Lately I look back fondly on the days of being a cadet, of first joining the Army, and wonder how, or if, things would be different if I had known this is what I was getting myself into. I’ve known for a long time that my perceptions of what it was going to mean to be an Army officer were completely distorted. Mostly by Hollywood and hearsay, probably, being that I come from no lineage of established military tradition.

But I was daydreaming through another PowerPoint presentation, drowning out the annoying, unprofessional antics of my peers, and thought back to what gave me the final hook to devote the next several years of my life to this cause.

Fall, junior year. Our first FTX of the year, the first of my life. Being lost-in-the-sauce doesn’t begin to describe my status in my MS III (Military Science year three) class, but I was a quick study and was enjoying the challenge. After all, only the best and brightest get to become Army officer’s, right?…

After having my hand held (not literally) through the land navigation course I was beginning to have the first of a few “ah ha” moments on how what I was learning in the classroom applied in the field. After consolidating everyone we went into a class on OPORDS (operations orders). I’m not even sure I knew what that stood for at the time.

A couple of the seniors, the MSIV’s, who had gotten an “E” (excellent) rating at “camp” (LDAC) stood in front of our group to demonstrate how to issue a squad-level OPORD to the ROTC/LDAC standard. I looked on in sheer AMAZEMENT at the complexity of a situation they were able to receive, break down, and set up and issue to our group in under 10 minutes. How could one possibly know how to do such a task, and in such a short time? And I was going to have to do this the upcoming summer?

“Ah ha” moment number two.

The hook was out and bated, the line cast, and I was about to bite.

Then we broke down into teams to actually execute this mission we were given. Some of us were going to be the squad members for the seniors playing the squad leaders. The rest were going in the woods to set up as the OPFOR (opposing force). A brief refresher on movement techniques, paintball hoppers loaded and masks drawn, and we were sulking into the tree line.

I think I was second in the order of march. I had no idea what was actually supposed to happen. Combined with the thrill of my first paintball experience, my heart was pounding, my mask ebbed between foggy breath and condensation, and my trigger finger was hot. Suddenly, whips of shredding brush and leaves and paintballs flew past my legs and mask.

I instinctively sprawled onto the ground and crawled behind a tree. I shouted CONTACT! as I finally got the chance to pop off a few rounds. Leaves ripped apart as if real bullets were tearing apart the stucco buildings in Sadr City. Someone crawled up behind me, it was the squad leader, and told us to lay down a base of fire while he took the other team to flank around the right side.

The OPFOR were huddled behind a thick fallen tree and had the same limited visibility of us as we had of them. When the squad leader yelled out SHIFT FIRE! the OPFOR were completely taken off guard as the enemy they thought they were pinning down appeard out of the woods right beside them. From our base of fire position we saw the OPFOR attempt to stand up and jump to another side of the tree, but as soon as they popped up we painted them dead.

LOA, LOA! the squad leader called for the limit of advance, and my team got up and assaulted through the objective, setting up a secure perimeter. Now this is fun!

And that was it. I had learned, and applied, so much information in a few short weeks, I felt we were actually being trained for something great, and greater than ourselves.

That feeling also lasted the majority of the time I was a cadet. We were told we were something special; the first wave of young officers to voluntarily join the Army while our nation was at war. We would be the longest-serving, volunteer-only Army to fight since the Revolutionary War.

We took things seriously. Sure, we still joked around and had a good time. But it’s been almost one year since then, and I have yet to have the same level of responsibility or see the same level of professionalism towards our jobs.

Suddenly I’ve attained the etheral goal that is ROTC training, the bar of a second lieutenant. I’ve been hammered with speeches on leadership, responsibility, and honor. Colonels and master sergeants tell us how vital our role as small unit leaders is, and that we would soon be out fighting the fight. We would be in charge and earning our big bucks.

Then I actually started to be trained as a second lieutenant, and the glorious stories of being an Army officer faded to hundred-slide powerpoints, and NCO’s and senior officers telling us how little we know and how little authority we have.

We’re expected to go through months of training being told how we will be the least knowledgable, least experienced “leaders” in our platoons who need to do nothing more than watch our senior NCO’s run “our” platoons. I came to realize that all of the training we actually received as cadets was on how to be a good squad leader or platoon sergeant. Our training was supposed to prepare us to rise above our men and lead them across an objective and destroy the enemy. But now we’re being told that we may do that, but in all likelyhood we’ll be nothing more than the telephone from commander to platoon, watching our NCO’s do everything for us. We’ll sign for expensive equipment, but probably loose some of it and definitely break most of it. We’ll plan menial tasks and carry out less of them. We are place holders who don’t have the time or the training to actually accomplish what we’re supposed to.

And it’s all our fault. We’re privates with better rank but less “real” respect because we get paid more. A college degree means nothing in the Army.

You know what the worst part may be? Most of my peers have come to accept this fact and use it as an excuse to become that “typical,” know-nothing, clueless second lieutenant. Well, from what I’ve seen, the high standards I thought I was striving to reach are actually many broken rungs below me. As cadets we took things seriously, probably out of blind optimism. Sure, we still joked around and had a good time. But it’s been almost one year since then, and I have yet to have the same level of responsibility or see the same level of professionalism.

It took me two years, but I’ve finally deciphered the brainwashing recruiting retoric that probably subconsciously gave me the desire to become an officer. I was told I would get the best leadership training in the world, to become a professional soldier and a leader of men. I was constantly told I was among the creme de la creme of society; the less-than-one percent who could wear the uniform, and then the even smaller percentage who became officers.

Then I became one, and am constantly told that the only respect I am afforded is the courtesy of my title. I’m taught a list of tasks I will perform in my position, and then told if a second lieutenant is not available the platoon sergeant will simply fill in. I am told that once I get to my unit even the lowest private will have more respect than me, because he has probably already been deployed and seen combat. I am told the only way to get respect from my soldiers is to be able to outrun them and be in better physical condition.

Every soldier you ask always tells how second lieutenants are worthless and clueless. They talk about how their senior officers are so detached from their reality and do nothing but make decisions that make things harder. They explain how they could run things much better if it were up to them to make the standards, yet “military efficiency” continues to be the most renowned oxymoron.

I’m expected to fail, I’m expected to get lost, I’m expected to not be proficient in anything but familiar with everything. But somehow I’m in charge, I get paid more, I get saluted. In reality I have to ask permission on how to be in charge, I get paid way too much for the little work I’m doing, and even the lowliest private gaffs off saluting me at the PX while they shutter and snap-to at the flat-billed campaign hat of a drill sergeant passing.

After becoming an officer the first thing I’m told is to trust in your NCO’s, the backbone of the Army. They’re better than you, more experienced, most now have been to college, too. Now I think back to the type of leader I thought I was being trained to be, and the type of training I thought I would be doing. I see the caliber of of some of my peers who have also attained this so-called “high” status. Now I wonder if any of it was worth it, or if it’s worth anything.

The only thing I’ve learned about being an officer is that it seems the Army doesn’t really need me, and most of it doesn’t even want me. That somehow I’m unfortunately lucky to go to college before the Army, to volunteer for years of officer training, and then accept being treated like the prince who killed the beloved king to gain control.

Sure, this is only my perceived reality right now. I guess I’m just desperately looking for someone to prove otherwise.

I guess the only things I have left to look forward to is the magical transition to captain, when I’ll suddenly be worth anything respectible (and only if I’m lucky), or to the day I can take my DD 214 and run back to the civilian world where I’m supposedly more marketable than snake oil.

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