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A Creed
I’m working from home today–with concurrence from the chain of command–to finish a product. Too many distractions at work, and the time I won’t spend commuting, answering irrelevant emails, phone calls, and questions from them that’d gotten their guidance from my office months ago. Unfortunately, there are no air quotes around “work from home” this time ’round.
So what better time to take a break and post on Ricochet? My timing, as always, is impeccable. Yesterday I was bound and determined to leave work by noon, to knock out this project. Yeah, that went well. I left work just in time to get home to feed my ADHD German Shepherd, Princess Leia, at her usual time. 1700 hours. Awesome.
However, when I went to work yesterday, I’d spent about three hours at my work station when the new Navy Chief that works with me came in. He was soaked with sweat, hung his uniform blouse over the back of the chair, then sat down and fanned his sodden T-shirt.
Me: Chief, what is it that has you sweating so?
Apparently Chief is working on getting his Navy Expeditionary certification. (Badge? Tab? Note in his record? I have no idea.) He had been outside undergoing instruction on patrolling. The instruction for this certification was conducted by our NSW guys on a volunteer basis (NSW = Naval Special Warfare = SEAL). Chief is a surface warfare guy, so he don’t even know how to spell SOF. I quizzed him on patrolling, and found him wanting. Hey, it was his first day, so slack meet cut.
Me: So, Chief, what’re the four principles of patrolling?
Chief: We didn’t cover that. We covered movement formations.
Me: Okay, what’re the movement formations you can use in a patrol?
Chief, confidently: The wedge and the file, based on enemy situation.
Me, after a double face-palm: Chief, whether you go wedge or go file is based on terrain, and if you think you might make contact, you go wedge no matter what. And then you what?
Chief: What?
Me: Okay. You’re in a squad patrol. Two fire teams, each in a wedge. You go from “enemy contact unlikely” to “enemy contact possible.” What movement technique are you using?
Chief: What?
Me, internally: Got to do some triage, here.
Me, externally: Chief, we got to get you a copy of the Ranger Handbook. Study that, you’ll be good to go. You can probably find it online, but I’d recommend getting a hardcopy and keeping it in your cargo pocket.
Chief: Uh, I don’t want to get crosswise from the NSW guys teaching the course.
Me, yelling across the bullpen: Hey, Lieutenant Commander NSW guy! Sir, can a young, motivated surface warfare guy go wrong on patrolling by studying the Ranger Handbook? Sir? (I’m a humble contractor now, I throw in a lot of “sirs” and “ma’ams.”)
Lieutenant Commander NSW guy: No, sir! He can not, sir! (This guy knew me from before.)
Another retired contract curmudgeon, walks up to Chief’s cubby, and throws a Ranger Handbook on the desk. It’s in a beat up, first-generation Ziplock bag that has dirt and dust imprinted on the plastic from God knows where; the front and back flap covers have been wrapped in green 100-mph tape to protect it: That’s mine, Chief. You can use it ’til you get your own. Don’t [CoC] it up. I’m partial to it.
Me, getting devious: Chief, you know if you’ve got that in your pocket, you’ve got to be able to recite the Ranger Creed.
Chief: The wha–?
Me: Recognizing that I volunteered as a Ranger…
As I spoke, the other Rangers in the office, without missing a beat, joined in. Some old, broken, and retired, like me. Some young, new, and still gunslinging. Some broke, but not too broke, so TPTB had given them a tour at an HQ so they could heal up, do their PT, and get back out on the line. Everyone that’d been there had done that. Pretty cool.
Recognizing that I volunteered as a Ranger, fully knowing the hazards of my chosen profession, I will always endeavor to uphold the prestige, honor, and high esprit de corps of the Rangers.
Acknowledging the fact that a Ranger is a more elite Soldier who arrives at the cutting edge of battle by land, sea, or air, I accept the fact that as a Ranger my country expects me to move further, faster and fight harder than any other Soldier.
Never shall I fail my comrades. I will always keep myself mentally alert, physically strong and morally straight and I will shoulder more than my share of the task whatever it may be, one-hundred-percent and then some.
Gallantly will I show the world that I am a specially selected and well-trained Soldier. My courtesy to superior officers, neatness of dress and care of equipment shall set the example for others to follow.
Energetically will I meet the enemies of my country. I shall defeat them on the field of battle for I am better trained and will fight with all my might. Surrender is not a Ranger word. I will never leave a fallen comrade to fall into the hands of the enemy and under no circumstances will I ever embarrass my country.
Readily will I display the intestinal fortitude required to fight on to the Ranger objective and complete the mission though I be the lone survivor.
[And then, of course, a load and thunderous]
Rangers lead the way!
Chief put a foot up on his desk, and, as he snapped into a Slim Jim: I still think you Army guys are ate up, but that was pretty awesome.
He’ll do a’ight.
Published in General
That was just too much fun, Boss!!! I love the idea of everyone joining in, in unison, and having a ball doing it. Very, very cool post. Thanks.
I am standing at virtual attention with my hand over my heart, SIR.
Sounds like this guy will really earn his expeditionary pin. Good. Many times a second pin was kind of a gimme. I retired before the second warfare pin became too common. Now there’s so many it’s hard to keep track of them. Had to give every sand crab an opportunity for one.
-Surface Warfare Chief Petty Officer
Edit for clarification: “sand crab”-a side stepping beach creature, a.k.a. a sailor on shore duty.
Boss,
We owe you and everyone else who serves more praise and admiration than we can possibly give. Next month my brother in law will be out for a family wedding. He’ll be celebrating his 70th birthday and raising some hell I’m sure with some old Seal Team buddies in Coronado. I’ve mentioned him awhile back.
http://www.journalstandard.com/x463301000/The-life-and-times-of-J-Baby-Frogman?start=2
What I’ve got is what I later learned was a Robert Louis Stevenson on Samoa morning prayer, which we at Caddy Camp recited every morning when assembled at the flag pole (which some “Blimps” or campers too young to work the links were told by Seniors to water–until the wood began to rot and Mr. D put a stop to it):
Boss:
Did you ever serve under Brigadier General Mark Phelan? He’s a childhood friend. We grew up together, third grade through high school. Excellent soldier, now retired. I think he led the Army Special Forces in both Afghanistan and Iraq at different times, and ended up in charge of Special Forces at the Pentagon before he retired. Now, like all retired generals, he consults on “security.” He’s back in the Boston area while I remain in the southwest.
Good man.
EC
Mi Colonel,
I did not know BG Phelan, but I knew of him. I think he was coming in to take DCO of USASOC just when I was sliding out (as an itty-bitty, teeny-tiny Major).
Heh. No. Look at the time stamp of this comment. It has to be in today. Not by COB today, but today.
I’m at about 75%. I’ve got the process down, man. Grind it out a little longer, drive up north so I can submit it on a computer with a .mil domain NLT 2359, and I am good to go.
Boss, so you were a Ranger once? Is that right? I’ve been meaning to challenge you to fisticuffs over a couple of wrong opinions you’ve offered up on Ricochet. But now I don’t think I will.
Kent
When I had my dolphins pinned on there was was strict adherence to regulations and proper decorum. I woke up the next day with mysterious bruises and welts covering half my chest, somehow obtained while sleeping.
Would a Sailor ever mislead a Soldier?
I got a nephew who is a newb, pretty sure he’s subsurface right now. I’ll tell you what, that kid would walk through fire, while fighting Nazi zombie frogmen blindfolded with one arm tied behind his back to earn his Dolphins. Don’t think he’d mind a prick or two in pinning them (heh). BTW, thank you, Dolphin guy. I couldn’t do what you do/did, and what you do/did is a major piece of protecting the Homeland. So, thanks.