SPC says Quit complaining, you chairborne pogues!
He decribes 90% of Americans..
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
Spc. Rick Rzepka
Scimitar Assistant Editor (Notice it says assistant)
As I was just about to help myself to one of the 15 desert selections offered in the International Zone dining facility the other night, I overheard two young officers exchanging in some rather interesting conversation. Honestly, it wasn’t as interesting as it was absurd to me.
The first one was explaining to the other how he thinks “It sucks here,” because he only gets 30 channels and there’s never anything good on. The second one was quick to chime in with, “Yeah and what’s with the PX. They never have anything.”
I skipped desert.
Recently, I visited the town of Husaybah, a mostly Sunni town that is now home to a few thousand Marines from Regimental Combat Team 2 and Iraqi Army Soldiers from the 1st Brigade, 1st Iraqi Army division, who are battling insurgents and at the same time conducting humanitarian missions in an effort to stabilize the border.
I was there to cover a ceremony symbolizing the pacification of the area and in attendance were high level officials from both Coalition and Iraqi forces. A nice spread was laid out for the media and dignitaries, which included local cuisine and plenty of soda; something I was used to while living in the IZ. I was hungry, so I waltzed on over and decided to help myself.
A Marine sergeant approached and asked, “Is it really fair for you to be drinking sodas and eatin’ this chow? Those Marines outside haven’t eaten that good in weeks,” he said. I placed the food back on the table and the ice cold soda in the cooler. The Marine sergeant’s words definitely struck me – right in the gut.
After stepping off the helicopter I saw Marines in groups of threes and fours, talking Marine talk and all wearing a coat of dust on their mugs which made them look ghostly. I felt out of place and thought about rolling around in the dirt to blend in. I approached them and asked where the latrine was. They laughed and pointed behind the building. There I found PVC tubes sticking out of the ground. Those fellas had their work cut out for them up there.
They were battle hardened 18 year olds with a better grasp of reality than most middle aged men back home. On the helicopter ride back, I found my self wondering, “Have I really become that soft? Am I the chairborne pogue so many grunts despise? That night while those Marines slept in the sand, I slumberedin a bed with a bellyful of hot chow and the air conditioning on.
Later that week, I accompanied a squad of National Guard Soldiers from Company B, 1st Battalion, 126th Armor Brigade from Michigan on an IED hunt through the streets of Baghdad. As we patrolled the highways, the pucker factor for me was a full 10. While I envisioned fiery explosions coming from every bit of street-side trash, my hosts were calm and collected; as if they had done this a hundred times – which they had. “Being out here, doing what we do and interacting with the local nationals – I’ll never complain about what I’ve got again. It really makes you appreciate things, you know,” said Staff Sgt. Tom Rozema.“Yeah,” I said. “I know what you mean.”
Twice in one week I had what Buddhists call ‘satori,’ what alcoholics refer to as a moment of clarity. I realized we truly are a fast-food nation that demands results now. I’ll have a cheeseburger, fries and a stable, democratic Iraq please … Oh and I’m in a hurry so snap to it. As warfighters, we can’t let ourselves be sucked into this mentality. Sure it’s nice to have some of the creature comforts of home in the FOB or in the IZ, but when our expectations get out of control, so will our egos. And so will this war.
