Posts Tagged ‘Infantry’

…and their experiment in ‘diversity’ seems to be hitting a wall.
Women in the infantry is a bad idea.
Here’s what’s happened so far:
Few female Marines step forward for infantry
By Kristina Wong

Female Marine officers are unlikely to join the infantry anytime soon, in part because of a lack of volunteers for the Marine Corps‘ Infantry Officer Course, which was opened to women in September.

Only two of about 80 eligible female Marines have volunteered for the course — a grueling, three-month advanced regimen conducted at Quantico, Va., that was opened to women to research their performance.

Of the two female volunteers, one washed out on the first day, along with 26 of the107 men, and the other dropped out two weeks later for medical reasons, a Marine Corps spokesman said.

The research effort was launched after the Pentagon opened to women more than 14,000 jobs that could place them closer to front lines and combat.

The Marine Corps wants to test at least 90 more women in the course before making any decision about women serving in infantry roles, the spokesman said.

Getting 90 more female volunteers may be difficult. About 125 female officers each year enter the Basic School, a prerequisite and candidate pool for the Infantry Officer Course, the spokesman said.

Since September, women in every new class of the Basic School have been given the opportunity to volunteer for the Infantry Officer Course, and they will continue to be offered the chance, he said.



Infantry By God…

Posted: 19 Sep 2012 in Humor, Military, US Army, Veterans
Tags: , ,

I just like to poke fun at the other branches in the Army. I always liked this one.

There’s a saying in the Army: “There are two branches in the Army, Infantry and support, which one are you?”

In the beginning,

God created the heavens and the earth, and the INFANTRY
And God saw the INFANTRY, and that it was good, and he was pleased.

And God spake unto the INFANTRY: “Be tactical, and proficient, and rule the earth and subdue it. And have dominion over the fish in the sea, and over the birds in the heavens, and over all the key terrain.”
And the INFANTRY dwelt in the land therein.

And it came to pass that many missions were upon the INFANTRY, and they called upon their God: “Oh Lord help us, for we are weary.”
And the Lord heard their grunts and took mercy upon them, for lo, key terrain was abundant throughout the land.

And he raised up the weakest of the INFANTRY and set them on obsolete beasts of burden, and these he called CAVALRY. And the CAVALRY begat the ARMOR. And the Lord saw the ARMOR, that it was mediocre, and laughed, saying “Well, thou canst not win them all. Let them lead in case of land mines.”

And the INFANTRY and ARMOR dwelt in the land therein. But it came to pass that the INFANTRY again cried out: “Lord help us, for we are weary.”

And the Lord heard their voices and looked with favor upon them, for they were blessed.

Then God took those of the Armour with butts like base-plates and breath like sulfur and tiny, tiny pee-pees and these He made Artillery. But God saw that the Artillery, too, was mediocre and said unto Himself, “Oh well, garbage in; garbage out.”
And the Lord said unto the INFANTRY: “When it is dark, the ARTILLERY shall light your way, and when thou needest HE, WP, H & I and counter-battery fire, all this ye shall have.”

And the Lord gave the ARTILLERY big guns and said you will add dignity to what would otherwise be a vulgar brawl. And the Lord also said unto the ARTILLERY and ARMOR “Try not to hurt thyselves.”
Though the Lord cautioned the Infantry to never, never, never trust Tac-fire or any other electronic computer in the hands of the Artillery.

And the Infantry, the Armor, and the Artillery dwelt in the land therein. Then the Artillery created the Air Defense Artillery; but quickly asked forgiveness.

And the INFANTRY and the ARMOR and the ARTILLERY dwelt in the land therein. But it came to pass that the INFANTRY again called upon their God: “Lord, help us, for we are weary.”

And the Lord heard their voices so he touched those of the ARMOR and ARTILLERY who were miserly and called these FINANCE CORPS; and those who could not communicate and called these SIGNAL CORPS; and those with no friends and called these MILITARY POLICE; and those who were filled with greed and called these QUARTERMASTER; and those who played with controlled substances and called these MEDICAL CORPS; and those who hid in darkness and called these INTELLIGENCE CORPS; and those who were eternally lost and called these TRANSPORTATION CORPS; and those who played in the dirt and called these ENGINEERS; and those who had no skills at all and called these ORDNANCE.

And the Lord saw all these that he had touched, and knew that they were indeed touched. And the INFANTRY and the others dwelt in the land therein.

And it came to pass that the INFANTRY again cried out: “Lord, help us, for we are weary.”
And the Lord looked upon the INFANTRY with anger and the heavens roared with thunder and the skies burned with fire, and God spoke: “How couldst thou yet be weary? I have given unto thee ARMOR and a host of others to provide support to thee.”

Humbly the Infantry abased themselves again before their God, crying, “Lord, it is of these that we are weary!”

And the Lord looked upon the INFANTRY and smiled, and forgave them, for he understood that of which they spoke.


…I am proud to say that I am one of them. My time came later, but I know exactly what he’s talking about. All grunts know.

This is from Ernie Pyle, arguably the best combat writer in WW II.


We’re now with an infantry outfit that has battled ceaselessly for four days and nights.

This northern warfare has been in the mountains. You don’t ride much anymore. It is walking and climbing and crawling country. The mountains aren’t big, but they are constant. They are largely treeless. They are easy to defend and bitter to take. But we are taking them.

The Germans lie on the back slope of every ridge, deeply dug into foxholes. In front of them the fields and pastures are hideous with thousands of hidden mines. The forward slopes are left open, untenanted, and if the Americans tried to scale these slopes they would be murdered wholesale in an inferno of machine-gun crossfire plus mortars and grenades.

Consequently we don’t do it that way. We have fallen back to the old warfare of first pulverizing the enemy with artillery, then sweeping around the ends of the hill with infantry and taking them from the sides and behind.

I’ve written before how the big guns crack and roar almost constantly throughout the day and night. They lay a screen ahead of our troops. By magnificent shooting they drop shells on the back slopes. By means of shells timed to burst in the air a few feet from the ground, they get the Germans even in their foxholes. Our troops have found that the Germans dig foxholes down and then under, trying to get cover from the shell bursts that shower death from above.

Our artillery has really been sensational. For once we have enough of something and at the right time. Officers tell me they actually have more guns than they know what to do with.

All the guns in any one sector can be centered to shoot at one spot. And when we lay the whole business on a German hill the whole slope seems to erupt. It becomes an unbelievable cauldron of fire and smoke and dirt. Veteran German soldiers say they have never been through anything like it.

Now to the infantry—the God-damned infantry, as they like to call themselves.

I love the infantry because they are the underdogs. They are the mud-rain-frost-and-wind boys. They have no comforts, and they even learn to live without the necessities. And in the end they are the guys that wars can’t be won without.

I wish you could see just one of the ineradicable pictures I have in my mind today. In this particular picture I am sitting among clumps of sword-grass on a steep and rocky hillside that we have just taken. We are looking out over a vast rolling country to the rear.

A narrow path comes like a ribbon over a hill miles away, down a long slope, across a creek, up a slope and over another hill.

All along the length of this ribbon there is now a thin line of men. For four days and nights they have fought hard, eaten little, washed none, and slept hardly at all. Their nights have been violent with attack, fright, butchery, and their days sleepless and miserable with the crash of artillery.

The men are walking. They are fifty feet apart, for dispersal. Their walk is slow, for they are dead weary, as you can tell even when looking at them from behind. Every line and sag of their bodies speaks their inhuman exhaustion.

On their shoulders and backs they carry heavy steel tripods, machine-gun barrels, leaden boxes of ammunition. Their feet seem to sink into the ground from the overload they are bearing.

They don’t slouch. It is the terrible deliberation of each step that spells out their appalling tiredness. Their faces are black and unshaven. They are young men, but the grime and whiskers and exhaustion make them look middle-aged.

In their eyes as they pass is not hatred, not excitement, not despair, not the tonic of their victory—there is just the simple expression of being here as though they had been here doing this forever, and nothing else.

The line moves on, but it never ends. All afternoon men keep coming round the hill and vanishing eventually over the horizon. It is one long tired line of antlike men.

There is an agony in your heart and you almost feel ashamed to look at them. They are just guys from Broadway and Main Street, but you wouldn’t remember them. They are too far away now. They are too tired. Their world can never be known to you, but if you could see them just once, just for an instant, you would know that no matter how hard people work back home they are not keeping pace with these infantrymen in Tunisia.


I am the Infantry

Posted: 13 Jan 2009 in Military
Tags: ,

The infantryman. Often ignored. Often disregarded by the other services. Often disparaged as the stupid ones. Generally, they are some of the more intelligent people that I have seen. They usually possess a large amount of common sense, coupled with the need for adventure, and the desire to have a purpose that cannot be fulfilled sitting behind a desk somewhere.

Always preparing for war. That is his job, to locate, close with and kill the enemy. Shoot, move, communicate. Do what it takes to destroy the enemy and take the objective.

Whether he’s a Soldier, or a Marine, the grunt is the one who takes the brunt of the enemy’s punches. The grunt is the one who punches back with such tenacity that the enemy often is clueless as to what truck just ran his ass over.

Grunts like to argue. Arguing with a Grunt is like wrestling a pig in mud…Everyone gets dirty, but the pig loves it!

This grunt has a motto: “I’ll be polite. I’ll be professional. But I have a plan to kill everyone I meet.”

Show some love for my brother grunts. They deserve it.

Foot soldier’s honors always due, not just in times of war

By Jerry A. White

I resolve to honor the American infantry soldier in 2009, and I hope you will join me.

It’s a promise we hardly had to make 12 months ago when such admirable young people were all over the news. Indeed, every year is comprised of what journalists call “story arcs.” Some topic becomes all the rage for a few months, dominating opinion pages, blogs, magazine covers and TV news programs. In 2008, such arcs included home prices, the Tampa Bay Rays, economic stimulus checks, the iPhone, gasoline prices, Barack Obama and the financial crisis.

January 2008 was the first anniversary of President Bush’s “surge,” in which five additional combat brigades were sent to Iraq. That development helped make the American Soldier the first story arc of the New Year. There was reporting on combat missions, video of firefights, blog posts from the front and dozens of stories about tearful reunions with family and friends back in the States as tours of duty concluded. For a while, the nation was clearly attentive to the dedication and courage of the military men and women devoted to protecting and projecting American ideals.

Then the arc faded. It always does. The presidential primaries experienced their own surge, and the spotlight of national focus moved on to other things. But the soldiers kept fighting and sacrificing in a manner that befits a long and proud tradition.

George Orwell wrote: “People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.”


I am the Infantry.

I am my country’s strength in war.

her deterrent in peace.

I am the heart of the fight-

wherever, whenever.

I carry America’s faith and honor

against her enemies.

I am the Queen of Battle.

I am what my country expects me to be-

the best trained solider in the world.

In the race for victory

I am swift, determined, and courageous,

armed with a fierce will to win.

Never will I fail my country’s trust.

always I fight on-

through the foe,

to the objective,

to triumph over all,

If necessary, I will fight to my death.

By my steadfast courage,

I have won 200 years of freedom.

I yield not to weakness,

to hunger,

to cowardice,

to fatigue,

to superior odds,

for I am mentally tough, physically strong,

and morally straight.

I forsake not-

my country,

my mission

my comrades,

my sacred duty.

I am relentless.

I am always there,

now and forever.