Troop welfare were just words to my higher ups. They would tell everyone that they look out for their Marines but that’s all they would do. My old gunny used to say that shit all the time. Hell, he used to say a lot of other shit, but in the end, he was all talk.
More power is given with more rank and sometimes higher ups just abuse that power. My higher ups would always take care of themselves before they took care of their junior Marines. My higher ups were always first for everything good and last for everything bad.
They need to get promoted as fast as possible so that they don’t get kicked out of the Marine Corps due to service limitations. Higher ups are willing to sell their junior Marines down the river for promotions. They don’t care about “troop welfare.” If my fellow Marines needed something, we were always viewed as pests, as a major hindrance in the lives of “royalty.”
One day when my platoon was driving to work, we encountered our two favorite SNCOs, SSGT Tweedlefuckingdee and Gunnery Sergeant Tweedlefuckingduumb. They were driving in their SUV and they stopped us.
Sergeant : Hey. What’s up?
SSGT : We need you to do: this, this, this, this, and this.
Sergeant : Well, if we’re going to do all that, we won’t be able to get chow. Can you pick it up for us?
SSGT doesn’t respond.
SSGT looks back at Gunny who gives him the “The fuck are you looking at me for?” look.
SSGT : We’ll see.
They never got us chow.
They couldn’t even afford to waste a few minutes out of their day to get us basic shit like chow. What was their job that was so important? Their job was to punch numbers into a computer but that’s not what it said on their Fitness Reports.
Stuff like this may seem trivial but it’s more important than one may think.
Talking the talk since 1775.