Thanks Stanisz!
That's a new one. Gonna be digging through it for sure.
My old job was as an inspection clerk for the JBLM (Ft.Lewis) Central Issue Facility. I handed soldiers their training gear and some of their "battle rattle".
I'm sure your son can attest to this, but next to combat, CIF is the single most miserable thing a soldier has to endure.
He/she gets gear he/she doesn't want and will never use and has to return it, literally, cleaner than he/she got it...and cannot clear post without it being accepted....and under time penalties and missed plane flights.
And if it is lost,stolen, or damaged the soldier has to pay out of pocket.
Add a minimum of an hour wait for all of this and you've got a recipe for ill tempers.
It is miserable.
My job...the part I was most proud of, was to make the experience less miserable.
I know first hand what it's like to be screwed over and I would communicate this to the soldiers.
The responses would range from remarkable to barely noticeable but the end result was always the same.
They listened to the tips,tricks, and advice I was actively accumulating for them, and they'd return without a ranking escort, take care of what they needed to take care of, and without ending up on the bottom of a pile of MP's.
Tward the end of my employment my coworkers would pawn the onery ones off on me, knowing I could keep them calm 'till they got through the line.
I wanted to be that one guy who dealt with them squarely that day. And maybe, just maybe, with all the visible cases of PTSD, the one guy who's understanding and respect prevented a major catastrophe in that soldiers life.
My coworkers would endure verbal abuse once or twice in a week.
I endured it twice in two years.
When I handed the stuff out I only gave them the cleanest items in the best condition that I had on hand...and would often make a show of discarding unacceptable items.
And if they were deploying to a combat zone and I didn't have the item on hand, I'd literally run the 50 plus yards to the warehouse to get it for them and then back again.
My coworkers did not do this, nor were they expected to do this, and, like me(without effect), would've been discouraged from doing so.
I did all of this regardless of their rank....buck Privates to full bird Colonels.
I always laughed and joked with them. I came in early to make their coffee and stayed late when that last guy didn't quite make it on time.
I went out of my way to show them kindness.
To show them that all the yellow ribbons and bumper stickers weren't just a decorative fad or some guilt left over from the Vietnam War.
That what they did mattered and was important to at least one civilian they'd met.
I will forever know them as "My Soldiers".
The doctors said I wouldn't be good at this kind of job...and five years ago I would have agreed with them.
But my love for these men and women began as a child and I was determined to serve my country, to be a part of our proud history, and answer my grandchildren when they asked me "What did YOU do during the war Grandpa?"
I was good at my job. And for two years they told me so.
K...um gettin a lil' weepy
Thanks for listening