My Distrust of Government Officials Stems From Experience
My Time in the U.S. Army
As unbelievable as it may seem, my distrust of government officials in positions of power comes from experience. I am a United States Army veteran. My experiences in the military started off very fulfilling, but took a tragic turn when a new command took over my Company.
In the Beginning
I was a star pupil. In Basic Combat Training I completed every physical test they threw at us. One time I even had a 104 degree fever after developing pneumonia, but was still one of only a few to not fall out of Physical Training that day. In Advanced Individual Training (AIT) I aced every test, both on paper and in practical application. I literally graduated with a 100% average.
My First (and only) Duty Station
After Graduating AIT, I was sent to Bad Kreuznach, Germany to serve in the 141st Signal Battalion attached to 1st Armored Division. The first half of my time there saw a wonderful command structure. We had a young, female Company Commander who valued technical knowledge and ingenuity in her soldiers.
That was when I flourished. My Military Occupational Specialty (MOS) was Multichannel Transmission Systems Operator-Maintainer, which involves setting up point-to-point microwave connections for transmitting voice and data. I was also a Network Switching Systems Operator, but without official training. Our six-man teams only had three people each, so there was a lot of cross-training.
After almost a year of getting settled into my unit, we deployed to Bosnia. The fighting was already over, we were just an occupying force. The U.S. liked to pretend it was still a war zone, so we weren’t allowed to leave the base without a weapon, full battle-rattle and a convoy. The other NATO occupiers, however, allowed their soldiers to change into civilian clothes and hit the local clubs at night.
Camp Bedrock
We were generally treated like rock stars at our base, Camp Bedrock. Three of us rotated through 12 hour shifts to maintain 24 hour operations, so we didn’t have any other duties. We were even exempted from guard duty.
At one point a technologically illiterate Full-bird Colonel tried to order us to enhance our capacity, which isn’t possible. He ranted anyway, and threw the weight of his brass around at my coworker. The Private First Class, secure in his knowledge, just kept saying, “No, sir. That’s not possible.”
Unsatisfied, he left a complaint with the Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO) in charge of our team. Our three-stripe, barely-a-sergeant team leader went into that Colonel’s office and told him to never try pulling rank with his soldiers again, because it just doesn’t work.
I Grew Accustomed to Good Leadership and Mutual Respect
It was a golden era in our unit when we returned from Bosnia, which I would come to learn is not normal for military life. We were respected for our technical knowledge. We were encouraged to brainstorm instead of mindlessly following orders. Our input was not just tolerated, it was requested.
One old-school Staff Sergeant who had a problem with me for being too much of a know-it-all put me in charge of a team as a test. My team accomplished our drills faster than any other team that day, earning me a cease-fire from his disapproval and a promotion from our Company Commander.
All Good Things Must End
Then one day, darkness fell upon our Company. Officers don’t keep their commands forever, and our intelligent young female Captain was no exception. As her replacement we got a white, male, Christian conservative with control issues.
It didn’t take long for us to notice a different sort of reward system in place to earn favor with the Captain. He liked people who kissed his ass and went to his church every Sunday. That’s it, knowledge and technical ability were no longer prized.
The Military Code of Uniform Justice Became a Weapon
Our personal lives were no longer our own. Random drug tests became weekly events. My group of friends and I started to feel like we were being personally targeted.
It turns out we were. My friends in the unit tended to be the people with ‘Pagan’ or ‘No Rel Pref’ stamped onto their dogtags. We weren’t the only ones being targeted, though.
There was a group of black men who had a fun night with some German girls that resulted in court martials for everyone. They were found guilty of sodomy and sentenced to the Army prison in Mannheim to provide slave labor building furniture for military barracks.
I know, a racist who’s pretending not to be racist would say, “But they broke the law.” To which, a thinking person would reply, “Just about every soldier on that base is engaging in oral sex. Only the black guys went to jail for it.”
Bring in the Drug War
White privilege was the only thing saving my friends and I from becoming victims to such a weak legal case. The regular drug tests were thinning our supply of talented techs, but none of the positive results were coming from us, the target group, the drunken heathens. That meant the Army’s Criminal Investigation Command (CID) had to get involved.
For some reason, they seemed certain that one of us was the supplier for all the people coming up hot in the piss tests. Now remember, we lived in Germany, in a German town, surrounded by German people. But no, they were certain an American Army private was the head of the Bad Kreuznach drug cartel. Everywhere we went we had a tail.
It wasn’t long before CID was regularly calling us in for questioning. That was a mistake. After that, we recognized the undercover CID officers whenever they stalked us in the local bars. We would always say hi, loudly.
Then Comes the Entrapment
Being the smart-ass that I am, of course I mentioned the logical flaws in looking for an American drug dealer in Germany. That’s when I received a brief moment of honesty from the detectives. CID doesn’t get any credit for busting a German drug dealer, the Polizei probably won’t even do anything about it. They need to bust Americans to justify their positions.
So, if they have to find an American to throw under the bus, then that is exactly what they’ll do. It’s all about quotas.
That American came in the form of my roommate. There was a party in one of the barracks one night, and most of my friends were there. Apparently, “someone” brought some cocaine and talked my roommate into cutting it into lines. After that, random people snorted lines making my roommate officially guilty of drug distribution.
CID Made a Criminal out of my Roommate
That’s when my roommate went to the military prison in Mannheim to work as slave labor building barracks furniture. Others received Article 15s, which is an administrative form of punishment involving losing your rank, money and performing a certain amount of extra duty.
I’ve never been a fan of cocaine, so they still didn’t have anything on me. It even seemed as though things were starting to look up. My time was coming to an end and I was just concentrating on what to do next.
Then I Reenlisted
I know, that sounds weird after all of my bad experiences, but I thought I was setting up a better future. They offered me a reclassification to Satellite Communication Systems Operator with only a three year addition to my enlistment. Two of those years would have been at school in Fort Gordon, Georgia.
Well, that was far too sweet of a deal for my arrogant, ignorant, Christian conservative of a company commander to allow. So he had me committed to the mental ward of the military hospital so they could prove I have some sort of mental disorder. He wanted to find a reason to kick me out of the Army, but they only diagnosed me with ADD and recommended a medical separation that would have been fully honorable.
More Punishment Needed
Since the doctors wouldn’t play along with his authoritarian ambitions, Captain Douchebag decided to call his friends in CID again. They drew up some paperwork that accused me of doing psilocybin mushrooms “in or around Bad Kreuznach.” That was, of course, a lie.
I did do shrooms one night in Amsterdam. Because how can you not? They didn’t know that, they just knew I didn’t like cocaine. The accusation wasn’t even enough to take to a court martial. It was, however, enough to get my discharge paperwork changed from Honorable to General.
So I have Learned
I have learned that conservative white males in positions of power will screw over innocent people to maintain that power. I have learned that detectives will find a scapegoat if that’s what they need to do to save their jobs, to justify their existence. I have learned that the U.S. government doesn’t value intelligence, creativity, or ingenuity.
They just want warm bodies that do what they’re told, and they will hurt you if that isn’t what you are.