What was the Army thinking when it made me a squad leader? No doubt they could not see inside my head and the spider webs of confusion and consternation that reigned there. Being in a state of constant misery made my sole purpose in life to not add to it. Since my inside wasn't smiling I figured it in my best interest to keep those on the outside as happy as I was able.
Near as I recall my job had two functions; lead and inspire my men to clean the upstairs latrine to the best of their God-given abilities and when in the field, inspire them with my intelligence and ability to adapt to circumstance. I'll give the latter a go first.
Since we were training as infantrymen, we were taught many things. Some useful in civilian life, most not. Early on we were instructed in the use of the lensatic compass. Using in much the same way as the sights on a rifle the compass was a sure way to find your way home should you know where you were to begin with and also had an accurate map. Odds were slim that an infantryman would have either if he'd been separated from his unit (and senses).
Once instructed we broke up in squads and were given a sheet of paper with both starting point and headings. Our task was to find and write down the numbers on several stakes to be found off in the Washington woods somewhere. And would have proved something of a challenge had we not been able to follow the paths beaten into the soil by thousands of GI boots. Most would call them clues. We fired up the compass at each and every found point and agreed the paths were true. Finally, under the setting sun we stumbled our way out of the undergrowth to report our findings.
We were third in line as I recall. What caught my ear while waiting was the report of the squad in front of us. They had the first five posts right as rain but missed on the last. Interesting that their findings matched ours to a tee. So I did what any right thinking American boy would do when our turn came. I lied. Changed our last finding even though I knew ours to be right. Didn't matter to me if the Sergeant in charge was wrong. What mattered was being in agreement with the man. Lo and behold being wrong in the right way turned out to be right, more or less. That's what leaders do, say what's necessary to get the boss's approval. There's a lesson in there somewhere and bein' a hypocrite, even in a little way, didn't sit right with me.
The next moment came the second week and found us in the latrine, a place ripe for change. We were given fifteen minutes to spit shine the room from one end to the other. Not a problem for twelve men. After a few days I'd seen that we were done in ten and spent the last five looking busy. Keeping up appearances and our hands from helping out in the devil's workshop. To me it seemed a waste of effort and all that extra rubbing would wear down the nickel plating and enamel that much faster.
Bein' a leader I gathered the men around me and let them know my take on the situation, "Men," I said in a commanding tone of voice, "Men, the way I see it, and no doubt you do as well, we can clean this latrine top to bottom and still have five minutes free to do with as we please so long as it doesn't involve messing up the latrine. Are we agreed on that?" Seemed we were and that's what we did.
I recall it as being the second Tuesday of training that it happened. That's when our acting corporal, still waiting on orders, found us in the break phase of our duties. Even though he was still a private just like us and only wore pretend stripes, he had himself a fit and called me aside. There he asked me just what it was that was goin' on in the john. I understood his concern and explained the logic behind our actions. Somehow he didn't see it the same way as me and said how we were to clean the latrine from that day forward - or - I could just hang up the stripes I didn't have and he'd find someone who would. Have to admit my ire was up and told him finding another man was fine with me. So that's what he did. As it turned out Rich Metcalf was way more into the job than I was. The Army needed far more Metcalfs than they did fools like me. Rich took his job seriously. More on him later. In one way it kind of burned my butt a little that I was no longer in charge. In another it suited me just fine. Story of my life over the next fifteen years.
No comments:
Post a Comment