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A Marine General Made His Aide Do His Laundry, Pick Up His Meals
They say that rank has its privileges, and Marine Brig. Gen. Rick Uribe certainly benefited from that mindset — until he was investigated for effectively using his aide-de-camp as a personal servant.
A report from the Pentagon's inspector general released Thursday substantiated allegations against Uribe that he "requested or permitted" his aide to use official time to pick up his laundry, grab meals, carry around personal items and snacks, write non-official letters, and reserve equipment for him at the gym, among other no-nos.
Between May 2016 and June 2017, Uribe was deputy commanding general for operations in Baghdad, and director of the Combined Joint Operations Center, Baghdad, Combined Joint Forces Land Component Command, Iraq — which, he reasoned to investigators, was an incredibly busy assignment that didn't afford him much time to go to the chow hall or drop off his laundry.
Except, of course, his predecessor, Maj. Gen. William F. Mullen, had the same job during a similarly intense period and didn't make his aide do bullshit work. In fact, Mullen's aide said his boss "always carried his own stuff" and "made it a point to always pick up and drop off his own laundry."
Not so for Uribe, who goes by the callsign "Rico," according to his LinkedIn.
Uribe’s aide told investigators that he "only did personal matters" for the boss while in Iraq — which included picking up his laundry and dropping it to his quarters, occasionally changing his bed sheets, picking up his meals, carrying around a "huge backpack" filled with the general's sweatshirt, snacks, toiletry items, and sometimes drafting personal correspondence.
On a number of occasions, according to the aide, they'd be in the gym when someone would come by and ask for “Uncle Rico” at the operations center. Uribe would leave to go take care of the problem... and his aide was ordered to keep other people from using the general’s gym equipment, sometimes for more than 30 minutes.
Uribe denied the aide ever waited that long, but did concede that "more often than not" he would ask his aide to stand by the equipment until he returned. Investigators asked him what purpose this ultimately served, and he replied, "Nothing."
Then there were financial dealings. The general's aide paid for WiFi internet access in their quarters, which was $60 a month. The general never paid his share.
Uribe told investigators that he was "more focused on the combat operations" rather than using the WiFi "once in a while," but, he said, "I guess I wasn't thinking. So, guilty as charged." (It's worth noting that the general makes more than $12,000 a month on just his base pay.)
The report recommended that "Brig. Gen. Uribe's supervisor take appropriate action" against him. He's currently the deputy commanding general of I Marine Expeditionary Force.
Calls to 1 MEF Commanding General, Lt. Gen. L.A. Craparotta, went unanswered.
‘I made promises to the people that I lost’— How the Iraq war forged a Navy SEAL’s path to Harvard Medical School and NASA
Navy Lt. Jonny Kim went viral last week when NASA announced that he and 10 other candidates (including six other service members) became the newest members of the agency's hallowed astronaut corps. A decorated Navy SEAL and graduate of Harvard Medical School, Kim in particular seems to have a penchant for achieving people's childhood dreams.
However, Kim shared with Task & Purpose that his motivation for living life the way he has stems not so much from starry-eyed ambition, but from the pain and loss he suffered both on the battlefields of Iraq and from childhood instability while growing up in Los Angeles. Kim tells his story in the following Q&A, which was lightly edited for length and clarity:
Secretary Robert Wilkie called an allegation of sexual assault at the VA 'unsubstantiated.' Investigators say it's not.
The Department of Veterans Affairs' Inspector General pushed back against Secretary Robert Wilkie last week, after Wilkie called an allegation of sexual assault in a D.C. facility "unsubstantiated."
New Vietnam War movie 'The Last Full Measure' takes some well-deserved shots at the military’s award process
Todd Robinson's upcoming Vietnam War drama, The Last Full Measure, is a story of two battles: One takes place during an ambush in the jungles of Vietnam in 1966, while the other unfolds more than three decades later as the survivors fight to see one pararescueman's valor posthumously recognized.
On April 11, 1966, Airman 1st Class William H. Pitsenbarger (played by Jeremy Irvine) responded to a call to evacuate casualties belonging to a company with the Army's 1st Infantry Division near Cam My during a deadly ambush, the result of a search and destroy mission dubbed Operation Abilene.
In the ensuing battle, the unit suffered more than 80 percent casualties as their perimeter was breached. Despite the dangers on the ground, Pitsenbarger refused to leave the soldiers trapped in the jungle and waved off the medevac chopper, choosing to fight, and ultimately die, alongside men he'd never met before that day.
Decades later, those men fought to see Pitsenbarger's Air Force Cross upgraded to the Medal of Honor. On Dec. 8, 2000, they won, when Pitsenbarger was posthumously awarded the nation's highest decoration for valor.
The Last Full Measure painstakingly chronicles that long desperate struggle, and the details of the battle are told in flashbacks by the soldiers who survived the ambush, played by a star-studded cast that includes Samuel L. Jackson, Ed Harris, and William Hurt.
After Operation Abilene, some of the men involved moved on with their lives, or tried to, and the film touches on the many ways they struggled with their grief, trauma, and in the case of some, feelings of guilt. For the characters in The Last Full Measure, seeing Pitsenbarger awarded the Medal of Honor might be the one decent thing they pull out of that war, remarks Jackson's character, Lt. Billy Takoda, one of the soldier's whose life Pitsenbarger saved.
There are a lot of threads to follow in The Last Full Measure, individual strands of a larger story that feel misplaced, redacted, or cut short — at times, violently. But this is not a criticism, quite the opposite in fact. This tangled web is part of the larger narrative at play as Scott Huffman, a fictitious modern-day Pentagon bureaucrat played by Sebastian Stan, tries to piece together what actually happened that fateful day so many years ago.
At the start, Huffman — the person who ultimately becomes Pitsenbarger's champion in Washington — wants nothing to do with the airman's story, the medal, or the Vietnam veterans who want to see his sacrifice recognized. For Huffman, it's a burdensome assignment, just one more box to check before he can move on to brighter and better career prospects. Not surprising then that Pentagon bureaucrats and Washington political operators are regarded with skepticism throughout the movie.
When Takoda first meets Huffman, the Army vet grills the overdressed and out-of-his-depth government flack about his intentions, calls him an FNG (fucking new guy) and tosses Huffman's recorder into the nearby river where he's fishing with his grandkids.
Sebastian Stan stars as Scott Huffman alongside Samuel Jackson as Billy Takoda in "The Last Full Measure."(IMDB)
As Huffman spends more time with the grunts who fought alongside Pitsenbarger, and the Air Force PJs who flew with him that day, he, and the audience, come to see their campaign, and their frustration over the lack of progress, in a different light.
In one of the movie's later moments, The Last Full Measure offers an explanation for why Pitsenbarger's award languished for so long. The theory? Pitsenbarger's Medal of Honor citation was downgraded to a service cross, not because his actions didn't meet the standard associated with the nation's highest award for valor, but because his rank didn't.
"The conjecture among the Mud Soldiers and Bien Hoa Eagles is that Pitsenbarger was passed over because he was enlisted," Robinson, who wrote and directed The Last Full Measure, told Task & Purpose.
"As for the events in the film, Pitsenbarger's upgrade was clearly ignored for decades and items had been lost — whether that was deliberate is up for discussion but we feel we captured the spirit of the issues at hand either way," he said. "Some of these questions are simply impossible to answer with 100% certainty as no one really knows."
The cynicism in The Last Full Measure is overt, but to be entirely honest, it feels warranted. While watching the film, I couldn't help but think back to recent stories of battlefield bravery, like that of Army Sgt. 1st Class Alwyn Cashe, who ran into a burning Bradley three times in Iraq to pull out his wounded men — a feat of heroism that cost him his life, and inspired an ongoing campaign to see Cashe awarded the Medal of Honor.
There's no shortage of op-eds by current and former service members who see the military's awards process as slow and cumbersome at best, and biased or broken at worst, and it's refreshing to see that criticism reflected in a major war movie. And sure, like plenty of military dramas, The Last Full Measure has some sappy moments, but on the whole, it's a damn good film.
The Last Full Measure hits theaters on Jan. 24.
With ISIS trying to reorganize itself into an insurgency, most attacks on U.S. and allied forces in Iraq are being carried out by Shiite militias, said Air Force Maj. Gen. Alex Grynkewich, the deputy commander for operations and intelligence for U.S. troops in Iraq and Syria.
"In the time that I have been in Iraq, we've taken a couple of casualties from ISIS fighting on the ground, but most of the attacks have come from those Shia militia groups, who are launching rockets at our bases and frankly just trying to kill someone to make a point," Grynkewich said Wednesday at an event hosted by the Air Force Association's Mitchell Institute for Aerospace Studies.