in-country briefing

In the ROK, the Army schedules these briefings on venereal diseases for all the newbs arriving in-country. Seems cooties and crawlies and scabs and sores and drip-dick are a major problem around the Korean camp towns. Especially among the junior enlisted. Young, dumb, and full of it. The reason the Army cares so deeply about the state of our Joneses is cause apparently a drip-dick private cannot effectively defend the Republic of Korea from the northern hordes, lurking a million strong on the other side of the mountains. So young privates running around town sticking their dicks in anything with a wiggle is an accute problem to the Army's combat readiness. So we got these classes.

A medic prattles on about the horrors of the flesh, clicking away on a slide presentation behind him. Cauliflower dicks, oozing purple pustules from fuck-knows-what disease, swollen pockmarked vaginas, rhino nuts. Every horror of physical genital affliction unimaged to us. At first we're all grossed out. Flinching and grimacing like a bunch-a-retards. But as the mutilated genitalia protrude past us, the bravado kicks back in and pretty soon our mumbled commentary outgrosses the nastiest pubic-rot on-screen. The medic reels off numbers like it's the lotto... 30 percent of you will contract gonorrhea, 40 percent nongonoccal urethritis (looked it up). 90 percent will contract an STD before the end of their tour. He's not even finished with his little spiel or I know the rest of the crowd is thinking exactly what I'm thinking... everyone but me homes, everyone but me. If the rate were 99 percent, I'd be the lone holdout. I'd be that one percent guy. If it were even less, it'd be me. Get it? Hey, I'm nineteen. I walk on water. I FLOAT over the stuff. I'm invulnerable. Invincible. Can't touch this. Been there, done it and back again. Not tellin' me nothin' I don't know. Even if I didn't know it, I knew it. Cause you know what? Fuck it. Nineteen homes. Nineteen. Livin's gooood.

Stupid? Naive? Nineteen. Part of the reason the Army loves young minds. High on knowin' nothin' much. And pretty confident about it too.

I was at TMC a week after that briefing. Got the clap. Fucked up thing too... she was a super hottie.

There are no briefings like that before you head up north to the Raq. You know, like a neat little slide show presented by another bored medic. Injuries from improvised explosive device to the lower extremeties, resulting in complete loss of lower limbs. Close proximity concussive wound causing rupture and 4th degree burns of the cranial vault. Decapitation resulting from large caliber ballistic projectile. I'm sure we'd all be laughing it up. Look at those poor fuckers. Not me man, not me...

They don't give briefings of that nature at recruiting offices either. A little gut check. Ya'll came for the good shit, I know, I know. The free college money, the travel, the fantastic training, band-a-brothers type shit. There's just a brief little... thing I gotta show you before we get to the swearing in and other good stuff. Congress made me do it *chuckle chuckle*... 'full disclosure' bullshit.

Little good it would do. Most of 'em sitting there'd be nineteen years old. The vileness on screen would communicate nothing to them. They'd just giggle and squirm their way through the whole sad spectacle. A year later, it'd be their torn-off, burned, shredded, pulverized bodies on a slide-show for the next batch-a-fresh meat. And on it goes.