Still In Fairbanks, still crazy

Today: +3
Days Rated: 87
Average Day: 2.34

Today we got to shoot on this cool video game simulator. I was happy because I shot well, which boosted my confidence for when we go to the real range. Stirrett said something that I will always remember: “Coach, you’re a good machine gunner because you’re so jittery. That’s why you’re a SAW gunner and not a sniper.” He has a point. I like to believe that I’m not a bad shot.

Case 1: I fire a 9 round burst that lasts 1 second and I hit the target 3 times
Case 2: Joe Rifleman fires once and hits the target once.

You could say I only hit 33% of the time, compared to 100%, but I put three holes in the dude instead of one. Plus BBRRRRRRRAPP! is a much more satisfying sound than POP!

Today I got in a minor fight. We have to pull ammo guard at night and we don’t get much sleep here. Somehow Fennerty and Lessard end up pulling it from 6-7p last night during which time they go to the PX and I get a shift from 12-1a and and another from 3-4a. I don’t have an alarm clock here, so White said he’d set his cell phone alarm and wake me up. Well at 11:53 PM, someone kicks my door in and starts hollering. It’s the guys on guard. I jump out of bed, throw my uniform on and White and I run downstairs. We arrive at exactly midnight on the dot. This morning, Jorgensen, one of the guys on guard, complains to Lessard and Fennerty, the team leaders that we were late. Lessard asks me if we were late. I tell him the truth, no, and tell him what happened. He shrugs and we go about our day.

Then in the evening, I walk into the day room and see Jorgensen complaining again, this time to SGT Uptegrove, my squad leader. I stand there for a second as he tattles and I lose it, partially on account of getting sleep in three 90 minute shifts last night after working 14 hour days.
Me: Are you talking about me? Cause I’m right here. And I don’t appreciate you going from person to person today trying to get me in trouble.
Jorgensen: Who do you think you’re talking to?
(he’s a team leader in another squad but we’re the same rank)
Me (fists balled up, chest puffed up): You, you f*cking bitch, what the f*ck are you gonna do about it, you bitch!
Sgt U: Coach, leave!

I left, but there was a large crowd to witness Sgt. U telling Jorgensen that he should do what every other person in the army does and send the runner upstairs to wake up the relief 10 minutes before the shift change. And to stop being a whiny bitch. Then he finds me downstairs and tells me not to go around trying to fight everyone and be respectful to others, even Jorgensen. But I appreciate how he had my back and I won’t forget that. For the next two weeks, Jorgensen and I will veer to other sides of the hallway when we see one another approach and purposefully stare at the wall rather than look at one another.

A month or so later, we seem to reach a fairly friendly level of politeness and are able to have short conversations without punching each other. Some people would say my fit of rage was ill advised because he’s going to be a sergeant soon. But I always treated Fennerty nice when he was my rank or lower and now I sort of wish I had tormented him, because my chance to yell back at him and make fists with my hands are long over.

I felt a little bad afterwards even though a few people said what I did was cool, and that is because I try to get along with all the joes I work with. I may not have a lot of real close friends, but I am good-natured, and like to believe that pretty much everybody is a cordial acquaintance. When something happens to disturb that reality, I find it a little upsetting.


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