Jody. The mere mention of the name is enough to send shivers down the spine of service members everywhere.
It is a foul beast lurking in the shadows, never tiring, ever vigilant, with craned neck vigorously leaning to hear the magic word that unleashes his sinister powers: “Deployment.”
The malefactor’s skulduggery has claimed divisions’ worth of saddened spouses, boyfriends and girlfriends as victims, forever helpless to the patron saint of chicanery.
Its influence even dates back to King David’s lustful pursuit of Bathsheba. (Pour one out for Uriah.) In fact, so pervasive a foe is the devious one that he became the subject of a 1943, WWII-themed Superman comic, one that was long-buried in the archives of Washington’s Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division.
Much like the deployed troops serving in that comic, GIs based in India during World War II faced incessant Jody-based threats, so much so that, in a truly band-of-brothers moment, the jilted men turned their heartbreak into something meaningful.
Enter The Brush-Off Club. (A self-help book could never.)
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According to the Jan. 24, 1943, issue of Yank, The Army Weekly, mournful hearts organized for the first time in military history to join forces in mutual lovers’ sorrow and sympathy.
The rules to join the club were fairly straightforward — if you were in possession of a broken heart “or a reasonable facsimile,” you were in.
The misery-loves-company cadre even featured vital, board-style functions, such as chief crier and chief consoler, according to Sgt. Ed Cunningham, field correspondent for Yank.
All members were “required to give each other the needle; i.e., full sympathy for all active members,” Cunningham continued.
“By-laws state: As we are all in the ‘same transport,’ we must provide willing shoulders to cry upon, and join fervently in all wailing and weeping.”
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For those nursing a heartbreak there was a small consolation. Namely, the more serious the offense — say, one’s fiancée marrying another — the faster one could rise through the ranks. For those most dreadfully scorned, there illuminated a path to Brush-Off presidency.
Members were further encouraged to practice wellness methods, such as turning frowns upside down, sipping beer and wailing at the moon for a brief time before moving on.
So it is written, so it shall be done.
This story was originally published on HistoryNet.com.
Claire Barrett is the Strategic Operations Editor for Sightline Media and a World War II researcher with an unparalleled affinity for Sir Winston Churchill and Michigan football.
Jon Simkins is the executive editor for Military Times and Defense News, and a Marine Corps veteran of the Iraq War.
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