The unwilling commando by thadeusz

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My name is Richard Wilson and I am now 29 years old. When I was 20, I chose as a job the making of short video clips showing different jobs and serving as advertisements when placed on youtube. My best clips were clips in favor of an enlistment in the military. In those days, I had relatively long hair. I was tall and bulky. Nevertheless, I was also an antimilitaristic guy. But money does not always coincide with political opinions.

When I was 23, I already had a solid reputation as a filmmaker and I was invited to make a series of clips depicting the life and accomplishments of special forces soldiers. I accepted since this would be a nice contract with my country’s Army. It would enable me to make nice clips full of action and it would be very well paid by the Army.

The only problem is that the Colonel commanding the regiment where the clip would be made had a major requirement: as long as I was making this clip, I had to stay on base and live like his soldiers who were all paratroopers, and even special forces soldiers ! The colonel required me thus to sign a one month contract with the Army. This contract specified that I would stay in the regiment, dressed as a real soldier, during a period of one month (the time necessary for the making of this video) and that I would behave as a real soldier during this period of time. I would thus have to show the same respect to my "chiefs" as the real soldiers. A last sentence, added upon my request, specified that this contract could be extended if it was necessary. The basic idea was that I would sign that contract with the Colonel for my own protection and for that of the regiment.

The contract mentioned that a certain amount of money (a lot) would be paid to the company I had created to do these clips. My own name was not mentioned as a beneficiary and I couldn't care less since I was the only owner of the company.

On my first day I received an old and partly mended uniform: it was not nice but it "did the job". I also went to the regimental barber who cut my long hair to a reasonable length so that I could wear the cask and other parts of the uniform, including the famous red beret, which were necessary for my pseudo military exercises.

I must say that the real soldiers were very kind to me, despite the fact that it had been decided that I would sleep in a comfortable room, a Master Corporal room. This room was more comfortable than their common room where they had to sleep 6 in the same room. This was a favor which I did not really deserve !

The Colonel had also required that I learn to march in step, to salute and to introduce myself as a real soldier had to do it.

I made an effort and I must say that I did well during my first days, at least according to my "colleagues" and to my cameraman who was filming all that without showing it to me. Anyway, the shooting of our clip went very well.

I was called by the commanding officer, in his office, on the last Friday of my one month contract. I entered his office full of confidence: the shooting was done and I only had to mount the bits of clips into a "big" video to have fulfilled my contract. The officer looked at me and asked:
"Is this the way you enter the office of your commanding officer ?"
I then remembered that the Colonel wanted me to respect a certain military rigor. Therefore I saluted him, in the military way, and I took the position of attention. But that did not satisfy this man who felt that I had not respected all the rules:
"Wilson, one never salutes when uncovered, which is your case. And a real soldier never walks without his cover, which is not what you are doing."
I was astonished: the Colonel used to call me ‘Richard’ on the rare occasions where he addressed me, now he was using my last name in a very formal way. So I replied:
"But Colonel, I am not a real soldier despite the uniform I am wearing."
"Listen, Wilson, there has been a national emergency and the Government called all potential candidates aged between 18 and 20 as new recruits."
"But Colonel, I am older than 20: I am 24 and thus I am not concerned by this recruitment."
"You are wrong, Wilson. The Government has also decided that in order to be ready for this National Emergency, all soldiers reaching the end of their contract would see their contracts extended as long as necessary."
"But Colonel, I am not a soldier and I never was one."
"That’s where you are wrong. You signed a one month contract with the mention ‘this contract could be extended if it was necessary’. Well now it is necessary."
"But Colonel, this was only for the case I was not done with filming your soldiers."
"That’s enough, Wilson. You signed a contract and you are at the end of your contract. You have a choice: either you are inducted by force as a conscript like many other young men, despite your age, or you sign a volunteer contract for 5 more years as a soldier in this paratroopers regiment. As a conscript you will have no freedom at all and a very small pay, as a volunteer your situation will be more comfortable and your pay will be much better. Decide NOW. You have one minute to decide. If you don’t decide, I will consider that you are a rebel and I will send you to the brig."

In fact what this amounted to was bad in all cases. The Colonel gave me a choice : become a conscript for the duration of the emergency and have a very bad pay and no liberty at all, OR accept the "end-of-contract" situation and become a volunteer for 5 more years, with more liberty and a better pay. The Colonel did not tell me the expected length of this "emergency". The worst would be the brig: I assumed that the Colonel would keep me there for a long time and that I would not be able to achieve the mounting of my last video.

The Colonel was a very convincing man. I immediately signed an additional 5 year contract with this paratrooper regiment. This contract was supposed to start next Tuesday, at the end of my present contract, but the Colonel decided that I might as well start now in order to be completely ready when the new recruits would arrive.

The Colonel called a Sergeant who led me to the medic for my induction medical visit. This medic concluded that I was perfectly fit to serve in this regiment, exactly what had already informally been said when I signed my first contract.

The same Sergeant led me then to the barber, a huge Corporal, who gave me my induction cut. It was the same barber as the first time, but this time he looked much more serious. He told me that he had to give me what he called a "zero cut".

The barber was serious. He placed a green sheet on me to protect my old uniform. He then placed his right hand on the top of my head and took his clippers with his left hand: he explained that he was left-handed. I must say that I really didn't care. He then started smoothly on the edge of what was already a reduced haircut. He started with the front and in a few seconds he made disappear what remained of my nice long fringe. After that he attacked the sides, bit by bit. He used his left hand to force me to turn my head or to let my chin hurt my chest, or conversely to pull my head backwards. In other words, I felt completely manipulated: I was no longer a free man deciding by himself which haircut would be best for him, I was a soldier having his first Army haircut with all my hair being reduced to zero. When the barber considered that he was done, he told me:
"Private, look at your new me !"
He showed me a mirror and I could see the image of an individual I barely recognized with a hairless ball above his neck.

The kind barber showed me then a broom and simply said:
"Private, clean your own mess."
Knowing the disciplinary rules, I obeyed without any objection, in perfect silence.

I was then led to the clothing department where I received a new and complete set of uniforms in exchange for my old one. I was also told that I was not allowed yet to wear my beret: I had to wear a small and uncomfortable cap on top of my big "billiard ball" whenever I was outside or on guard duty inside, but never inside the barracks.

Finally I was led to my bed. It was no longer a comfortable bed in my previous comfortable Master Corporal room, but only a simple bunk in a room foreseen for six new recruits. There was a cover on it to be placed in a military way every morning and a cupboard next to it to place all the clothes I had now definitely received and in a military way. It was already late in the afternoon. That’s where I met one of my future roommates: Frank Patterson, a math student. He was already there. Frank had been inducted as a volunteer after the Great Emergency had led the government to call many young men in the Army. He asked me if I had also been inducted by force and I told him my story. He found it pleasant that a filmmaker had been ‘captured’ (his word) like many young men. He also told me his story: when he received his papers to join the Army, he was so angry that he burned them in front of the soldier who gave him the papers. He was immediately arrested, brought to the regiment and offered a choice: conscript and then in prison or volunteer for 5 years like me. Like me, he chose the volunteer aspect. We immediately became friends.

We went to dinner together and then slept well, despite this strange new situation for a young Maths student aged 19 and a Video Clip maker aged 23. There was in any case nothing else we could do.

The next morning, we were told to start training immediately. We were a little bit in advance, and I thought that I had an additional advance with my one month working with the paratroopers. I did not know that Frank was an ex-Army cadet and that he also knew the bases of military behavior, and thus of military training.

When we went back to our room, we discovered that 3 other new soldiers had joined us. A 6th new man would join us the next morning. Frank and I helped all these new soldiers, and me, to make their bed according to regulations and to put their belongings in the small cupboard allotted to each of us. I must mention here that we had all been shorn to the wood. With this last man, our room would be complete.

When our Sergeant came for the evening inspection, he told us that despite the fact that we were slightly early and that a new man would arrive later, he had decided to let us start training for good as early as the next morning at dawn. It was thus on a Sunday, at 05:00, that I started my real military training. Despite the fact that this was usually a rest day, our Sergeant made us do all kinds of exercises: salute in a military fashion, march in step (I had already done that numerous times), do lots of push-ups and other festive exercises. I hated that but I knew I had no choice. Frank told me he felt exactly like me.

After two weeks the Sergeant considered that all the members of our group were satisfactorily drilled for the basic exercises. We were then told to rejoin other groups in order to form a larger unit, still under the authority of the same Sergeant who imposed wake up at ungodly hours.
We then learned to march in the hills for long distances, with our backpack, our rifle and very little food. In fact the Sergeant wanted to train us to find our food in the woods. There were further exercises. All of them were exhausting and I had no more time nor energy to think about my former life. I had become more or less a killing machine, and I believe that I was a good and obedient killing machine.

With the comrades of this larger unit, we had excellent contacts and we enjoyed eating and drinking beer together. My first month as a full time soldier was rapidly over and I realized that I did not dislike that life as much as I had thought I would. Frank told me one evening, while we were drinking our beer, that he loved that life he had not desired and that he thought about staying in the Army forever.

The other young paras (as we were called) of our room were all good friends but none was as good a friend as Frank. I must add that paying a visit to the barber once a week was compulsory and that Frank and I were still young, so we wanted to "show off" what we were: we asked constantly for the same haircut: a very short buzz cut. This haircut was no longer compulsory: it was only an induction cut. But Frank and I considered that now that we had been reduced to being soldiers by "brute force", we really wanted to show it to everybody and we used our haircut to show that.

One day the Colonel called me into his office. One must understand that in fact this powerful man ordered me to come and listen to his "suggestions". In fact, the Colonel told me:
"Private Wilson, you are now a paratrooper. You will remain one for nearly 5 more years. Your company is supposed to produce videos and it has a good reputation. But you are not going to produce anything during all that time. As a consequence, your company is going to lose its value. I thus authorize you to sell it now. You just sign the document I am showing you and I will sell it for you. The product of the sale will of course remain yours."
The Colonel was an extraordinarily good talker and without any hesitation I signed all the documents he produced without reading them. I even thanked him for his help.

Basic training lasted 3 months during which we mostly learned to obey orders without any discussion. We finally became good and fast human machines as far as moving in order, saluting, having our gear in perfect order and … shooting our rifles. This was also accompanied by cleaning exercises. We had to be perfectly clean soldiers, our clothes and shoes had to remain perfectly clean. Our rifles also had to be permanently super clean.

We were in a paratrooper regiment, but we had not yet touched a chute !

Then came our first leave. We got 72 hours leave. Frank did not know where he should go, so I invited him to come with me to my place. When we arrived there, I realized that my former colleague had played a nasty trick on me. He was the guy who was holding the camera while I was playing the role of a paratrooper. He had emptied my flat. He left it completely devastated with bills to pay for the rent and other things. One of the first things I did was to stop all the possible contracts I had, including the lease of my flat. After that, Frank and I went to a motel where we spent our short first leave.

Frank still had the civilian clothes he was wearing when he arrived in the regiment, but I had only my uniform: I had abandoned my own clothes when I was told to wear an old uniform for the purpose of filming, and I never found these civilian clothes back. I guessed that my former colleague had taken them with him when he left me alone in the regiment, with a new uniform.

We were back in our regiment in due time and Frank changed into his uniform. I came to consider this place as my real home. We had very little time to do the necessary laundry, ironing and mending. But we did it in due time for the evening inspection. I was like a child: very proud of our achievement.

Then training started again, but this time it was paratrooper training. It lasted for 3 weeks and was followed by commando training. There we learned to fight with our hands and our knives. We also had long marches with heavy bags and weapons. During these marches we were sometimes ordered to "live on the land", which meant that we had to catch an animal or to find food on the trees. The whole commando training lasted for 3 more months.

This ended with a final 48 hours march. At the end of this march we finally received our paratrooper red beret: until then we had to wear a stupid cap as a cover.

At the end of this march, I was finally received, in what was now my regiment, as a full paratrooper. Even better: I was considered as the best paratrooper of the group and I was promoted to Private First Class. Frank was second best, but he did not get any promotion. I must confess here that I was proud of what I had achieved even if it was under duress, I was even mighty proud since I was now Private First Class in an elite regiment.

As of this day, a new life started for me and my friends. We were still training a lot but we were now confirmed paratroopers. We had now the right to spend every evening in the regiment bar, and even to watch TV there.

That’s where I could see one evening a video clip about the life of Special Forces soldiers. My comrades immediately recognized the main character: I was this main character and they started making jokes about me as an actor. I was less happy: my video was completed and shown on TV, but where was my money? I asked to be allowed to speak to the Colonel. When I was allowed to do so, this great man explained that the video had been paid by the Army to my former society. Since I had sold my company, the money had been paid to the new owner: my former cameraman. The Colonel added that the product of the sale of my society would be kept for me by him (or by his successor) in order to avoid any problem between the soldiers of our group.

I didn’t like that, but I did the only thing I could do: I saluted my superior, made a perfect about turn (I was well trained now) and left his office after proudly placing my beret on my head.

Life went on for us, soldiers of this Special Forces regiment. We kept training for a potential attack and I had nearly forgotten my former life as a video clip maker. After 9 months, I was now nearly 24 years old, our regiment changed Colonel: this happens every two years in our Army. Luckily, we had a good new Colonel: he started by examining each file of his soldiers, with a special attention on those enlisted more or less by force because of the emergency mentioned above.

When it was my turn, I entered the Colonel’s office in the appropriate way, taking my beret off immediately after saluting the chief and thus showing the fact that, for this opportunity, I had had my hair cut to the woods.

The new Colonel told me:
"Wilson, your file shows that you joined as a volunteer when the emergency situation called for more soldiers. Before that you had joined for a one month period. Was your present enlistment fully volunteer ?"
"Colonel, your predecessor convinced me that it would be better for me and I followed his advice."
"You are one of my best soldiers. What did you do before you joined ?"
"I made video clips, Colonel. But having seen my last one recently, I must admit that it does not very well represent the life of a special forces soldier."
"Was that the purpose of this clip ?"
"My company had a contract for that purpose."
"What happened to that contract ?"
"Colonel, after I joined and before the clip was completed, your predecessor convinced me to sell my shares of my company. My assistant bought these shares and finished the clip."
"So is he responsible for this bad clip, Wilson ?"
"Colonel, I was the actor playing the role of a Special Forces soldier. I accept all responsibilities for that."
"But now, you are nevertheless an excellent soldier."
The Colonel was silent for a few minutes and I remained in the position of attention. The Colonel noticed that and suddenly, having apparently made his mind, he shouted:
"AT EASE, Private First Class."
I automatically obeyed this order: absolute discipline was now ingrained in me.
The Colonel continued:
"Do you like your life here as a soldier, Private First Class Wilson ?"
I nearly shouted my answer: "YES COLONEL, this Private now sincerely likes his life as a soldier."
"We are thinking of starting to produce our own video propaganda clips in order to attract more young people as volunteers. Would you accept helping in this process, which is not mentioned in your present contract ?"
"Of course Colonel, if it is an order."
"It is an order Wilson, but you will have to sign an additional contract and go to the Corporal training course."
"I will obey your orders, Colonel."
"What do you need for these clips ?"
It was the first time an officer asked me such a question. So, I took a few minutes before answering and finally I said:
"Colonel, I need an office and a studio well equipped with all the usual material."
"Is that all ?"
"No Colonel, I need a helper who knows a bit about Army life: he could hold the Camera and film me or other soldiers. This helper should be aware of all the possible attitudes of a Special Forces soldier."
"Do you have a name to suggest ?"
"YES COLONEL, Private First Class Frank Patterson could do a good job. He does not know the ropes of filming yet, but we are good friends and I know he will learn rapidly."
Frank had indeed been promoted to Private First Class … like most members of our group !
"Does this Patterson have the same haircut as you ?"
"Yes Colonel, and we are both volunteers."
"You may go now, Wilson."

One week later Frank and I were called together to the Colonel’s office. Our superior explained his decision:
"You will now form a special team in charge of making recruiting teams. Wilson will be the leader and he will be promoted to Corporal immediately and in one month to Sergeant. He will be the chief. Patterson, you are presently Private First Class. You will be promoted in one month to Corporal. You will organize your work as you see fit, but I want Wilson to make a weekly oral report. Understood ?"
We both said, nearly in one voice: "At your command, COLONEL".
The Colonel added just a small detail:
"Of course, since you get a promotion, you will have to sign a new contract with time of service added to it. Are you ready to do that ?"
I replied immediately:
"YES COLONEL" and I expected Frank to do the same, but he asked another question:
"Colonel, shall I also be promoted to Sergeant ?"
"Patterson, there can be only one single chief. In this case it will be Wilson and you will not be promoted further than Corporal."
And Frank replied calmly:
"In that case, Colonel, I will not sign a new contract. The present one has been obtained by brute force and I don’t want that to occur again."
But the Colonel replied:
"It is your choice, Private First Class Patterson. It is also mine not to promote you to Corporal."

Frank was told to leave the Colonel’s office immediately. I was told to stay until I had signed my new contract, adding thus five years to my present enlistment. This meant for me that I had now signed for 10 years altogether. It was a lot, but our Colonel, like the previous one, was a very convincing person. Anyway, I planned now to have a complete Army career.

Two months later, the emergency situation was called off and the soldiers who had chosen to avoid the five year contract went home free. Some asked to transform their enlistment into a five year contract. Frank and I could not leave the Army since we had voluntarily signed a contract. Frank did not really like the situation, especially because he had to stay in our former room of 6 soldiers while I succeeded in getting a room for myself.

Frank looked somber, but he nevertheless changed his haircut for a much longer one. His argument was easy to understand:
"If they don’t like it, they can always throw me away."
He was only sent to the brig for two weeks and he got a "special" haircut: his hair was cut to the woods once again.

On the contrary, I liked my private room and everything that went with it. I thus kept my very short haircut and I started to give sharp orders to Frank because he needed that for his own good. After all, despite the fact that he was now a Private First Class, he was still a rank-and-file soldier. I was an NCO and as such I had many privileges.

I feel well in the Army with regular buzz cuts.

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