The Creed of the Specialist

No one gets away with more than I. I am a non Non-Commissioned Officer, a beast of burden. As a junior enlisted soldier I realize that I am a member of an under appreciated and much chastizised group of soldiers known as the ribcage, or perhaps pancreas of the Army.

I am proud of myself and my fellow Specialists who continue to bitch, whine, and sham until the absolute last second regardless of the mission at hand. I will use my grade and position to avoid responsibility, accountability, and any sense of presence of mind.

Ignorance is my watchword. My two best excuses will always be on the tip of my tongue: “I didn’t know!” and “It wasn’t me!” I will strive to maintain invisible and unavailable for details. Never ever volunteer for anything is my rallying cry. I am aware of my role as a SPC or SPC (P) and if you need me for anything, I’ll be on appointment. I know the other soldiers, and I will always refer to them by their first name or in some cases a derogatory nickname. On weekends or days off I will consistently drink myself into oblivion and I will never answer my phone. I understand for a person in hierarchical position rewards are going to be few and far between, and punishment will always be swift and severe.

Officers of my unit will have maximum time to accomplish their duties because I will be accomplishing them for them. I will kiss up to their faces and badmouth them behind their backs just like everyone else. I will be loyal to those with whom I serve, provided that there is something in it for me. I am the last bastion of common sense that stands as a wall between me and the Army philosophy of “Work harder, not smarter!” My voice is a tool and my complaints are a weapon that I wield with unmatched skill and finesse. I will not forget, nor will I allow my comrades to forget, Specialist is the greatest rank in the Army. And rank has its privileges