The Former SGT Gutkin
In the weeks leading up to our mission in Central America we had been working at the Headquarters building in Draper, UT. Gathering tools and completing endless amounts of online courses, and death by powerpoint briefings. In the hallway leading to the office there is a large recruiting poster. It’s holographic so depending on which angle you view it from there are different images. In bold letters across the top it reads “CITZEN SOLDIERS.” The main picture is of 9 or 10 people both men and women from different ethnic backgrounds, all of them wearing civilian clothes and sporting huge smiles. Walking past it I noticed that when the angle changed the citizens changed into soldiers, standing at attention in their shiny new class A uniforms. Noticeably gone were their smiles, I’m sure they were photographed that way to show their new level of professionalism. To me it looked like they had been happy as civilians, but now after joining the Army had realized they had made a huge mistake, and the uniform/Army was making them miserable.
They had held our connecting flight in Houston as long as possible, but now it was time to move. SGT Gutkin (pronounced Goot-ken) had shown up at the gate left his carry on luggage with us and gone to get some food. That was the last we saw of him, after repeated calls to his cell phone and pages over the airport intercom we had to get on the plane without him.
“I want you to make sure that man gets a court marshal.” Said the small Canadian woman sitting next to me. The baggage guys had been under our plane looking for SGT Gutkin’s luggage for the last 45 minutes. Since he had not boarded the flight his luggage had to be removed, severely delaying our take off. Finally we pushed back from the gate, relieved to be on our way to Panama.
As the plane taxied from the gate to the runway Captain Thomas was busy on his cell phone, calling Headquarters in Utah trying to find out what happened to Gutkin. If Gutkin was smart he would call headquarters and coordinate what to do next through them, and if he was smart he wouldn’t have missed the plane in the first place, we were quickly learning what a dummy former SGT Gutkin really was.
Being miserable in the Army is not uncommon, every soldier understands that things going wrong is part of the job. This was the first time I had seen a case of DUMM syndrome (Dummies in Uniform Made Miserable) become contagious, and spill over into the civilian world. During all the waiting and phone calls CPT Thomas had been informed of riots in Panama City. He was told that if we could get off the plane we should. So moments before the plane throttled up for take off we turned back for the gate. I always get a laugh when the Army pretends to care about my safety. They went out of their way to save me from savage tourist destination Panama, but anytime I want to volunteer for a mission to Iraq I’ll be gone in a heartbeat.
Groans filled the plane as the pilot announced we were headed back to the terminal so a few of the passengers could get off. Thankfully he didn’t announce anything about the riots in Panama. Honestly a couple of school girls could have been pulling each others hair in the streets and the Army would have shut the mission down. I felt terrible for the people left on the plane. One passenger was on her way to her sister’s funeral which was being held the next day, and was going to miss her connection in Panama City. I never found out how long the flight was delayed, but after having to pull back to the gate, then waiting for the baggage guys unload our luggage, I’m sure it was a long time.
After picking up most of our bags, and visiting the lost luggage office to tell them which bags had gone to Panama without us we headed to a nearby hotel. If former SGT Gutkin would have just gotten on the plane it wouldn’t have been delayed, and we wouldn’t have had time to get the message about a couple of homosexuals spraying each other with water pistols. We would have made it to Panama on schedule and the mission would have gone on. Gutkin threw a major wrench into things, when the Lifers finally found him it was around 11:30pm he had managed to stay lost for nearly 10 hours even though we had airport security looking for him.
A soldier can get away with several small mistakes, but one big one was enough. As I type we are on plane to Panama, while Gutkin is on his way back to Salt Lake City. He will be picked up at the airport, and taken to headquarters where his stinking cowardly body will be ripped apart limb from limb by grouchy Sergeant Majors, Colonels, and Captains.
Looking out the window of the plane I can see Panama City, the crossroads of the world. Tall buildings and twisting roads jammed with wild drivers, smoldering buses and honking horns. It is good to be back but one thing is certain; I am really going to miss my motorcycle.
--Ryan
They had held our connecting flight in Houston as long as possible, but now it was time to move. SGT Gutkin (pronounced Goot-ken) had shown up at the gate left his carry on luggage with us and gone to get some food. That was the last we saw of him, after repeated calls to his cell phone and pages over the airport intercom we had to get on the plane without him.
“I want you to make sure that man gets a court marshal.” Said the small Canadian woman sitting next to me. The baggage guys had been under our plane looking for SGT Gutkin’s luggage for the last 45 minutes. Since he had not boarded the flight his luggage had to be removed, severely delaying our take off. Finally we pushed back from the gate, relieved to be on our way to Panama.
As the plane taxied from the gate to the runway Captain Thomas was busy on his cell phone, calling Headquarters in Utah trying to find out what happened to Gutkin. If Gutkin was smart he would call headquarters and coordinate what to do next through them, and if he was smart he wouldn’t have missed the plane in the first place, we were quickly learning what a dummy former SGT Gutkin really was.
Being miserable in the Army is not uncommon, every soldier understands that things going wrong is part of the job. This was the first time I had seen a case of DUMM syndrome (Dummies in Uniform Made Miserable) become contagious, and spill over into the civilian world. During all the waiting and phone calls CPT Thomas had been informed of riots in Panama City. He was told that if we could get off the plane we should. So moments before the plane throttled up for take off we turned back for the gate. I always get a laugh when the Army pretends to care about my safety. They went out of their way to save me from savage tourist destination Panama, but anytime I want to volunteer for a mission to Iraq I’ll be gone in a heartbeat.
Groans filled the plane as the pilot announced we were headed back to the terminal so a few of the passengers could get off. Thankfully he didn’t announce anything about the riots in Panama. Honestly a couple of school girls could have been pulling each others hair in the streets and the Army would have shut the mission down. I felt terrible for the people left on the plane. One passenger was on her way to her sister’s funeral which was being held the next day, and was going to miss her connection in Panama City. I never found out how long the flight was delayed, but after having to pull back to the gate, then waiting for the baggage guys unload our luggage, I’m sure it was a long time.
After picking up most of our bags, and visiting the lost luggage office to tell them which bags had gone to Panama without us we headed to a nearby hotel. If former SGT Gutkin would have just gotten on the plane it wouldn’t have been delayed, and we wouldn’t have had time to get the message about a couple of homosexuals spraying each other with water pistols. We would have made it to Panama on schedule and the mission would have gone on. Gutkin threw a major wrench into things, when the Lifers finally found him it was around 11:30pm he had managed to stay lost for nearly 10 hours even though we had airport security looking for him.
A soldier can get away with several small mistakes, but one big one was enough. As I type we are on plane to Panama, while Gutkin is on his way back to Salt Lake City. He will be picked up at the airport, and taken to headquarters where his stinking cowardly body will be ripped apart limb from limb by grouchy Sergeant Majors, Colonels, and Captains.
Looking out the window of the plane I can see Panama City, the crossroads of the world. Tall buildings and twisting roads jammed with wild drivers, smoldering buses and honking horns. It is good to be back but one thing is certain; I am really going to miss my motorcycle.
--Ryan
Labels: army, halfthrottle, lost, national guard, panama city, travel
posted by Half-Throttle at
5:30 AM
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