lingering around the Marine Corps with the intention of making us better–but ultimately end up becoming a check-in-the-box at best in practice. Back when I had some remote hope or wish of picking up via cutting score, I recall doing all of the required MCI’s. They didn’t help me in any real sense, in fact I don’t remember anything from any of them. While the mail system for them is no longer in place, I’m not sure if anyone really took those things seriously from the moment they were invented. After all, what Marine didn’t just find the answers in their books and have their Squad Leader sign the answer sheet? For obvious reasons this system doesn’t exist anymore, but MCI’s are still just as vapidly completed as they have always been.

I suppose a “good NCO” is supposed to enforce these things, but ultimately when you’re training to get shot at every day in some shit hole across the planet and learning about all the ways you can die–these things start to become largely irrelevant for young infantrymen. Maybe this is just a grunt perspective–but I assure you that this is the perspective of all of the Marines I’ve ever deployed with.

I will say though, Starship Troopers was a good book long before it made the list.

So in site news, maybe some of you saw the tattoo story in this week’s Marine Corps Times? If not, pick it up for a good laugh. There’s also some more mention of me and the site in the forum bites part. How can I top the tattoo contest? I’m sure you’re all wondering what I have planned next. Frankly so am I; but I do have a couple of good ideas up my sleeve.

In unrelated news, has anyone noticed that Charles Wolf hasn’t updated Sempertoons since Terminal Lance went live? What’s the deal?

Until next time, keep it real gents. Keep it as real as it can get.

I genuinely debated on doing this strip simply because I knew that the reference might fly over the heads of some of the older Marines that read the strip. (I know there’s plenty of you salty bastards) However, if I may be so blunt, I am a huge nerd. In fact I am such a huge nerd that in the 2nd panel, the HP for my spiky-haired doppelganger is “2236,” which of course is the combination for the safe in the office in the East wing of the 1st floor of the police station in Resident Evil 2.

This strip is chalk full of genuine nerd-dom, but I found the joke funny enough that I had to do it. Hopefully you gamers out there will appreciate it, which is most of the Junior Enlisted, I’m sure.

I will admit that all of the Final Fantasy discussion on the forum lately has gotten me thinking about those great old games again, as well as the fact that I’m currently going through Final Fantasy XIII for PS3. For those of you unfamiliar with the franchise, it is the best selling RPG series of all time, and basically founded genre.

I may have mentioned before that I am a fan of Penny-Arcade, a gaming comic strip. I think most webcomics are not successful due to the fact that 90% of them try to do exactly what Penny-Arcade did; i.e.: two lazy, witty guys that love to play videogames. Luckily for me, I have the niche of the Marine Corps as a comic strip–which really is an endless geyser of humor, openly flowing like the chocolate river from Willy Wonka. In any case, I think it would be wrong of me to try and hide the fact that I love me some videogames–honestly I think Metal Gear Solid is about 50% of the reason I joined in the first place. Whatever the circumstance, Terminal Lance has been doing fantastic lately. After the story went live in the Marine Corps Times print and online last week, I easily broke the 1 Million hit marker.

Needless to say, this milestone hasn’t been free of bumps. Not everyone is happy with Terminal Lance, though I think the majority of these individuals don’t actually read the comics or the blog post and just judge it based on the name. I can’t and won’t bother trying to address everything that pops up, but Terminal Lance is available for anyone to look at. I didn’t agree to have stories in the Newspapers thinking no one would notice. If anyone of exceedingly high rank reads these things, which I know now that they do, I hope you find them funny and embrace the humor for what it is: situational and observational humor based on my actual experiences in the Marine Corps infantry (or otherwise). I’ve never bashed the Marine Corps, or anyone in it–nor do I plan to.

A pretty simple and straightforward alternative, if you don’t like the strip: don’t read it.

With that I will bid you all adieu, much like most nights I update the comic I have to wake up in like 6 hours–because I love you all enough to lose sleep over this.

This is actually a true story. Well, I dunno if Bill actually did any maniacal laughing at the time, but this is based on true events much in the same way Hollywood makes movies “based on true events.” In any case, I remember thinking to myself how strange it is, that our job is so miserable that people would literally rather have their teeth pulled out than participate in a field op. Not only is the act real, but the person is usually commended for “good timing.”

Wisdom teeth are one of those things that are probably better pulled out while you’re active duty and have that ever-so-popular “free medical.” After all, they do get you out of work and if you’re of the Oh-Three type, maybe even a field op. While being completely miserable, I would be amiss to say that field ops have no lasting value to me. The field is really where the heart of the Marine Corps is, where things make sense (in a strange way) and you don’t have the outside world to worry about. The field brings Marines closer–and it has nothing to do with any motto-bullshit about how we love our job. It’s the fact that we all hate it, actually, that makes the field a place of bonding. As one of my seniors explained to me on my first deployment, Marines come closer together when they have the common enemy of the Marine Corps to bitch about. Ironically, putting Marines through misery on a daily basis makes them much closer in the long run, whether anyone realizes it or not.

Strip a platoon or company of all of their material worries, and all they have left is each other.

Going back to the comic though; before the recession hit America, getting Marines to join was a problem. Recruitment was low and retention even lower, Marines were being offered bonuses of up to $90,000 to re-up–a hefty offer to say the least. Maybe–now this is just a thought–retention would be easier to attain if Marines didn’t prefer having brutal oral surgery performed in preference to doing their job.

On a side note, I’d like to ask a simple question: Why is it that when someone of ridiculously high rank wants to talk to you, they never tell you if it’s good or bad? It’s easily the biggest mind-fuck for someone at the lowly rank of Lance Criminal. Just saying.

I think sometimes the crude sayings and terminology go widely unchecked, despite how common they are. I know this is a common statement made in the Marine Corps, at least since I’ve been in. I heard it the first time in bootcamp, then I heard it at SOI, then I heard it at the fleet at some point multiple times. I’m not sure who was first to say it, but sometimes I wonder if they genuinely did have male genitalia growing from their forehead–and simply used the statement to fuck with Marines.

For whatever it’s worth, there is no resounding statement to be made with this strip; it really just boils down to me wanting to see someone with a dick growing out of their forehead. Out of respect for the fact that most people probably look at Terminal Lance at work, I censored the dick portion of the dick joke. No one forced me to, I just figured it would be easier than labeling the strip “NSFW”.

I recently had a long conversation regarding Terminal Lance with the base attorney–the JAG, as they’re known–and he gave me some very useful information. Among which, knowing that I’m not actually breaking any rules is nice to know. Maybe there will be a day where I snap and decide to do something stupid, but I highly doubt it. Nope, unfortunately for anyone looking to bust me, I’m just a regular guy with a good sense of humor and a penchant for drawing. I never claimed to hate the Marine Corps or anything therein, I just like to make fun of it.

In other, much more interesting news, there was a winner to the tattoo contest!

The Winner to the Tattoo Contest:

Cpl Vince Padilla will be receiving the original artwork for the tattoo autographed and framed by me. Lets all give him a big round of applause for being so fucking full of awesome. For those of you that didn’t win the artwork: if you actually got the tattoo, send me the pictures and I’ll put them up on the site for everyone to see along with your name.

In site news, I’ve added another Google ad on the bottom. While I can’t legally encourage you to click on them, I will say that they do help me out if you do… The act of drawing and writing a web comic in of itself doesn’t exactly ring in the bucks, but the ads bring in a little. While this was never really a venture of money, someone suggested to me that I add a PayPal donation insert to try and collect some extra money. Frankly, I don’t like the idea of begging for money. It makes me feel a little too much like the asshole over at Ctrl+Alt+Del and his dreadfully unfunny comic. I am exploring ways to make some money off the site but it’s a hit or miss process. In the mean time, if you see something that appeals to you, feel free to click on the Google ads. *wink*wink*

Something that has always bothered those of us on the lower levels of the rank tier is standing in formation for no apparent reason. It is something I know is common throughout the infantry, and usually results in Marines shouting out, “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON???”

The answer? Usually you’re waiting on the Company Commander and whoever else is running the gig. I find it odd, the importance they lay on being punctual when they, themselves, are rarely on time. How often have you been 15 minutes early and waited for 45 minutes? This used to be a daily occurrence for me when I was back in the line companies, and to this day I was never really able to figure it out–until now. If someone is offended by this comic, be advised that I also enjoy a good game of “Angry Pirate VS Foul-Mouthed Teddy Bear” when I’m alone.

In other news, the site is getting quite popular as of late. Every day I receive all kinds of emails regarding the site, encouragement for me to continue with this venture. I truly appreciate all of it, as I mentioned last week in the News post. The amount of support I’ve received is unfounded, and shockingly I’ve received no negative comments regarding the site. This little comic of mine did see me end up in the Regimental Sergeant Major’s office last week, but it was hardly of sinister purpose. I’m actually quite surprised that no one has said they don’t like the strip. I imagine my strip as a guilty pleasure of sorts, for those Echo-6 and above. Ultimately I feel the humor is somewhat immune to the limits of rank, as everyone who’s been in longer than a year recognizes it all to be true.

In any case, as long as you guys keep loving it, I’ll do my best to keep putting it up.

On a completely unrelated note: this week saw the switch to desert cammies, sleeves up. To be completely blunt, I completely prefer this in Hawaii. I’ll tell you why, and this can be our little secret… Hawaii is fucking hot.

Frankly I don’t understand why we’re not sleeves up all the time, woodland or otherwise. Aside from the temperature woes, I also just enjoy wearing my deserts because they are so much more satisfyingly salty than my woodlands. I guess that is just what naturally happens when we fight wars in desert environments. Aside from that though, deserts are just softer and seem to fit looser than my woodlands. I dunno why.

In regards to the tattoo contest, no one has submitted any photos to me yet. A few people are in the running, as far as I know, but so far no one has actually gotten the tattoo that I’m aware of. If any of you are still ballsy enough to do it, feel free to shoot me an email under the conditions stated on Tuesday’s post.

With that, I bid you all a good weekend. In the meantime, I’m going to continue completing absurd tasks and quests so I can EAS properly. I wonder why getting IN the Marines is so much easier than getting OUT of the Marines…

At first I wasn’t sure if I should even bother doing this strip; I realize most Marines in the Marine Corps are actually the guy asking for the tattoo, and not the one drawing it. Unfortunately for you all, I am the one drawing it, as well as the one making the comic that has been bestowed in front of you. Ultimately I think people can still appreciate the humor in it–though I’m not sure if it’s more making fun of Ed Hardy or just lame tattoo ideas. Then again, sometimes those can go hand-in-hand.

It is a strange path in the Marines–as it has been made painfully obvious to me, 99% of the Marine Corps has very little artistic talent. While this is not particularly unusual, it really puts the heat on us few that do. Being the minority artist in a room full of young, tattoo-craving men usually spurs some kind of conversation involving something completely ridiculous embedded permanently in ink into their flesh. I won’t lie, this is an exaggeration and amalgam of various requests said to me via Marines with too much money to blow. Typically though, it usually involves something motto, something religious, and a skull (or something with a visible skull). Sometimes the requests are more amusing than interesting, hence what spurred this strip.

Ultimately though, the reason I decided to do this strip is to make a proposal to you all: I have a deal for you.

In the 2nd Panel of today’s strip, you’ll see a brief glimpse of this tattoo:

Well this is a real tattoo design I created specifically for this challenge. What is the challenge, you ask? I will tell you:

The first person to get this tattoo actually tattooed on their body will receive the original artwork, framed and autographed by yours truly. In addition to that, you will be full of win for the rest of your life.

If you are interested in this, send me an email using the contact tab at the top of the screen and I will send you the full sized image for you to print out and give to the tattoo artist. Tell him/her that you’re full of win, and you need this tattoo now.

Disclaimers: I will not pay for your tattoo. In addition to this, the original artwork will be given to the FIRST PERSON that completes the tattoo task. Unfortunately there is only one original piece, and I can only give it to one person. Please inform me of your intent to get the tattoo, I will let you know if anyone is already in the process of doing it. I will not be held responsible for any permanent awesomeness put onto your body that doesn’t result in receiving original artwork by me. As well, there can be no changes made to the design of the tattoo, and you must provide me with photographic (or video) proof of your deed. When you email me, please give me your rank and name so I know you’re legit.

Again, ONLY 1 PERSON CAN RECEIVE THE PRIZE. LET ME KNOW OF YOUR INTENT TO GET THE TATTOO PRIOR TO GOING OUT AND GETTING IT.

With that said, I hope someone has the testicular fortitude to get something this ridiculous and awesome tattooed on them. When there is a winner, their pictures will be put on the next scheduled comic post. I know Marines love tattoos, don’t let me down now.

This comic was inspired by recent events at my final physical. Over the years in an infantry battalion, you really don’t get to go to BAS enough. Well, those of us that are worth a damn don’t. The stigma associated with going to medical while you’re in the infantry is most definitely one of taboo. To go to medical is to be weak, and as a result most grunts end up with all kinds of improperly treated problems by the time their final physicals roll around and have no real excuse for it.

When I was in there being examined, all of the problems I’d ever had were coming to light, and the good doctor was noticeably annoyed. Granted, she’s an H&S Bn. doctor and probably doesn’t see too many grunts, but I can imagine her frustration at my helplessness. She took about 4 pages of notes while I explained all of my problems, to include not having my medical record because my parent unit decided to take it to Mojave Viper instead of actually sorting out who was staying or going. Oh the green weenie strikes hard, and it strikes fast.

This ultimately led to me getting about 17 XRAYs done on my back and ribcage, as well as about 4 follow up appointments that I have yet to complete.

This story may not seem like it has much to do with the strip, but getting “fucked on a daily basis” is precisely what it’s like to be in the infantry. The medical record thing is just one of the many nuances of being in the grunts. She was dumbfounded at the lack of recording and actual procedure followed by my unit’s BAS. I never thought anything of it, I assumed that’s just how the Marine Corps was. But, did you know, that medical care outside of the infantry is actually quite up to par? The clinic I went to was not a shady, cleared out barracks-turned-BAS, but an actual clinic. The green weenie may be taking its toll on your rectum behind the scenes and you may not even know it, because you’ve never been exposed to the other side.

In any case, without even looking at the big picture of the big green weenie, grunts get fucked on a daily basis for a number of other reasons. Mass punishment is a common problem, as it usually accomplishes nothing. The same people make the same stupid decisions, and it especially doesn’t work in a weapons platoon–and I’ll explain why: Three different MOS’, three completely different kinds of people. The allure of machine guns, mortars or rockets appeal to very different people. These three different personality types cannot be expected to act the same, and cannot be punished the same. In my experience, the brutes in Machine guns tend to fuck it up the most, and “skatin’ Assault” and Mortars end up paying for it as well.

Aside from that, grunts typically don’t get half of the benefits or the benefits even explained to them that the POGs of the Corps do. You have no idea how many times I’ve said, “…what is that?” when someone around the ComCam shop has mentioned some Marine Corps order that everyone seems to know but me. It’s an unfair dichotomy, to be sure. I do feel, however, that the grunt path is the true path of the Marine Corps experience. It is what it is, and it will remain that way long after I’m gone.

Welcome to the 2nd of my MRE-themed strips. It wasn’t until after I started making this strip that I discovered that the notorious Cheese and Veggie Omelet had actually been discontinued last year. But the question still remains… Why does this wretched thing exist in this world or any other?

The answer is a long kept secret within the military’s highest ranks, but I happen to know the answer. I will let you in on this secret because I have vowed to speak the truth on this site.

The Menu Item No. 4 was created by an ancient evil lurking within the depths of hell itself. What does this have to do with us? Well this is precisely why 29 Palms exists as a base! It’s no secret that Charles Manson believed the gates to hell were somewhere in the Mojave Desert–namely the Joshua Tree and 29 Palms area. When this was discovered by the United States government, the seized the area knowing it would be of high value. After all, controlling the gates of Hell itself has to be quite a trump card in the world of government super powers. Once they had it in their possession, however, they couldn’t figure out exactly how to get the powers of hell and Satan actually into the government system.

After some exploration of the caves and chambers of Lucifer’s caverns, they found that a sludge-like substance was growing on the rocks and rotting corpses within. Through research they discovered that this substance embodied all of the evil that hell represents into a convenient and (sort of) edible form. Armed with this knowledge, the government quickly turned the demonic sludge into a packaged MRE menu item to feed to the troops–knowing that feeding this pure evil would empower the US Marines and soldiers with super demon-powers; and thus, the Cheese and Vegetable Omelet was born!

Unfortunately, what Uncle Sam didn’t plan on was the fact that it is far too wretched of an evil for anyone to actually eat, and thus far no one has actually consumed an entire meal to gain the powers granted by Satan. Oh well, can’t win ’em all right?

So as many of you well know, a story about yours truly was released in the Marine Corps Times yesterday. While I was expecting an influx of angry emails from all the ranks of the Corps and beyond, I was pleasantly surprised to find that all of the feedback being sent to me was eerily positive. I’m grateful for this, and because of this I will continue to make this comic and try to make you all laugh twice a week, Tuesday and Friday.

It’s been a busy last couple of weeks for me, I’ve been doing my final physical stuff non-stop. Apparently I have tinittus in my ear and got a fuck-ton of xrays done. I’m hoping all of the radiation will give me some kind of super powers, but knowing my luck I’ll just end up with cancer or something.

Anyway, for all you new joints, keep an eye out Tuesdays and Fridays for new comic updates. As well, I update the “News” post regularly with randomness, as it more or less is my blog. If you haven’t checked it out, take a look at the Store and order some kick ass skivvy shirts or something. As well, feel free to stop by the forum and hang out, I post there regularly as well so you can actually interact with me if you so desire. Despite the namesake, all ranks are welcome around Terminal Lance’s parts. Just keep in mind I am a Lance, and I speak my mind with honesty.

Til next time, Space Cowboy.

Though I do believe that picking on POGs is somewhat of a cheap shot, I do think they get treated especially better than the grunts do. How do I know this? Well I work at Combat Camera now, and it really is a whole different world. While they obviously have their own stressers in the work place like due dates and impending deadlines, the average grunt experiences a whole different Marine Corps than the average POG.

Its not just the cutting score difference either, everything is different. My first day in the fleet was fucking scary. We arrived at Honolulu International at 2am, were yelled at once we got to the barracks by some guy whose name escapes me and were put in rooms already occupied by senior Lances. Every mention of my drill and SOI instructors telling us we’re going to get the shit beat out of us as soon as we get to the fleet came to life at that moment. Luckily, they were too tired to really care and I set my stuff up on the top rack and went to sleep, to wake up at 0500 and start police calling and checking in.

Yes, the difference is substantial, it is an entirely different culture. I think most grunts would argue that the infantry is the essence of the Marine Corps, and it is in fact the true Marine Corps experience. I whole-heartedly agree with this, as that is exactly what I thought the Marine Corps was going to be: miserable and scary.

So anyway, I’m thinking of turning “The Difference” into another series. If you see the name pop up again, don’t be too surprised. Rumor has it that come Monday, you may see Terminal Lance grace a page or two of a well-known news source… stand by for that.

For those of you that are new to Terminal Lance, I say this to you: Welcome. No matter where you come from, Terminal Lance is meant to appeal to anyone who has a realistic view of the Marine Corps. Take it with a grain of salt, if something offends you keep in mind that I try only to speak the truth about my experiences in the Corps. This, of course, coming from the point of view of a lower enlisted infantry Lance Corporal. I do not hate the Marine Corps in any way, I simply see the humor in it.

This occurrence is pretty common in my life. I refer to it as “The Stare,” I’m sure you’re all familiar with it. As a lower enlisted, we are obligated to “greet” Staff NCO’s and officers as they approach us or walk by us. Generally its not a big deal, but often times the difference between E-7 through the E-9’s is indistinguishable outside of 15 feet–degrading to a blob of black weighing down their collars.

It becomes a game of chance and timing. The chance being that you’ll actually figure out what rank it is before he gets too close to be considered a late greeting. Often times I resort to a simple “Good morning…!” and just leave it at that, I try not to use “Sir” because the one time I did, I received the prompt response, “Don’t call me that shit, I work for a living.” Obviously this game doesn’t apply when you know the individual, but walking around in garrison always keeps you in a state of alert, not knowing when some random Staff NCO is going to start harassing you for not saying good morning to him.

I ask this though, if it weren’t a Marine Corps regulation, would anyone really care? Probably not, as I don’t typically greet everyone in a position of seniority as I walk down the street back home. Its ridiculous, really. While I have no qualms with the idea that it shows respect, often times I think Staff NCO’s and officers actually are more annoyed by it than anything.

Hell, as a “Senior Lance Corporal,” walking down the catwalk of the barracks became annoying when every boot 0311 scooted out of the way and panicked a quick, “Good morning, Lance Corporal!” at my mere presence. Often-times this happened multiple times in a short time span.

If you’re a boot and you don’t know the rule, I’ll explain it to you:

Greet a higher-up the first time you see them that day, or at least after a reasonable lapse of time; i.e., not every fucking time they walk passed you.

On a slightly related note, the little hand selector in the 2nd panel is definitely old school Final Fantasy inspired. I loved those games… anxiously awaiting FFXIII coming out next week.

So anyway, in site news, the forums are a little bit more active–which is great. I think more community activity and interaction would be great, but I suppose those sorts of things naturally develop with time. I’m slightly disappointed at the lack of store sales. I figured Terminal Lance skivvies would be flying off the shelves, but alas the store has been at a stand-still for a bit now. In any case, I will continue to wear mine with pride. I actually just had the chance to order one of the “civie” shirts, the Hand Signal ringer. I’ll post photos and let you all know how it looks when I get it.

In the mean time, keep it real and keep passing this site on. While performing my POGiest of activities today, customer service, I had the site up on my desktop and asked a random Lance if he had been to my site. He told me yes and that he thought it was hilarious, I proceeded to proclaim that the creator was in fact a genius. He also agreed, but when I asked if it had caught on within his battalion, he told me no–that no one really knew about it actually.

WTF gents? Spread that word like Jody is spreading your slutty girlfriends legs back home. In the meantime, I’ll continue to POG it up while I wait out the last 2 months of my contract. Peace.