Author: Maximilian

In every Senior Lance Corporal’s life, he must have a talk with his Boots about the possibilities of going to war. The boot will be awkward and scared to ask questions about it, but you just have to sit him down and have the talk. It’s better to just get it over with as early as possible.

The looming threat of war is always a constant possibility, but as a Marine it becomes a matter of “what is my next year going to look like.” What was once the droning expectation of going on a POG ass MEU across the pacific abruptly becomes an exciting prospect once a real war breaks out.

During peacetime, the Marines spend every waking moment hoping the headlines escalate into something worthwhile, something that gets them on the next plane and into the fray. While the civilians sit at home, worrying about the possibility of sending our brave men and women into a violent conflict, the Marines are worrying about the possibility of getting a Combat Action Ribbon before they EAS.

With the way things are looking with Iran today… It may be time for you squad leaders to sit down with your boots and give them the talk.

@TLCplMax me walking in to the prior service recruiter office disgusted in myself bc I’m tryna go to Iran lmao pic.twitter.com/69lHDICb4U

— C. ❤️‍🔥 (@belisle_charles) June 21, 2019

I think back to my time in the Corps and I remember how incredibly stupid it was that it was considered illegal to be gay. Not only that, but there was no shortage of ignorant, scared men defending this position as if it actually made sense (I’m sure those long, angry, hateful Facebook posts circa 2009-2010 have aged well). The set up for this comic is actually a reference to a terrible homophobic joke I’ve seen many times over the years along the lines of…

Back when I enlisted it was illegal to be gay. Now it’s allowed. I better get out before they make it mandatory!

The intent of this joke is obviously to disparage the idea of an all-gay Marine Corps, but the more you think about it, the more an all-gay Corps actually makes sense. Hear me out: if the military is all about efficiency, an all-gay Marine Corps would be much closer to that utopian society vision than the former straight Corps. With less dependents due to less pregnancies across the Corps, the force becomes much leaner and much more mobile and ultimately efficient for deployment around the world. The Marines are better-dressed, better-mannered, and better on camera for our PAO-minded HQMC folks.

Of course, this idea requires me to make sweeping generalizations about a group of people…

…So did disallowing people to serve on the basis of them being gay.

Of course, we already know that the Marine Corps is actually the gayest thing a straight man can ever do… And now that I think about it, maybe there’s a correlation to this and the fact that Marines have historically been known as one of the world’s most elite fighting forces… Perhaps a thought for another day.

Happy Pride Month.

Life as a junior enlisted Marine is arduous enough as it is, what with the constant, ever-flowing stream of bullshit drifting your way each and every day. Miscellaneous Staff NCO’s make that life even more annoying, as they seem to be lurking around nearly every corner on base (and sometimes even off base) to “correct” you in behavior that is deemed as unbecoming of the Corps. This is naturally more tedious than it sounds, since this is never about anything important, but random slights that no one is actually sure are real rules.

Forgetting to shave, not wearing a belt, or even just walking on some grass can be grounds for a massively butt-hurt lifer Staff NCO to spawn out of nowhere and make you the victim of his undiagnosed anger management problems. Even leaving your barracks room with a day old shave makes you feel uneasy, because you know they are lurking, seemingly everywhere, specifically to make your life that extra bit miserable than it needs to be.

Meet Lyfr, the app that lets Staff NCO’s track down Marines that may (or may not) be breaking arbitrary base-wide or MCO rules that no one cares about.

Be careful out there this weekend, gents… You never know who might pop up to yell at you.

During your stay at the luxurious Marine Corps resort and spa, you’ll have numerous days and moments that will stick with you and many that you would consider somewhat terrifying. There are few days as nerve-wracking as those first moments of arrival at an infantry unit.

Fresh off the parade deck, little boots from SOI are shuttled over to their new place of duty on the same day of graduation, still paying off their negative leave balance from the 10 days of boot leave a couple of months prior. For some, it can be a short drive across the base from 52 Area of Camp Pendleton to one of the infantry strongholds. Others may spend a couple of hours driving over to Twentynine Palms.

For myself and the other 15 boots in my section, we were taken over to San Diego International Airport, where we hopped on the next evening flight to Honolulu, arriving at my new infantry battalion home sometime around 9 or 10. At this point, the barracks was awash with the lingering smell of alcohol abuse and depression, with shirtless Lance Corporals catcalling from the catwalk as we arrived at Mackie Hall.

I suppose I lucked out personally, because the two Machinegunners I got roomed with were too drunk and tired to care that I arrived. They pointed to a rack and said “that one’s yours,” and went back to sleep in their silkies.

The boot friends that I arrived with?

Well they weren’t as lucky. They were fucked with until the wee hours of the morning.

In every Marine Corps infantry company there exists at least one Marine that’s just a total piece of shit, but keeps getting selected for meritorious boards and other awards. It’s like he’s casted some kind of shrouding spell over the eyes of his Staff NCO’s and Officers and they can’t see him for what he really is. As he gets selected for meritorious boards, showered with praise, the Marines around can’t help but wonder…

What the fuck?

There’s tens to twenties to perhaps even a hundred Marines in the company that deserve such praise ahead of this guy, but somehow, someway, he rises above the rest like some kind of shit-filled Space X rocket. He’ll eventually fail upward so far that he’ll some day be in charge of an entire platoon, or a company, or a battalion himself.

And thus, a new Staff NCO is born.

I don’t know how many of you saw the Game of Thrones series finale, but Bran the Broke-dick is basically that guy. He does fuck-all for 8 seasons, never uses his advanced powers to help the fight, and ends up being king of everyone.

Game the game, gents. Because the game will go on whether you’re part of it or not.

We’ve all been there. It’s 94 degrees outside, your First Sergeant decided that today the entire company was going to go for a 10 mile hike. 6 miles into it, that dingy high-back of a safety vehicle starts to look more and more like paradise.

Doc knows this. Doc knows you’re going to try and skate out of this. Doc’s job on the hump is not to make sure the Marines are okay, Doc’s job is to keep the fear of god in them in the event that they want to fall out. Without Doc ready to administer the infamous silver bullet, how many Marines do you think would actually stick around for the entire thing?

This is similar to the practice of requiring 4-year contracts to Marines.

If you had the option to leave, wouldn’t you?

The Moon Beam is an enchanted item gifted to you during your earliest days of the Corps. It is a massive flashlight fit for cumbersome D-batteries, oddly shaped to clip on to your chest and still point forward. It comes with many colored lenses, the red of which will likely be used the most. As with most of the original items you’re issued on the first day of boot camp, it is likely to be lost very early on in the tussle and bustle of daily Drill Instructor rampages and recruit-on-recruit stealing to replace their own lost items.

Those that still have it may remember the subtle warmth it provided on those cold nights of recruit firewatch. The little moonbeam is a terrible piece of gear, dying within no more than a few hours of use, but it is one of your only pieces of starting gear and you cherish it all the same.

Three years into the fleet and those early days of bootcamp are but a distant memory. The confusion, shock and worry you felt during your first nights of the Corps are quaint at this point. The motivation that once coursed through your veins ready to tackle the worst of the worst has faded into a growing blur of alcohol-induced depression. The lowering inches of your low-reg haircut signal the decline of your internal motivation to keep being a Marine. Like the little Moon Beam, the D-batteries of your soul begin to fade, and as your EAS approaches you wish for nothing more than to be lost in the bottom of a sea bag.

To be a Moon Beam.

Life in the Marine Corps can often be described as depressing…Or soul-destroying… Or just generally awful… Unless of course you’re a Commissioned Officer. Once they are adorned with those beautifully shiny ranks, officers of Marines become a whole different class of human in the world of the military. They demand to be addressed as “Sir,” simply for existing in your presence, and their paychecks equally demand to be exponentially larger than yours at all times. You must salute them as they walk by as if they were the colors themselves!

Of course, being an Officer of Marines isn’t without its challenges. For instance… Uh…

Who am I kidding? Officer life exists on an entirely different plane of existence from the lowly peasant enlisted class. The only bad part? The enlisted Marines know it. Not that it matters, but filling your empty life with hookers and expensive cars can only make one so happy, I’m sure.

Very happy.

In other news, I’m not going to bother saying much about the whole swastika thing but if you want to get my full take on it, listen to today’s Zero Blog Thirty episode where I explain that whole fucking thing. Long story short, if you’re a grown ass man and you need someone to tell you not to send swastikas in uniform to (Jewish) people you don’t know, you’re long past my ability to help you.

Let’s be real here, Thanos is doing us all a favor. Or at the very least, he’s doing everyone in 2nd MARDIV a favor. Of course, knowing the luck of the average Lance Corporal, the Thanos snap would wipe out every rank in between E4 and E8 and leave nothing but Lance Corporals and E9’s and officers in the Corps.

Okay, I promised myself I wasn’t going to do another joke about 2nd MARDIV but it really is just the gift that keeps on giving…

https://www.instagram.com/p/BwvAPb-lgP3/?igshid=jpcsud8342wh

Godspeed, Marines of Camp Lejeune.

It’s Easter Sunday for 2nd Marine Division, which I’m sure is just another work day. In case you missed it, the 2nd MARDIV Commanding General put out a blanket division-wide order the other day that micromanages the schedules of every Marine under the command. This is because (as the letter states), Marines and sailors are walking around with long hair, nonexistent or poor shaves, unserviceable boots and utilities and improper civilian attire.

Essentially, it seems that the Commanding General traveled around the unit and got extremely triggered at the sight of some fat nasties. It’s typical Marine Corps stuff, nothing new really–though I do appreciate the callout by MajGen Furness to yours truly here.

In any case, Happy Easter, Marines! Especially you 2nd Division gents–I’m sure you’ll need some Cadbury Eggs to soothe the unit-wide bullshit for a few weeks.