The Primer

The Shark Attack

The Fuckening

The Beret

​

[Classification Markings are FSPO, FOR SHITPOSTING PURPOSES ONLY]

I swear I did not have this pun in mind when I originally chose Squirrel's pseudonym.

Those of you that read the last entry in the Chronicles of Squirrel remember (or have been unable to forget) that he graduated Basic Combat Training. This post is a collection of subsequent events that will serve as a sort of de-briefing on this matter (us intel weenies love our de-briefings-- WAIT NO). All these events occurred at Fort Huachuca during the Intelligence Analyst course. That's right, Squirrel went to intel school.

TL;DR: Squirrel did not acquire any intelligence.

When class began, Squirrel wasted no time in making himself known to our instructors. I guess being in an air-conditioned classroom with NCOs whose primary method of communication wasn't shouting fooled Squirrel into believing he was back in high school, because the stupid just poured from his mouth.

One day, one instructor was recounting a dismounted patrol in urban Iraq and detailed how she'd bought hard knuckle gloves specifically for when the locals got a little too friendly. The discussion naturally steered toward use of force, and Squirrel asked, "What if they spit on me, can I shoot them then? 'Cause what if they have AIDS?"

We were going over biases another day and discussing how to stay objective and not make presumptions, and Squirrel felt the need to let the entire class know, "Oh, yeah I do that. I judge people on what music they listen to, what they wear," at which point another trainee helpfully interjected, "We all dress the same here, Squirrel," and another added "Well, one of us is gonna have to change."

Another day we were on break, and Squirrel was lucky for that fact because if an instructor had heard this fall out of his mouth, he'd have had an immediate and uncomfortable reminder that he was, in fact, still in the Army. He said, "You know, I joined because I wanted to help people. I'd rather hug someone than shoot them." I gently told him, "If I see you in a firefight walking toward the enemy trying to hug them, I'm shooting you in the back, there's no fucking way you'll hold up to torture."

The schoolwork also revealed plenty about Squirrel that those who spent BCT with him already knew. I went through when Reading, Writing, and Briefing was still a separate module from IPB1. It barely even stood on its own as a module, so I can see why they folded it in, but it did serve the purpose of very quickly identifying trainees that had been left partially lobotomized by basic training or had never had much going on upstairs in the first place. Having had a public school education, I was capable of making a powerpoint using source information, and I had just conveniently learned alllll about classification markings and how to use them. I had learned, Squirrel hadn't.

Now, as you all have read beforehand, Squirrel never learned to make his bed. Squirrel never learned to order his locker according to SOP (which in order to do so you literally only need to follow a list). It came as no surprise to me that Squirrel did not realize that he was supposed to apply what he had been taught in the past week or two when producing a powerpoint for the RWB Graded Practical Exercise (because calling it a test or exam is too stressful). Our instructor, having not the benefit of reading my primer on Squirrel due to it having been written several years ex-post-facto, was surprised when Squirrel's powerpoint was turned in without classification markings. I'll add that we were working in a real SCIF using real SCI as sources.

Squirrel had "tapped" the GPE, which meant he got retrained and had to re-submit his brief slides. Tapping is no big deal, I tapped IPB2 myself when I went way overboard restricting terrain on the map and then didn't have time to finish the typework. When you tap an IPB, you have to retest, which is a whole other can of worms. If you tap RWB, however, all you need to do is correct your slides or re-do your brief depending on which you failed. Admittedly, the smartest thing Squirrel ever did was tap RWB instead of one of the IPBs. He submitted his corrected slides later that day. The instructor noticed something odd about the slides and asked Squirrel if he was sure he submitted the right file. Squirrel said yes. The instructor again asked if he was sure, Squirrel said yes again with what I imagine was the same wrongfully self-assured look he had when he told me he was not wearing my beret. Our instructor asked him one more time, this time he really stressed the word "sure" in a tone that would make anyone with two brain cells to rub together consider that maybe they should actually check and see if they'd submitted the right file. Squirrel, unfortunately, did not meet the above prerequisite and simply said yes again. And that was how Squirrel double-tapped RWB and got recycled: by submitting the exact same document that had already received a failing score and not bothering to check what he submitted when prompted.

When he left, he took the set of wet erase markers from his desk. I don't know why, he didn't take the stencil or anything else. Maybe he just liked the pretty colors? Or maybe he just couldn't say goodbye without causing us one more problem. Shortly after he left we got a recycle in our class to take his place. And his markers. It took us weeks to get the markers back from the other class, while our recycle had to borrow from the trainees next to him. When the other class's instructor brought them back, they were missing their case. Our own instructor inquired as to where the case was, and was told in reply, "I dunno, maybe he got hungry."

When I left Fort Huachuca I thought I'd never hear the name "Squirrel" again save in my nightmares. One sunny day at Fort Campbell I was recounting one of the many exploits I've shared with you to a fellow PFC when a newly-arrived analyst overheard me using the name "Squirrel." I shit you not, this guy was in the class they recycled Squirrel into, and it gets worse from there.

Now, I know this sub has a rule against stories from other service members, but this service member was an Allsource Intelligence Analyst and our creed says "For in truth lies victory!" so we never, ever, lie. It's true. We have a chip implanted at the base of our spines with a built-in polygraph that delivers an electric shock the first time it detects a rhythm that indicates dishonesty, and the second time it releases a lethal dose of fentanyl, so I know he was telling the truth when he told me this next part. Anyway, he told me that Squirrel did not improve over time. In fact, he informed me that Squirrel had actually cried while trying to give a brief, apparently because the instructor couldn't keep himself from laughing at how bad he was at briefing. That's not the worst part, and unless you want to be overcome with a sense of dread and hopelessness (marginally more so than usual), I recommend that you stop reading here.

Squirrel proceeded to graduate intelligence school and PCS'd to Fort Hood.

I've now exhausted my entire knowledge base on Squirrel. In the future, some repressed memories involving him may come unraveled, and if so, I will share them with you after recovering from the subsequent psychological breakdown. My time in the service was short, and as a result I don't have many stories to share, so thank you for following me through this account so that these events and the trauma of those that suffered through them will not be forgotten or lost to time.

I offer you this wisdom, perhaps the only thing of value I got out of this experience:

No one is totally useless. One can always serve as a bad example.