When I was in high school, I joined the ROTC program. I spent four years in the program learning Marine Corps customs, courtesies, map reading skills, and most importantly how to lead. The course was taught by two retired Marines, a Major and a Master Sergeant. Both were outstanding Marines and had put in 20+ years serving their country. While I respected both of them, the Master Sergeant is who I looked up to and thought of as my hero. This man was part of Operation Frequent Wind, had taught new Marines as a Drill Instructor, taught new Marine officers at Quantico, and was all around a bad ass salty devil dog. I spent four years with that Marine learning everything I could and advancing until I was put in command of the unit.
After graduating from high school, I joined the Marine Corps. I went through not one but two MOS schools. I joined a unit and soon deployed to Iraq. Because of my status as a young and at the time unmarried Marine, I was afforded great opportunities to “get in the shit”. While my fellow Marines did their part setting up communication at Camp Fallujah, In support of Operation Phantom Fury, I was attached to 3/5 and then again to 3rd AABn as part of the biometrics team sent in to ID known baddies and clear the good guys. For months I lived at a large road checkpoint, everyday waking up to sort through contraband, deal with irate Iraqis, and capturing known or suspected terrorists. Life sucked! I went weeks without a shower, a hot meal or a place to sleep that wasn’t covered in dirt. When I wasn’t working or sleeping, I was out patrolling, or checking on the guard posts, or even standing behind a 50cal or Mk19 myself.
When I got back home after my first deployment to Iraq, I went to see my ROTC instructors. I knocked on the closed door and heard the familiar sound of the Majors voice as he told me to come in. We talked for a few minutes, I shared with him a few stories of war and he shared with me his experiences. We both knew that I was waiting on the Master Sergeant, so after one last story he told me that “Top” was PTing the cadets, or in other words they were out on a run and would be back shortly.
When “Top” got back from PT, he saw me and introduced me to the recruits. Most of the guys nodded with approval and the ladies eyed me and swooned. As the cadets went to shower and change cloths, I spoke with my enlisted brother. The following words I don’t think I will ever forget:
“I am glad you made it back home, some of your fellow classmates came back to see me a few months ago when they got back home. Now those guys were real heroes.”
That man didn’t know what I had done. He didn’t know what my MOS was, or that I had been attached to other companies, that I had done the job of an infantryman as well as my own. He assumed that I didn’t do a damn thing.
When I left and went back home, I thought about what he had said, and lost all respect for him.
So what can we learn about this story?
-What you say DOES matter. It might not seem like a big deal but others take what you say and it affects them differently. I know that what he said wasn’t meant to be hurtful, but the fact is that his words cut deep and I wont forget them. Remember this when you are talking to a person in game. Your comment may seem OK, but you don’t know how it will affect others.
-There is a saying about assuming makes something something you are an asshole if you do it. The guy ASSUMED that he knew what I did when I was deployed. He didn’t know my MOS, he didn’t know what unit I was in, or who I was attached to, he assumed all of these things. His assumptions lead him to believe that I had done less than others. I am not saying that I was a hero or that I pulled off some death defying stunt that saved people or that I fought off 200 insurgents with my bare hands. I also am not saying that I sat on my ass all day. Don’t assume.