The following is an op-ed written by that guy in 3rd Squad.
Yooooooooooo! My fuckin’ dude! What is UP, bro? I haven’t seen you in a minute. I know; I know; I know. Yo. I know. I am with you, dude. I’m so over this shit. Dog, I am so for-real. I am about to fucking run my ass down the road Bergdahl-style, bro. I am telling you, these NCOs are on some other shit out here.
Check out high-speed right here. One, two, one, two; ole boy strutting around like he’s fucking T-2000. Nrrt. Robo-sergeant reporting for duty, sir. Sir, yes, sir. PT belt activated. Douchebag status confirmed. Charlie-mike! This clown counseled me the other day, too. Hell yeah. For fucking skyping my girl in the guard tower. Dog, he’s lucky he didn’t walk up there at the wrong time, too. Shit, you know me and my girl get to talking, shit starts going down, you know how it is. I put a sign up on the tower door: “If the tower’s a-rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’.” Haha, no, he didn’t like that one bit.
Yo. How’d you do on that PT test the other day? Yeah? My dude! That’s good shit! You aren’t careful, they’ll have you all chevroned-up like super soldier over here. Oh, shit, hold on, let me hide so fuckface doesn’t see me. I’m supposed to be policing trash.
Is he gone?
Anyway, about these fuckin’ PT tests, bro. I passed pushups. Like, of course I did. Sit-ups are always kinda iffy. But, the run. Like, I tell these doctors that my knee is messed up from when I flipped my truck and they just aren’t hooking me up with the profile. You seen fat ass Sgt. McNeil? Walking his ass around the track for 22 minutes or some shit. Shit, I could do that. Then they wonder why I fail tape. Like, no shit I fail tape, look at my upper body muscle. I weigh 240 pounds and crank out 55 push-ups like an animal. You think that’s all gut weight? BMI isn’t even a good measure of this shit.
I keep tellin’ ‘em, bro. Nobody listens.
All these numbers are fucking bullshit. Oh, this dude did 68 sit-ups? Okay, that’s, uh, hmmm, let’s see, that’s like an 80-somethin’, we’ll call it. 68 push-ups, on the other hand, that’s a 90-somethin’, you see. We’ve got it all worked out on the computer. Fuck outta here with that bullshit. PT scores are some fuckin’ officer’s opinion. That’s what I want to tell these dudes. My PT score is just, like, your opinion, man. How are you gonna keep me down over this dumb shit? How am I supposed to run an 18-minute two-mile carrying all this muscle?
But, yo, bro, I hate to have to ask, but I only got a minute here. You think you can spot me a cig so I can get back to work without layin’ out one of these dickhead NCO’s?
Thanks, dog. I know I hit you up all the time. I’ll get you back one of these days. Definitely.
Aight. Stay up.