I Got Soul, Why'm I Not a Soldier?

I have a great deal of respect and admiration for soldiers. My dad was in the Army, as well as one of my uncles, and two of my cousins. My best friend is a marine.

Hell, my great-uncle invented indirect artillery fire.

So I've got it in the blood. I have seriously contemplated signing up several times, especially right after 9/11. I'm a little guilty to admit that I'm a little jealous of those who've had the chance to serve, getting shot at included.

So why didn't I? Why am I not a soldier?

1) I have a mental illness.

This is the official, huge, I-can't-get-around-it reason. Soldiers need to be dependable in combat. Soldiers are at a huge risk of getting their brains broken in combat. My brain is already broken.
It might be a totally different kind of broken; I might be totally immune to PTSD. The assumption is kinda in the opposite direction, though, and that's probably wise. Who knows what minor stimulus might set me off?

Mean men in green yelling at you doesn't usually cause an immediate psychotic break, but we can't be too careful.

2) I have flat feet.

10 1/2 EEEE. Wide as a Hobbit's and twice as flat. Even with arch supports, I would suck at marching long distances. We're talking whiny bitchdom after about half a mile.

While that rules out the infantry, the 23rd Segway Assault Battalion is still a distinct possibility.

3) While not a bad driver, I am a lousy parker.

In my defense, it was much bigger than my Scion.

4) I am a lazy, whiny bitch.

No, really. Ask Mrs. Wag. Getting me out of bed before noon requires using live ammunition, and that's at home. The military would probably break itself like waves on the rocks of my laziness and sense of entitlement. God knows grad school did.

If he doesn't have to get dressed for a firefight, then neither do I.

5) Don't Ask, Don't Tell.

I'm straight, but I can also fag out with the best of them. I'm gayer than many gay people I know. And while the military might be content not to ask any questions, god knows I couldn't keep my mouth shut about it. I just couldn't grow and bloom like the precious blossom I am in that kind of stifling, bigoted environment.

Then again...

6) I have a huge ego.

While plenty of military men have had huge egos, to the point of being massive prima donnas (paging Patton, MacArthur, et. al.), mine is that particular brand of egotism that is less about being a cocky badass and way more about being a smug know-it-all. Which is the kind of thing that could get me shot in the back by my own unit, and who could blame them.

"Screw the firefight! You get my good side in this shot or I swear to god I'm going home right now!"

Despite the fact that I would suck at it massively, I remain fascinated by soliders and soldiering. They've figured prominently in just about all the plays I've written so far. It's not the "glory" of war that attracts me, either: it's the idea of people doing something that seems impossible, usually not for the sake of king or country or religion, but for their buddies. God bless 'em.

-- The Prolix Wag
You're still welcome to salute whenever I walk by.