OPINION
There I was...#126
Published on April 7, 2010 By Big Fat Daddy In Misc

 

 

 

In a previous article on JU , I talked about a couple of senior NCOs that influenced me when I was a young Private (influenced? Terrified might be a better word). They seemed bigger than life and were both veterans of ugly combat; they bore the scars to prove it. They were students of war, masters of its application. They epitomized the "rough men" who stood ready. The Army was full of them then. WWII vets, Korea Vets, a very few who had been to Vietnam early on, and a very, very few who had been to more than one of those places...scary people. I learned the trade from them. But there were some very good junior NCOs as well. One of them was my squad leader: a young Spec 5 with a permanently blushing face. We called him "Pinky"...not just because of his complexion; but also because his name was Pinkelton. To his face we called him "Specialist".

As young as he seemed to me, Pinky had the skills and knowledge to run the squad and train its members. He seemed to be more a "one of the guys" type of sergeant than most. Sometimes that caused problems; it is hard to be taken seriously when you are one of the guys. But for the most part, Pinky was a good squad leader. As much as I learned from him, he was always overshadowed by the presence of the platoon sergeant, Stantz...one of the "rough men" I mentioned earlier. Stantz owned whatever real estate he occupied at the time...just by being there. Pinky hadn't mastered that presence yet.

The Ammo Sergeant (our platoon was responsible for all the ammo in the squadron) was a young buck sergeant named Hill. He was another high-quality junior NCO. I saw him do something one day in a hairy situation that impressed me a lot. I was among a group of Privates who had been selected to work with SGT Hill for the morning, moving ammo boxes from one place to another. The empty boxes only weighed about ten or fifteen pounds; some of the loaded ones were close to one hundred pounds...which at the time figured out at about two-thirds of my body weight...not a load I was used to carrying. I was amazed at the ease with which Hill moved the loaded boxes. It was clear that he was very strong and kept himself in excellent condition. The rumor was that he had been a contender in the All-Army boxing tournament a couple of years earlier.

As we were working, another buck sergeant from the artillery unit across the Kaserne started some sort of discussion with Hill that got very heated. I was surprised, I had never seen SGT Hill even raise his voice before then. This was uncomfortable for us Privates on the Ammo detail...it was kind of like the kids watching the adults fight. Just at the point where one might expect shoving and chest puffing to start, SGT Hill stuck his pointed finger right in the other sergeant's face. Sounds simple when you say it like that, but what Hill did was amazing. With speed approaching Warp Four, he moved his right hand from straight down at his side to the middle of the other guy's face...finger less than an inch from his nose. It was the fastest I had ever seen a hand move. The old thing about "missing it if you blink" was certainly true here. And the message was so astoundingly loud and clear to all present that he could just as easily left the finger folded up with its brethern and planted his fist in the nose instead. The other sergeant stammered and sputtered but his tongue found no purchase on anything that sounded like language. He didn't even have time to flinch. The argument was over just like that; the artilleryman couldn't leave fast enough.

Word got around and soon every Private in the platoon was practicing on each other...sometimes with comic results. It isn't as easy as it sounds. The thing is that there is a lot more to the move than just sticking your finger in someones face. There is a weight, a presence, a threat that goes with it. A bunch of 18- and 19-year-old Privates just didn't generate the kind of aura that was required to make the move effective. But we still practiced. Until the platoon sergeant got tired of seeing his troops standing around poking each other in the eye and threatened to break those fingers off. That was a pretty effective move, too.

 

 

 

 


Comments
on Apr 07, 2010

I gather your platoon had a run on eye glasses after that?

One observation I have (reading your tales) is that 25 years later, you were those gruff sergeants of your youth!

on Apr 07, 2010

Of course I'd like to think so...   I'm not so sure, though.