“Geardo: One who spends at least 50% of each paycheck (before taxes) on the latest and greatest gear.” – A.J. Merrifield, aka “Bob on the Fob”
As we pulled into the Class II general supply point just north of Tapline Road, it was a sight to behold. In military parlance, “Class II” refers to essential personal issue items such as individual clothing and equipment – uniforms, boots, helmets, and other similar gear. Or, as I had come to know it, good to have sh*t.
A few hundred miles further to the west, we were establishing our own supply point, which would be operated by a supply company from the Oklahoma Army National Guard, which would support XVIII Airborne Corps. This visit was a necessary first step in that process. We strolled through the supply yard – it was hard to call any facility that had no buildings a depot – with a couple of senior warrant officers who explained their operation and how we would establish a support agreement with them.
We stopped near a multipack box filled with Kevlar helmets and I complained about my own, which had been issued to me one size too small, causing headaches every time the sun came out (which was fairly often in the northern Saudi Arabian desert). “Try this one, L-T,” remarked one of our hosts, handing me an extra large helmet.
It was like Nirvana.
Now, it might seem strange for someone to feel joy over a helmet, but I was beside myself. Not only did it fit perfectly, it immediately solved a problem. “Looks great on you. Just be sure to sign for it on the way out,” he said. For the next 25 years, that helmet never left my side, through multiple deployments and more than a few permanent changes of station. When I finally turned it in, it was like saying goodbye to an old friend.
A Deeper Sense of Meaning
From the first time we’re issued military gear, something changes inside of us. While that gear is typically essential for survival, mission success, and personal readiness, it stirs something inside of us that traces back to the ruggedness of frontier service. It runs much deeper than cool gear. When you explore our fascination with military kit through the lens of identity, cohesion, and survival, our affection for issue equipment becomes increasingly clear.
First, gear is a symbol of our identity, a physical expression of belonging. We’re part of a tribe and our gear reflects that. Second, gear isn’t simply decorative, it’s a symbol of survival and perseverance. When you carry something that has kept you warm, dry, fed, or alive, you forge a bond with it. That dependability fosters a bond of affection.
Third, mastery of our gear breeds attachment. We spend hours adjusting, taping, modifying, and optimizing our kit. Over time, that gear becomes yours in a deeply personal way. Fourth, our gear is connected to our memories, our shared suffering. That large rucksack you carried through Airborne school is part of your story. It’s a companion that has been with you through the good times, the bad times, and the worse times.
Fifth, much of our kit represents artifacts of a profession with long institutional memory. Your woobie, your canteen cup, your compass – they have lineage that connects you through generations to others who share your identity. Finally, they provide emotional anchoring. This is something that you don’t always notice until after you leave service. A field jacket hanging in the closet or an old pair of jump boots – them carry the emotional weight of a formative period in your life.
The Things We Carried
Recently, I asked a group of friends – all crusty old veterans like me – what was their favorite piece of military issue gear. Everybody had a quick response, many of which were the same. All came with trips down memory lane – the perfect place to warm an MRE on the engine block of a HMMWV or where to heat your coffee on the track skirt of an M-1 Abrams.
1. Poncho liner.
The woobie makes everyone’s list. Hands down. And usually the first choice anyone mentions. Mine is pushing 40 years old and still in use.
2. Canteen cup.
The ultimate multi-tool. Beverage container, shaving sink, and food bowl (and a shovel when you need it), the canteen cup is not only essential gear, it remains one of the best pieces of kit ever designed.
3. Swiss Army knife.
I started with a Swiss Champ (which is still in the top drawer of my desk) as a lieutenant, but have a few Gerbers and a Leatherman or two in the glove compartment. Never go anywhere without a reputable multi-tool.
4. A compass.
In a world ruled by GPS, the lensatic compass is still king. Mine never left my web belt and proved its worth time and again (when GPS goes down, the map and compass don’t).
5. Tactical watch.
My first tactical watch was an old Timex with a compass on the band. That gave way to a Casio as we prepared for the Gulf War, and later a Swiss Army chronograph. You just can’t beat a good tactical watch. Even when it’s a Breitling.
6. Quality socks.
You’re only issued one pair of feet and you have to take good care of them. That starts with quality socks that can keep your feet warm, dry, and comfortable under a wide range of conditions, from tactical foot marches in the summer to long days in the field during the winter.
7. A good knife.
Everybody loves a good knife. No matter where you go or what you do, you need a knife close by. My first tactical blade was a Class IX Navy divers’ knife that eventually gave way to a K-Bar and later a variety of EDC (everyday carry) knives that seem to still make people nervous.
8. Sunglasses.
On most days, I have a set of Oakley tactical sunglasses perched on my head. I can’t remember a time when sunglasses weren’t part of my daily uniform, from the Ray Bans (I rarely wear) to the Wiley-X ballistic sunglasses that were standard deployment issue for so long.
9. Backpack.
The same day I traded out my Kevlar, I replaced my issue medium ALICE pack for the larger, frame-supported version. I’ve been a backpack guy ever since. When you carry your house on your back, it helps to have a quality backpack to bear the load.
10. Lightweight sleeping bag.
When the military fielded the Modular Sleep System, my back thanked me. Gone was the old cold weather sleeping back that adorned the top of my rucksack for so many years, replaced with the bivy cover and my trusty woobie.
The honorable mention list is long, ranging from the old P-38 can opener to 550-cord to hundred-mile-an-hour tape. Everybody has a favorite, that much is certain.
