Army humor of soldiers waking up on a Forward Operating Base (FOB), “At least we are still here…on the FOB”. Whether in the Air Force, Marines, Navy or Army life on the FOB is interesting and requires humor and a DIY attitude to get things done. This true experience was a funny joke a buddy used to play each day.

Fobbit \’fä-bit\, noun. Definition: A U.S. soldier stationed at a Forward Operating Base who avoids combat by remaining at the base. Pejorative. – Dr. Knowitall

Army soldiers on a Forward Operating Base

At Forward Operating Base (FOB) Resolute, a small patch of dust and tents in the middle of nowhere, the soldiers had developed a unique coping mechanism for getting through the endless heat, MREs, and questionable showers (or lack thereof). Whenever anything went wrong—and in a place where everything went wrong with impressive regularity—someone would inevitably say, “At least we’re still here… on the FOB.” And for some reason, it always made things better. Sort of.

It all started one scorching afternoon when the base’s power went out for the third time that day. The air conditioners stopped with a death rattle, leaving nothing but the sound of slow-cooking soldiers in their sweaty uniforms. Sgt. Johnson, ever the optimist, looked around the room of melting comrades and said, “Well, at least we’re still here… on the FOB.”

The rest of the squad groaned but laughed, realizing it was true. They weren’t out in the middle of a desert patrol or getting shelled at an outpost. Nope, they were “safe” in their dusty, malfunctioning oasis of mediocrity.

Later that week, it rained—if you could call the torrential downpour “rain.” More like a biblical flood sent specifically to turn the FOB’s dirt roads into swampy rivers of mud. Pvt. Ramirez, trying to cross from the chow hall to the barracks, slipped and disappeared into the muck. Only his helmet was visible bobbing in the sludge as his buddies rushed to pull him out.

As they fished Ramirez out like a muddy trout, Spc. White grinned. “At least we’re still here… on the FOB!”

Ramirez, spitting mud, managed a grin. “Better than getting stuck in some ditch outside the wire, I guess.”

But the real clincher came the night of “The Great Port-a-Potty Incident.” A strong wind had whipped up, turning the FOB into a dustbowl, which made even the simplest task—like visiting the port-a-potties—a challenge. Sgt. Walker had ventured out on a doomed mission to take care of business, only to have the wind knock the port-a-potty over… with him still inside.

The blue fluid and stench that greeted the squad as they rushed to rescue Walker was beyond description. As they uprighted the foul-smelling box, a dripping, furious Sgt. Walker stepped out, looking like he’d been to battle with a sewer.

The silence was heavy. No one wanted to laugh. No one dared… until Sgt. Johnson, of course, couldn’t help himself. “At least we’re still here… on the FOB!”

And that’s when it happened. Walker, despite being covered head-to-toe in… well, you know… cracked up. The whole squad followed, howling with laughter in the middle of the windy, dust-choked night.

From then on, no matter how bad things got—whether it was missing mail, endless latrine duty, or MRE menus that somehow always featured “mystery meat”—they always had their phrase to fall back on.

“At least we’re still here… on the FOB.” And in a weird, twisted way, it made life just a little bit easier.

Well, at least until the next power outage.

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It’s hard to believe, but some of the comics I drew during my 20-year military career have been published! These humorous musings might make you laugh or occasionally offend, but they all stem from awesome mentors, great buddies, and a deep appreciation for sarcastic humor. Check it out here on Amazon: Amazon The Frontlines

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