Gather 'round, children, and let me tell you a story about a basic training scrub who was kicked out in his second last week of OSUT.

Toadie - which was his name, but I'm sure the spelling was wrong, was an interesting motherfucker. And by interesting I mean weird. Thankfully he wasn't in my squad but boy did we hear about him.

Toadie had not masturbated before. Not once. He was rather proud of this, at his 19 years of age. Never having busted a nut before, he was ready to go and shoot non-Christians (his words) over in the desert somewhere (also his words). Unfortunately, military life was not for Toadie.

He was also one of those dudes that was built to be one of those PT success stories in the army; long legs for all that pointless running, rake thin with short arms and a short body for pushups and situps. He was, however, not a PT stud. Not even close. This was evidenced one day when one drill sergeant convinced him to touch another drill sergeant's hat. There comes the shark attack and the smoking. Did you know that an apparent side effect of a bunch of 8 count pushups and then Y-squats makes you poo poo your pants? No, neither did I, but that didn't stop Toadie.

Life for him remains relatively uneventful, except for quick little extra smokings for him every so often. He squeals like a 10 year old girl getting beaten with hammers when he does anything that sounds like physical activity. It sounded like a dude was dying, and when everyone realized he was just a bitch, it was just plain hilarious.

Half way through basic, someone obviously convinces he should just go beat his meat. So he does. Shoots his load into a wadded up piece of toilet paper... then shows his squad leader with a huge poo poo eating grin on his face, even when he freaks out and threatens to beat his rear end. He just wanders off and shows a bunch of other people, for whatever reason.

It's quite clear at this point, Toadie isn't exactly all there. He's borderline retarded, is clearly lacking in any kind of social ability. The reason for this is starting to become clear through correspondence with my wife. Our unit has set up some kind of facebook page so the families can keep in contact with their kids, families can talk amongst themselves as fuckin' moral support or some poo poo. So, Toadie gets set up as a platoon leader for a day. A single day. Basically as a joke and an excuse to smoke him to squeal like a girl. He writes this big rant of a letter home, and lo and behold, my wife sends me a letter and lets me know that there's been family drama. Toadie's mother has got on the facebook page, and starts talking major poo poo. Oh, your son got fired from the platoon leader slot cause he was a piece of poo poo, and my son is obviously 10 times better than yours. Then proceeds to get the rest of her cracker, white trash fuckin' family on the facebook page to wage war with all these people who are just being normal. Then the next day Toadie sends a big sob story letter about how he was fired, and it was so unfair, and everyone's picking on him, blah blah blah, which sends his white trash following into a wild rage. They are then banned from the facebook page. I let everyone know what is happening, and much laughter is had.

Toadie gets upset with someone about all his angsty bullshit, and as it turns out, it's another borderline retard shut in. The retard battle is grade fuckin' A. Toadie thought it was gonna be an easy fight cause this other kid was much smaller, but he got Toadie and smashed him into a wall locker, and gave him a bunch of body shots. Toadie, not to be embarrassed in front of his fellows, decides to fight dirty and bites him. Bites him hard enough to draw a steady stream of blood. Guy gets upset, throws him off back into the wall locker. Toadie falls, his adversary grabs him by the head and knees him right in the forehead. Dazed and confused, people break up the fight. Toadie has this egg sized bruise in the middle of his forehead for the next 2 weeks, and when questioned, claims he ran into a door.

And this point his resolve has started to weaken, so he goes to sick call, claiming something wrong with his leg, or ankle, or something. Bitches and moans and goes back every morning until they put him on a heavy duty profile with crutches. He's pretty happy these days, just sitting around doing fuckin' nothing. Something happens one day, running back into the barracks to escape a smoking, and he tucks his crutches under his arm and runs full tilt, leaning into a corner and a top speed gallop, right in front of the drill sergeant. They are talking about chaptering him, but somehow he skates by.

We're out at an FTX, and he's been busted wearing his IBA without plates, and running his ruck light as gently caress. He has to wear his IBA with plates at all time, even when in the big group tent. He walks outside for some reason, no IBA on. He gets the rear end in a top hat smoked out of him, his bitch screams echoing across the camp, everyone laughing.

So we get onto driving tanks around a closed course. It ain't hard, and a couple of guys show some real talent driving these tanks fast as gently caress on the road course. These people were not Toadie. He creeps around the course at 10 miles an hour, weaving back and forth all over the place like an crazy woman's poo poo, the TC screaming at him for being a god drat idiot the entire time. When it comes time to park it, he doesn't even want him to do that. Just to pull up near the other tanks, and he will take it from there. Stop Toadie. Stop Toadie. STOP TOADIE. HOLY gently caress STOP THE loving TANK TOADIE. Alas, Toadie forget what the brake is (the brake pedal, just like a car) and smashes one tank into another. Front skirt meets front skirt, and a lot of damage is done. He's in trouble for this, but it's coming up to about 3 weeks out, so they really don't want to kick him out.

Okay, so final PT test is done, he has passed - barely. We've got M9 qual that day, then off for a week long FTX, then we are motherfucking done. During the M9 qual, Toadie, for some reason, could not understand the concept of the slide release catch. But he would never slingshot it, oh no. He would use some kind of gimpy backhanded kind of way to rack the weapon, and at the same time points it at a drill sergeant.

He's warned once. He does it again. He's warned twice. And this time, he does it again, safety off, mag in, finger on the trigger, right at the drill sergeant. Drill sergeant loses his poo poo, and is holding a half meter diameter wooden range card, and smashes it over his head. Range card is in pieces, Toadie skids about three feet on his face into the dirt, M9 goes flying. The CO sees this, and with 2 weeks to go, flips his poo poo, throws him in the duty truck, and chapters his rear end. Toadie is off to the house, where he will no longer have a chance to shoot non-Christians over in the desert somewhere.

Cest la vie, Toadie. Cest la vie.