When I was in basic training in 1972, we sang when we marched. We sang when we ran. We sang about the terrible food, the training, about killing the enemy, but most of all we sang about Jody.
Jody was the mythical Son of a Bitch back home who was screwing our girlfriends, driving our cars, eating our food, emptying our meager bank accounts and, in the worst version, alienating the affection of our dogs!
The current Army no longer sings about Jody. I attended a full-time Army school in 2013, forty-one years after basic training. The new songs are not sexist, not insulting, have no four-letter words, no death--either of us or the enemy, and no violence at all. The new songs would embarrass eunuchs they are so thoroughly emasculated. The long version of my complaint is on the New York Times "At War" blog is here.
Recently I was explaining Jody to a non-military friend. I said, "Jody was a Draft Dodger. When I was in basic training during the Vietnam War, we knew Jody was the rich guy who got deferments. He was the guy who played college football and got a doctor to say he was unfit for service."
The drill sergeants told us that rich kids stayed home and left the war to us. And now, if those sergeants are still alive, they are in their 70s and most likely voted for Trump. Who ever thought you could sell those Vietnam War veterans a Chicken Hawk.
I would not have believed it then. I still have a hard time believing it now.
