AT4's Jack Black

I haven't talked about the platoon lately, but over the past two months, this platoon has spent more close quarter time together than we ever have. We all live in the same large bay. 14 beds in the 'Joe' room, and just around the corner the NCO room which to get to you just so happen to have to walk through. Our little room is tight enough that you can live out of a wall locker and maybe a few feet of space more without encroaching on the person next to you.

The intimate living conditions does lead to it's handful of scuffles or small feuds, but they are much like that of a tough brotherly love. Spending so much time around each other now, because of our laxed patrol schedule has opened up the eyes to a new facet of every ones personality usually not viewed before. In the first 6 months of this deployment, we would be out so much, that when we got back from any patrol it was to chow, shower, gym, or sleep. We didn't 'hang out' a lot, and subsequently we all missed these new parts of personalities. We were more of a work-friendship-relationship, not like brothers, or best friends who have stayed up late watching movies, and laughing at stupid things.

The biggest character in our platoon I had always thought was James William Brown Jr. The man with a thousand nicknames, and the education of a Georgian who ate too many lead paint chips as a child. Kind of an inbred, with more body hair than teen wolf, and the thought process of a retard with traumatic brain injury. Even though he is still the balding smoke two packs of Marlboro reds a day and stare at you with his mole in the most precarious half smirk trying not to laugh you have a penis growing out of your forehead stare. He's no longer the most interesting to me. The most interesting member of the platoon didn't originally deploy with us, he arrived here a few months late. Staff Sergeant Justin Jewell is the biggest character to our platoon.


Firstly, immediately after arriving to the platoon sometime in March of this year, we all thought to ourselves how oddly he resembled Jack Black. We started calling him 'Nacho' from the start, and he seemed to hate it, but not to where it would bring fisticuffs. So we kept it up. After that first intermediately awkward phase when you first meet someone, we became comfortable with SSG Jewell. He had come from years of recruiting after two tours, one to Iraq and one to Afghanistan. He wasn't the crusty, mean E6 that you can expect most men of that rank to be, especially after years of the high-stress Army recruiting.

During the next few months at Loyalty, most of my time spent around him was during missions, and being work related, we never really got into the small talk. And not being with him in garrison, didn't really know anything about his life, or activities. The first thing that might make him weird, is the fact that he's from Ohio. But after you get past that fact, it just gets weirder.



He's telling me a story in my OP, while on Force Pro. I am trying to follow, but he's hopped up on two scoops of caffeine powder he put into a Diet Pepsi. He's talking my ear off, cursing every other word, and chain smoking cigarettes seemingly racing to finish his brand new pack he just opened, thinking his life will end if he doesn't. He's telling me how he hates the French, and the attack he's planning on the country, which involves a kayak, beer cooler, and perhaps a kilt with a barbarian helmet. He's talking so fast, so long, it's been an hour and I haven't said a word, just tried to keep up with the verbal diarrhea he's been spuing out. He's done with his pack of cigarettes and finally leaves to get another.



The other thing I caught from the conversation is that he's the alcoholic that we in the 82nd all are. You're not a paratrooper if you aren't. That's why the 24 hour PX at Bragg holds the Guinness Book of World Records, record for most alcohol sold in a 24 hour period. Don't believe me look it up. He's back now, smoking his second pack of cigarettes, it seems 8 at a time. He's still hopped up on caffeine. I'm still following. He's a VFW patron back in Ohio, where he owns his own condo, which recently had a break-in. A phantom shitter leaving a dirty bomb in his toilet, but not stealing anything, just not flushing. At least whoever it was locked the door on the way out.

He's done with his cigarettes, but not before he squeezes in the fact that he hates the French. Again. He puts a dip in, actually shovels it in. It must've been a half can of chewing tobacco, Skoal Green Apple. It's so much dip in his lip that he can't even close his lips fully, the bottom one sticks out like Forrest's Gump best buddy. Don't catch that on a trip wire. His speech is still fast, and hateful, filled with slurs and mumbles now, I can barely understand. It's worse when he tries to speak over a radio though. His other stories are just as funny, as his quirkiness that he brings to everyday.

Last night he tells us how he was cross eyed as a kid, but only up until the age of 4. Not by the age of 9 when his neighbor lady would fear that he was going to rape her daughter because he had a rope and shovel, playing GI Joe in the woods. It's almost as funny as our LT knocking a retard off of his tree house, and her landing head first in a bucket of water, and just getting up and walking it off. Of course after they got the bucket off of her head. I guess we're all a little sick humored here. But fuck'em if they can't take a joke.

He doesn't have access to the booze he used to drink. The cigarettes he used to smoke. The energy drinks he used to consume. So maybe I haven't seen everything about him. He's telling me he used to have three Monster XL's, two packs of cigarettes, and a can of dip consumed by lunch time everyday as a recruiter. No wonder he's only 27, and wheezes with the sounds of emphysema, and looks ten years older. His new nicknames, though he still looks like Jack Black, and is even as energetic with A-D-D and maybe just as quirky as JB, he has a few new names. One being from my 'radio' show host 'Marty McDoogal,' the 1940's radio announcer who talks of the Nazi Crime Syndicate and Allies of Awesome in Eastern Baghdad; Dip Lipper JB Kung Fu P, is the affectionate name that I've given him during the broadcasts. The other, which is because of the phantom shitter case at his condo back in Ohio, is 'Old Man Jewell.' We talk as if we are the kids of the neighborhood daring each other to go mess with Old Man Jewell's house. I dare you to go take a crap in Old Man Jewells house. Oh no! Old Man Jewell is on his porch with his shotgun!

So he's kooky, and weird. Coked up on caffeine, and probably going to die before the Army lets him retire from cancer or emphysema in 11 years. I know I'm not supposed to talk about superiors this way, that I'm only supposed to hate him, and try and undercut his authority, but he's been a great addition to our platoon. His relaxed, common sense, I'm not perfect, but I'm pretty damn good attitude has been a big morale boost within the platoon. His rants and impromptu outburst of energy, and screams of asking 'Why Gibby?' 'Gibby!' as he's being punched in combatives are a true point of hilarity to this platoon. I know we're not supposed to, but we like you SSG Jewell


I hate the French. Fuckin frogs. (inhale cigarette) -SSG Jewell

You must never underestimate the power of the eyebrow. -Jack Black