Chapter 5
Unlike the modern Army of today, the eighties Army ran on a vast sea of paper rather than computers, and the main form of communication was the DF or Distribution Form. Those that came from division and brigade were mandates from a deity higher than God Almighty, while the ones from battalion or squadron were from a lesser God, and those at company and platoon level were merely from the Parrish priest.
Any pertinent information, policies, news, etc. came down on a DF, and eventually made its way into the bulletin boards that we were required to read at least weekly. Every member of the company, from the Captain down to the lowliest private was supposed to follow this standing order, but in reality as I proved, this wasn’t the case.
During one particularly boring night of CQ (Charge of Quarters) duty, an evil idea was conceived, born and grew rapidly into a nightmare for the company clerk and first sergeant. It continued to grow through the final two years before I rotated back to the states, encompassing the battalion and eventually brigade commander. Had I access to the bulletin boards there, who knows where it might have ended. As it was, it created at fury of confusion, irate officers, perplexed sergeants and delighted privates.
It began rather innocently, I’d found a typewriter unsecured and decided to write a letter home, in searching for paper I came across a stack of blank distribution forms, or DFs, which were used for all offical communication. After dispatching a long letter to my parents back stateside, I had rolled a DF into the typewriter and sat staring long and hard, my mind numb with the kind of boredom that you can only know at 3am on a Sunday morning.
I started down the hall to the coke machine and passed the bulletin board on the way, and was struck as if with the impact of a main gun round. I read the DFs posted there, the topics ranging from PT formations, to maintenance procedures, to of all things, how socks were to be displayed in room inspections. One DF that stood out in my mind was concerning the armored vehicles in the motor pool, showing the proper way to layout the Velcro strips on the sides of our vehicles, to be used for mounting our MILES equipment. For those of you not in the know, MILES stood for Multi Integrated Laser Engagement System, in short, the father of the game Laser Tag. Each vehicle had the “hook” portion of Velcro glued to the side of the vehicle running the length of a M113 Armored Personnel Beater, and in random places on the tanks and trucks. The equipment itself had the “loop” portion, which you pressed onto the vehicle prior to war games, and usually lost half of before the end of the exercises; and which I might add, required many DFs to explain.
Back to the Evil Idea!
Had anyone seen me typing a few minutes later would have thought that I was stoned, drunk, or crazy and perhaps all three. I was laughing so hard I had trouble seeing the keys; my hands shook as I typed.
I created a signature block as near to the Brigade Commander’s as possible without leaving my self open to forgery charges should someone discover me, signed it and put it into the bulletin board. Now to see how long it took to be discovered.
From: Commander, 1st Bde. 3rd Armor Div.
To: ALL Commanders
Effective Immediately all Velcro will be removed from the sides of tactical vehicles in your units. It will be placed upon vehicles only upon deployment to field training maneuvers and removed immediately upon return to garrison.
This measure is being taken due to the high incident of Black and other non Caucasian soldier being dragged to their death after bumping their heads against the Velcro and becoming entrapped.
It has been determined that the hair of such individuals is so closely similar to the Velcro attached to the MILES equipment that they can become inescapably attached to the vehicles.
Commanders are further required to establish a training session for Black and other non Caucasian soldiers in steps to extract themselves should they be caught by their hair.
Further, all Black and Non Caucasian soldiers will be required to have their hair shorn to a length not to exceed 3/16th of one inch.
Alfred E. Neuman
Col, USA
Commanding
I spent the rest of the night debating whether to remove it, or leave it, the risk was enormous, should I be caught, I would most likely be de-nutted on the parade field at high noon and drummed out like Danny Deever, but if it flew, the results would be hilarious. My decision was made for me shortly there after as the First Sergeant came in. Quickly jumping to my feet, I announced his presence to the empty building, one did not dick around when Top was present.
He toured the building quickly, inspected the floors and latrines, read the CQ log, then light up a cigar and began to talk.
“Corporal, you’ll make a damn good sergeant soon, never a damn bit of trouble when you’re on duty. You ain’t like the rest of them damn Scouts, always stirring up some shit, like that damn Sgt. Percy…”
He droned on about the misdeeds and transgressions of the Scout Platoon, graduated to the Mortar Platoon and then his pet peeve, “them damn mechanics”. I sat listening to him as my mind pondered the consequences of the Evil Idea lurking on the board behind us, if he only knew. Let me mentioned at this point that Top Cue was a very large, strong black man, who advocated things like catching a barracks thief and tossing him off the third floor fire escape in a wall locker, or letting him fall down several flights of stairs en route to the orderly room. His “damn mechanics” did exactly that on one occasion, but that’s another chapter.
The company clerk showed up about the time he wound down, and he signed the log and dismissed me. I quickly left; I had no desire to be present when the DF was discovered. As it happened, it was almost a week before it was discovered, and only then because a brown nosing Specialist 4 started removing the Velcro from his vehicle “on my own initiative without being ordered Sergeant”. When confronted by a pissed off section sergeant, he referred him to the bulletin board and the proverbial shit hit the fan.
First Sergeant Cue vowed to personally castrate the person responsible for the DF, without anesthesia using a P-38 can opener, Captain Clark stammered under the inquisition of Lt. Col. Kale, who in turn was getting chewed by the Brigade Colonel. At the platoon level it was seen as a riot, betting was high as to who had done it, with odds high against the smart-asses in the Battalion PAC offices.
I offered my own opinion that it must have come from some joker at Brigade, and silently prayed that no one would discover who it really was.
But as with any audacious incident, the hue and cry had died off to a muted grumbling within a week, and again life returned to the norm. The further from the incident, the more pressing other things became, and it was for the most part forgotten except in the motor pool where it sparked quite a few jokes and the occasional fight.
Tedium set in again, the summer drew on as we prepped for the upcoming deployment to Hohenfels or Wildeflicken training area.
This would never do.
To: Platoon Leaders, HHC 2/36
From: Commander HHC 2/36
It has come to my attention that there has been a high incident of stained laundry being turned into the supply room during weekly linen exchange. Some of this linen is so stained as to be non-serviceable and requiring replacement.
The nature of these stains has been determined to be predominantly a mixture of semen and in some cases semen mixed with hand lotion.
Effective Immediately Platoon Sergeants and Section Sergeants will order their subordinates residing in the barracks to refrain from masturbating in bed and restrict such activity to the latrine areas or off post.
A list will be maintained in this office of those personnel turning in stained sheets. Platoon Leaders will review this list weekly and ensure that further counseling given to repeat offenders.
Until we have this matter in hand, disposable gloves will be issued to personnel assigned laundry collection duty.
Nicholas Clark
CPT, USA
Commanding
I sat back and waited for the sparks to fly…
