In the Army what goes around comes around

When I first came into the Army in 1980, it was already illegal by military doctrine to strike a Soldier; however, it was generally more accepted than it is today. In many cases it would be overlooked or let go with a verbal reprimand to the offender. In the case where I was the recipient, I chose to keep quiet and not complain about a certain senior sergeant who took a fancy to slapping me around on occasion.

He just didn’t like the cut of my jib. I didn’t care, but rather just avoided him at every opportunity. In the case of morning physical training runs, if he caught me talking, being out of strep, or failing to sing to the cadence, he would run alongside the formation, reach in, and slap me hard in the back of the head. Yeah, that used to really get under my skin.

There were plenty of men who witnessed this sergeant thumping me around, yet it was up to me to report it, though I never did. I left that duty assignment after my two-year obligation and went on to become a paratrooper and then a Green Beret, and was eventually assigned to Ft. Lewis in Washington State.

So much had happened since those first days in the Army. I would think of the menacing sergeant now and again, but mostly I just forgot about him.

That is until a day I found myself waiting in an administrative office on the main portion of Ft. Lewis. Soldiers filed in and out taking seats along with me to wait for their turn.

I have it on good faith with Christ and the Holy Ghost that in walked this sergeant from my early days in the Army. He took a seat and waited his turn. When I was done at the office I stepped out onto the front porch of the building and paused, knowing at that moment that I would not be able to walk down those few porch steps without exacting some sort of revenge on this guy there waiting inside.

I made a simple plan that only had two moving parts in it: First, wait until he came outside onto the porch; then, knock his block off with a crossing right punch

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So there I was on the porch, with a simple plan, though in my heart I had no idea what I would really do.

In the next few seconds however, I decided to go for Plan B: I would just talk to him and ask for an apology for all the months of mistreatment I had endured at his hand. Surely he was a changed man and had matured for the better. Yes, I would talk to him and reason with his better senses.

Finally, out he stepped onto the porch fishing a cigarette out of his pocket and stared at me.

“Remember me, sergeant?”

“Yeah, I saw you there, Hand… you stupid punk. Don’t think that now you are a badass Green Beret you can come over here and –”

CRACK!!

Plan B was out the window and a right cross was back in.

His cigarettes flew up in the air and he toppled down the few steps of the porch to the sidewalk below. I scurried past him in a quick step toward the parking lot where my car was, not looking back to see how the sergeant fared. My hands trembled the whole drive back to our Green Beret unit’s sector of post.

In the end, the sergeant knew my name and could have gone through the post locator to find out the incumbents in my chain of command, though he never did. I have to say it was a good day.

By All Mighty God and with Honor,

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Feature Image: U.S. Coast Guard Petty Officer 2nd Class Cade Campise, a boatswain’s mate assigned to Coast Guard Aids to Navigation Team New Orleans and a mixed martial artist, strikes a punching bag at Gold Dragon Mixed Martial Arts in Picayune, Mississippi, Jan. 19, 2023. (U.S. Coast Guard photo by Petty Officer 2nd Class Gabriel Wisdom)

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