Saturday, July 12, 2008

D-208: Smoke Session

I finally witnessed my first official Army “Smoke Session” today. I have heard a lot about them in stories; “we got smoked so badly in Ranger school,” for instance. I’ve seen them used in threats many times; i.e. “You want to get smoked? Keep being a smart ass.” But after two and half months, I have not seen one, and figured it to be more Army bullshit.

Walking back to HQ from lunch today, I heard someone screaming. Never wanting to miss a fight or an uncomfortable scene, I rushed on over to see a Private in a very sloppy push-up position; his arms were locked straight, but his back was making a perfect “U” and his crotch was nearly touching the ground. It was clear he had been pushing for quite some time before my arrival.

“That is not an authorized rest position Private Dickhead!”

A slight whimper escaped Private Dickhead’s (not his real name) lips as he pushed his butt toward a more “authorized” position.

For me as a spectator, this could not have gotten off to a better start, I am practically giddy. PT as punishment is not authorized in the Navy. This is just terrific.

I chose a position to stand that would not allow the victim to see me, adding to his humiliation and suffering; but did allow the pain-administering Sergeant First Class (whom I work with often) to see me. I stood silently, but I am sure my eyes urged him to keep it up.

The SFC was eating a chicken sandwich this whole time, which I found hilarious; this “Smoke Session” did not even interrupt his lunch.

“Are you ready to start soldiering Private? Or do you want to keep being a defiant little fuck?”

“ughh… I’m ready, roger Sergeant…”

SFC contemplated his answer for a moment; for the record, he did at least look like he thought about it.

“Nah, I don’t believe you. Keep pushing!” He throws his chicken sandwich aside in disgust. I am not sure if the sandwich was disgusting, or if the Private is so disgusting that SFC lost his appetite. Either way, this is awesome; I am trying not to crack up laughing.

SFC squats down like a baseball catcher and positions himself right in the Private’s face.

“Are you going to keep falling asleep on duty? People could die because of you, you think this is funny.” His anger is clearly growing. Let the hate consume you Sergeant.

“Oh! You don’t think so? You don’t think people can die? Is there always going to be someone around to wake you up? I can send your ass outside the wire tomorrow!” I did not see what Private Dickhead did that gave SFC the impression that he thought something was funny; but whatever it was, it is safe to say was ill-advised.

“Please do Sergeant!” Ooh-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo; wrong answer idiot. I am laughing silently, but visibly, my chest is bouncing up and down with the force of my constrained laughter. I am not sure if the SFC noticed, but I am anxiously awaiting the maniacal screaming that is sure to come.”

“OH, YOU WANT TO BE A FUCKING WISE ASS? YOU THINK I WOULD ENDANGER A SOLDIER’S LIFE BY PUTTING A PIECE OF SHIT LIKE YOU ON HIS TEAM. KEEP PUSHING! THAT IS NOT AN AUTHORIZED FUCKING REST POSITION! ARE YOU TIRED? I’M NOT TIRED, I CAN STAND HERE ALL DAY AND WATCH YOU DO YOUR GIRLY LITTLE PUSH-UPS…”

The yelling continues, but I have seen enough. I walk past them both, and offer a nod of appreciation to SFC for the first rate entertainment. I don’t think he noticed, he was still full on in his spit-flying, red-faced rage. I am extremely satisfied; delighted even. Maybe the Army is not so bad; I think I am starting to come around.

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