Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Ye Olde Promotion

On Monday, the 29th of this fine month, your favorite Gomer was promoted to E2, which is ALSO a Private. PVT, or PV1, was what I entered as. PV2 is my new rank. This means that now I wear a single chevron on both collars, and I make more money.


When one is promoted (atleast on the lower levels), they stand in front of formation, and one of their superiors pins the rank insignia onto their collars. In our case, it was our platoon sergeant. As each of us were pinned, as tradition follows (those of you who have been there before may feel particularly nostalgic), he would then hit the rank insignias on our chests with his fists. When you're first pinned, they don't put whatever the hell those brass clip things are on the back of the "needles" of the insignia, so you've just got a thin piece of metal jabbing into you. Not as bad as some would think though. Not bad at all, really.

I was informed that I'm a smartass by the aforementioned platoon sergeant of mine. I'd never been pinned before, so I wasn't sure what the hell it was going to feel like. I figured hell, we'd been stabbing each other with IVs just a little while ago, so fuck it, lets do it. When he stepped over to me, I stuck my chest out defiantly, daring him to pound the nails in. He laughed, called me a polesmoker (his preferred term of endearment for his men. Yes, it seriously is a term of endearment for him), and moved on. God I'm a nerd. I rock.

In other news, my roommate and I lost our cushy NCO room, which had its own bathroom, and now we too or stuffed into a normal, small, and pitiful room. Unfortunately, when this room was vacant, people found that it may be a wise and honorable choice to replace their busted furniture with the unused and high quality furnishings of this one. So needless to say, we arrived to a room with little furnishings, and those that were left are beaten to hell. My roommate's wall locker has one door that hangs on by one hinge. We have to replace that today after work.

Speaking of which, its about time for me to foxtrot my way downstairs for formation, so that I can spend all day enjoying a Call For Fire class (calling in artillery or mortat strikes). Yesterday was all-day hand-to-hand combat training, so now I suppose we're taking it easy. Its a pity really, because that means I'll probably only be body slammed ONCE this week. Can't have your cake and eat it too, I guess.

Happy Trails, until next time something interesting worth posting happens.

an Evil, Heartless Soldier

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