Army Cavalry Cousins: The Legend of Cousin Carl

So, there we were, sitting around the fire pit at some FOB in the middle of nowhere, the night sky lit up by nothing but stars, and the occasional glow of someone flicking their cigarette. Typical Army downtime. I’m nursing a lukewarm beer, half-listening to Sergeant Morris complain about chow hall meatloaf when he starts talking.

Chief Warrant Officer “Buck” Thompson—the Cavalry Warrant Officer who’d had a bit too much to drink and decided it was the perfect time to tell us about his family, specifically his cousins. Now, this wasn’t the first time Buck had gone on about his kin. No, no. He had this habit of bringing them up whenever he had a few too many. But this time? This time was something special.

“Lemme tell ya somethin’ ‘bout my cousin Carl,” Buck slurred, his beer belly swaying dangerously close to the fire. “That boy… that boy’s a damn genius.”

Now, we’d heard about Cousin Carl before. According to Buck, Carl was half the reason the Army existed in the first place. The way Buck talked, you’d think Carl had invented the wheel, fire, and the M1 Abrams tank all on the same afternoon. But we weren’t about to stop him. Drunk Buck stories were the closest thing we had to quality entertainment out there.

“Yeah, Carl’s a real thinker, y’know? One time, he took a can of WD-40, duct tape, and some chewing gum, and made a tractor that ran on nothin’ but good intentions.” Buck took another swig of his beer, eyes wide with what he clearly thought was the most impressive fact we’d ever heard.

“Sure, Buck,” said Lieutenant Mason, who never could resist egging him on. “What else can ol’ Cousin Carl do? Save any orphans lately?”

Buck’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Hell yeah, he did! One time, Carl found this orphanage that was runnin’ outta funds, right? So, what does he do? He wins a rodeo, takes all the prize money, and gives it to the kids. Didn’t even keep a dime for himself. Swear on my mama’s biscuits.”

Now, at this point, we’re all just trying not to lose it. Sergeant Morris is holding his sides, and I’m pretty sure Corporal Jenkins is silently crying into his sleeve, trying to keep from laughing too loud. But Buck doesn’t notice. He’s too deep in his tale of Cousin Carl: American Hero.

“Yeah, Carl’s a special one. Kinda like me, y’know? Runs in the family. Cavalry men through and through.” Buck puffs out his chest, as if riding a horse and having a cousin who may or may not be real is some kind of noble lineage.

“Tell us more, Buck,” I say, grinning. “What else does Carl do in his spare time? Invent anything lately?”

“Funny you should ask,” Buck says, leaning in like he’s about to share some top-secret classified intel. “Just last month, Carl built a robot outta scrap metal from a junkyard. Programmed it to make the best damn barbecue you’ve ever tasted. And it could shoot bottle rockets too.”

At this point, it’s too much. Jenkins is doubled over, practically choking on his laughter, and Morris has given up pretending to care about the meatloaf and is just egging Buck on.

“Damn, Buck, sounds like Carl should be runnin’ this Army, not you,” Morris says, wiping tears from his eyes.

Buck waves it off, clearly not understanding the sarcasm. “Naw, he’s too humble. Good ol’ boy, though. Salt of the earth, y’know?”

We’re all about to lose it when the CO walks by, hearing the last bit of this wild story. He pauses, looking at Buck like he’s not sure if he’s overhearing a top-secret mission brief or the plot to a really bad B-movie.

“What the hell are you idiots laughing about?” the CO grumbles.

“Chief’s just telling us about his cousin,” Jenkins manages to wheeze out between fits of laughter.

The CO raises an eyebrow. “Cousin, huh? Sounds like someone’s had a bit too much to drink.”

Buck, ever the Cavalry man, straightens up and salutes. “Sir, I’ll have you know my cousin Carl’s done more for this country than you could ever imagine. Why, just last year, he—”

“Don’t care, Chief,” the CO interrupts, walking off with a sigh. “Don’t care.”

And with that, Buck returns to his story, utterly unphased. “Anyway, like I was sayin’…”

So, yeah, maybe Buck’s tales of his legendary cousin Carl were more tall tale than truth, but hey, when you’re stuck on a FOB with nothing but dust and bad meatloaf, you take your entertainment where you can get it. Besides, who knows? Maybe there really is a guy out there named Carl who once saved orphans with a rodeo win and built a robot that makes barbecue.

But one thing’s for sure: if you ever run into Chief Warrant Officer Thompson after a couple of beers, make sure you ask him about his cousins. You won’t regret it.

(Just don’t mention this comic to Buck if you ever meet him—he’s still convinced it’s all true.)