In 1953 my friend was stationed at the Fort Ord army base in Monterey, California. By that time, he’d already graduated from college with a bachelor’s in music, had lived through basic training, and was enrolled in the army’s clerk school.
After a short stint in the army, he and another private were promoted to a different unit and ordered to collect their personal items. Together they headed to the barracks to pack. When they arrived, they quite unexpectedly found a young private already in the barracks, which was forbidden without permission.
As my friend and his cohort gathered their belongings, they occasionally glanced to the barracks’ other side, trying to ascertain why the other private was there. When they heard voices outside, all three men turned and looked out the window and saw two captains approaching.
Frightened, the obviously prohibited private jumped into his wall locker and shut the door.
The captains strolled in, and conversation indicated there would be a changing of the guard. Protocol dictated that an outgoing officer review equipment and tour the buildings with the incoming one, so the assuming officer would learn the ropes.
As the outgoing captain walked and talked through the routine, he casually opened a locker for inspection—the one containing the scared private. Noticeably shocked, but maintaining his composure, the captain said, “Soldier! What are you doing in there?”
The young man sheepishly drawled, “I don’t know, sir.”
With that, and trying to suppress his laughter, the captain closed the locker door and continued with his instruction.
copyright © 2009 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.
If you like it, link it!
http://auntieeartha.blogspot.com/2009/10/soldier-in-hiding.html
A down-to-earth kind of gal, Auntie Eartha adds spirit to the mundane and tells it as she sees it. With a raw sense of humor, she turns routine into adventure, pet peeves into passions, and strikes home with her words. She doesn’t suffer misspellings, bad grammar, misplaced punctuation, inconsistency, or stupidity well, though she admits to making her share of mistakes.
Showing posts with label army. Show all posts
Showing posts with label army. Show all posts
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
It’s All in the Name
My friend has always remarked that his name sounded Chinese. I disagree, but it certainly must be a popular one. I googled “Sam Hall,” and 20,100,000 citations were listed. Most references, I think, are Nigerian, Russian, or Peruvian, well, maybe they’re English, Irish, or Scottish, not Chinese.
Many years ago, Sam was drafted and had to join the army. Though he’d already graduated from college with a bachelor’s degree in music, he followed his country’s orders and traveled to Fort Ord, California, via Ontario.
Ontario, California, that is.
Wanting to be the best, most obedient soldier he was capable of being, given his deviant tendencies, Sam modeled exemplary behavior. A week into his duties and in his first formation, Sam joined other platoon members in the marching routine. Keeping rhythm, his posture was as straight as a pianists and he carried his rifle as carefully as he would his prized girlfriend.
During the march he heard someone shout, “Sam Hall!” Startled, he quickly stepped out of formation, not knowing what else to do, and kept walking alongside his platoon. “Yes, sir!” he said.
Discreetly, he glanced around for the lieutenant who would give Sam his next command. But when no instruction followed, he shook his head, presuming he’d heard incorrectly, and glided back into formation.
A couple minutes later, he again heard his name. “Sam Hall!” Thinking, it’s a good thing I’m on the outside of this block of men, or I’d disrupt the rest of the platoon, he jumped out of line, wondering if this time he’d hear the next order. When none came, he strode back into formation.
By the third “Sam Hall” and successive exit from his position, the soldier behind him incredulously asked, “What the hell are you doing?”
Exasperated, Sam said, “Someone keeps calling my name—Sam Hall.”
The guy shot back, “He’s not calling your name, you moron! He’s saying, ‘Stand tall.’”
copyright © 2009 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.
If you like it, link it!
http://auntieeartha.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-all-in-name.html
Many years ago, Sam was drafted and had to join the army. Though he’d already graduated from college with a bachelor’s degree in music, he followed his country’s orders and traveled to Fort Ord, California, via Ontario.
Ontario, California, that is.
Wanting to be the best, most obedient soldier he was capable of being, given his deviant tendencies, Sam modeled exemplary behavior. A week into his duties and in his first formation, Sam joined other platoon members in the marching routine. Keeping rhythm, his posture was as straight as a pianists and he carried his rifle as carefully as he would his prized girlfriend.
During the march he heard someone shout, “Sam Hall!” Startled, he quickly stepped out of formation, not knowing what else to do, and kept walking alongside his platoon. “Yes, sir!” he said.
Discreetly, he glanced around for the lieutenant who would give Sam his next command. But when no instruction followed, he shook his head, presuming he’d heard incorrectly, and glided back into formation.
A couple minutes later, he again heard his name. “Sam Hall!” Thinking, it’s a good thing I’m on the outside of this block of men, or I’d disrupt the rest of the platoon, he jumped out of line, wondering if this time he’d hear the next order. When none came, he strode back into formation.
By the third “Sam Hall” and successive exit from his position, the soldier behind him incredulously asked, “What the hell are you doing?”
Exasperated, Sam said, “Someone keeps calling my name—Sam Hall.”
The guy shot back, “He’s not calling your name, you moron! He’s saying, ‘Stand tall.’”
copyright © 2009 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.
If you like it, link it!
http://auntieeartha.blogspot.com/2009/04/its-all-in-name.html
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