From Marine to Anti-War Organizer To Serve or Not to Serve?
by SCOTT COSSETTE
...Having recently read "Up Against the Brass", the story of Pvt. Andy Stapp, who founded the American Servicemen's Union in 1967 to support GI's in opposition to the war in Vietnam and to fight the hypocrisy of the Military in general, I decided to try and carry on this endeavor in a small way by relaying my own experiences and offering reasons why our men and women in uniform and those pondering enlistment should oppose this war and resist serving in it by all means necessary.
In August of 1999 at the ripe 'old' age of 29, I enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. Why? The truth is, to this day I really do not know the answer to that loaded question. Maybe I was deluded in to thinking that I was championing the cause of freedom and democracy. Perhaps I felt I was serving my fellow Americans by ensuring their safety. The heroic deeds of General Smedley Butler and many other war 'heroes' are methodically drilled into your head during Marine recruit training. Their names and accomplishments are recited by boots while waiting in the endless lines for hair cuts, toiletries, forced vaccinations, urination and chow. This is done to ensure that each and every Marine feels pressure to aspire to greatness in battle and bring honor to their country and themselves.
Sadly, I came across General Butler's enlightening 'War is Just A Racket' speech after being discharged from the Corps. This, the most important of the General's accomplishments is conveniently left out during 'indoctrination' even though it was delivered in 1933!
Being the police protection for big business in the third world is neither honorable nor just. If the rank and file service members knew whom they really represented, I have no doubt that they would refuse to do so. Boot camp is like the first day at a new school with all the fear and anxiety of being alone in a foreign place except in this school the teachers control your every waking moment. You are admonished never to call the drill instructor a drill 'sergeant', that's the nasty Army terminology and Marines are superior to all other branches, or look them in the eye for any reason. You do not speak unless spoken to and in the case that you need to urinate, permission must be requested in the proper military manner. I witnessed more than one boot piss on himself at the position of attention because he failed repeatedly to request permission in the proper military manner. This is truly a proud moment in someone's life. It doesn't pay to have a stammer or nervously mix up your words. It also doesn't 'behoove' you to stand too close to a drill instructor. It is made clear to you at the beginning of training that if an instructor feels 'threatened' by a recruit he or she may respond with extreme force and violence in 'self-defense'. Lets say that some kids never heard this because I saw a few black eyes while I was there.
The only words that make the loneliness, the physical torture, the verbal abuse, the humiliation, the gas chamber, the group punishment for individual mistakes, the endless hours of make your bunk, unmake your bunk worthwhile are, "It gets much better at your next duty station". The School of Infantry, I assume from the word 'infantile', was my next duty station.
It does not get any better. When in formation you must stand at attention and keep your eyes straight. One of our Sergeants used to take great pleasure in walking up to a Marine and asking him, "Do you know what my favorite city in Thailand is?" When the Marine, without moving, answered no, the Sergeant would slap him in the genitals and exclaim, "Bangkok!" After a few rounds of this we learned to answer correctly while shielding our groins.
I still am not sure what this sort of 'training' was preparing us for. After 3 months of learning how to kill 'Luke the gook', 'Jackie the Iraqi', and 'Joe rag head' with all means available and reciting cadences like 'Napalm sticks to kids' and 'We're gonna rape, kill, pillage and burn' while we ran on the streets of the base, I began to really question what the hell I was doing in the Marine Corps. Why were we de-humanizing these people? Does racism make the job of killing them easier? That certainly couldn't be what this was all about. Could it?
The most sobering experience, even for the hard-core would-be killers in my class, was Urban Combat training. When it was learned that a 30% casualty rate was expected in house to house fighting more than a few of them regretted signing the 'contract'! Imagine that, at least 3 out 10 GIs will DIE when they invade Iraqi towns and cities. Haven't were learned from Viet Nam that people will fight furiously to defend their homes? Wouldn't you?
Another duty station and nothing changed. This time I was enrolled in electronics school at 29 Palms. My career in Infantry had thankfully been scrapped after an injury during Reconnaissance training and due to much pleading on my own behalf to be out of the combat 'arts'. Who knows, I might have gone on to protect former Unocal Oil spokesman and now President of Afghanistan, Hamid Karzai, from his own brethren. More than likely, I would still be in the brig for refusing to crash wedding parties.
Marine Corps Base 29 Palms is just about the most desolate and bizarre piece of real estate in the country. Located in the high desert outside Palm Springs, it is hard to believe you are not on Mars. Morale here is said to be the lowest of any duty station in the Corps. If my new superiors were any indication, the reason is clear. Every morning before class the platoon would get into formation for inspection. They look at your uniform, your haircut and most importantly, your shave. One of the young Corporals in charge of our class liked to pace up and down the ranks and indiscriminately swat an unsuspecting Marine in the crotch. Non commissioned officers seem to have an affinity for this in the Marine Corps. Was this the secret to defeating your enemy? Why do they fight so hard to exclude homosexuals from military service? I think they have a lot more respect for fellow soldiers than this.
One particular morning stands out in my memory. A few Marines had been found to have, in the class Sergeants opinion, unsatisfactory shaves. Protests and verbal abuse, including threats of bodily harm and death, over the situation caught the attention of our instructors, two Staff Sergeants. One of them produced a pink lady bic shaver and handed it to Corporal 'slaps your nuts'. Brimming with satisfaction he ordered the offending parties to dry shave right there on the spot. I was pissed. After a few moments one of the instructors ordered them into the head so as not to attract attention. Death threats and sharing a lady's razor because of poor hygiene? I could see that the only battles we were being trained for were among ourselves. When one human being believes they are above another then they become their own enemy. Needless to say, I vowed then and there to get out any way I could....
Scott Cossette can be reached at: Scottmj01 at aol.com
[The full text is available at <http://www.counterpunch.org/cossette1111.html>.] ***** -- Yoshie
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