Terminal Lance “Doc”

February 4, 2020

Poor Doc… We don’t deserve Corpsmen. These brave sailors have taken on possibly the most difficult job in all of the United States Armed Forces… Keeping Marines safe. Not just from enemy fire, but themselves as well. Marines are a special needs breed of animal that requires constant adult supervision to keep it from destroying itself. This responsibility alone should warrant some kind of special hazard pay or bonus, but alas, Doc just takes care of us because he has to, and he asks for nothing in return.

It takes a certain kind of person to voluntarily take care of Marines. Imagine, if you will, day in and day out, spent looking at the genitals of concerned Marines after a weekend of unprotected adventures out in town. This lump here, this bump there. It’s an existence caught somewhere between purgatory and hell.

Next time you see your Doc, give him a pat on the back and an ice cold alcoholic beverage.

He needs it.



Terminal Lance #547 “Mercury Rising”

May 17, 2019

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?



Terminal Lance #528 “Core Temperature II”

August 21, 2018

Like most normal humans, I have had a fever before. Again, like most normal humans, I have used a thermometer to take my temperature. However, never in my life have I thought to myself, “…what if I put this thermometer in my ass instead of my mouth?”

The United States Navy has convinced you all through complex information operations campaigns that sticking a thermometer in your asshole is a medical necessity. Did you know there are very common thermometers that take temperature based on your ear? Is there a reason Doc can’t carry one of those in his med bag? I mean, let’s be realistic here, the symptoms of heat stroke are fairly obvious.

When it’s 104 degrees outside and you’re running for 2 hours because Staff Sergeant is a depressed alcoholic, we can safely assume that a Marine passed out on the ground is probably a heat casualty. Like, anyone can tell this just by looking at him, and a simple ear thermometer would be able to confirm this fairly easily as well.

It’s a trick. It’s a dirty, dirty trick designed to keep the fear of Doc in you, should you fall out of the hump. The ubiquitous silver bullet awaits those who fail the test of fortitude.

Don’t be the one.

…Unless you’re into that sort of thing.



Terminal Lance #476 “Corpsman Up”

June 2, 2017

Doc always wants to be a Marine until it’s time to do Marine shit.

For the record, getting yelled at and forced to do dumb shit is definitely classified as Marine shit.

Ever platoon has at least one Corpsman, and somehow they always find a way to skate out of all of the shitty Marine shit. Of course, BAS is their go-to, but we all know they don’t actually do anything there. This is further backed up by the fact that Marines never actually go to medical, so I mean what would they be doing there?

Everyone loves Doc, but he’s also an asshole because he gets to get out of the daily suck since he’s Navy and they usually get treated like ‘people’ instead of pieces of shit. In that regard, Corpsman is kind of the best job in a platoon, if you ignore being forced to look at random sores on the genitals of your platoon every day, as well as anally violating Marines with thermometers…

Then again, they’re Navy, so they probably enjoy that too.