Author: Maximilian

This strip may hit a bit too close to home for some. In all reality though, marriage in the Marine Corps is more of a problem than a blessing. Too often, especially in the infantry, Marines get married as an answer to financial problems. The problem lies within the foundation of the system itself. Where, in the “real world” as I like to call it, would you get paid to be married? Probably nowhere, but the military actually encourages it with the way it is handled.

While there are plenty of briefs and holes to jump through when it comes time to tie the knot, none of it truly works as a deterrent against a marriage. The result is an 80% divorce rate brought on by Marines that just don’t understand the consequences of what they’re getting themselves into. While I have no useful suggestions to fix the system, I can say that it definitely needs to be fixed. Encouraging Marines to get married at such a young age just isn’t right, and divorces and alimony end up ruining lives long before it really needs to. With that said, I’m obviously not going to completely condemn those who decide to wed, I simply think it’s worth noting how messed up it has become.

It truly is a rampant problem in the Marines, and probably the military as a whole. Single Marines need to stop being treated worse, stop getting fucked with 24/7, maybe have the option of receiving BAH, maybe be treated like human beings… ya know… little things like that will go a long way in fighting young marriage rates; as well as divorce rates.

The strip has been getting a bit of attention lately. A couple of unnamed papers are planning some stories on my behalf here in the next couple of weeks. I hope people are still enjoying reading the strips, hopefully I can keep it up after I EAS in a few months.

Speaking of EAS, I’d like to give due abode to the “EAS Song” video. I think the culture of the “Terminal Lance” kind of began with the spread of this legendary Marine’s video on YouTube. If you haven’t seen the EAS Song, you fail. If you have seen it, watch it again right here (it’s actually pretty catchy):

The EAS Song on YouTube

Throw it up gents! Represent your true colors, with the Lance Corporal hand signal. I can’t actually take credit for the hand signal; my aforementioned friend Billdo Faggins, the Wild Cock Goblin created it during our first deployment.

The Lance Corporal in the infantry goes a long way. It is generally recognized within our ranks that being a Lance virtually means nothing to us. We have a full understanding of how broken the cutting score system is, how ridiculous promotions are, and for the best of us: an unwillingness to suck enough dick to get promoted. Obviously, I don’t literally mean performing fellatio on any superiors; I simply mean going that “extra mile” (usually in front of them) to make yourself look like you give enough of a shit to pick up.

If Sergeants are the back bone of the Marine Corps, then Lance Corporals are the extremities ultimately responsible for performing the tasks to keep it alive. Unfortunately, for the infantry, Lance Corporals have to be more than just extremities. I have seen Lances fill billets they shouldn’t have to, and do it admirably. For instance, the Section Leader billet of an Assaultman section is supposed to be a Staff Sergeant. Obviously, that doesn’t happen in real life. But couldn’t it at least be a Sergeant? Nope, that usually doesn’t happen either. For my first couple years in the Marines, my section leader was a Lance Corporal, until he was rightfully meritoriously promoted to Corporal. After he left, we had another Lance Corporal take his place until he was again promoted to Corporal.

So if Lances can fill the shoes of Staff NCO’s and NCO’s, why not be proud to be one? I say we take the shame away from being a one-chevron, cross-rifle rocking monkey and take pride in it! Throw up that hand signal and let the world know that with a promotion system as fucked as ours, what’s the point in giving a shit? Ever seen a Corporal or Sergeant with less ribbons than you? I have, and it pisses me off every time.

I’m not a Lance because I got in trouble, or I didn’t do my job. I don’t claim to be God’s gift to the Marine Corps, but I performed my job just fine. I’m the result of a promotion system that is flat-out broken. The month of February’s score requirement for 0351 is 1772. Good fucking luck. Meanwhile, don’t mind the boot NCO with 2 ribbons trying to tell you what to do because his requirement was in the 1500’s (0352 anyone?).

So like I said, throw that shit up.

Max, out.

A new platoon commander is a beautiful thing. Shiny, bright eyes anxious to unlock all the potential of the Marines under their new command. Fortunately, it doesn’t take long to shatter their insidious fantasies at the reality of it all. In my experience (this may not be representative of the Corps as a whole), Weapons platoon tends to be a little bit more rowdy than their 0311 counterparts.

It was always somewhat confusing to me, the idea of putting someone with absolutely no combat experience in charge of a platoon of 40 Marines–many of which have been on one or two deployments. Slap a shiny bar on that collar and you have yourself a natural-born leader! If only that were the case. The idea that someone has a bachelor’s degree makes them fit to lead Marines in combat is often-times downright absurd. In all reality, leadership cannot be taught through OCS, bootcamp or any other military school in the branches. Leadership is a virtue that you either possess or you do not. I’ve seen platoon commanders shatter and I’ve seen them succeed. Typically, the sooner they realize that the Marines under them aren’t interested in their boot-like motivation will succeed faster than others.

Once an infantry Marine has been deployed to a combat zone, motivation either completely dies or becomes so far buried underneath layers of disgust and anger that it’s really not going to come out with some school-taught, bullshit acronym about what it means to be a Marine. The saltier of the bunch will scoff at the very thought of following someone who has seen less than them, and can you really blame them?

If for some reason you’re a Lieutenant reading this, don’t feel too disheartened. It’s not impossible to be a good leader with no experience, it’s just unlikely. Keep yourself in perspective and you’ll do fine. Marines will respect you more for being honest than for being a faux-war hero trying to pass off field training in Quantico as experience.

So there’s my rant on Lieutenants. I dunno if that was too much, but I really just type whats on my mind. My site is open to anyone, you don’t have to be a Lance to read Terminal Lance. The bullshit is the same regardless of your rank, I’m pretty sure. I do believe, though, as Lance Corporals we often get the brunt of it the hardest.

I tried to do something different with the speech bubbles. Instead of using tools in Photoshop to render them as perfectly formed circles, I drew them by hand. I like it, inspired by what I was seeing at Penny Arcade, I think it allows for a more expressive image. I don’t really know what anyone else thinks of the comics art or styles because no one tells me. The forum is open, gents. We have something like 30 registered users but no one posts anything! If you hate the comic, please let me know on the forum and we can hash it out. As far as artwork goes, I try to keep the comic looking as professional and well-done as possible. I like to think it is the most well-drawn military strip available to you warfighters.

Some times I do skimp on the art a little, when I’m in a hurry to get a strip done I may half-ass it a bit. I try not to, but sometimes I just gotta get it done to get to you, my loyal readers. I suppose I could just adjust the deadlines, considering I made them up and no one enforces this comic whatsoever, but I made the commitment of Tuesday and Friday and I plan on sticking to it.

On this subject, if anyone from Leatherneck or the Military Times, or anything else, is reading this trash, let me know if you want to publish it. We can work it out, I can edit the words for content obviously, as I fully understand the idea of profanity on a public print form is usually unacceptable.

With that said, I promise you all, the site will always remain uncensored. There’s just no reason to censor something like this. I pay for the web hosting, no one tells me how to do this. I just do it. Like Nike, bitches.

Max, out.

Today’s strip is based on a true story. During my first deployment in ’07, many of the ISF guys didn’t have any uniforms. These were men who wanted to stand up for their neighborhoods and regions, some of them were Iraqi Police and others weren’t. However, the US Military (i.e.: us), would pay them to stand around at check points and defend their locale. There were no uniforms then, however, so we gave them glow belts.

I remember my first few convoys, seeing these shady guys and having no idea whether or not I could trust them. It’s a common saying that you should never trust any Iraqi out there, and I still stand by it–however none of these shady motherfuckers ever did anything in front of me that made me want to shoot them. I am aware of the crookedness of it all though. While we were there, our command was convinced the IP’s were going to turn on us. We were on high alert just in case.

During this time of friction between the IP’s and the Coalition forces, I recall one story quite fondly. I was part of a PSD platoon during my first deployment, I was the lead turret gunner of an MRAP behind the M2 .50 Cal. We would often escort our company commander to the local Iraqi Police chief’s headquarters and would sit outside during the long meetings that would take place. During one of our trips, as I remember it: I was sitting in the turret posted on security around the building as usual. Suddenly, I heard a three round burst coming from the inside. Naturally, with the lack of trust occurring between us and them, I assumed it was time–the Iraqi Police had turned on us. I sprung from my strap and immediately rotated my gun to the house, ready to rock and roll on the Deuce.

To my surprise, no one in the compound was firing or in high alert. I saw an Iraqi behind a PKC and took aim at him, he put his hands up and the Iraqi Police and Marines started waving me down before I started firing. It was passed over the ‘net that apparently one of the IP’s was fucking around a bit too much on the PKC and had a miss-fire. I wanted to punch him, but I think I got my vengeance on his pants–as the look on his face when he saw the barrel of my .50 aiming at him could only be described as shitting himself.

Anyway, I’m happy to see that I have almost 12,000 hits thus far. I would like more though. If you have a buddy–and I know you do–tell them about my site! Post on the forums for fuck’s sake, lets make this site an even awesomer place than it already is. I can’t do it alone.

After all, the Lance Corporal Underground is the fastest-moving rumor-mill in the country. Lets not disappoint now.

Going to the gym in the Marine Corps has always been kind of annoying for me. Though I do it regularly, I hate it every time. While it’s obviously an exaggeration to say all of the biggest guys are POG’s, it does seem to be a common trend. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate the POG’s–hell I am one now! In fact, this strip was inspired by a conversation I had with another combat photographer about the gym. The gyms in Iraq are always the worst. The dank, sweaty rooms walled by the Seabee’s handywork with plywood, and a small layer of dust on the ground. The nicer ones had AC, most of them did not.

As someone who is not particularly large and has little to no interest in becoming so, the gym is always somewhat intimidating. I suppose it’s true there’s always a bigger fish, but when I’m benching a modest weight, and look over to find someone doubling what I’m lifting–it’s always somewhat disheartening.

With that said, it usually didn’t stop me, but for the longest time I refused to work out in the gym for these very reasons. I think Marines make a lot of excuses, but ultimately, going to the gym when you’re not already big, is usually not a good time.

One of my POG friends was mildly offended by the last panel of this comic. I will say again, I have nothing against the POG’s of the Corps–honestly I don’t give enough of a shit about anything in the Marine Corps for it to bother me anyway–but this project is the efforts of a grunt, from the ground up. My target audience is the grunts, more or less. I think the humor can be appreciated by really anyone in the Corps, but ultimately my point of view is going to be skewed toward the infantry; as that is just how I was raised.

At this moment I’d like to give a shout out to my good friend Lance Corporal Alex Ailor, whose mother just passed away suddenly. All of your friends back in K-Bay wish you and your family the best and you have our condolences.

The Ugandan guards that protect the chow halls and posts around Iraq’s major bases always brought joy to me. I remember my days in the turret fondly, riding passed the guard posts and yelling “Jambo!” from my hole atop the MRAP in Camp Fallujah, to be reciprocated with an even more enthusiastic reply of “JAAAAMBOOOO SIR!” from them.

For some reason the word “Jambo” gets them going pretty good, they were good guys. I haven’t made the journey to Afghanistan, I’m not sure if these guys are there. If they are, and you happen to be there now, make sure you give them a good Jambo next time you see them. If you happen to be in Iraq, definitely give them a hefty Jambo.

This week in general has been pretty hectic, I got transferred to my base Combat Camera shop and I actually have a full time job now. I apologize for my lack of updates, as I get into the swing of things I’ll be back in gear. Regardless, I am intent on getting two comics up a week. Some just may come later in the day than others. I tried to update from the shop earlier but as I mentioned in the News post, the computers their didn’t have the font I needed to create it and I refuse to resort to a new font.

Actually getting over to the ComCam shop was a hassle in itself. Some years in the making, after my first deployment I tried to get over there and my battalion commander refused to let an Assaultman squad leader leave his ranks, understandably. But, another deployment later I managed to get there with some 4 months left in the Marine Corps. Oh well, at least I’m not sitting around in the infantry anymore.

Look forward to more updates, and for fuck’s sake, check out the forums!

The grasp of XBOX Live and the PlayStation Network over the Marine Corps is so powerful, one really could consider the distraction it creates to be terrorism. I am not an exception to this rule, I too enjoy myself some Modern Warfare 2 via XBOX Live. I was there on the midnight release at the Kailua GameStop to pick it up. Keep in mind, though this was an off-base affair, I was not surrounded by the locals of Oahu, but by Marines. At least 80% of the people that showed up–some 300 plus–were Marines.

Despite our manly demeanor, Marines are no strangers to the world of gaming. The typical casual assortment permeates the barracks on long standby days and nights; games like Modern Warfare 2, the latest Madden or some other EA Sports game are all common contestants in the fight for the 360’s disc drive.

I suppose the appeal of Modern Warfare is pretty easy to understand. I enjoyed the first game for the fact that it truly tried to represent Marines in warfare the way we see it. It was unfortunate to find out when I played the sequel that Infinity Ward had decided to portray the Army in their latest venture. However, the gameplay remained ultimately unchanged and the multiplayer had expanded to a level of addiction that can probably only be matched by cocaine or some other illicit drug. No Marine is safe from Modern Warfare 2, from junior enlisted to officers, everyone enjoys getting behind the controller and talking shit to the anonymous 14 year old kid on the other side of the country.

Aside from that, I suppose a wide appeal for Marines of all MOS’ is the ability to get into action without actually getting into action. Getting shot at on the TV is a lot more fun than getting shot at in real life. The addiction of MW2 for Marines is Corps-wide, I assure you. It’s not just the grunts that go at it everyday on the virtual battlefield. Pretty soon, when there’s not anything left to say about Iraq or Afghanistan, the only war stories Marines will have will be from Call of Duty.

I always thought it was kind of silly, the things we do in our service uniforms. We can’t have things in our pockets, we can’t carry things in our right hand, we can’t even hold the hand of our loved ones technically. For an organization that prides itself on practicality and adaptability in combat, we practice absolutely none of that when wearing our service uniforms. Above all else, practicality dives off a cliff to it’s gruesome death when you’re wearing a service uniform.

Ironically, the service uniforms are really nothing more than modernized versions of the ones that the Marines of old used to wear every day in combat and elsewhere. Back then however, I don’t think anyone would care if you used your pockets to store items, as that is why they exist. Yes, I am stating this as a fact: Pockets exist to store items on your person. This concept is extremely hard for some of the more hardcore regulation-thumpers to grasp. The idea that you could honestly get in trouble by putting your wallet in your back pocket is completely absurd to anyone outside of the service–but we all know that well enough.

This happens all the time though, getting corrected for doing something that would seem practical enough in your uniform. Not just the Service Alphas, Bravos and Chucks–but in cammies as well. Have you ever tried to put your hands in your pocket on a cold field op? Or tried to wear a backpack or some other carry-able storage device using the straps provided only to be yelled at by some random, butt-hurt Staff NCO? Of course you have, but I think we’re all used to it at this point. Regulations are regulations, and some people truly pride themselves on their ability to point them out to you.

Well I suppose this officially marks the use of profanity in one of my comics. Get used to it, the website is uncensored. If this comic does ever make it to print–which it may or may not–it will be edited for content. While I’m fine with creating a wholesome, widely accessible comic for old men of the Marine Corps to chuckle at, that’s not my target audience.

I find it ironic the Marine Corps tries so hard to hide itself from itself. Who are we fooling? We all know how Marines talk, and my target audience is you. If you’re offended by this, please take a moment to walk over to your nearest infantry battalion’s barracks on a Saturday night and spend 5 minutes in the presence of 400 drunk junior enlisted to remind yourself of what the Marine Corps actually is.

Over and out.

I often-times find the many dialects of the Marine Corps to be interesting, or at least entertaining. It’s strange how once someone goes into bootcamp and gets shit out the other side, their entire vocabulary is increased (or decreased really) with a bunch of nonsensical grunts and half-phrases. Some of these people continue to talk like this for years, to a point where I feel it actually starts to deteriorate their vocabulary uncontrollably. I refer to this as “SNCO Syndrome,” keep in mind that not all Staff NCO’s suffer from this. Often times when people get to the fleet, their motivation becomes torn in half at the reality of it all and they start to regain their original thought processes again.

Some, however, retain this mode of thought and speech. This comic is actually inspired by a true story. I had a Master Guns who would literally say “Cleared Hot!” in place of most of this vocabulary. Sometimes it made sense, most of the time it didn’t. I know how it impacted the work environment, which is to say, not really at all. However, I can’t imagine that at home yelling “Cleared Hot!” at the most inappropriate times would end well. These things carry on all over the Corps though; my recruiter, a Staff Sergeant at the time, used to end every sentence and answer every question with “Good to Go.” As strange as it is, usually you knew what he meant. Other words permeate the barracks and chow halls of the Marine Corps, such as Hello, Roger, and the almost always inappropriate, Kill or it’s extended version: Kill Bodies. I think what bothers me the most about Kill as a response is that it’s never the people who’ve actually killed someone that use it.

Whatever the case, I think all Marines–SNCO’s and motivated junior enlisted need to expand their vocabularies. If you’re the kind of person that can answer a question with Semper Fi, you probably need to be on medication. Marine-Speak though, love it or hate it–to each his own–is universally understood by Marines alike, whether they use it or not.

With that said, welcome to comic #2! I plan on keeping Tuesday and Friday as my update days. I’m going to try and hold true to that as best I can. I’m still working on getting a forum up. As I mentioned in the news, as I work on the site things may come and go and do some crazy shit, so just bare with it. Eventually I’ll get everything settled to a point where I can leave it alone. The forum is coming, I’m trying to find one that’s suitable and easy for someone like me who knows nothing about PHP and HTML to use.

One last note, I’d like all you motivated warfighters to do me a favor. If you have a buddy (all Marines have “a buddy”) who happens to be stationed elsewhere such as Pendleton or Lejeune, please send them the site and let them have a look around. Lets make this shit Marine Corps wide!

Out.