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EVERYBODY’S DANISH – Sergeant in a day!
By fred | December 27, 2009
EVERYBODY’S DANISH – Sergeant in a day!
Christmas is over, Sally says I can stop being an old “Ba hum bug” – guess she is right, another bright New Year is soon facing us – hey maybe they will invent something that will let us old farts live for another 50 years, never can tell.
Since none of you will come up with a “cure all” for all our ailments – seems those are lacking lately and / or ideas for same are lacking. Anyway, I have a possible cure for those of you that have colds, constant running noses and watery eyes, from God know what – something to try.
A week ago, somehow or other my brilliant invalid son Richard, that lives with us, Sally and I got into talking about vitamin pills, what we take. Turned out that Sally somehow was not giving her & I – vitamin C anymore. We checked and there was some vitamin C in our Multi-Vitamin pill but not much. Son, Rick, said we had to start taking them right away. Sally found a large bottle of 1,000 mg Rose Hip Vitamin C pills way back in our kitchen shelf that we had gotten from Costco some time ago and was going to put one in our vitamin cup each morning from then on.
I remembered years ago reading something about a guy saying you had to really take a lot to recover from a bad cold, I think that is what he said. Anyway I figured, there are a lot of things that can kill you but I never heard of taking a lot of Vitamin C doing it, so I decided for the next couple weeks to take a huge dose and see what happens. I took 6,000 mg the first several days, than five thousand for a couple days, now I am taking 4,000 mg daily and will continue to do that for a couple weeks.
Already I seem to be getting better, or the cold seems to be in the process of leaving. Do not blow my nose quite as much, at night I sleep far better with my sleep apnea mask, actually I truly think it is working. O. K. I know that this is not in the same class as some of the other ‘cure all’ cures I have published here – like rubbing raw onions on the bottom of your feet, etc, etc, but if you are having a tough time with a cold, give it a whirl for a few weeks. I believe we are finally onto something that actually works.
In a few days we will get back with another ‘Humor & Stuff from Buddies’ – my “in” box is loaded with stuff to sort out. Of course some of the lads send me some stuff that our ladies may not enjoy so will have to sort that out first.
Enjoy the TV football, for the next week we will be buried with every bowl game known – ha well – it will soon be over and we can look at old movies and other fun stuff. Ray Toohey got hold of a bunch of oldies and says they are the best – says that they beat all this modern gory stuff they are filming now.
This week you are again with me at the beginning of my short one year active duly and six year reserve army career, what they call ‘basic training’ where I also get the worst physical beating I ever had, before or since that time.
It all starts with making Sergeant in a week —————-
SERGEANT IN A WEEK
At our platoon level – we were divided into four squads of twelve men to a training squad, actually the platoon had 50 raw recruits in each platoon, four squads of 12, a acting platoon Sgt, and I can’t for the life of me remember what the other one was for, so make it one squad with 13 guys, ha well it is a long time ago, the fall of 1948 to be exact. Since we had no other enlisted men as cadre in our platoon – except our ‘real’ Sgt, the ‘acting squad leaders’ and a ‘acting platoon sergeant’ had to be appointed by Sgt. Rogers.
Now this was not something that we all got to vote on. Sergeant Rogers said, “Lets give it a week then I will pick the men I think should be acting platoon sergeant and the acting squad leaders which would be acting corporals.
I damn near died when at the end of that week, he said, “Nielsen will be the acting platoon sergeant. If he screws up I will replace him.” The squad leaders were also appointed. He handed me a piece of cloth that had the three ‘up’ sergeant stripes on it. This I had to pin to my left sleeve. The four squad leaders got their corporal stripes in the same manner.
After handing out the stripes in the platoon sleeping area, Sgt shut the door to our platoon area, he said, “Gather around.”
Then Sgt said, “The acting NCO’s (Non-Commissioned Officers) I appointed are God as far as the Army is concerned, you better damn well do what they tell you to do. If I don’t think they are doing the job, I will try someone else. Their acting rank has the same privileges as if they actually had the stripes. You better remember that and don’t give em any shit.”
He said, “Inspections are Saturday morning, that means some late hours on Friday night getting our platoon area ready. I am too old for this crap. I am going to be home with my wife. I am going to go home every Friday night. This platoon ‘will’ be first or at the worst, second of the four company platoons in all inspections. It not, I will have to stay on Friday nights.” He looked at all fifty of us carefully, and said, “You really don’t want to have me here on Friday nights – why? – Because I can be a real mean son of a bitch. Do you read me!”
We got the message, loud and clear. We never, ever, came in less that number two in any inspection. In our twelve weeks of basic training we came in number one eight times and second four times, one hell of a record. (PS – Old army regulars, yes, basic training is normally 10 weeks but they gave us 12 weeks for some weird reason, maybe to show off the program to visiting Washington big shots, who knows!)
Coming in first or second took a lot of hard work. Friday nights often did not end until far after midnight. One break we had was that we only really competed with the second and third platoons for first or second place. The prize for last was always the fourth platoon. The old soldier sergeant that was the platoon Sgt of that platoon told the captain that if he ever had to train a bunch like that again, he would apply for a discharge.
This bunch was from the deep, very deep hill country of the South. Now I have met and have known a lot of people from the South over the years, but never a group like this. They were all from some area in the hills someplace. I remember they would actually ‘brag’ about not having worn a pair of shoes until they got in the army. Bigots, these guys were awful, white was the superior race, we used to joke about them in our platoon at night, trying to figure what the assholes were superior too, nothing we could figure out. To them blacks were the lowest thing on earth, and friends of mine that were Mexican Americans were not far behind. Whatever on earth made them think they were so superior is way beyond me. Since most of my friends in High School were Mexican Americans and many buddies and team mates I truly liked and respected at Poly were black, I was soon called n— lover.
They had sloppy / dirty habits, which of course killed them in inspections. I remember that one of them just would never take a shower. His sergeant had several of the bigger members of that platoon go to the company kitchen and get some big pot scrub brushes, they then took this guy in to the shower and scrubbed him within an inch of his life. We could hear him yelling on our side of the building.
We will discuss this platoon later. They finally got shaped up somewhat but that old Sgt went through hell doing it.
COMMAND
Command, it sounds simple, just tell someone to do something. Easy, it is not. I had never had one person, much less fifty to command in my young life. I was scared to death. Yes, I had been Senior Class President and our football team co-captain in high school but those are not commands, those are just cause kids like you and give you a title, those titles have nothing to do with commanding another person to do something, especially to do something they do not want to do. Fortunately I had already made a lot of friends, and this helped a lot. Still there were a lot of crude jokes the guys would sound off about, like – “Nielsen had to ‘kiss ass’ to get the stripes.” This was not serious stuff because we had all come in together and knew it wasn’t true.
I always wondered why I was picked. The more I think about it was that maybe I showed a little more respect to the sergeant. Respect I was taught by my parents for older folks, like for customers coming into our store. I was always taught to say, “Yes Ma’am.” Or in the case of a man, I always used the word ‘Sir.’
I was told in the army time and again that you don’t have to call a sergeant ‘Sir’ only the officers were to be given this designation. I just couldn’t do it. If the Sgt said to do some thing, I just reacted automatically and said, “Yes Sir,” without even thinking. A lot of the guys would just say, “O. K. Sgt.” This was not quite as respectful as the word sir, to an old army sergeant.
Just maybe, this had something to do with at least calling attention to myself without really intending to. Also I was taller than most, the army, at least in those days, wanted the taller guys up front in all formations, so that may have had something to do with it. AND – I do not mind saying that I was a damn good soldier. My bunk was ‘tight as a drum,’ my clothes neat, my rifle clean, hell lets admit it, I liked the army, and maybe it showed, to me it was a super adventure, very structured but real men’s stuff, I really ate it up. However I got the stripes didn’t matter as far as I was concerned – keeping them was something I was going to do if at all possible.
The main problem with commanding men is getting their respect. You also have a certain amount of jealousy from those that think they are better than you, in their opinion they should have the stripes not that asshole in their opinion, that square head Fred Nielsen.
THE BEATING
About a month into our basic training, I remember it was a particularly hectic Friday night. We had come in second in the inspection the prior week and our platoon sergeant Rogers was not exactly happy. We had been first in inspections for three weeks straight and Sgt had been basking in the glory of being number one. He did not like second. We got a lecture, “I told you bastards that we better be one or two, I like number one better, slip any more and there will be some changes around here.”
For cleaning the Friday nights before inspection, the most hated job was cleaning the toilets, sink, and shower area. The ‘latrine,’ everyone hated to clean the bastard. As acting platoon sergeant my job was to delegate the jobs. Every week I tried to delegate different squads to different jobs. That night I screwed up.
I said, “Lopez take your squad and do the latrine.” Now Ben Lopez was a super guy, and before Lopez could tell me that I had screwed up the assignments. That his squad had cleaned the latrines last week, a fellow by the name of Leonard, in his squad, piped up and said, “We did it last week you ass hole. If you didn’t have those stripes on, I’d beat the shit out of you.” The room got awful quiet, all fifty pair of eyes on Leonard and me.
Now Leonard was the last man in the platoon I wanted trouble with. He was an inch or two shorter than I, but every bit as heavy, and he was Golden Gloves Champion of Orange County California before he joined the army. I had never been in a fight in my life. I guess I was always too big for anyone to try to start a fight with. Leonard wasn’t worried, that’s for sure.
Fifty guys looking at you. Sure I could tell him to shut up and do the job, or back down and get away with it as far as the army was concerned. If he touched me with stripes on, he would have a one way trip to the stockade. However, there is a code, as primitive or as stupid as it is with guys that you do not back down when challenged. At Poly High we never snitched on buddies, if we had a bitch we never went to a coach or teachers, you get no respect for not facing up to your own problems or situations. I guess most guys understand that, if you were facing a beating you don’t run and hide, you never back off, that is what is known as being ‘chicken shit’ – O. K. it’s a silly code, but every guy understands that code of behavior. I remember Coach Brennen saying, “If you want to win in football or life – when you get knocked down you gotta get up and get back in the game.”
There was only one way as far as I was concerned, and so I said, “Don’t let the stripes brother you.” I unhooked the pin and dumped the arm band with the stripes on it on my bunk. We all headed for the Latrine, if there was ever a fight that’s where it took place. There was a large area between the sinks and showers.
I don’t remember a damn thing about that fight. I remember Leonard and I standing there and I told him, “It’s your fight Leonard, you want it, you gotta start it.” I remember a fist coming and that is all.
When I finally became aware of what was going on, I remember several friends, Don Hastings, Bill Echard and Lopez on top of me holding me down. I was lying on the tile floor of the Latrine, and for some stupid reason I was struggling to get up. Leonard was standing over me, pointing at me and yelling, “Hold that son of a bitch down, keep the bastard down.”
I was told much later that I just kept getting up, seven or eight times, swinging wild, with hardly anything connecting. Leonard just used me as a punching bag. He would connect again, and again – big time, and down I went. They said that after the third time all of the guys in the platoon had had enough. “Let him alone Leonard, you beat the crap out of him, leave him alone.” The reason the fight kept going on so long, they said, was not Leonard, he had had enough, he had proved his point. The problem was me, I just kept getting up, kept going for him. Stupid, dumb, nobody said square heads had brains. Finally the guys just jumped on top of me to keep me down.
One of the guys went down to the kitchen and got a big hunk of ice and some towels, Leonard and a couple of guys hauled me to my cot. Somebody gave me four or five Aspirin – I was told to take it easy they would take care of cleaning the area for inspection – I don’t remember a thing after that until the morning, guess the Aspirin helped knock me out.
The next morning was sheer hell – my whole body ached. I had trouble seeing out of my eyes – finally I squinted at my face in the mirror, what a mess. My nose was broken again – this alone was no big deal I had done it enough playing football, the main problem was I couldn’t see. My eyes were black and blue, and almost shut. I couldn’t shave for inspection. Several buddies helped me get dressed – someone did my bunk. I don’t ever remember hurting like that.
The army has a grape vine, everyone in the company knew what had happened. As soon as sergeant Rogers got to the company in the morning he took me in his room and shut the door. “What the hell happened to you?” he said.
I said, “Sorry sir, I just accidentally fell down the stairs.” I got a long look,
“That’s it?” he said.
I said, “Yes sir.”
We were first in that inspection, I figured we would be last – I was out of it the rest of that particular Friday night. Don Hastings told me that they worked until almost two A. M in the morning. Leonard I heard worked like a dog, he was also scared of what was going to happen to someone that hit an acting sergeant if I snitched on him.
From this beating several unexpected things happened that I could not have predicted. The most important was the respect I got not only from the rest of the platoon, but from the officers, sergeants, and the rest of the cadre.
I did not fink on Leonard. From then on, I hardly had to whisper an order to do something and the guys said stuff like, “Right away Sgt.” My entire year of association with those other forty nine guys, us being together day and night, drinking together, war games, everything we did together they respected me as their leader, I could not believe it.
I never ever forgot that lesson, guys, gals, people do not expect you to always win, especially if you are up against something you are not trained to do, or something that is superior to your capacities, – you don’t have to win every fight to be a winner or get respect, – you just have to try your best, really give it your all – that is something that people respect. That I was the under dog in this fight, did not snitch on Leonard gave me lasting respect, one lesson I never would forget.
The captain was coming up the stairs while I was on my way down a couple of days after the fight. Captain Skelton knew all about the fight. Hell it was obvious, my face and Leonard’s knuckles all skinned and beat up, plus Leonard did have a bruise or two on his face. To my ex boxer captain it was like reading a simple book. “What happened to you Nielsen?” he said.
I didn’t know what to say so I said, “I hit a door sir.”
He said, “I heard you fell down some stairs.”
Now he had me, I was a little confused so all I could think of was to say, “Those too.”
The captain just stood looking at me, finally he said with a glint in his eyes, “We sure got some damn tough doors and stairs around here.” He continue up the stairs slightly shaking his head.
One day a few weeks later at a morning formation. We were having a rifle inspection. You must stand stiffly at attention and present your rifle to the officer that is doing the inspection. Captain Skelton stood in front of Leonard and took his rifle, peered down the barrel, looked it over and then still holding the rifle said, “Leonard, I understand you were a Golden Gloves Champion in your division, is that right?”
“Yes sir,” Leonard said.
The captain didn’t say anything for a minute or so, then he looked Leonard in the eyes and said, “The only thing a Golden Gloves Champion is going to punch in this company is a punching bag. If you want to go a few rounds I will be glad to accommodate you. Understand?” Then he moved to the next man.
A week later Lopez, a good buddy, and one of my squad leaders asked if we could get someone else to take over his squad. He just did not want the responsibility. I talked to our platoon sergeant and asked him what to do. He asked if I had anyone else in mind to take over that squad. I said, “Yes sir, how about Leonard?”
He looked at me, shook his head and started to laugh, thought he would never stop laughing. “Hell yes, a good choice.” I may be a thick headed square head but I wanted that Golden Gloves Champ on my side if we had any future trouble of a similar nature.
At the end of our training Sergeant Rogers said to me one day when we were having a cup of coffee in the mess, “Fred, remember the fight.”
I looked at him rather apprehensively, and figured what the hell, Sgt wasn’t gonna make trouble so I said “I sure do.”
He said, “If you hadn’t said what you did about falling down the stairs, hitting a door – whatever Leonard would still be in the stockade, but after putting him in the stockade I would have pulled your stripes. If you don’t know how to clean up your own problems you don’t hold stripes, not in my army. That’s the way it is. You got the stripes you earned them – I just put you in for PFC.”
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