Soldiers Strong Language
Working in an American military base as a civilian was a totally new experience. Despite coming from a Kenyan military family background, I had not interacted and worked closely with service members like I did in Camp Lemonnier, Djibouti, Africa. There, I worked as a food service associate at the Dining Facility (DFAC) and later worked at the Transportation Motor Pool (TMP) as a dispatcher. In my childhood when I fell sick, my mother or father (if he was not out of town or the country) would take me to the military hospital care unit, the- EMERES as my siblings and I innocently referred to it. Only later as an adult, did I realize that it was actually (MRS) the acronym for Medical Reception Station and not EMERES. True to the phrase when you go to Rome, do as Romans do, I had to quickly adopt and learn the acronyms that the military used especially on my TMP job. Learning never stops and so it was back to the basics, the fundamental basics of the military alphabet. Learning how to spell out my name Shiko was a good start as any. (Sierra, Hotel, India, Kilo, Oscar).
Soldiers’ conversations at the DFAC, where I eavesdropped when I worked at the ice cream station, had a lot of cuss words. I noted that the context mattered. At first, it was rather confusing since it varied in connotation; from that of joy or surprise, to that of sadness and frustration, to that of being really annoyed or angry. In addition, I had overheard the cuss words, in different contexts, among soldiers, at the Morale, Welfare, and Recreation (MWR) and at the Navy Exchange (NEX). Other than seeing movies where some cursing led to physical fights, I wasn’t accustomed to hearing curse words. Over time on base, I met my significant other in the line of duty. One day, right around our third month of dating, we met outside close to the MWR center near the turf field. It was just around sunset, and we sat on a bench overlooking the field, engaged in conversation. Then suddenly, there was a Marine who looked very young, probably eighteen or nineteen years old. He wore his uniform, and his hair was shaved bald on the sides, leaving hair on the top of his head, what they call, the high and tight. He had a box with him. He sat at the edge of the bench and took the remote-controlled helicopter out of the box. He controlled the remote, moving away from us, as the helicopter toy took off, upward, and forward towards the center of the turf field. Then suddenly, Josh cussed in frustration, apparently at the Marine’s mocking the real helicopter missions. Up until that point, Josh had never cussed in my presence.
From my frame of reference, from the other soldiers at the DFAC, it seemed like cussing was simply an ingrained part of the soldier's culture. It was as if a cuss word was to a soldier, what da-da is to a baby. Simply, a norm depicted even in military movies as they accomplish their missions. Not to all of course, but a great-good number. Could it be because of how the soldiers were nurtured in basic training? Or could it simply be the career's overall culture that at some point and time cussing is inevitable? As we sat there on the bench, I remembered 'Mr. Shit,' a soldier my colleague and I had nick-named at the DFAC who used the word a lot. Ironically, he used the word in a 'cordial way.’
"Oh, my goodness! Josh, you cussed!" I called him out, laughing.
"I am sorry, I am sorry... I just can't stand these toys nowadays! He is flying a helicopter toy on the turf field. Look at that!" he said in frustration, looking at the Marine maneuvering his helicopter and then looking at me in total disbelief.
"It could be a way for him to release his stress, during his deployment here," I said, looking at him, then back at the Marine.
"There's this guy, a soldier, at the DFAC who curses a lot. I mean way too much, his is extra. So, a colleague and I nick-named him, Mr. Shit. That guy says the word, a lot..." I said, with a chuckle.
"What? Mr. Shit?" Josh echoed laughing, somewhat easing up his frustration.
" Josh, why do soldiers curse a lot? I mean, I thought one had to be so pissed off to cuss, like you see in movies, but that's totally different here. Mr. Shit curses as a compliment, sometimes. Why cuss anyway?" I asked him, intrigued.
"Its just soldiers talk, I guess. We are trained as a team. I cannot even imagine a drill sergeant who doesn't cuss! We are always, almost together in everything we do. So, some military expressions and vocabulary easily translate into everyday life. It's just the way it is," he said. It was obviously clear to him that it was inevitable. He had never had to explain why soldiers cuss. Maybe the question would rather have been why wouldn’t soldiers cuss?
Would a drill sergeant do without the strong language, zero tolerance to cussing? It seems like cussing in the soldier's context has some qualifying factor. Perhaps it shows camaraderie among soldiers? Or rather a spirit of togetherness that no matter what, in the call of duty in service, if push came to shove, death being inevitable what then would be the big deal to cuss among themselves as peers?
