I re-enlisted in Phoenix with orders to report to Fort Ord. I had been out for three years and my specialty, motor transport, was overfull so I had to pick another field. It was important that I get a school where I could be stationed at the same place right after the school was finished because I now had a family that had no place else to go while I was being refitted for duty. We settled on Fort Ord because I had a brother in the area and it is always good to have family support around. And I could go to a school for a new specialty and be stationed right there afterward. We drove up to Seaside and settled in with my brother then went to the Post to check in and sign up for quarters. All went well until we got to the housing office. I was informed that, since I was to go to school there, I was in trainee status until I graduated from that school in about three months. Trainees do not get to sign up for quarters. Or have cars or any number of other inconveniences that they could pile on.

Needless to say, this was a major set back. My brother lived in a one bedroom cabin on a hillside in Carmel Hills...his hospitality was not about to stretch to three months or more. There were few if any apartments we could afford in the Monterey area and Seaside was a bit rough. I had no back up plan. I had believed we were squared away, never thought about being in some limbo status.

I sat on a bench in the hallway there at Martinez Hall, the administrative hub of Fort Ord and stewed for a few minutes. I was at a loss. I looked down the hall and saw the sign over the Post Sergeant Major's office and figured that the worst they could do was throw me out, so I walked in and asked to speak with the Sergeant Major. I was in civilian clothes, civilian hair down to my collar and not looking at all like a soldier. His clerk wasn't too keen on the idea of me getting in there but I was lucky that the Sergeant Major was talking to someone and leading them out of his office. He saw me and got a curious look on his face. He asked me who I was and what I needed. When he determined that it was going to be a lengthy explanation he stopped me and lead me into his office and sat me down. I explained it all. He asked me how long I had been in before, what rank I had been, how long I had been out and rehashed some of my tale of woe to make sure he had it all correct. He had me give him a copy of my orders, then picked up the phone. He called the chief of admin and told him that he was going to send a prior service soldier to him in the next five minutes. This soldier had orders that did not serve his needs. He told the admin guy to cut a new set of orders assigning me as permanent party (meaning really there, not trainee status) to the 4th Training Brigade with a follow on set for attending the school as attached (meaning I wasn't going to be in trainee status even then). He then instructed him to insure that the housing office understood that this soldier was to be treated as any other incoming permanently assigned soldier and given every courtesy in getting assigned to a set of quarters.

I had spent more than an hour and a half going from one office to another trying to straighten this mess out with no success at all. The Post Sergeant Major spent less than five minutes on the phone and fixed it all. He told me as he led me out of his office that I should come immediately back to him if any thing at all went astray on this. He then told me that, "...we need to take better care of soldiers than that."

There were no screw ups...at the housing office we found that there were quarters immediately available, there was no waiting list, they handed me gave me three addresses to look at and come back and get the keys for the one we chose. Only time in my career that ever happened.

Now the thing that stuck with me about this was that the Sergeant Major didn't look at my hair or my lack of uniform or the fact that I may or may not have inadvertantly been partly responsible for the mess I was in. He listened to me, made a decision to solve my problem, then made the call. He could have been crappy with me in a lot of different ways and over the years, many senior NCOs have been. But his example went down in my book of things to remember when it was my turn. It was the Friday, we moved into our new quarters on Monday.

As it turned out, Being assigned to the Headquarters Company of the 4th Training Bde put me in touch with another senior NCO who made a huge difference. My new First Sergeant, upon meeting me, asked why I wasn't in uniform. I explained that I had just arrived back in the Army, I had been out for three years and didn't save any of my uniforms from my previous service. He shook his head and said we had to do something about that. Now, since I had been in more than six years in my prior service, by rights they didn't have to issue me anything...they could make me pay for all my new uniforms. The 1SG called the supply sergeant into his office and they discussed this for a little while, the 1SG told him to fix it. The next morning I was to report to the basic issure loft of the Central Issue Facility and get a complete basic issue. I never saw a charge sheet, never paid a penny. At the time it would have cost me more than a month's pay if I had to come out of my pocket for it.

So again, I made a note in my list of things to remember for when it was my turn and thanked the powers that be for their kindness to a wayward son...in this case the power that was was the 1SG.

Throughout my career I met many senior NCOs like these two. Men who saw themselves as problem solvers, who were mediators between their soldiers and the rest of the world, who felt it was better and more productive to fix things then work on the causes, who I tried to model my own actions on when it was my turn. I met a lot of the other types, those who saw themselves as responsible to make sure that no problem went unpublished, unpunished, and uncomplicated. Yellers and screamers who would belittle any soldier for not being able to solve their own problems, who saw their soldiers as their servants, nothing more than an inconvenience. We were making them look bad, dragging into their AO with a problem or misdeed.

The yellers and screamers are often seen as the "kick-ass"- hard core- take no prisoners-heroes. Sometimes the other kind are considered "soft". The thing about power is that when you have it, you don't have to flaunt it...I never heard the phrase, "Do you know who you are talking to?" come out of the mouth of any of the truly powerful NCOs...everyone knew who they were.