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When I was in Ranger Batt as a freshly tabbed E-4 in the early 90s, I was sent ADVON to Camp Lejune, to be part of the DZSO party.
We arrived and were put in a barracks on the School of Infantry for the night. The next morning we went to the chow hall in civies. WOW! We went and gave our chow numbers or paid as on any military DFAC. Right behind our group of like 6 Rangers came the Duty NCO (can’t remember the acronym on his brassard) armed with a 1911. He took one look at the guy at the end of our line and told him to get out of the chow hall with sweatpants on. Our guy told him, “Roger that, Sarn’t!” As any good Ranger would. HOLY SHIT, the dude almost stroked out right then and there! “I’M A STAFF SERGEANT, BOOT!”
“Roger that, Sarn’t!”
Our “Sarn’t” also an E-6, went to calm everything down explaining who we were and that we didn’t know the rules. Calmed it down and we all went to sit down at a table as a group. The Staff Sergeant quickly informed us that only our Staff Sergeant could sit there and pointed out the signs above the groups of tables that indicated all the different castes within the USMC. Officers, senior enlisted, mid enlisted and lower enlisted. We just ended up at the lowest common denominator table of the lower enlisted and the SDNCO finally chilled the eff out.
It was just not how we ate in Ranger Batt with the squad and sometimes the entire platoon eating together.
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"The rifle itself has no moral stature, since it has no will of its own. Naturally, it may be used by evil men for evil purposes, but there are more good men than evil, and while the latter cannot be persuaded to the path of righteousness by propaganda, they can certainly be corrected by good men with rifles." — Jeff Cooper
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