By Charles Melton
Melton’s Musings
On Sept. 2, 1998, a 23-year-old copy editor at The Waco Tribune-Herald signed a four-year contract and took an oath to defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic, at the Military Enlistment Processing Station in downtown Dallas without having a clue what exactly he’d just signed up to do.
The only three things he knew were: his college student loans would be paid off; he’d get $10,000 for signing the contract; and he’d report to Fort Benning, Georgia, for basic training and advanced individual training. He wouldn’t find out exactly what he’d signed up for until Sept. 3, 1998, when his friend on the Trib-Herald copy desk told him exactly what an 11X was.
He signed up to be Army Infantry with a bachelor’s degree in journalism from Texas Tech University, which would prove more of a detriment than a help, but what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Being a “college boy” enlisted Infantryman definitely made him tougher than most.
For those who don’t know what an Infantryman is, it’s simply a fancy term for the foot Soldier who leads the way in battle, seldom with everything he needs to do the job right and without any of the comforts afforded those Soldiers not on the front lines. It takes a special mentality and mindset and no uncertain amount of emotional, mental, and physical grit to do it well.
That’s why those in the brotherhood of the Infantry affectionately call themselves grunts, because they are “the filthy, sweaty, dirt-encrusted, foot-sore, camouflage-painted, ripped-trouser’d, tired, sleepy, beautiful s.o.b.s, who have kept the wolf away from the door for more than two hundred years.”
The education I received from the Army Infantry School is the most valuable education I’ve received in my entire life. Drill sergeants Quashie and Martin broke me down from Day One and over the course of 12 weeks created an adaptable, hard-charging, tougher than boot leather, never quit under any circumstances grunt. Those qualities they injected into me through more push-ups and flutter kicks than there are stars in the nighttime sky have been critical to every bit of success I’ve had since I graduated in January 1999.
For grunts like me, Veterans Day isn’t about the free or discounted meals from restaurants nor the public proclamations of thanks for their service that suddenly appeared about 20 years ago. Nor is it about having a day off work or any other public celebration. We’re grunts, not garrison Soldiers with clean uniforms.
For us, it’s about reaching out to those fellow grunts we served with, remembering all the times we simply had no choice but to suck it up and drive on, tired, sore and running off caffeine and nicotine until the job was done. Inevitably, the conversation will turn to asking what happened to any one of the numerous colorful characters with whom we served, and we’ll laugh until our cheeks get wet and our stomachs hurt because that’s just what grunts do.
If you want to do something meaningful for a veteran, a simple “thank you for your service” in passing without any fanfare or public scene is more than enough. The authenticity and sincerity of those five words are worth more than a free meal or discount for grunts like me.
Charles Melton is the News Editor of The Hutchinson Tribune. He can be reached at charles@hutchtribune.com