Okay, once again cutting scores came out and…nothing. Seriously WHAT THE EVER LIVING FUCK is going on here? I hand-walked my packet and turned it in after updating all my shit. Weapons, good. PFT? Another personal record of 290. I killed that run at 17:50. Everything short of actually going to Sergeants school I’m fucking gold. So what happened? Fucking Gunny had my packet pulled. Seriously what the fuck is wrong with these cunts? I don’t even make it in for work call before he calls me into his office to ‘discuss’ somethings. Fine, sure.
“Cpl.Ragowski, do you know why I pulled your packet?” He asks. I answered no, and he goes on this really retarded diatribe about how he doesn’t feel that I have what it takes to be a Sergeant. That my leadership isn’t up to par with his standards yadda yadda. Glad he said that, because I threw it right back at him.
“Well Gunny, I’m confused. What part of my leadership is lacking? My squads PFT average is two-seventy or higher. No one in my squad has gotten any sort of negative reviews or NJP for over two-hundred and forty days. Everyone in the squad is enrolled in College, or is about to receive their degrees. Barracks are spot-less…and the only Marine that is of any issue is Perkins…and thats only because he’s a boot and still learning. He can’t tell the difference between standard and metric, but he’s still a decent mechanic. ”
“Well maybe you should spend more time with him.” When he said this I nearly threw up in my mouth. I’m pretty sure I burped trying to swallow it back down. Fuck that. The kid gives me the fucking creeps.
So, that fat fuck sees my reaction and laughs. He grabs my packet, looks it over and laughs about how if I was a better Marine, I probably would’ve been promoted two months ago. Then…and then this stupid fat piece of shit does the most disgusting thing. He says, “Maybe if you were nicer to the Staff NCOs…that might help you out.” Awkward? Yeah but I was prepared for it.
“I treat everyone with respect Gunny Sergeant,” He grins as if I’m full of shit. He then sits in his chair and tells me I don’t really want to get promoted then. Confused as fuck I tell him I really do and that I’d suck off Chesty Puller’s dead skeleton if I had to. Talk about bad choice of words. Fat fuck gets up, locks his door…and sits back down and says and I quote “Well just call me Chesty.”
Fuck. THAT. SHIT. I think i broke his door as I bolted the fuck out of there. And guess what little dip-shit is out there sitting outside of Gunny’s office? FUCKING BATSHIT STALKER FUCKING PERKINS! He gets up to say something to me and I don’t believe I have ever punched a mother fucker as hard and as fast as I did as I walked by. My fucking god what the hell is going on? Who the fuck did I piss off here?
Its funny you know. During our deployment, everyone couldn’t stop singing my praises, but the fucking second we get back everyone starts to lose their fucking shit. These are not the Marines I knew and loved like brothers. I mean really, did these bastards forget that every fucking thanksgiving I stay behind and cook for everyone that can’t go home? That I do that for every 96 and block leave? Seriously what the fuck? Such fucking horseshit I swear.