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Shit: Through the eyes of the Military *An Army grunt stands in the rain with a 35 pound pack on his back, 15 lb. weapon in hand, after having marched 12 miles, and says, "This is shit!" *An Army Airborne Ranger stands in the rain with a 45 lb. pack on his back, weapon in hand, after having jumped from an airplane and marched 18 miles, and says with a smile, "This is good shit!" *A Navy SEAL lies in the mud, 55 LB pack on his back, weapon in hand, after swimming 10 miles to shore, crawling through a swamp and marching 25 miles at night past the enemy positions, says with a grin, "This really is great shit." *A Marine Scout/Sniper, up to his nose in the stinking, bug-infested mud of a swamp with a 65 LB pack on his back and a weapon in both hands after jumping from an aircraft at high altitude, into the ocean, swimming 12 miles to the shore, killing several alligators to enter the swamp, then stalking 30 miles through the brush to an FFP, says, "I love this shit." *The Air Force NCO sits in an easy chair in an air conditioned, carpeted office and says, "My e-mail's out? What kind of shit is this?" That sweet Drill Instructor Atlanta Journal and Constitution July 27, 2000 Pg. 2JI By Jim Minter For the Journal-Constitution The notion that some things never change has gone out the window in the 21st century. Everything changes. If you don't believe it, look what's happening in the Army, the Navy, the Air Force and even in the Marines. According to a story in USA Today, basic training has gone to what amounts to social promotions in public schools. Everybody graduates. The new Army is bending over backward to help sad-sack trainees. Instead of being thrown to the mercy of tough old sergeants, recruits who arrive too soft and flabby for regular training get an easier course. The nervous and fearful get counseling to calm them down. A Fort Jackson, S.C., colonel says virtually anyone can get through the eight to 12 weeks of boot camp. Even at Parris Island, home of the legendary and merciless Marine DI, rules have changed. "Drill instructors are there for inspiration," explains a brigadier general, a definition that must perplex thousands of Corps veterans. Another staple of boot camp gone with the wind is the tough leather, hard- sole combat boot. Recruits are specially fitted with running shoes. A Navy officer quoted by USA Today points out that few recruits have worn boots or even hard-sole shoes in civilian life. "If you want to know why young people get shin splints and blisters in training all you have to do is look on the street or go to church on Sunday," he says. "Everybody is wearing Nikes." The reasons the services have gone soft on boot camp is obvious. The washout rate under the old system was leaving the ranks unfilled. Females were dropping out at a rate of 29 percent. The news that this generation of recruits isn't up to the mental and physical rigors of their fathers and grandfathers ought to raise a red flag about lifestyles in these easy and unhappy times, especially as they apply to young folks who, after television, get their only exercise by cruising shopping malls. I'm not sure if we could have gotten an army in the field in time to head off Hitler and Tojo if World War II boot camps had included specially fitted running shoes and anxiety counseling. When the World War II draft began a lot of boys and young men were found to be in poor physical condition, but many more were like my farm-boy neighbors. After getting up long before daylight to milk the cows and do chores, they were pleased to find they got to sleep late in boot camp. By their standards. During the Korean War my job was running a basic training company at Camp Rucker. It was a lucky but undistinguished assignment. While my friends and schoolmates were off shooting and getting shot at I spent the war "shoveling sand in Alabama," to paraphrase Gen. Patton. My company sent three cycles through the 12-week course under the old rules. That's over 500 recruits. Only one had to be washed out, that for a mental condition. Some arrived fat and flabby. All were nervous and scared. I recall a young fellow from Pennsylvania caught with a jaw full of chewing tobacco during an after-breakfast inspection. His sergeant ordered him to swallow the tobacco and not get sick when he did. He swallowed and didn't get sick. In those 12 weeks miracles occurred. The fat ones got lean, the goof- offs turned proud. They all went home with new self-esteem. I hope kinder and gentler boot camps aren't shortchanging our young men and women in the service. The old style worked pretty well. Thousands of veterans call it the most valuable experience of their lives. Despite tough old sergeants who showed no mercy, someone --- a fellow recruit, or sometimes one of the tough old sergeants --- was there to prop up those having trouble. Every company had kids who needed help, and usually they got it. The little fellow from Virginia was an example. He wasn't much of a physical specimen, had trouble staying in step, and one night crawled the wrong way on the infiltration course. We could have washed him out, but everybody pitched in and nudged him along, even though the Army didn't have special courses. At the end of basic training, he was given non-combat assignment in Alaska. He protested. He wanted to go to Korea, to prove something to himself and his family, he said. I told him orders couldn't be changed. A week later, I was taking a Sunday afternoon nap when I heard a knock on my door. It was the kid from Virginia. "I hope you won't be angry," he said. " I got my orders changed to Korea." I was stunned. "How did you do that?" I asked. "I got Uncle Max to change them when I was home on furlough," he said. "Who in the hell is Uncle Max?" I asked. "Uncle Maxwell Taylor," he said. Uncle Max was Gen. Maxwell Taylor, World War II hero, chief of staff of the U.S. Army. Under interrogation, he let me in on several other family secrets. One brother was a West Point graduate, another enrolled in the Naval Academy. His father commanded the Navy base at Norfolk. He didn't want to be the black sheep. I was glad we didn't wash him out. Death of the Warrior Death of warrior culture dooms military -- TOM CRUISE, move over. The military has its own mission impossible -- recruiting and keeping key personnel. After falling 7,000 short of its recruitment goal last year (despite dangling lavish sign- up bonuses), the Army is now offering to help enlistees find civilian jobs when their tour of duty ends. The New Action Employment Service? For the last two years, 35 percent of those it did recruit failed to complete their initial enlistment -- a historic high. Young officers are stampeding for the exit door. In 1988, 6.4 percent of Army captains did not re-enlist. In each of the past three years, 10 percent left. Last year, only 35 percent of junior officers said they intend to make the Army a career, compared to 52 percent at the beginning of the decade. To understand why, the Army recently surveyed 760 officers enrolled in its Command and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth. In the words of one instructor, "Virtually every officer was negative." Lack of confidence in the brass was reflected in the comment, "Senior leaders will throw subordinates under the bus in a heartbeat to protect or advance their career." Junior officers dislike the shift to peacekeeping operations -- serving as nannies to squabbling Third World clans. But this is part of a more pervasive problem. An instructor who saw the survey forms commented: "Because of gender integration and homosexuals in the military, there is a feeling that being a soldier is less macho, less soldierly. ... A lot of it has to do with the perception, right or wrong, that the Army has turned into a "politically correct social organization." Alas, the perception is correct. West Point, once the temple of the warrior ethic, now looks increasingly like a sensitivity training session. In April, a luncheon talk by a World War II combat veteran was canceled because some cadets were offended by the vet's earlier objections to women in combat. In 1997, Col. James Hallums, a much-decorated Vietnam veteran, was relieved of his position as head of the academy's leadership program for criticizing the touchy-feely ethos reigning among faculty. Women complained that Hallums stressed his combat experience in a way that made them feel excluded. The Army doesn't want anyone to feel excluded ("Are you comfortable with firing that mortar?"), as Stephanie Gutmann's new book, The Kinder, Gentler Military elucidates. Gutmann, who spent two years writing her book, visited bases in seven states, observed training and talked to personnel (mostly off the record). "Degrading" terms like "wus" are out. Obstacle courses have become "confidence courses." Gutmann writes recruits "no longer do a required number of push-ups to a count, the drill sergeant exercises along with them as a sort of role model and they drop out when they feel like it." In the book, a colonel rationalizes easier physical tests for women as "equal points for equal effort." Before she does a rope-swing, a timid recruit asks her drill instructor, "Will you catch me?" More capable men and women wonder if they're in basic training or on the jungle cruise at Disney World. Call it the draft-dodger's revenge. Clinton has pushed an emasculated military with a vengeance, removing exemptions for women from 250,000 close-to-combat positions. He's turned the military over to bureaucrats who despise everything it once represented. Recall former Assistant Army Secretary Sara E. Lister's sneering comment that the Marines were "extremists." The armed services will never be able to meet the economic incentives of the private sector. Once, they compensated with psychic rewards. Foremost among these was the feeling, assiduously cultivated in the ranks, that soldiers were doing something tough and dangerous of which few were capable. Soldiers took pride in surviving a harrowing boot-camp experience. Career men cherished tour-of-duty ribbons and field decorations. Male-bonding and unit-cohesion were more than sociologic jargon. Now, the warrior culture is dying. Feminists, sensitivity trainers, those who mistake the military for an equal opportunity employer and generals who'll tell politicians anything to earn their next star are tugging on the life supports. National security will be the ultimate casualty. Try fighting the next war with troops who are used to calling a "time-out" when they're stressed. WILLIAM B. WELSH MAJ, SF Chief, Special Forces Training and Doctrine Division Thomas M. Hatfield, Dean Tel: (512) 471-2777 Continuing & Extended Education Fax: (512) 471-9677 TCC 1.116 E4300 The University of Texas at Austin