Send It. 

Where the fuck do we get guys like this?

This was the thought that ran through my head last week as I talked to this guy. We were standing in the middle of a blistering hot wide open field at the Military Leadership Course I help with; our students were laying down rifle fire behind us, bombs were being dropped off to the left, and like an annoying gnat from hell some drone kept circling overhead. Me and this guy actually had nothing to do, and were just waiting for the students to get to their next stage. This guy was scratching his wrist a bit, which is not uncommon since we were swimming through a cloud of bugs. 

I asked if he wanted some of my bug spray; 

“nah, they got me last night”.  

“What are you talking about? We were in the barracks last night…”

And then he told me he had spent the night trying to sleep in the middle of a grass field, but despite drenching himself in DEET, he got ate the fuck up. 

This confused me. During the course, we spent plenty of time sleeping outside, but during the night in question, both us and the students had 5 hours of blissful barracks time. Then this guy tells me “Well yeah, but my unit is out training in the field while I’m detached to this course. There’s no way I could sleep in a bed while they’re all out laying on the ground. So I just slept in this field.”

This guy is a mid-level manager at his unit, in charge of about 100 soldiers. None of them knew he had voluntarily chosen to share suffering with them. But he couldn’t live with himself if he didn’t. Unlike other people I’ve known, this guy wasn’t doing anything for appearances sake. Not trying to impress anybody. He just was doing what he thought was right.

This wasn’t the first time this guy pulled this shit. 

When I first met him, I asked what his deal was. Said he had been a grunt in a leg unit, got out and went to accounting school. Went corporate for awhile, but missed serving. So he got back in and became an officer. And there you are.

Then I pried, because old habits die hard. Turns out this guy was a high level consultant for one of the big three. Judging by how long he was there, he was pulling in some crazy cash. Yet he decided serving was more important to him. He kinda shrugged when he told me this, and was kind of embarrassed to admit who he worked for to someone who knew the significance. Most of the other soldiers he served with sort of stroked out after hearing “accountant” and didn’t realize the pay he’d left behind.

Later, another instructor asked me if I knew what this dude did when he was an enlisted man.

“Yeah, said he was a grunt in a line unit?”

“Naww man, I grew up with him. Known him since I was 3. He never fucking tells anyone. He was in the middle of the worst shit in Sadr city. Rotated back and got his Bravo 4 (graduated sniper school). Went back over on a sniper team and did some serious work. Dude is fucking hard core. Never says shit.”

The thing is, this isn’t the first person I’ve met like this. 

Most people discounted a friend of mine because she was a short, overweight, chain- smoking blond woman. But she’s one of the best detectives in my city. Figured out some low key criminal network was responsible for a crap ton of homicides and shootings, which every other agency completely missed. Single handedly dragged the feds and our department together and got them to take down the network after years building a case against the group. Never sought accolades, but quietly chipped away at what she called her “side project” in between solving other murders.

I could go on and on. I’m truly lucky to have known people like this. And I love that I get to continue to interact with them. I think about this when I contemplate my current choices in life, because the prospect of doing nothing occasionally sings its siren song, especially when I’ve given up some sleep. 

Not working is pretty fucking awesome, and getting to do fun stuff all day, every day was enjoyable that first year of FIRE. After a while though, it turned a bit hollow. 

I’m glad I chose to work a little bit despite not needing to. Scarcity was probably more of an initial motivation to make cash than I’d like to admit, but these days the money fear is basically gone. Now I keep showing up because of the other benefits. Working the military gig gives me the chance to meet those that embody the best of us. EP allows me to mix it up with even more people like that. And hopefully grad school will lead to me making this world just a tad less fucked up, and surround myself with others doing the same.

Money has its draw, and occasionally something shiny will catch my eye. But having enough kinda ruins any motivation to trade my time for money I don’t actually need, especially if it involves doing something which just serves the bottom line. I’m totally spoiled now; if we’re not doing something that’s either fun or matters, I’m not showing up.

Someday I’ll have worn myself down to a nub (which I thought I already had; turned out I just needed sleep, sunlight, and therapy), and maybe I’ll finally be ready to do nothing of value. Maybe it would be fine to do hedonistic shit all day, as long as I got to be around people who’d sent it until they couldn’t anymore. I’m guessing that’s probably not the case, but I’ve been wrong about plenty. Either way, I hope to keep trying to move the needle to world-less-fucked-up for as long as I am able. Selfishly this is mostly because I like hanging out with those who are stupid enough to run the same fool’s errand. 

Suppose that’s nothing new, but good things bear repeating: I hope you’ve found something that you enjoy struggling for. Or that you at least keep looking for it. Most of all, I hope you get to pick your fight.