Friday, April 6, 2012

In Which MDR Sheds Light on The Grunt: "That's Where the Small Unit Comes Together"

No sweat! Eeeeasy march! Yeah, right.
Our loyal commenter MDR, sometimes known as EmmDeee (not to be confused with The Fake EmmDee) left a comment on this post, referencing The Grunt while climbing the hump. I couldn't just leave the comment to languish for only a few clickers to find. So herewith, EmmDee expands upon the all-day forced march. Take it away, EmmDee...

by MDR

On their best days people who've come up on this site could not finish that hump. It's one thing to step off; quite another to finish. Those Marines have likely been up since 0300 drawing weapons from the armory. They probably stepped off at 0500-0600 and they've been walking all morning long. They'll finish around 1400 thereabouts; depending on how many miles they're going for.

They will then dispatch runners to the 7-day store for cold beers. They'll sit on the catwalks of the barracks cleaning weapons until about 1800-1900 when they're told to drag their tired asses down to the armory and turn in weapons and optics. Keep in mind that we're not allowed to shower or technically go into our rooms until the armory calls the Company Commander with thumbs up on the weapons count.

The Company CO will then notify the Battalion Commander that his sight count is up. Once all the company sight counts are up and correct THEN we're allowed into our rooms for recovery.

The showers in our barracks were constructed deliberately larger so that we can, in full gear, get in'em so we can take the gear off, and clean it. After the gear is hung to dry on the rails of the catwalks we will begin playing the Formation Game: This rollicking event will likely last until 2000 or TBD.

At any rate, the best part of the whole thing is finishing, and drinking cold beer while cleaning weapons and optics. That's where, aside from shared suffering at the hands of a psychotic platoon sergeant, the small unit comes together. That's where you get to know your mates on a personal level. It's how come when you go to a funeral of one of your own random people and family members come up to you and tell you how much you meant to the deceased and how they feel as though they know you. It's a fucking gut punch and a kick to the groin at the same time.

10 comments:

Cow Girl said...

I have a question but I'm still boycotting the comments.

Marine Guy said...

Brings back memories. MDR, some things never change.

MDR said...

'rah Marine Guy. guess no matter the era the fuck fuck is always gonna be the fuck fuck.

MDR said...

What is depicted in the picture is not an Infantry Battalion on a hump. The presence of females, the slovenly weapons handling, and the absence of heavy weapons are the tells here. Also, the interval btw each is much too close: An Infantry Battalion would be strung out going up that hill due to the weight of their gear. Also speaking to their interval, they could not have been hiking for very long nor very fast to be going up an incline and maintaining such a close distance. Fleet Pace is 3miles in 50minutes, with a supposed 10 minute rest.
However, my writing above is accurate to what an Infantry Battalion would experience any given Friday morning should they be in the rear and not out doing stuff.

BillT said...

That's a pretty leisurely pace they've got going -- if that was a "jark"-style march, they'd be raising so much dust, you wouldn't be able to see that section leader, let alone anything further down the line...

BillT said...

That's a pretty leisurely pace they've got going -- if that was a "jark"-style march, they'd be raising so much dust, you wouldn't be able to see that section leader, let alone anything further down the line...

BillT said...

Great.

Get online after a month and the double-post monster decides to make up for lost time...

Susan Katz Keating said...

And here I thought you'd come down with hiccups...

Welcome back!

: )

Y'know, when I was in the WACs, we went on bivouac one time, and... hmmm... hills? I think it was kinda flat where we marched. But I did step on a hornet's nest while trying to improvise a field latrine. So it was not without its dangers...

BillT said...

If you *stepped* on a hornets' nest trying to improvise a field latrine, you were doing it wrong...

Susan Katz Keating said...

Okay, so maybe they weren't hornets. They were the kind of stingy-things that build nests in the ground. And fly up and land on you when you are trying to get away from them.