Where Have All the Liars Gone? Killed by Facebook Every One

Of all my memories of basic training in at Lackland Air Force Base in 1972, the two most vivid are marching in the rain at 4 a.m. and listening to the other 39 guys in my platoon tell incredible lies. 

A pimply-faced 19-year-old Lothario told me with no shame at all that a half-dozen cheerleaders were back home in Arkansas were pining for his embraces.  We all grew up in during the peak of the “Muscle Car” era in America.  The same studs who left a bevy of beauties each had a Corvette, a Hemi Cuda, a 440 Six Pak Road Runner, or an SS427 Chevelle waiting in the barns and backyards back home for their return.

Their erotic and automotive attainments were even more impressive when you considered that in February 1972 when we started basic, trainee pay had just doubled from $168 to $283 a month.  You would think that young men who could afford six paramours and Corvette would not take a job for $71 per week, even with free room and board. 

Lies that would make Mark Twain blush were as much a part of the atmosphere as the smell of shoe polish in the pre-Facebook military.

I served on active duty with the Air Force then the Army until 1979 when I went to college while serving in the reserves, then decided to get completely out in 1984. 

I reenlisted in 2007 after almost a quarter century as a bearded civilian.  I was 54 years old.  Shortly after I was back in uniform we started pre-deployment training for Iraq.  During the first three-week training period we lived in an open-bay barracks, carried M16s and rode to the field in “Deuce-and-a-Half” trucks.  We also formed up and marched in the rain.  Our barrel-chested first sergeant would smile at the soggy soldiers standing in front of him and say, “If it ain’t rainin’ we ain’t trainin’.”

With rain, M16s, and Deuce-and-a-Half trucks just like the old days, imagine my surprise when I was not confronted with a fresh flurry of adolescent lies.

When we were finished with evening chow and returned to our barracks, almost nobody talked.  Everyone had a computer and some kind of music and or video device if they did not have a smart phone. 

In 1972, we shined our boots, ironed our already starched uniforms and talked.  And in those shine and iron groups, the stories got bigger and bigger.

In the new Army we wore no-shine boots and no-iron uniforms.  The entertainment was what each of us brought.  Soldiers went outside to call girlfriends and wives.  They did not stay inside and tell stories about their love lives.

Everyone under 30 was on Facebook. 

Because of Facebook, no one could lie about girlfriends and cars.  Once a soldier said he owned a Subaru WRX Turbo showing a picture of him at the wheel.  “Fuck You, Douche Bag,” was the response from three bunks down. “That’s your brother’s car.  He would never let your dumb ass drive it. I’m surprised he let you sit in it.”

Social Media acts as a lie detector against anyone who wants to brag about cars, women and parties. 

The rain, weapons and trucks might have been the same as ’72, but social media completely changed the atmosphere.  No shine boots, no iron uniforms and no lie barracks made Army life very different.  In 1972, forty anonymous young men talking led to competition in telling lies, but it also helped all of us to grow up and develop bullshit detectors while making some good friends.

In 1972, I was a sucker for all the lies about love, cars, and the other big category, dysfunctional families. I was an 18-year-old virgin.  By everything that I heard from the other 39 guys in my basic training platoon, I was the only virgin my age in America.  My parents married eight years before I was born and would remain married until death did them part.  There were no divorced families in my neighborhood.  I had no step-anybodies and I knew little more about sex than what I learned from the awkward presentations in 8^th-grade Health Class. 

I suspected my platoon-mates were lying or exaggerating, but did not have the experience to judge what they said. My bunkmate saved me from my ignorance.  He was Leonard Norwood from Sawyerville, Alabama, population 53.  He always said population 53 when he referred to Sawyerville. 

Once he saw me listening intently to a story about an evil step mother.  ‘Bama (that really was his nickname) said, “Gussie, he’s just full of sheeeeit.” 

‘Bama and Jersey (guess where he was from) and a few other guys helped me to sort out the stories that had a grain of truth from the NFW (No effing Way) stories. 

Jersey also raised my status within the platoon.  Although I knew nothing of step families and sex, I actually owned a 1969 Ford Torino 428 Cobra Jet with a factory Holley carburetor, Hurst shifter, and positraction.  My father got me a Teamsters job in May of 1971 when I graduated.  I made enough money to buy the Torino five months later.  When I enlisted at the end of January, I left the car with my 16-year-old sister Jean. 

Jean wrote me letters about parking lot burnouts, street races she got in, and scaring the crap out of a hitchhiker.  I read these funny letters to Jersey, ‘Bama and a couple of other friends.  Jersey showed one to the drill sergeant.  For the rest of basic, when Jean would write, the drill sergeant read the letter to the whole platoon.  My blond-haired, blue-eyed sister made it very clear that I really owned a Torino Cobra.  Jean wrote about how she and my Dad were going to drive the car to my tech school in Denver from Boston.  So my car not only existed in the real world, but everyone who went to school in Denver would actually see it. 

It’s not like the reality of my car in any way diminished the stories from the rest of the platoon.  Some felt obliged to explain why they were not bringing their cars to their next bases.  One guy said he was going straight to ‘Nam, after weapons school, so he might as well leave the car home. 

Do I like Facebook Army better than the 70s Army?  At the risk of being just another grumpy old soldier, I like the liars, shined shoes and starched uniforms better. My best friends from the Army in the 1970s are still my best friends.  The shared time talking helped me to find those friends.  During this tour I have hundreds of Army Facebook friends, but I know fewer soldiers at any real depth than I did last time. Part of re-enlisting at 54 years old was to leave the shallow end of life in the civilian world and spend the kind of time together that it takes to have deep friendships. 

But, like me, soldiers of today are fully connected on social media and live their virtual lives even on Camp Adder, Iraq.  We can’t lie to each other about cars and paramours.  When we have a minute, we check our phones.  That’s how life is.

ROOMIE! The Cursed Bunk, The Daily Zombie Movie and My Deployment Roommates

Behind me is the "Cursed Bunk" at Fort Sill, Oklahoma.

My deployment to Iraq in 2009 began with training at Fort Sill, Oklahoma.  When we arrived, we were assigned rooms.  I was in a four-man room with Sgt. Nickey Smith, Sgt. Miguel Ramirez and another sergeant who was gone in a couple of weeks.

He was the first of four guys who slept in the "cursed" bunk during the two months we were in Fort Sill.  The first guy was quiet and was suddenly gone.  Some paperwork problem and he got sent home.  The next guy spent a night or two and got reassigned somewhere.  

Then came roommate #3, Specialist Big Dude.  I wrote about him in 2009. He was a really good mechanic, a really good shot, and a really hopeless soldier.  He weighed 335 pounds.  He had anger issues, and he watched a Zombie movie EVERY day.  Really!  He was with us for almost a month and every every Big Dude climbed into his bunk and watched a Zombie movie.  Then he would talk to his wife about the Zombie movie she watched.  They seemed to be very much in love, talking every day and comparing Zombie movie notes.  I had no idea there were enough Zombie movies that you could watch a different one every day--forever.  

After a month, Big Dude got sent home. From what he said, it was weight. We never saw the anger issues.  He was a gentle giant around us.  When he left, Spc. Todd Tarbox moved in.  Tarbox knew that "Roomie" was how college roommates sometimes refer each other.  Once Todd moved in, the four of us started yelling "ROOMIE!" when we saw each other.  We kept this up in Iraq and after.  In the hallway of the Aviation Armory in Pennsylvania, I would see Miguel every other month and yell, "ROOMIE!"  

These sergeants were also needling me for being more part of college culture than Army culture.  I had three daughters in college while I was in Iraq.  Roomie was what they said.  

The culture clash between me and my roommates was not limited to Zombie movies.  Nickey liked Anime movies--with his scars and gang tattoos, I would not have guessed Anime would be his favorite movie genre, but he watched Anime on his time off all the way through Fort Sill, Camp Adder and back to Fort Dix.  Miguel liked horror movies.  One morning he watched SAW 5 before breakfast.  Here is the story I wrote at the time.

Spc. Todd Tarbox

Sgt. Miguel Ramirez on the Fort Sill Confidence Course

Sgt. Nickey Smith on the far right, with three other Connecticut soldiers on Camp Adder, Iraq. Sgt. Shawn Adams is to his left.

Sgt. Nickey Smith (right) at Camp Adder, Iraq.  Sgt. Shawn Adams is to his left.

Fast Response, Sad Answer: NO!

Today I got three emails from the office of Congressman Joe Pitts.  One had an attachment of more than a dozen pages explaining exactly why I was not eligible for a military retirement.

I knew why.  So I asked again if I could get a waiver of some kind.  The Army gave me an age waiver to get beck in the Army at 54 then gave me a waiver to serve in a war after Age 60 when I volunteered to go to Afghanistan three years ago.

But no waiver for retirement.

I tried.

The Army said no.

Machiavelli on Leadership: The First Principle of Power, Book 13 (part 2) of 2016

Paul Ryan is getting criticized by leaders of his own party and others for being a hypocrite, endorsing Donald Trump while at the same time saying he is a racist.

Whatever else Ryan may be, he is consistent in following the first and central rule in Machiavelli's The Prince: The leader must take power and keep power, without power he can do nothing.

Ryan made it very clear he is endorsing Trump because Trump will sign Ryan's economic agenda and Hillary Clinton would not.  Trump says he will appoint Conservative Supreme Court justices, Clinton will not.

In one odd potential twist on the outcome of the election, some potential scenarios indicate Ryan will be out of power if Trump is crushed in a landslide.  If Ryan is out of power and out of favor as a result of supporting a failed candidate, his economic agenda has no chance at all.  But if Trump wins and has a Republican House and Senate, Speaker Ryan will have the best chance to put the country on a Republican economic plan.

Machiavelli also says a Leader should do what is right when he can, but not when the right thing will cost him his hold on power.

I have a friend with a conscience who is on the leadership team of a large company.  He was reluctant to become a director, but flattered to be promoted. He finds some of his colleagues on the team really nasty people.  "What do you expect?" I asked. "They are climbing the ladder of power.  Why would you be surprised that they would be the most ruthless people in the company?"

The great thing about reading and re-reading Machiavelli is that when I watch the maneuvering of politicians, I have a rational framework to understand who stabs who in the back and why.

Also, reading Machiavelli is like a vaccine for some of the stupidest political ideas that never go away. Currently, there are millions of people who support Donald Trump of Bernie Sanders because they are outsiders.  It would be funny if it were not so pathetic.  The day after anyone is sworn into office they are not an outsider any more.  They are an INSIDER.  Then they will act to keep power.

The same with Term Limits.  No one who has power wants terms limits, at least not for themselves.

Just Like Dad, Not in a Good Way: 19 Years, No Retirement

Congressman Joe Pitts 

On May 3, I was honorably discharged from the Pennsylvania Army National Guard.  I had 19 years and 21 days of service.  At that moment became "Just Like Dad" in a way that my Dad would never have wished on me.  

My father, George Gussman, enlisted in December 1939, at the age of 33 as a private soldier.  He was at the end of his career as a middleweight boxer and a minor league pitcher and decided to enlist.  He was supposed to be discharged in mid-December of 1941, but there were no discharges after December 7.  The next year, the Army sent Dad to Officer Candidate School, partly because he had warehouse experience and partly because he was so old, 36!  Despite leaving school in the 8th grade, Dad studied hard and got commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant.  He commanded a maintenance company of Black soldiers at Camp Shenango, Pa., then a German Prisoner of War Camp in Reading, Pa., during the war.

After the war, Dad served in the Army reserve till 1958 when Senator John F. Kennedy pushed through something called the "Age in Grade" Law.  At 52 years old, with 19 years of service, my father was out without a pension.  He was too old to be a major, so he was out.  Dad was bitter about that for the rest of his life and never voted for a Democrat or a Kennedy for the rest of his life.

I re-enlisted at 54 knowing I did not have enough years to retire, since the age limit for the Army National Guard is 60.  I should have gotten out with 16 years of service in 2013.  But I stayed three extra years and got so close.  

So I asked my Congressman, Joe Pitts to help me out.  What I am asking for is an exception to the 20-year rule.  Whether that means I serve more or get a reduced pension, I thought it was worth trying to get even a partial pension after 19 years.

 So far Department of the Army passed it to National Guard Bureau and they passed it to the Adjutant General of Pennsylvania.  I have gotten a letter from the Pitts staff at each step.  I will post any updates.

My father was denied an appeal.  I will try to have a better result.

Enlistment Extended for the Duration

My father enlisted in the Army in December of 1939.  His enlistment was for just two years.  He was planning to get out in December of 1941.  In a very early version of the infamous Iraq War policy known as "Stop Loss," Dad was "extended for the duration" of the just declared war on Japan, Germany and Italy.

Dad and thousands of other soldiers in the peacetime Army of 1941 remained on active duty until late 1945 or 1946.

Except for Stop Loss the long Iraq and Afghanistan Wars did not stop discharges after a normal enlistment period of three or four years.  It was another way that these terrible wars were so different from World War 2.

By the time the war ended nearly fifteen million Americans were serving uniform.  Soldiers got leave, rotated home, but the rule was everyone served for the duration.

Among the many things wrong with Iraq, Afghanistan and Viet Nam was the partial commitment.  Even though my Dad never left America, he knew he would be serving until all of our enemies surrendered.

The current war could end anytime between next year and 2024.  I hope if we go to war in the future, we will have an enemy and the whole nation will have a part in defeating that enemy.  

The Greek word that is at the root of Patriotism is Patria--patriotism is a fellowship based on love of country.  In World War 2 millions of families had soldiers serving in the war.  Many of those families ate less meat and sugar and used less gas as part of the war effort.  Wars should have a price--so we can decide whether or notr we want to pay that price.

Command Sgt. Major Christopher Kepner Named Top NCO of Army National Guard

In a ceremony yesterday one of my favorite people in the Army was named the top sergeant of the Army National Guard.  Christopher Kepner is now the Command Sergeant Major of the entire Army National Guard.

He will move to Arlington, Va., and serve full time in his new job.  You can read my interview of Kepner here. He is a strong leader and has strong opinions on leadership.  The fist time I heard him speak it was at a leadership meeting for all the sergeants in the 28th Combat Aviation Brigade:

He led an NCO Development course for all the sergeants in the brigade.  He began that course saying,

“You need to do only two things to be a leader in the United States Army. 

First, keep the men safe as much as possible.

Second, make sure your soldiers maintain standards in every area.

And how will you know if you are doing these two things?

You will eat lunch by yourself for the rest of your career.”