Something I thought about while mowing the lawn today, with the sweat in my eyes. Because I forgot my bandana. This will go in the book in the section about Korea. Enjoy.

AR 670-1 dictates the proper wearing of US Army uniforms and insignia. Everything from your dress uniform to field uniform to PT uniforms. And while proper respect for the uniform should always be displayed, sometimes NCOs go overboard. I wrote previously about our battalion Sergeant Major in Korea, "Taz." He was a short guy with a complex about it, and when he got "spun up" about something, he ran around yelling and hollering like the Tasmanian Devil from the cartoons. He was a great example of an NCO who who jerked off to the regulations instead of porn like a normal person.

When you are in the field, you are always sweating. Digging foxholes and fighting positions. Putting up camo nets, replacing engines on vehicles that are down, playing wargames, etc. The Kevlar helmet we are issued has a sweat band in it, but even with a proper fit, it does shit all to keep the sweat from rolling into your eyes. And that stings. On top of that, the webbing inside the helmet is not comfortable either.

As part of our gear, soldiers are issued a piece of cloth that is folded and bagged for easy carry. It is to be used as a sling or tourniquet. Most of us opened one up and used it as a bandana. It made the helmet more comfortable, and most importantly, I never had sweat rolling into my eyes when I wore it. My fuck up came from not hiding it. The "tails" of it were sticking out from under my helmet.

Team Spirit was the big multi-national division exercise we held each winter. So there I am in line for chow. We are cold and miserable, but we are getting hot chow that day, even if it is just t-rations. (Think food quality a bit better than a TV dinner.) I am waiting and shooting the shit with another soldier when I feel someone grab the tails of the bandana and yank HARD. I spun around, fist cocked and ready with a "Motherfucker!" that was starting to slip when I see it is Taz looking up at me, mad as hell, waiting for me to finish. HOPING I would finish. Dammit.

Nothing to be done. Stop cussing and uncurl my fist. Take immediate corrective action to remove the offending article. Put my Kevlar back on in a proper fashion. Snap to and take my ass chewing, and hope it doesn't get worse than that. Fucking Taz had already chewed my ass once that week for something minor, I'm surprised he didn't remember me. But then again, he lived on a diet of eating young enlisted soldiers, so I'm sure I was nothing special.

With the ass chewing done, and Taz departed to find someone else to fuck up, the guys started giving me shit. My platoon daddy gave me a disappointed look. I got my food, ate and trudged back through the snow to my APC. Where I promptly put my fucking bandana on again.

Fuck you Taz, you short little bastard, you can't be everywhere at once.

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