Why do I write against the system?
Why do I oppose the state?
It was late one night in twentynine palms I heard screaming. It was like that of a formation but not. It was different. I looked outside to the courtyard between the barracks where I saw some boots fresh from infantry training school. They were being forced to chug whiskey and do push-ups. I watched as the bottles of whiskey was taken by their Cpl as he ran them back into the mountain ridge. Drinking and running, pushing and vomiting. They were returned to the barracks covered in sweat and vomit humiliated.
One evening I left my barracks to walk down to the pizzeria on the base. A unit had just returned from Iraq. I do not remember what unit it was. I do remember seeing them waving an Iraqi flag desecrating it and screaming obscenities. KILL! SAND NIGGER! two of the ones I remember most clearly. I recall some screaming and boasting of how they killed someone. They were screaming how many kills they got. They were hanging out of the barracks with bottles of beer celebrating and praising the murder they committed.
I remember one PFC whose neck was ripped open with a K-Bar by his Sgt over a porno DVD.
I remember one Marine tied to his rack face down raped in the asshole with a broomstick.
I hate remembering the Marines.
I remember how any objection to an order or to one in power was often met with humiliation. I hear of Bradley Manning’s Abuse and am not shocked why they claim they are doing it. I am not shocked at all it is being done to him. Power and authority is not questioned or you will see the cruelty another is capable of.
I saw how our country is structured by the rule of force. I saw how threats and humiliation was used to maintain power and control over other human beings. My eyes were open to what it truly takes to order society with aggressive force and I hate it. It is all covered with a thin veil of patriotic bullshit. The blind worship bastards and killers.
Some make it out, more enlightened with their eyes open. Some are not murderous beasts. Some are men I think highly of. They were stuck a cog in this oppressive violent system. I hate it. There are some individuals I think lowly of. The most dedicated to the Corps were often the most inhumane. Then there are those who learned and left that vile shit.
I want to thank the Marine Corps for showing me the truth so that I could embrace Anarchism and Non-Violence.
So to every Jarhead with their redundant dehumanizing insults, I simply say that I feel sorry for you. Your weak minds could not retain your humanity. You are a pawn reciting every cliche your beloved Corps brainwashed you with. I hope one day you will seek professional counseling and heal mentally.
When I was in the Marine Corps I learned quickly that media, images and information would be tightly controlled. I worked in a U.S.M.C. Public Affairs office as well as the “Combat Visual Information Center”. There were images and footage that was not to be seen by the general public because they would make the U.S.M.C. look bad. I first learned of this when a camera crew came in to film a documentary on Parris Island. The footage was not aloud off the island until it was viewed by the general and he was to determine what footage was aloud to be used. I addressed some of this dialogue in context to the larger media and cultural discussion recently in my post Propaganda and Language of the State.
There were two pictures in particular that stand out in my memory in all of this. I would receive CD’s full of videos and images from Afghanistan and Iraq. We would go through them and decide what to do with much of it. Some was saved, some they did not want to exist. I remember seeing countless videos made by Marines playing songs like “let the bodies hit the floor” and other anthems of aggression over top of footage of violence. One of the things that I remember most clearly was the pink mist. You would see a person standing there one moment the next they would be nothing but a pink mist in the air raining down.
I found a batch of images on a disc that were extremely low resolution. I took two to paint. Both struck me as strong images that needed to be seen. As I began the images I was told to stop. I was told there was no place for them, and that it was not the the image we wanted to portray of the war.
The first image was a field of rifles stuck in the desert ground muzzle first with a Kevlar helmet hanging off of each one. It was a memorial to the Marines lost in combat. Their M16 A2 service rifles were taken to what looked like a makeshift graveyard. It was vast. This practice made it’s way back stateside and I later could find images of similar practices, but have had a hard time finding the field of rifles. There could have easily been hundreds of them sprawled out in the red dusk of the desert.
The second image I began was of an Iraqi citizen. He was a gentleman I assume was in his late forties or early fifties. He had a blue and white keffiyeh on his head, his arms were raised behind his head. His family and others stood around in horror and fear. Two marines their rifles pushed up to his head. The focus of the image was on his face. You could see the fear and terror in his teared up eyes. He was crying for his life.
The popular dialogue would not be tainted with certain images and ideas. The USMC will not allow certain truths to come to light.
Sometimes I remember things as if it didn’t even happen. It’s strange. They make me scared to think about. I don’t know what to think half the time. I remember the whiskey lockers. They were just closets in the squad bays on Parris Island. I remember being told they don’t hit or abuse recruits. I was told it through boot camp and I was told it throughout my career in the Marines. I remember people talking about how great it was now how watered down it is compared to what used to happen.
I also remember something I can’t quite remember. It’s strange. It is vague but when I try to think about it I get a sinking feeling in my gut. I get scared. I remember being dragged into the whiskey locker. I though I was hit, I thought I was punched. I thought I was beat to the ground. I remember boots kicking me in the gut in the side and in the head. I remember my eyes ere closed and I was holding myself up just an inch or so from the ground with my toes and arms in a push-up position just having to hold myself there as I was kicked.
What’s wrong Thayer? Hu? What’s wrong? Not going to make it? That’s what I hear in that scratchy gruff voice. It wasn’t screaming like it usually was, it was lower. I could hear his real voice in there not the growl he ordered the recruits around with. I remember his face smiling with each kick as I was threatened and told not to let myself touch the ground. I remember being told when I was pushing my body up too high. I remember the kicks when I collapsed on the floor. It doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t even seem real most of the time. It’s confusing for me. I’m not feeling good writing this. I feel scared and anxious. The floor smelled like Aqua velvet. I remember the yellow paint container open.
He would remind me a few times a week. If I was on the ground doing push-ups, or at the rifle range in the prone position firing my rifle. He would give me a quick light kick to the stomach or ribs and smile at me.
I remember thinking nobody could hear or see us in the whiskey locker. There was paint on the ground. I was painting campaign covers. It’s not just that. It’s all kinds of stuff. It all gets to me. You can’t talk about that. You are called weak and pathetic. Your personhood is diminished to shit, a bag of ass. All the brainwashed Marines have some little redundant mindless insult to come at you with to dismiss you and shut you up. Sometimes I can’t tell what was real. Other things haunt me and I just can’t seem to grasp it all. Some people tell me I have PTSD. I don’t know what to think. I never saw combat. And does it matter if it’s real? It’s not like I’m stuck in a whiskey locker my entire life, but sometimes it is. Like in a car, or confined to a room, maybe. I don’t know what to think of any of it. I only know that I hate the fucking Marine Corps.
I made it through veterans day and the Marine Corps Birthday with more bumps and bruises than I expected. Every ‘thank you’ brought me back. It took me back to the ‘thank you’ I was uncomfortable getting while I was in. I made it known that I did not like the Corps while I was in and now that I am out I have made it perfectly clear that I abhor the abusive murderous institution.
I was uncomfortable with all the thanks while I was in. I got them in airports, restaurants or any place I had to show an I.D. or where my cover was blown. I often tried to hide the fact that I was in the Corps in public, I did not feel comfortable with it. What were they thanking me for? I did not give anyone freedom. I was a part of an institution that turned human beings into violent killers. It fucked my head up. It nurtured the aggression in myself. It made me into something I loathed. I became abusive and violent. I was trained to embrace savage anarchistic behavior I was not comfortable with. I was dehumanized along with all the other Marines. Some would go on to embrace it and in turn act in the manner they were treated.
I remember meeting Nathan Gale. We were in a bus station in Cincinnati Ohio. I rode with him to North Carolina and talked with him. I watched as he was belittled and treated like an animal. He was insulted and belittled. He was treated as less than human. I was shocked at first to see him on the news years later after he killed Dimebag Dallas and turned the gun on himself. I was shocked at first, but after much consideration of what he was trained to do and how they treated him I am less than shocked that he would go out and murder other human beings.
I remember being there in North Carolina walking next to PFC Lamb in formation. I walked beside him when he still had legs. As I walked out of the grenade range I heard a loud explosion louder than the explosions I heard while I was there. It was much closer. I was rushed off to sit on the bleachers with the other Marines. I remember seeing the helicopter fly down so close that I could almost reach out and touch it. Then the Corpsman came out from behind the range crying. It was silent. Nobody spoke, and few had dry eyes. I watched them as they rolled him out his body mangled by the shrapnel. He lived. His legs looked to be fused with his jungle boots. they were red and wiggly like twizlers. They jiggled as they moved him. They rolled out Sgt. Funny. He was face down with his uniform cut off and little speckles of red scattered about his body from where the shrapnel went in. I think many of us came to the same realization at that point. This shit was for real. This was it and we might not ever get to go home from this hell.
Every thank you and every mention just jolted more memories I didn’t want. It became too much for me to handle at times. I was crying out in anger. I did not want to hear them. These people had no idea what they were thanking anyone for. It was the patriotic thing to do. They were raised to thank the Vet and believe the murderous abuse brought them freedom somehow.
I thought at least I could get something out of it all. I was told Applebees was giving Vets a free lunch. I went. It didn’t feel right. I was uncomfortable even more. As I walked in I saw buttons and banners ‘honoring veterans day’. They started with the ‘thank you’ stuff. I expected as much. The restaurant was packed with vets and young guys that looked like they were on active duty. I felt like I was back on base walking into the E-club or the PX or something. It was uncomfortable. It brought back more and more memories that haven’t visited me in years. Things I was happy not to remember. Even at the time I dealt with them by drinking.
Most of it I drowned out with alcohol when I was in the Corps. I wasn’t the only one. The Marine Corps was full of men and women who drank their pain away. Loneliness, trauma and pain could be dealt with if you just hid them under the liquor. You wouldn’t have to face it. You wouldn’t have to face the body of the PFC who was ripped open by the K-Bar of his Sgt for not returning a porno DVD. You didn’t have to face the endless funeral details. You didn’t have to face the fact that more Marines were dying in the states than in Iraq. You didn’t have to face the marine strapped to his rack raped by a broomstick, or the countless female marines being raped by the aggressive patriarchy. You could just drink and fight.
Violence was a close friend. I abhor violence. But this is only after years of living so intimately with it. Drink, Fight, Fuck. I was an empty shell of a human being, a husk held up only by the liquor, fueled by the rage.
Marine Corps KILL KILL KILL!
I played their games. I spoke out and expressed my hatred for the Corps. This often led to mindless games invented to make me submit. I wanted out. I realized everything they told me was bullshit.
I remember the first time I had a work detail put under me. I had to make these guys clean a bathroom I couldn’t do it. I told them what they had to do. I then took the rag and bucket and started cleaning the shitters myself. I let them just figure out what to do on their own. I did not want to tell anyone what to do. I had a major issue with giving these men such demeaning tasks, so I took them. I would not become one of them.
So many did not see the conditioning, abuse or aggressive nature of it all. So many did not see just how violent, vile and fucked up it all was. They just couldn’t see past what they were taught. I remember the anti-war protests outside of Twentynine Palms. I took some pictures for the base paper. I was told to stay away from the protesters. I was not aloud to join them, confront them or become involved at all. I did not obey. That Saturday I saw them out in town. I was not looking much like a marine. I was out of regs. I wondered up behind them with my flask of whiskey in my jacket pocket as I always carried some whiskey on me. I didn’t hold a sign. I did not say much. I did not want to draw too much attention, I just wanted to be with them. These were the people saying something that made sense to me. This was where I belonged. I was comforted there just standing amongst the Anti-War protest. People calling for peace. People calling to end all this mindless violence. That was where I wanted to be.
I fought often. I would drink and fight. I was trained to fight, what else was I supposed to do? I can’t tell you how many fights there were. I can’t remember them all. I was full of rage, anger and a drive to commit acts of violence. The last fight I got into I ended up with a chipped skull, a black eye and a nose that was sore and mushy. I was hit in the face a great deal. I often woke up sore from being beat in the face or head in a fight the night before. Thinking back to this I become anxious.
I have separated myself from violence. I haven’t been able to watch war movies in almost a decade. After I got out was really when I began to separate myself from violence. Hearing about it or seeing it depicted in media upsets me. I feel a great deal of sympathy for the victims of violence. I hate what I was when I was in the Corps. I can never go back to that. I don’t want to remember it. I sure as hell can’t take the ‘thank you’ bullshit, it just upsets me the same way I get upset hearing about violence against other human beings, for it is all I can see when I think of the Corps. The Corps only exists to inflict violence on people through the people it abuses to condition to inflict violence and to murder.
Eat the Apple Fuck the Corps – A phrase used by Marines to express their displeasure with the Marine Corps. Usually mouthed by someone about to leave the Corps or by a Marine who has endured a perceived injustice.
Today marks 235 years of legalized murder by one of the most deadly gangs on the earth. I was once a part of this gang. I am not proud of the death across the world. I am not proud that other young women and men were brainwashed into glorifying the murder of the state. On this 235th birthday of the Marine Corps I ask of you not to tell me happy birthday. Don’t thank me. Question the violence and slaughter.
Every year around November 10th I hear many people wishing me a “Happy Birthday” because it is the day the Corps celebrates it’s birthday. Today is the 235th year of the Marine Corps. I also often get the redundant ‘thank you for your service’ from many who feel that the murderous actions of the state are honorable.
This is the time of year they throw elegant balls to celebrate. It is a big holiday in the Corps. Many from military families and those that have been involved in the U.S.M.C. know that today is a day of significance and a day that all Marines are not only aware of but often anticipating. There will be feasts, balls, drink and celebration this week all throughout the world.
I often do not know what to say as people find out I am a veteran of the U.S.M.C. and they thank me. I find the legacy of violence and brutality repulsive. I do not want to hear your thank you. I do not want to hear the ‘happy birthday’.
If you want to thank anyone thank the Winter soldiers for doing what is right. They are the true patriots. Celebrate those who speak out against the murder and violence of the American Empire. I will not be always faithful to the murder of the state. I will not condone sending young people to die and kill. The youth of the nation has been brainwashed into believing in the murder and tyranny of the state as I illustrated earlier in my article Fear and Loathing in the U.S.M.C. Brainwashed in the Corps.
Eat the Apple Fuck The Corps
This article was originally posted here.
Warfare is the central hubris of the state. I recently wrote an article that invoked much anger and appreciation: Fear and Loathing in the U.S.M.C. For God & Country. As I watched the reactions to the article and discussions around the internet I noticed something. Those who were most angry with the article defended the brainwashing techniques of the U.S.M.C. as necessary to carry out the warfare they saw as necessary. Some questioned if the goal could be reached by different means. Few actually asked the questions I often ask and challenge others to ask. Do we need this military and these wars to begin with?
Alan Moore once stated: “00001% of the worlds’ population that causes 99.99999% of the worlds problems… It is leaders.” The statist would teach us that these wars are for our good and for our protection. The statist would say that by this act of mass murder we find freedom. When I write of how elements like the military are the might of this government power I oppose, people become angered. The statist will tell me that some evil gang will come in use violence against us and take control. Many will say that some evil power will abuse the freedom that exists under Anarchy. I completely agree that is exactly what has happened.
We live in anarchy naturally. Anarchy is the natural state of humankind. We just so happen to live in that badly conceived anarchy that people fear where the most aggressive powerful gangs have gained control and asserted their tyranny on every corner of the globe.
In order for these criminal gangs to maintain control they must use the force of their military and police. It is a simple concept, kill or cage those who will not agree with us. There is nothing new in all of this. As I pointed out in: The natural history of the state, government is a barbaric criminal model used for personal gain. The government apologists use utilitarian arguments to justify their crimes against humanity. Truly what use is a military? Well self defense of course, except when it’s not. Often the state justifies it’s invasions with utilitarian apologetics to paint it as defense. The case if Iran comes to mind. Operation Ajax was used in the 1953 to gain power over another state leading to a long history of attack and retaliation.
We need defense not invasion forces. The statist truly realizes this which is why they will justify the invasions of the state by claiming the offense is defense. The initiation of force is not defense. The initiation of aggression is invasion. The idea of ‘get them before they get us’ is the classic conservative battle cry. Without this criminal power the state ceases to exist, and all the systems that remain become voluntary. It is this society we are striving for. Not the savage rape and pillage model that the state is as seen in the natural history of government, but a truly civilized society.
I pointed out in my article: Anarchy for Conservatives, if the pro-state conservative claims to cling to the idea that products and services improve under a free market why would defense not be improved by ending the government monopoly? I make this point because the conservative tends to be the biggest pro-militant voice. Maybe the system of defense will not immediately see improved models, but with time we can make those advancements. The exact advancements are unpredictable and irrelevant. What is relevant is that defense is removed from the state monopoly so such advancements can begin.
“Punk Johnny Cash,” veteran of the U.S. Marine Corps and blogger at the GonzoTimes.com, discusses movie portrayals of the marines, how basic training changes one forever, the modern epidemics of shell shocked vets and on-base violence, the similarity of the mindset of an enlisted man and a battered wife, examples of how they humiliate and break down new recruits in order to rebuild them and whether or not the U.S. needs to take over the planet Earth in the first place.
“FIVE! FOUR! TWO! ONE! STOP! You’re done! Get your nasty hands off!” The drill instructor belted out in his guttural scratchy faux voice. “I said you’re done!” He screamed as he got into a recruits face. Everyone was frozen. “Get On Line!” The recruits left their ALICE packs lay and jumped to attention on the little yellow lines painted on the concrete ground in front the racks.
“Sir, Yes Sir!” the recruits chanted in unison. The drill instructor continued to berate the recruit, spit flying in his face and finger extended barely an inch from his eyeball. Fatigued and thrown into chaos the recruits listened to the drill instructor belittle every action they had made. The drill instructor would have them dump everything out of their ALICE packs and start the impossible task again while he counted down. This task would be repeated over and over until the recruits understood they were incompetent.
That was not a one time occurrence. It became every day and night for thirteen weeks. There was plenty of punishment. The recruits would understand that not only did they not have an identity outside of recruit but they would understand that their actions and attempts were never worthy until the recruit had become a Marine. The old self was worthless. The Marine was something of pride and honor. The state had to create people whose humanity had been denied so they would lay down their lives without question for the cause of the state.
As a Marine I saw an institution that was structured not too different than an abusive relationship. I saw that to maintain the power they held over myself and others abusive behaviors were embraced. This is essential for the state to maintain it’s power and effectiveness in carrying out it’s main objective in killing those that would oppose the authority and desires of the state. The police must dehumanize the citizen, the soldier or Marine must dehumanize the enemy combatant. They must be dehumanized to be capable of dehumanizing other people. This can be as simple as the language used to replace the humanity of the victim such as “perpetrator”, “enemy” or “combatant”.
The Marine or Soldier will resent the truth that they have been brainwashed. This process of brainwashing is essential to maintaining any militarized force from the U.S.M.C. to a police force or army. The solider, police officer or Marine will resent the fact that the same process used to control an abused spouse in domestic violence situations is used on them. The militarized mind will grow angry and deny this reality when it confronts them. The apologetics they use are often ingrained in their minds during the process.
The techniques used in training set up a hierarchical culture that is perpetuated through ones’ military career. This leads to the abusive power over individuals in their time in service. It also alters their perception and is often carried out to the civilian world with abusive tendencies. No, that does not mean the Marine is necessarily beating the spouse always, but it can lead to many abusive power structures in relationships with other individuals.
What does this process look like?
Many different models of brainwashing can be found. The majority of them hold much in common with militarization of the individual. Biderman’s Chart of Coercion highlights: Isolation, Monopolization of perception, Induced Debility & Exhaustion, Threats, Occasional Indulgences, Demonstrating “Omnipotence”, Enforcing Trivial Demands and Degradation.
Isolation I saw even within the platoon I was a part of. Not only were we taken to an isolated Island but the recruits were forbidden to interact the majority of the time. Human interaction was forbidden.
Monopolization of Perception became a way of life for those thirteen months in boot camp. Your perception and attention was in constant devotion to what was often trivial matters. They would be repeated over and over and constantly the message was that they were not good enough so the tasks would repeat.
Induced Debility & Exhaustion were also a daily reality. The recruits were run ragged daily. by the time you hit the rack you were out. The final task was “The Crucible” where the exhaustion was even more extreme. The physical tasks were often used to break one down to the point where they could no longer function at full capacity.
Threats were a constant. The threats often went hand in hand with punitive action through getting IT’d or what they like to call “Initiative Training” or in the “pit” or on the “quarterdeck” This was the screaming of “PUSH!” “FASTER!” as one was always unable to reach the intended goal. Often threats came in other forms. Recruits were told they would not graduate and certain dooms of being dropped and staying at Parris Island or “not becoming Marines” were some common threats.
Occasional Indulgences were rare. Often they were such small things that most would be shocked that a human being would become excited over them. This was mostly in the rare occasions recruits were aloud a “Power Bar” or a “Gatorade” for reward of a job well done. This was an uncommon reward that recruits would just about kill for.
Demonstrating “Omnipotence” The recruits knew that no action was unobserved or would go unpunished. The fear was put in each recruit to the point where any act of individuality or rebellion was not even considered. The fear of the existing power structure followed each recruit to the point where there was no question the recruits would do as they were told no matter how absurd the demands were.
Enforcing Trivial Demands was also a thing that was a constant. If it was the way one showered or how they were to sit there were trivial demands constantly made on the recruits. The recruits were often degraded by these trivial demands.
Degradation and humiliation became a way of life. Using the restroom was just one way they used to humiliate the recruits. I still recall being forced four to one Porto-john. Three would use the main hole with the smaller one standing on the toilet itself, his genitals hanging in the other recruits faces as all urinated simultaneously and the lucky fourth recruit would get the side urinal free from his privates in another man’s face or another man’s privates in his face.
One could write a novel pointing each of those elements out on a day to day basis in “Recruit Training” but I am not going to take that much time up. I do want to look at some more elements such as those writen about by Dick Sutphen which is summarized here:
1. Isolation: the meeting or training takes place in a place where participants are cut off from the outside world. This often involves making a public commitment to stay during the training. When training takes place in isolation like this, there is usually a quick follow-up session to ensure that the technique has really taken hold.
2. Fatigue: a schedule is maintained that ensures physical and mental fatigue. This means long hours, few breaks, and very little time for relaxing or reflection.
3. Tension: techniques are used to increase tension in the group. For example, perhaps there are a few truisms thrown around that might make you feel like you are doing something wrong. Or that you are a sinner, or depressed, or generally unhappy.
4. Uncertainty: people are randomly put on the spot. Forced to withdraw into anger, fear, or awe. Revivalist churches and human-potential seminars include asking people to come on stage and talk about humiliating or weak moments in their lives. This withdrawn, fearful, state, makes you many times more susceptible to suggestions as your guard is down and you are looking for safety and reassurance in whatever form it takes.
5. Jargon: new language to talk about what’s going on. It could help label the “enemy”, whether it be ignorant people, people who aren’t yet enlightened, or evil people. Also, new language to talk about people who are “fixed”: either enlightened, saved, or healed.
6. Humorlessness: there’s no humor involved until the process is complete. The humor then serves as a way to celebrate and seal the deal.
A couple other techniques can be used in addition to help the effects become more pronounced. These three steps are called the “decognition process” as they help slow down and eventually stop thinking altogether.
1. Alertness Reduction: one part of this is to force participants to keep a poor diet: either lots of sugar, or very bland foods. Sugar throws your nervous system off. A very bland diet (usually fruits and vegetables and no dairy or meat) will make you more spacey. Another part is inadequate sleep after long hours of intense discomfort or strenuous physical activity.
2. Programmed Confusion: a deluge of new information, combined with questions, discussion groups, and one-to-one create a sense of jumbled-ness that make it easier to insert crazy ideas.
3. Thought Stopping: most of these brainwashing techniques encourage stopping your thoughts in one of three ways. All three processes can be very helpful if you are controlling the process. The only danger comes when you allow someone else who you don’t fully know the motives of to take you through these steps and slowly alter deep beliefs about yourself and the world.
1. Marching to a beat, usually at around 1 or 1.5 steps per second, is particularly useful. Both the military and Hitler used this to great effect. The beat puts you in a slightly altered state of awareness that is close to hypnosis and makes you more susceptible to suggestions.
2. Meditation is the second form of thought stopping. An hour to an hour and a half of meditation a day for several weeks is enough to keep you in a constant “slow” state that is more focused and susceptible to suggestions (both good and bad).
3. Chanting is the third form of thought stopping, and has the same general technique as marching. The beat helps put you in a slightly different state of awareness.
The reason we must continue to look at boot camp in the criticism of the system is that this is the foundation of all to come. This determines the ethics and mindset of the Marine. The mindset to belittle and minimize others is birthed from this. The new being that is formed through the brainwashing is the being that the state must have to insure it’s power. The state requires it’s killers to maintain it’s very existence and here we see how human beings are programmed to do something destructive and often counter to their nature. This is essential to maintain a system where mass murder is the justifies authority over other human beings.
I was led to believe violence, murder and aggression were honorable. They were ‘sacrifices’. The ‘good guy kills’. Honor, Courage and Commitment were synonyms for Subservient Devotion to a Power Structure, Willingness to die or kill for that State & Power Structure and commitment to this State & those who demand authority over others.
I was on a hiatus from the Marine Corps. Most civilians would call it AWOL (absent without leave), in the Marines it is a U.A. (unauthorized absence). I was frustrated and irritated with the powers that be and the imposition on my person so I decided that instead of showing up for formation the next morning I would go off to LA, Hollywood. I was stationed in twenty nine palms California. This sounds luxurious but it is nothing more than the butt crack of the Mojave Desert. I gathered a few items, shoved my cash into my jungle boots threw on an old Never Mind the Bollocks T-Shirt a pair of jeans and my jacket to head out.