Case Study: Tabs and Tyrants
- Thread starter Marauder06
- Start date
At morning formation a few weeks after the promotion party, First Sergeant announced that it was Lieutenant Faith’s birthday. Now this was a problem, because in Delta Company, as in much of the rest of the Infantry, there was a tradition of the Birthday Beatdown. What usually happened is that the “birthday boy” got jumped by his friends, who then pulled up his shirt and smacked him on his bare belly the number of times equal to his age in years. The open-handed smacks caused the recipients skin to turn red, hence the process was appropriately-enough called a “redbelly.” The informal rules also stipulated that it had to happen on the actual day of the birthday, and that the “victim” was allowed to fight back. So if the birthday boy could avoid the beatdown on his actual birthday, or if he could fight his way out (or if his birthday was simply on a non-work day), then the beatdown could be avoided.
In a kind of perverse logic, the more someone was liked, the more people wanted to participate in the birthday beatdown, so the worse it actually was for that person. Counterintuitively, if someone was disliked, they might not get a birthday beating at all. What usually happened is that First Sergeant announced it was someone’s birthday, the entire company sang happy birthday to him, and then that person’s platoon dogpiled the man and gave him his birthday redbelly. It happened just a week ago to a sergeant in 5th Platoon. Faith thought that officers were exempt from this tradition, but he wasn’t sure. And he didn’t really want to find out.
Immediately following formation, LT Faith and Sergeant Ellery returned to their office to handle some paperwork while the rest of the platoon moved to the motor pool for weekly maintenance. The routine in the company was that during “motor stables,” the platoon leader and platoon sergeant wrangled paperwork for the first hour or two and then joined the platoon at the motor pool for maintenance. All of the platoons followed that routine, so the only individuals currently in the company headquarters were the platoon leaders and platoon sergeants, and the company-level leadership.
Sergeant Ellery reviewed counseling packets while LT Faith pored over the company and platoon training calendars, each seeking the other’s input on specific issues.
“Specialist Stringer’s E5 board is coming up, sir,” Ellery stated. “Sergeant Spencer says he’s ready. I don’t think you’d have any objections?”
“None,” Faith confirmed, “I think Stringer will make a great NCO.” The two of them agreed that it made sense to send Stringer to join Sergeant Wilson in 2nd Platoon after Stringer pinned on his sergeant stripes, in keeping with the tradition of moving lower enlisted Soldiers into a different platoon after they earned their way into the NCO ranks.
“So in 90 days, there’s company-level collective task training on the same week we planned on doing platoon stakes. I’m thinking we probably need to move the platoon training up a week or so?” Faith inquired, comparing the two training calendars.
“Yes sir, that’s probably a good call,” Ellery responded. “We’ll have to re-arrange some Sergeants’ Time training but we have plenty of time to react.”
There was an unexpected knock at the door. “Come in,” Ellery instructed. It was Sergeant Manners from Second Platoon.
“Hey sir, I’d like to talk to you for a minute,” he said to Lieutenant Faith.
“OK, sure,” Faith responded. Ellery grabbed his hat to leave the office so that the two of them could have some privacy.
“No, you should hear this too,” Manners said, waving Ellery back to his seat.
Manners took a deep breath. “I was an asshole and I’m sorry,” said Sergeant Manners. It was so blunt and so unexpected, that Faith didn’t know what to say.
“You were right about Private Thigpen. He deserved better than what we gave him,” Manners continued. “I was going through a rough spot in my marriage at the time, and I took it out on him, and on you. Thanks for what you’re doing for him now.”
Faith was legitimately at a loss for words. As usual, Ellery bailed him out. “Thank you, Sergeant Manners,” he said, “That means a lot.”
“Yes,” Faith said, recovering. “Thank you Sergeant Manners. No worries.” He stood and shook Manners’ hand. The three of them then exchanged some small talk about company business, and then Manners excused himself. When the sound of his footsteps disappeared down the hall, Faith turned to Ellery. “Did you put him up to that?”
“No sir,” Ellery said, “I’m just as surprised as you are.”
It took guts and humility to do something like that. As far as Faith was concerned, it was water under the bridge months ago. But now he had a newfound respect for Manners.
Later that morning, Faith was checking in on his troops in the motor pool when he was approached by three of 5th Platoon’s junior enlisted men. They were trying—and failing—to look menacing.
“Happy birthday, sir, ready for that redbelly?”
“Look men, I went to a military junior college and was a member of a major college fraternity,” Faith explained. “My days of getting hazed are over. You can jump me if you want to, and you might get me, but the first person to step up is getting a broken jaw,” he stated emphatically, raising his right fist to show his ring. “Real talk.” It was pure bravado; Faith had no intention of trying to maim anyone. But he wasn’t going to go out like a punk either. The soldiers surrounding Faith considered his size and what he just said, and then drifted away. “We’ll talk later, sir,” one of them said.
Later that day, LT Faith had the joy of experiencing his first-ever “suicide prevention brief.” It was mind-numbingly boring. The entire battalion was crammed into the hot and crowded battalion chapel. Arriving just before the start time, Faith took an open seat in the rear of the horseshoe-shaped sanctuary. He could see most of Delta Company seated together on the exact opposite side. Briefer after briefer got up to talk about the ills of suicide and all of the people and programs in place to help Soldiers not off themselves. During an impassioned but awkward talk from the battalion chaplain, Faith couldn’t help but think that this type of thing was exactly the kind of stuff that drove people to kill themselves in the first place. Stifling a yawn, he noticed someone trying to get his attention.
Across the room, Specialist Wilson and Corporal Laser were mouthing “Happy Birthday!” while grinding their clenched right fist into their open left palm. Faith couldn’t help but smile. For his part, Faith clenched his own fist and tapped his ring gently against his own jaw, mouthing a “knock, knock” noise. Sensing movement, the chaplain looked over at Faith, who quickly pretended to be rubbing his jaw in deep thought.
Faith let his mind wander while pretending to pay rapt attention, a skill he mastered in college and put to good use in the Officer Basic Course at Fort Benning. He let his mind wander to his list of daydream usual suspects: girls, anxiety of whether he was doing a good job as platoon leader, and returning to Ranger School, usually in that order.
Suicide prevention training was lame. They were in the Infantry, 101st Airborne Division, and Infantrymen did not kill themselves. Not over peacetime garrison bullshit, anyway.
Faith was very much on his guard during final formation. If Corporal Laser and Specialist Wilson were going to make a move, this was going to be the time. But no one looked Faith’s way as the company formation broke up. Faith was contemplating making a dash to his car, but Sergeant Ellery told the platoon to hold fast, holding the unit in place until the other platoons departed. When they were out of earshot, he lit into his men.
“5th Platoon!” he bellowed. “For the last week, I’ve told you to do better job taking care of your vehicles. Too many people have been leaving trash inside their HUMVEES. We discussed this,”
That was true. Trash in the vehicles was a pet peeve of the battalion sergeant major… which meant is was a pet peeve of all of the company first sergeants… which meant it was a pet peeve of… well, you get the picture.
“Well,” Ellery continued, “We had motor stables today, and I decided to do a snap inspection of the vehicles after we were done with maintenance. AND GUESS WHAT I FOUND?” he shouted, reaching into the cargo pocket of his uniform pants.
Faith was genuinely curious. 5th Platoon usually did a really good job of cleaning up after themselves. And while Faith didn’t personally search every vehicle, he was in the motor pool this morning and didn’t notice any trash in any 5th Platoon vehicle.
“Spit bottle!” Well, that was likely. Lots of guys in the platoon dipped tobacco, it was easy enough to set it down and accidentally forget about it. Sergeant Ellery flung the bottle down at his feet.
“Pringles can!” he continued, holding the small tin can out for everyone to see before letting it drop to the ground.
A used condom wrapper!” he added, tossing the offending item into the air. It fluttered back down to the ground at his feet.
“AN EFFING BEER CAN!” he bellowed, tossing it to the ground. Well now, that was a little ridiculous, Faith thought. I mean who the hell is drinking beer in the motor pool? Corporal Laser made the mistake of snickering.
“Oh, you think this is funny, Corporal Laser?” Ellery challenged, making a beeline for the young corporal.
“No sergeant!” Laser exclaimed.
“No, Sergeant, he says,” Ellery repeated, mocking him. “You know what Corporal, just get down and push.” Corporal Laser immediately dropped to the pushup position and started knocking them out. He didn’t want Sergeant Ellery any angrier than he already was.
“You know what, ALL OF YOU, get down and push!” Ellery exclaimed. Even though Faith, as an officer, didn’t have to participate in the mass physical punishment of the platoon,
One, two THREE, should have cleaned your HUMVEE… now you’re doing pushups… here with me…”
Ellery suddenly jumped to his feet and ran over to where Thigpen was doing pushups.
“Thigpen—what the hell is that? Those pushups are absolute garbage!!” In his usual position behind the platoon, Faith was only a couple of feet behind Thigpen. Surprisingly, his pushups didn’t really look that bad. Ellery must just want something to be mad about, Faith reasoned.
“Lower… lower… low…” he said
…and then something very unexpected happened.
----
sooo… what do you think happened? ;)
In a kind of perverse logic, the more someone was liked, the more people wanted to participate in the birthday beatdown, so the worse it actually was for that person. Counterintuitively, if someone was disliked, they might not get a birthday beating at all. What usually happened is that First Sergeant announced it was someone’s birthday, the entire company sang happy birthday to him, and then that person’s platoon dogpiled the man and gave him his birthday redbelly. It happened just a week ago to a sergeant in 5th Platoon. Faith thought that officers were exempt from this tradition, but he wasn’t sure. And he didn’t really want to find out.
Immediately following formation, LT Faith and Sergeant Ellery returned to their office to handle some paperwork while the rest of the platoon moved to the motor pool for weekly maintenance. The routine in the company was that during “motor stables,” the platoon leader and platoon sergeant wrangled paperwork for the first hour or two and then joined the platoon at the motor pool for maintenance. All of the platoons followed that routine, so the only individuals currently in the company headquarters were the platoon leaders and platoon sergeants, and the company-level leadership.
Sergeant Ellery reviewed counseling packets while LT Faith pored over the company and platoon training calendars, each seeking the other’s input on specific issues.
“Specialist Stringer’s E5 board is coming up, sir,” Ellery stated. “Sergeant Spencer says he’s ready. I don’t think you’d have any objections?”
“None,” Faith confirmed, “I think Stringer will make a great NCO.” The two of them agreed that it made sense to send Stringer to join Sergeant Wilson in 2nd Platoon after Stringer pinned on his sergeant stripes, in keeping with the tradition of moving lower enlisted Soldiers into a different platoon after they earned their way into the NCO ranks.
“So in 90 days, there’s company-level collective task training on the same week we planned on doing platoon stakes. I’m thinking we probably need to move the platoon training up a week or so?” Faith inquired, comparing the two training calendars.
“Yes sir, that’s probably a good call,” Ellery responded. “We’ll have to re-arrange some Sergeants’ Time training but we have plenty of time to react.”
There was an unexpected knock at the door. “Come in,” Ellery instructed. It was Sergeant Manners from Second Platoon.
“Hey sir, I’d like to talk to you for a minute,” he said to Lieutenant Faith.
“OK, sure,” Faith responded. Ellery grabbed his hat to leave the office so that the two of them could have some privacy.
“No, you should hear this too,” Manners said, waving Ellery back to his seat.
Manners took a deep breath. “I was an asshole and I’m sorry,” said Sergeant Manners. It was so blunt and so unexpected, that Faith didn’t know what to say.
“You were right about Private Thigpen. He deserved better than what we gave him,” Manners continued. “I was going through a rough spot in my marriage at the time, and I took it out on him, and on you. Thanks for what you’re doing for him now.”
Faith was legitimately at a loss for words. As usual, Ellery bailed him out. “Thank you, Sergeant Manners,” he said, “That means a lot.”
“Yes,” Faith said, recovering. “Thank you Sergeant Manners. No worries.” He stood and shook Manners’ hand. The three of them then exchanged some small talk about company business, and then Manners excused himself. When the sound of his footsteps disappeared down the hall, Faith turned to Ellery. “Did you put him up to that?”
“No sir,” Ellery said, “I’m just as surprised as you are.”
It took guts and humility to do something like that. As far as Faith was concerned, it was water under the bridge months ago. But now he had a newfound respect for Manners.
Later that morning, Faith was checking in on his troops in the motor pool when he was approached by three of 5th Platoon’s junior enlisted men. They were trying—and failing—to look menacing.
“Happy birthday, sir, ready for that redbelly?”
“Look men, I went to a military junior college and was a member of a major college fraternity,” Faith explained. “My days of getting hazed are over. You can jump me if you want to, and you might get me, but the first person to step up is getting a broken jaw,” he stated emphatically, raising his right fist to show his ring. “Real talk.” It was pure bravado; Faith had no intention of trying to maim anyone. But he wasn’t going to go out like a punk either. The soldiers surrounding Faith considered his size and what he just said, and then drifted away. “We’ll talk later, sir,” one of them said.
Later that day, LT Faith had the joy of experiencing his first-ever “suicide prevention brief.” It was mind-numbingly boring. The entire battalion was crammed into the hot and crowded battalion chapel. Arriving just before the start time, Faith took an open seat in the rear of the horseshoe-shaped sanctuary. He could see most of Delta Company seated together on the exact opposite side. Briefer after briefer got up to talk about the ills of suicide and all of the people and programs in place to help Soldiers not off themselves. During an impassioned but awkward talk from the battalion chaplain, Faith couldn’t help but think that this type of thing was exactly the kind of stuff that drove people to kill themselves in the first place. Stifling a yawn, he noticed someone trying to get his attention.
Across the room, Specialist Wilson and Corporal Laser were mouthing “Happy Birthday!” while grinding their clenched right fist into their open left palm. Faith couldn’t help but smile. For his part, Faith clenched his own fist and tapped his ring gently against his own jaw, mouthing a “knock, knock” noise. Sensing movement, the chaplain looked over at Faith, who quickly pretended to be rubbing his jaw in deep thought.
Faith let his mind wander while pretending to pay rapt attention, a skill he mastered in college and put to good use in the Officer Basic Course at Fort Benning. He let his mind wander to his list of daydream usual suspects: girls, anxiety of whether he was doing a good job as platoon leader, and returning to Ranger School, usually in that order.
Suicide prevention training was lame. They were in the Infantry, 101st Airborne Division, and Infantrymen did not kill themselves. Not over peacetime garrison bullshit, anyway.
Faith was very much on his guard during final formation. If Corporal Laser and Specialist Wilson were going to make a move, this was going to be the time. But no one looked Faith’s way as the company formation broke up. Faith was contemplating making a dash to his car, but Sergeant Ellery told the platoon to hold fast, holding the unit in place until the other platoons departed. When they were out of earshot, he lit into his men.
“5th Platoon!” he bellowed. “For the last week, I’ve told you to do better job taking care of your vehicles. Too many people have been leaving trash inside their HUMVEES. We discussed this,”
That was true. Trash in the vehicles was a pet peeve of the battalion sergeant major… which meant is was a pet peeve of all of the company first sergeants… which meant it was a pet peeve of… well, you get the picture.
“Well,” Ellery continued, “We had motor stables today, and I decided to do a snap inspection of the vehicles after we were done with maintenance. AND GUESS WHAT I FOUND?” he shouted, reaching into the cargo pocket of his uniform pants.
Faith was genuinely curious. 5th Platoon usually did a really good job of cleaning up after themselves. And while Faith didn’t personally search every vehicle, he was in the motor pool this morning and didn’t notice any trash in any 5th Platoon vehicle.
“Spit bottle!” Well, that was likely. Lots of guys in the platoon dipped tobacco, it was easy enough to set it down and accidentally forget about it. Sergeant Ellery flung the bottle down at his feet.
“Pringles can!” he continued, holding the small tin can out for everyone to see before letting it drop to the ground.
A used condom wrapper!” he added, tossing the offending item into the air. It fluttered back down to the ground at his feet.
“AN EFFING BEER CAN!” he bellowed, tossing it to the ground. Well now, that was a little ridiculous, Faith thought. I mean who the hell is drinking beer in the motor pool? Corporal Laser made the mistake of snickering.
“Oh, you think this is funny, Corporal Laser?” Ellery challenged, making a beeline for the young corporal.
“No sergeant!” Laser exclaimed.
“No, Sergeant, he says,” Ellery repeated, mocking him. “You know what Corporal, just get down and push.” Corporal Laser immediately dropped to the pushup position and started knocking them out. He didn’t want Sergeant Ellery any angrier than he already was.
“You know what, ALL OF YOU, get down and push!” Ellery exclaimed. Even though Faith, as an officer, didn’t have to participate in the mass physical punishment of the platoon,
One, two THREE, should have cleaned your HUMVEE… now you’re doing pushups… here with me…”
Ellery suddenly jumped to his feet and ran over to where Thigpen was doing pushups.
“Thigpen—what the hell is that? Those pushups are absolute garbage!!” In his usual position behind the platoon, Faith was only a couple of feet behind Thigpen. Surprisingly, his pushups didn’t really look that bad. Ellery must just want something to be mad about, Faith reasoned.
“Lower… lower… low…” he said
…and then something very unexpected happened.
----
sooo… what do you think happened? ;)
D
Deleted member 11415
Guest
Lieutenant Faith got his birthday beatdown, led by Sergeant Manners, because now they are on friendlier terms?
D
Deleted member 11415
Guest
I really like this case study.
ThunderHorse
Verified Military
My oh my things have changed. When I was at Company level, the Commander's wife gave the Soldiers cards. Senior NCOs and Officers got nothing. Every time our Soldiers would say: So, Sir, it's my birthday do I get the day off?
D
Deleted member 2517
Guest
You missed out. We still “ball” dudes up on their birthday. PLs and PSGs included.
I think I got a birthday card from the unit once in my entire military career. It was from a boss I later filed a 22-page IG complaint against for, among other things, bullying, malfeasance, and toxic leadership.
That boss was all about show, and not about substance. "Oh, you gave all of a birthday card? That's great boss... but how about getting the unit's evals, awards, and disciplinary actions handled in a timely manner instead?"
This happened much later in my career than the events portrayed in this case study.
That boss was all about show, and not about substance. "Oh, you gave all of a birthday card? That's great boss... but how about getting the unit's evals, awards, and disciplinary actions handled in a timely manner instead?"
This happened much later in my career than the events portrayed in this case study.
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D
Deleted member 2517
Guest
Yeah... who the fuck is giving their dudes Bday cards?
To quote my last PSG- “that’s gay... not like ‘linkin dudes’ gay cause that’s fine but like... bad gay.”
I have an article pending on this subject... so the "birthday cards" thing is cool, but it's a "band of excellence" thing. As in, if you're doing all of the basics right, then you can move into the showy, nice-to-do stuff. But some leaders focus on the "show"--because it's what gets them attention from their higher ups, or it ingratiates them with their subordinates--at the expense of the "go." The leader I mentioned above was all about the "show."
...and, unfortunately, it worked. That person got promoted to a very prestigious position, and left a destroyed unit in their wake.
SpongeBob*24
Verified Military
So many posts!!!! 
The LT's woman should not have been conducting PT with the men. However we all forget Big Military you have no choice, in the 90's if the LT told me that his woman was grabbing a weapon from the Arms room to go shoot with us we would have been like rgr that Sir, does she need mags too?
Did Thigpen hurt the LT lady intentional? I think it was an accident.
The worst award I've ever seen: OPFOR all received AAM's for building a MRE Bomb while the rest of us were cold, alone, nekid and afraid...it was the 90's!
Too many people that deserve awards that didn't get one to count or list here.
Thigpen needs a good leader. My experience in Big Military: Good leaders fix bad soldiers and bad leaders bread bad soldiers.
The PT event. Bottom line: bend the rules if you can, work as a team, and listen to everyone. When you are sucking for miles, there is no bad idea!
Birthday fun day, yeah I've seen some serious birthday celebrations. It seems like the more crazy the guys go, they more they like you. Its an honor....
The LT's woman should not have been conducting PT with the men. However we all forget Big Military you have no choice, in the 90's if the LT told me that his woman was grabbing a weapon from the Arms room to go shoot with us we would have been like rgr that Sir, does she need mags too?
Did Thigpen hurt the LT lady intentional? I think it was an accident.
The worst award I've ever seen: OPFOR all received AAM's for building a MRE Bomb while the rest of us were cold, alone, nekid and afraid...it was the 90's!
Too many people that deserve awards that didn't get one to count or list here.
Thigpen needs a good leader. My experience in Big Military: Good leaders fix bad soldiers and bad leaders bread bad soldiers.
The PT event. Bottom line: bend the rules if you can, work as a team, and listen to everyone. When you are sucking for miles, there is no bad idea!
Birthday fun day, yeah I've seen some serious birthday celebrations. It seems like the more crazy the guys go, they more they like you. Its an honor....
So many posts!!!!
The LT's woman should not have been conducting PT with the men. However we all forget Big Military you have no choice, in the 90's if the LT told me that his woman was grabbing a weapon from the Arms room to go shoot with us we would have been like rgr that Sir, does she need mags too?
lol ;)
Did Thigpen hurt the LT lady intentional? I think it was an accident.
The worst award I've ever seen: OPFOR all received AAM's for building a MRE Bomb while the rest of us were cold, alone, nekid and afraid...it was the 90's!
Too many people that deserve awards that didn't get one to count or list here.
Thigpen needs a good leader. My experience in Big Military: Good leaders fix bad soldiers and bad leaders bread bad soldiers.
The PT event. Bottom line: bend the rules if you can, work as a team, and listen to everyone. When you are sucking for miles, there is no bad idea!
Birthday fun day, yeah I've seen some serious birthday celebrations. It seems like the more crazy the guys go, they more they like you. Its an honor....
“Lower… lower… low…” Ellery said, exhorting Private Thigpen to execute the correct form. “Low…” he started…
…and then jumped on Faith’s back.
Faith was totally not suspecting this move. Ellery jumped on him when Faith was in the “down” position, so he really had no chance of doing anything at all. And as soon as Ellery jumped him, the rest of the platoon gleefully
“Stop! Get off of him!” Thigpen exclaimed, clearly not in on the plan to “get” the lieutenant. He began trying to pull his fellow platoon mates off of LT Faith, but was not having any success. He tugged and pulled on various members of the platoon but they shook him off. A hard shove from one of his platoon mates sent Thigpen sprawling.
Right as 5th Platoon began to render the redbelly to their platoon leader, Captain Thompson, the company commander, emerged from the company headquarters. Four slaps in, everyone stopped and looked at him, unsure of what his reaction was going to be. Corporal Laser let go of the joint lock he had on Faith’s right wrist and jumped to his feet, rendering a sharp salute to his company commander.
“Good afternoon, sir!” he exclaimed cheerfully.
Thompson surveyed the scene. “Carry on, Corporal,” he said, as if seeing a pile of Soldiers holding down a raging platoon leader who had his shirt pulled up and red handprints all over his bare white belly was a normal occurrence. He continued on to his car, and then the fight began anew.
Perhaps remembering Sergeant Ellery’s earlier admonition to him, and probably also because of his very low social awareness, Private Thigpen again tried to intervene on LT Faith’s behalf.
“STOP IT!!” he shouted, to no effect. Unable to stop what was happening, he decided to do the one thing no one really expected: he reacted with violence, striking Specialist Stringer hard across the face with an open-hand slap.
Now, if there was anyone in the platoon (other than Sergeant Ellery) that you DIDN’T want to “bitch-slap,” it was Specialist Stringer. Short, black, and built like a tank, Stringer carried himself with the surety of youth and strength. His usual off-duty attire was jeans and a white tank top, which helped show off his massive upper body and multiple tattoos. He held the current record in the company for most pushups during a PT test (108), as well as for the number of Summarized Articles 15 (3), all of which were for fighting. He was also the only person in the platoon with whom Thigpen had any kind of near-friendship. Stringer considered Thigpen—and even referred to him as—his “retarded little brother,”
“What the FUCK??” Stringer exclaimed, completely shocked that Thigpen hit him, especially over something like this.. He then stood up and punched Thigpen hard in the stomach. It was only once, but Stringer was a strong man and Thigpen… wasn’t. Thigpen fell on the ground, doubled over in pain and with the wind knocked out of him.
Fortunately, Faith was pretty young so the red belly was over quickly once they had him pinned down. Twenty-four smacks later, and it was all done. Faith laughed as his platoon helped him to his feet. He didn’t really want to break anyone’s jaw, of course, but he did wish he could have gotten some good licks in. He didn’t.
“Welcome to the platoon, sir,” Ellery said, helping his platoon leader to his feet.
…and then jumped on Faith’s back.
Faith was totally not suspecting this move. Ellery jumped on him when Faith was in the “down” position, so he really had no chance of doing anything at all. And as soon as Ellery jumped him, the rest of the platoon gleefully
“Stop! Get off of him!” Thigpen exclaimed, clearly not in on the plan to “get” the lieutenant. He began trying to pull his fellow platoon mates off of LT Faith, but was not having any success. He tugged and pulled on various members of the platoon but they shook him off. A hard shove from one of his platoon mates sent Thigpen sprawling.
Right as 5th Platoon began to render the redbelly to their platoon leader, Captain Thompson, the company commander, emerged from the company headquarters. Four slaps in, everyone stopped and looked at him, unsure of what his reaction was going to be. Corporal Laser let go of the joint lock he had on Faith’s right wrist and jumped to his feet, rendering a sharp salute to his company commander.
“Good afternoon, sir!” he exclaimed cheerfully.
Thompson surveyed the scene. “Carry on, Corporal,” he said, as if seeing a pile of Soldiers holding down a raging platoon leader who had his shirt pulled up and red handprints all over his bare white belly was a normal occurrence. He continued on to his car, and then the fight began anew.
Perhaps remembering Sergeant Ellery’s earlier admonition to him, and probably also because of his very low social awareness, Private Thigpen again tried to intervene on LT Faith’s behalf.
“STOP IT!!” he shouted, to no effect. Unable to stop what was happening, he decided to do the one thing no one really expected: he reacted with violence, striking Specialist Stringer hard across the face with an open-hand slap.
Now, if there was anyone in the platoon (other than Sergeant Ellery) that you DIDN’T want to “bitch-slap,” it was Specialist Stringer. Short, black, and built like a tank, Stringer carried himself with the surety of youth and strength. His usual off-duty attire was jeans and a white tank top, which helped show off his massive upper body and multiple tattoos. He held the current record in the company for most pushups during a PT test (108), as well as for the number of Summarized Articles 15 (3), all of which were for fighting. He was also the only person in the platoon with whom Thigpen had any kind of near-friendship. Stringer considered Thigpen—and even referred to him as—his “retarded little brother,”
“What the FUCK??” Stringer exclaimed, completely shocked that Thigpen hit him, especially over something like this.. He then stood up and punched Thigpen hard in the stomach. It was only once, but Stringer was a strong man and Thigpen… wasn’t. Thigpen fell on the ground, doubled over in pain and with the wind knocked out of him.
Fortunately, Faith was pretty young so the red belly was over quickly once they had him pinned down. Twenty-four smacks later, and it was all done. Faith laughed as his platoon helped him to his feet. He didn’t really want to break anyone’s jaw, of course, but he did wish he could have gotten some good licks in. He didn’t.
“Welcome to the platoon, sir,” Ellery said, helping his platoon leader to his feet.
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ThunderHorse
Verified Military
Not sure how Stringer is going to pass his E5 board with three Summarized article 15s. But yeah, time for Thigpen to go.
Good guess. That part was in there solely to set up a plot twist at the Stab 'n Jab that I deleted without posting it because it seemed too contrived. It's kind of a red herring now, I guess.
Good point. Maybe that's why he's not an E5 already?
And I mean hey, can you be a legit combat arms Soldier in a conventional line unit without one or more summarized Art15s? ;)
ThunderHorse
Verified Military
As they used to say: Only way to make Sergeant Major is to have a DUI...
“Damn, sir, you got Alabama monkey stomped!” Specialist Stringer said exuberantly when it was all over. And it was true. Faith wasn’t mad about the platoon-level beatdown. It took a high degree of planning and cooperation to pull it off. Faith just wished he could have gotten a few good licks in. The situation reminded him of a description of Soldiers that he once read in a very old edition of the Officers’ Guide: “Enlisted men are sly, cunning, and bear considerable watching,” or some such. Faith thought that sentiment was condescending and outdated, but his men certainly lived up to that reputation this time.
As the rest of the platoon drifted away after was to them a very satisfying birthday beatdown, Faith put his uniform top back on retrieved his hat. The only people left were himself and Private Thigpen, who was still curled up on the ground.
“I’m sorry sir!” Thigpen exclaimed. Faith was taken aback. He saw that Thigpen had tried to help him. He saw Thigpen take a punch for him. It wasn’t even a real fight. Faith didn’t understand why Thigpen was so upset. He was even crying.
What a pussy.
“I can’t do anything!” Thigpen blubbered as Faith approached the man, kneeling to put a reassuring hand on Thigpen’s shoulder.
“Hey, look, I’m good. We’re all good,” Faith said, with as much sympathy as he could muster. Why was Thigpen so upset? Faith was the one who was the recipient of a good-natured ass beating, not Private Thigpen. Now that it was over, Faith thought it was funny. He also recognized it for what it was: a rite of passage and a public symbol that he had been accepted by his Soldiers.
“No sir, it’s not,” Thigpen said definitively. “It will NEVER be OK.” Sniffling, he got to his feet and drifted away in the direction of the barracks. Thinking of this incident later, Faith recalled that he had never seen someone so forlorn or dejected.
“What a weirdo,” Faith thought as he made his way gingerly to his truck. His whole body was going to hurt tomorrow. He made a mental note to sit down with Thigpen to talk through some things.
But he never did.
As the rest of the platoon drifted away after was to them a very satisfying birthday beatdown, Faith put his uniform top back on retrieved his hat. The only people left were himself and Private Thigpen, who was still curled up on the ground.
“I’m sorry sir!” Thigpen exclaimed. Faith was taken aback. He saw that Thigpen had tried to help him. He saw Thigpen take a punch for him. It wasn’t even a real fight. Faith didn’t understand why Thigpen was so upset. He was even crying.
What a pussy.
“I can’t do anything!” Thigpen blubbered as Faith approached the man, kneeling to put a reassuring hand on Thigpen’s shoulder.
“Hey, look, I’m good. We’re all good,” Faith said, with as much sympathy as he could muster. Why was Thigpen so upset? Faith was the one who was the recipient of a good-natured ass beating, not Private Thigpen. Now that it was over, Faith thought it was funny. He also recognized it for what it was: a rite of passage and a public symbol that he had been accepted by his Soldiers.
“No sir, it’s not,” Thigpen said definitively. “It will NEVER be OK.” Sniffling, he got to his feet and drifted away in the direction of the barracks. Thinking of this incident later, Faith recalled that he had never seen someone so forlorn or dejected.
“What a weirdo,” Faith thought as he made his way gingerly to his truck. His whole body was going to hurt tomorrow. He made a mental note to sit down with Thigpen to talk through some things.
But he never did.
3 posts left. This case study will be concluded by Sunday night.
