Doo Doo’s Demise

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I mentioned “Doo Doo” Brown yesterday.  I got his measure the day after I reported.  One of the squads was going to the Bn Aid Station for training, I tagged along and got the tour on the way.  By the time we’d walked the whole half a block to the aid station, Private “Doo Doo” Brown was on my last nerve.  With both feet.  Part of the Ness Impersonator’s skit was when I told Doo Doo, “Shut your pie hole and do some push ups while I think of something more entertaining for you to do.”  Doo Doo was such a turd the rest of the platoon disliked him, he was an embarrassment.  They reveled in his misery, I was happy to provide for their revelry.  Six months later when I took the platoon, Doo Doo was still there.  He was textbook “Able and Unwilling.”  That’s the Army lexicon for “misfits, malcontents and ne’er-do-wells” an oxygen thief.  Then he pissed hot and he was going back to whatever hell spawned him.  It still took months that felt even longer.  Finally he was approved, his ass was out-processing.

The platoon returned a night early from a live fire, we’d fired all the ammo why hang out at the range?  We wiped down our weapons, turned them in and went home.

The next morning I heard the 1SG goin’ off as I approached the company area.  I walked in the front door, the 1SG looked at me and launched a HEAT round.  He chewed my ass at a volume of 11 and told me “Get In My F*ckin’ Office!”  I was no stranger to either side of an ass chewin’ but I’ll admit I had no clue what the hell the 1SG was yellin’ about.  He followed me into his office, slammed the door and fell out laughing.  Now I was totally lost.  “I had to put on a show” he panted between bouts of laughter, then he caught his breath and filled me in.  Doo Doo had been clearing while we were training, it had come time for him to turn in his CIF issue.  Except he had pawned all his TA 50.  No problem for the likes of Doo Doo, he just steals all his room mate’s stuff.  Stuff worth a couple thousand dollars, easy.  If everything goes according to plan, he’d turn in his stolen TA 50 and be Greyhound down before his room mate got home.

Then we got back a day early.  I know for a fact Doo Doo had heard me say “No Plan Survives First Contact”  Once again he ignored my advice.  His room mate was a big ol’ boy from West Virginia who had his own view of justice and understood the need for speedy punishment.  The 1SG picked up a bent, twisted reminiscently tubular thing from his desk and asks “Do you know what this is?  It’s the hangar tube from a wall locker.”  He handed it to me and chuckled again.  The big redneck room mate noticed the theft before Doo Doo got back to the room and showed the rest of the platoon.  They agreed with the redneck’s justice, sure and swift.  Doo Doo crawled back to his room from whatever opium den he’d been crouching in and found a large angry redneck awaiting him.  He turned to run but the rest of the platoon was at the door and wouldn’t let him out.  The redneck beat him down with the hangar rod from the wall locker, then beat him while he was down for a bit.  The 1SG opened the door and yelled for Doo Doo.  He came, limpin’, head lumped up, lip swollen, covered with welts and playin’ for everything he was worth.

“That’s f*cked up Doo Doo, I wouldn’t blame you for pressing charges, you want to press charges?”

“Yes First Sergeant” sniffed Doo Doo.

Ok, you realize you won’t be going home this afternoon, right?  And your room mate will press charges, you did steal his TA 50.”

“Uhh, yes First Sergeant.”

“There’ll be an investigation, it might take months and I don’t run a hotel here, there ain’t no extra rooms, you’ll just go back up to the mortar hallway…”

“Uhhhh, yes first sergeant.”  The rat realized this was a dead end hallway in the maze.

“You got any friends left up there Doo Doo?”

“Uhhhh, maybe… I should just go home First Sergeant.”

“I think maybe you should Doo Doo.”

The First Sergeant took Doo Doo to his final outprocessing collected the money owed for the stolen equipment and returned it too the room mate.  It was a little light but the thought of Doo Doo, penniless on a Greyhound for two or three days made up the difference.


About the Author:

I joined the Army in 1988, served in the 25th IL (L) , 24th ID, The Infantry Training Brigade, The 82nd Airborne Division, Ft Polk and again The 82nd Division until I retired in 2008. I was a mortar maggot and retired with the rank of Master Sergeant.
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  1. Vassar  March 28, 2018

    Justice, plain and simple. As a fellow with two broke noses from the same fist, you can’t know how much I long for this sort of justice to be reintroduced back to respectability ion the civilian world. Veterans should be at the vanguard. You could write and introductory study right here.

    • Allen  March 28, 2018

      LOL, a deserved ass whoopin’ is a form of speech and should be protected as such. If you burn my flag I beat your ass, for example.

  2. Vince Boyer  April 4, 2018

    Yeah- a big part of what is wrong with kids today, IMHO, is that we don’t let them square off against one another any more. Of course, parents have to first put the fear of God back into kids they’ll get their little butts whipped if they do something stupid like bring a weapon to a fist fight, but that’s another pet peeve of mine- lack of parenting common sense these days.

    • Vassar  April 4, 2018

      Certain laws of nature apply, here, Mr Boyer, and it will be on our dinner plate often here, for sometimes, those little laws are what keeps civilization from teetering and falling off the cliff, and I think vets are uniquely equipped to deal with this. Things Congress can’t do. Look for more. Thanks


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