Fat House

Marquel, TPVs NYTimes Colonel Klink Section correspondent, was considering eating breakfast pop corn with ice cream when he read

Poor Fitness in Military Poses Peril, Report Says.

A report from a group of retired military leaders, which has campaigned for improved childhood nutrition, shines a light on obesity in the military and its risks to readiness. Obesity has climbed over 60% in the army, standing at 12%, twice what it was a few years ago. Marquel knew that the army can’t find people who are mentally and physically fit. They have to choose between relatively normal fatsos anxious to fire a gun, and thin retards who can’t learn how to salute.

But the problem seems greater than that. I went to Fort Dix to see how obesity was affecting our recruits. A tall crew cut major with medals across a husky but trim chest sat down with me.

“I understand you’re getting a lot of fatsos. What kinds of problems does that create for you?” I asked.

 “No problems, really,” said the major, seemingly without using a muscle, “but we have several challenges.”

“Such as?” I asked.

 “Of course, uniforms have to be bigger. Much bigger. Bunks, also. These tubbies roll right out of their bunks, top and bottom. Gun stocks have to be thinner because there’s no room between them and and their bodies. Training equipment had to be toughened. They kept falling in the obstacles they’re supposed to jump and instead they’d go crashing through them. Things like that.”

“That’s quite a lot. Does it affect military strategy?” I asked.

“Oh sure in many ways. You put a sniper like that up against a wall, where a normal sniper would be hidden, half these guys’ bodies are sticking out. When we rush a field and drop at machine gun fire, their bodies show clearly. It’s like a field full of little mountains. You can see each one of them.” He said.

“It’s kind of hard to hide three hundred pounds, huh?” I asked.

 “Hard? These guys have never played sports. They can’t throw. Give them a hand grenade, they wind up and let go prematurely. They end up throwing them backwards into our troops.” He complained.

“Jeez,” I said, “how do you solve that?” I asked.

 “We were stumped. These guys are so fat and so unfit. Finally a sergeant who used to play basketball suggested turning them around. They face backwards, but the grenade goes forward. It actually might fool the enemy.”

“Any other…challenges?” I asked.

 “A lot of obvious things. Seats in tanks have to be doubled. We had to order an entire new line of fat tanks. Four of these guys couldn’t fit in a normal tank. Couldn’t even get through the hatch. If they did, you couldn’t get more than two of them inside, and a crew takes four. Once they’re in there, there’s no room nor weight left for ammunition. But the fat tanks work. They’re just twice as wide. Need both lanes of a highway.” He said.

“What about when you load them in a helicopter?” I asked.

 “You’re right,” he said, “only half a load.”

“That must change strategy.” I said.

 “Not really,” he said, “just double up on choppers. It’s the airborne that’s the problem.”

“You mean challenge?” I asked.

 “Sorry, yes, a challenge. Ever seen a three hundred pound paratrooper?” He asked.

“Can’t say that I have,” I answered.

 “Neither have many others,” he said. “You have to look fast. Really fast. The parachute doesn’t slow them. They come down at about four hundred miles an hour. Leave craters in the landing field. We had to double up on the chutes. Much bigger packs but these are much bigger soldiers. We lost about a dozen in those craters till we figured out what was happening.”

“Well I’m glad you did. Any other strategic changes?” I asked.

 “Sure. Hand to hand. We couldn’t teach it, they couldn’t do it. We settled on falling.” He said.

“Falling?”

 “Yes, we found it was much better than grappling with the enemy. Now, they just fall on them. The enemy collapses. Very effective. The same with bayonet practice. We used to teach them to parry and thrust. But these guys can just go in and thrust. It’s impossible for the enemy to make a fatal thrust so these soldiers accept the stab. It’s just fat. No harm. They then thrust and you’ve got one dead enemy and one soldier with a cut.”

“Well that sounds like an advantage.” I said.

 “Strategically, it’s a trade-off. We can’t have a bayonet charge because these guys can’t charge. They waddle. Ever see a platoon of fatties waddle with bayonets fixed? It takes them till lunchtime until they reach the enemy. Then they’re too hungry to fight. So our tactic is to wait for the enemy to charge. Then they’re dead they don’t expect us to wait like that.”

“You mentioned lunch. What about rations?” I asked.

 “No such thing. They devour MREs in seconds. And when lunch hits, so does hunger. Like you’ve never seen. They stop and eat. Right in the middle of battle. So we go into battle with large scale supplies along with us. You’ve got one platoon fighting, another carrying supplies. You can’t call them rations, they’re huge.” He said.

“So it’s like in the eighteenth century. One line of soldiers shots while the other line is reloading.”

 “Except that other line is a food platoon. They bring the food and actually feed the others in battle. Then the other platoon feeds them. They take turns. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He said.

“You sound discouraged,” I remarked.

 “I’m retiring. This isn’t the army I joined. This is more like a circus.” He said.

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” I said.

 “What?” He asked.

“In wars if we sent out circuses against each other.” I explained.

 “Well, if it ever comes to that,” he said, “we’ve sure got a head start on the enemy.”

I left, proud of my country for being ahead of the times, even in things military.

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BY MARQUEL: FAT HOUSE