USMC Private Tells a Marine Gunnery Sergeant to start digging. A Marine Gunnery Sergeant being told to help dig a military fighting hole by a Private is hilarious! This funny joke is not the norm in the USMC and respect should have been taught to this millennial during bootcamp. The Devil Dog Gunny certainly put the Private back in his place during the deployment in combat to Iraq!

The Private Who Told the Gunny to Dig

It was a scorching afternoon in the middle of nowhere, Iraq. The sun was blazing down like it had a personal vendetta against anyone wearing camouflage. The Marines were setting up a new forward position, which, of course, meant one thing: digging fighting holes. And if there’s one thing Marines love more than MREs and bad jokes, it’s manual labor in the heat—said no Marine ever.

Enter Private First Class Johnny “Johnny Bravo” Miller, fresh out of boot camp, where he’d probably slept through the lesson on rank structure. Armed with a shovel and a dangerous level of cluelessness, he found himself next to Gunnery Sergeant Martinez—a legend among the Marines, known for his booming voice and a glare that could knock over a sandbag.

Johnny, sweat pouring down his face, decided he’d had enough. He looked over at the Gunny, who, despite the heat, seemed like he was born for this—stoic, composed, not a bead of sweat out of place.

“Hey, Gunny,” Johnny huffed, “grab a shovel and start digging.”

Time stopped. Even the desert wind seemed to hold its breath. A few nearby Marines froze, eyes wide, waiting for the explosion. You could almost hear the sand grains gasping in horror. Did he…did he just tell the Gunny to dig?

Gunnery Sergeant Martinez slowly turned his head, the look on his face the same one a lion has right before it pounces on a zebra. The other Marines stepped back. This was about to be good.

“Excuse me, Private,” the Gunny said in a voice that could melt steel, “what did you just say?”

Johnny, clearly unaware of the giant metaphorical hole he was digging with his mouth, repeated, “Yeah, Gunny. You know, we’re supposed to dig these holes together, right? So, grab a shovel and help out. We’ll be done faster.”

One Marine whispered, “This guy’s either got the biggest pair in the Corps or the smallest brain. My bet’s on the latter.”

The Gunny stood up slowly, towering over Johnny like a mountain of pure Marine fury. He adjusted his sunglasses and smiled—though it wasn’t the kind of smile you’d want to see if you valued your life.

“Private,” he began in a tone that could peel paint off a Humvee, “do you know what my job is?”

Johnny, still completely unaware of the impending doom, shrugged. “Uh…to lead us? To set an example?”

The Gunny’s smile grew wider, scarier. “Wrong. My job is to turn soft, clueless little privates like you into Marines who know when to shut their mouths and do what they’re told.”

Johnny gulped, a bead of sweat now forming on his forehead that had nothing to do with the desert heat.

“See, Private, there’s a thing in the Marine Corps called respect for rank. It’s something we drill into recruits from day one of boot camp. You remember boot camp, don’t you?”

Johnny nodded quickly, now realizing he’d stumbled into a situation worse than any sandstorm.

“Good,” the Gunny continued. “Because if you don’t get it, I’m about to re-enlist you back into boot camp—right here, right now. Now, why don’t you take that shovel and start digging before I have you doing push-ups in this hole for the rest of the deployment?”

Johnny blinked, finally catching on. “Yes, Gunny. Right away, Gunny.”

With newfound speed and determination, Johnny attacked the ground with his shovel like it had personally insulted him. The other Marines, who had been watching the whole exchange with barely contained laughter, made a mental note: never tell a Gunnery Sergeant to do anything—ever.

As Johnny dug furiously, the Gunny leaned in close, just loud enough for the other Marines to hear. “Private, let me give you a piece of advice. The next time you feel like telling me—or any other NCO for that matter—what to do, I want you to stop, think about it, and then realize that the only thing you should be digging is a hole for yourself to hide in, because I’ll make sure your career gets buried right there.”

Johnny, now drenched in both sweat and humiliation, managed a shaky nod. “Yes, Gunny. Won’t happen again, Gunny.”

And for the rest of the deployment, Johnny Bravo became the unofficial “hole digger-in-chief” whenever the Marines needed to set up a new position. The other privates made sure to remind him of his famous line, “Hey, Gunny, grab a shovel!” right before they handed him his favorite tool.

As for the Gunny? He never had to touch a shovel the entire deployment. After all, why would he, when he had a private who was so eager to dig?

The moral of the story? In the Marine Corps, respect is earned—but stupidity? Well, that digs its own hole.

 

The End

 

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