The Parade was a Protest? Or TDS-addled opinion?

Anons- it is def a long read. Remainder in the comments.

UPDATED

“Marching Toward Madness: What That Parade Screamed”

By Rob from Occasionalalities, USAF, Retired

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Any veteran worth their salt could see it the moment the first boot hit the pavement.

That was no parade.

That was a protest.

Not by the public—but by the military itself.

June 14, 2025.

Washington D.C.

A “military display” designed to honor the Commander-in-Chief became an unintentional—or perhaps very intentional—act of uniformed insubordination.

Because anyone who’s ever worn the uniform, who’s ever suffered through the absurd misery of a change-of-command ceremony, knew immediately what they were looking at:

There was no cadence.

No rhythm.

No dress-right-dress.

No lockstep.

No dignity.

No lead NCO calling time.

No officer setting pace.

Just one sloppy, half-hearted, sluggish shuffle past the grandstand, like a jaded marching band limping home from a funeral, with a particularly sarcastic soldier, holding a drone over his doomed head as he marched, indicating the future most infantry.

If that performance had taken place during a wing-level change-of-command at any halfway decent Air Force base, the entire affair would’ve resulted in reprimands, corrections, reassignments.

You’d have seen “Article 15s” rain from the sky like confetti.**

But this wasn’t an accident.

This was allowed to happen. Deliberately.

>>23193903

The Silent Rebellion

Here’s what I think happened—and I say this as someone who’s spent enough time in uniform to recognize a mutiny when I see one.

Somewhere between the lieutenant colonels and the brigadier generals, an unspoken understanding took shape:

“We’re not going to punish you if this parade turns into a mess.

In fact, we expect it to.”

The lieutenants and captains got the nod.

The sergeants passed it down the chain.

The troops got the wink.

No one would be punished.

Why?

Because the generals already had cover.

They’d spoken to their Senate-confirmed superiors—the full generals and political appointees—and got assurances: “Let it fall apart. We won’t hold it against you.”

And that’s how it works.

Everyone in the military knows that getting from O-1 to O-6 takes brains, guts, and stamina.

But making it from Brigadier General to Full General?

That’s not about service.

That’s about politics.

Every one of those stars past the first one has to be confirmed by the Senate.

Which brings us to the Secretary of Defense.

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The Booze and the Buffoon

Let’s be blunt: This whole debacle is what happens when you appoint a delusional alcoholic to run the Pentagon—someone whose entire identity is built around trying to impress a President who never served a day in uniform.

They thought they’d save money by skipping rehearsals.

Big mistake.

Because once you assign a soldier to temporary duty in Washington, they start pulling deployment pay—extra money, allowances, housing.

Cutting back on rehearsals didn’t shave costs; it just made the parade worse while still racking up the bill.

And what did we get for that price tag?

Marching sloppier than a kindergarten field trip, and a Commander-in-Chief sitting there—puffed up and grinning—like he just won Normandy.

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>>23193903

>>23193907

The Real Cost of a Parade

Any veteran will tell you: the dumbest, most soul-killing thing you ever had to do in uniform was a goddamn parade.

Let’s break it down.

In the Air Force, even a squadron-level change of command means about 500 troops out in formation.

Not the 50-100 civilians seem to imagine.

I served in the 48th Security Forces Squadron at RAF Lakenheath.

Those parades weren’t symbolic; they were mandatory suffering.

You got hit with three rehearsals minimum:

1. “Who Forgot How to March” Re-Education Camp

Cops, cooks, desk jockeys—no one was safe. Triple-time lessons and helmet sweats.

1. “Does everyone’s uniform MATCH?”

Uniform Inspection

$9/month to keep your uniform squared away, and God help you if your ribbons were crooked.

1. The Final Dress Rehearsal

Two hours of statuesque hell: “Eyes Right,” “Parade Rest,” “About Face,” and don’t lock your knees unless you want to faint… and get punished for faking it.

Then comes actual parade day.

Haircuts at 0500.

Uniform pressed within an inch of its life.

Standing in formation in rain, heat, or the frozen grip of some base wind tunnel that seems engineered to shatter morale.

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Larger Units, Larger Misery

It gets worse at the group level—1,400 personnel.

Think the 75th Mission Support Group.

And then it balloons into Wing Parades—like the 4th Fighter Wing or the 48th FW.

That’s 6,000–7,000 airmen standing silent while nothing flies, no repairs happen, and the Air Force grounds itself so the boss can hear a brass band.

It’s taxpayer money spent to not do our jobs so a colonel can give a speech no one remembers.

And if you pass out because it’s 95 degrees and you locked your knees too long?

You might be charged under Article 92 for “failure to obey a lawful order.”

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A Spectacle for Civilians, A Nightmare for Troops

To the average onlooker, parades look inspirational.

To those in the ranks?

It’s sweat, waste, humiliation, and theatrical obedience.

And when you force a branch of the military to fake their loyalty for the camera, the truth leaks out—like it did on June 14.

Because if that was a show of strength?

Then I’m a dancing bear in a dress blues tutu.

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The Ghost Who Took His Place

And let’s not forget who this parade was supposed to honor.

The man in the grandstand.

The one with five deferments.

The one with bone spurs.

You know what we call a man like that in the service?

“Fortunate son.”

Lucky.

And you know what we call the one who went to war in their place instead?

Dead.

We’ll never know the name of the soldier who filled that empty slot in Vietnam.

Maybe he made it back.

Maybe he didn’t.

But the math doesn’t lie—someone went.

Because someone always does.