First off, you have to understand that being a commander of a brigade headquarters company ain’t no picnic. No respect. The lowly captain is in charge of a motley bunch of guys who work for brigade level officers superior in rank to the company captain. So at best, the captain gets grudging cooperation from his unit members, ranging from privates to a full-bird colonel. It’s like being in charge of the dirty laundry. Essential work, but not exactly the best job.
I was a drafted specialist four that afternoon loafing in the barracks when it was suggested that I switch places with someone on guard duty for a reason long since forgotten. I did, putting on his name and reporting for the next round. I knew it was a court martial offense or Article 15 to do it, but for some reason was convinced the low-level risk was worth it.
Within three minutes of my arrival at the guard shack full of off-duty guards, the jig was up. Caught by an no-nonsense sergeant. I was sent back immediately to my Orderly Room to report to the First Sergeant what I had done. Top took it in stride, lectured me, and I left. I had no idea if he was going to report me to the commander or not.
Fearing this, the next day I asked to see the old man, figuring if I took the initiative, it would stand in my favor. I figured he’d let me know what he knew of my offense.
After reporting smartly at attention, I stood at ease and mumbled vague generalities about “wanting to get myself straight” or “do some good soldiering” without letting on the reason why I was there. This must have been music to the captain’s ears, used to hearing draftees give defiant excuses, sham, complain, rebel, or scribble FTA on every wall they saw. He seemed pleased and chatted amiably for a moment before excusing me.
"Whew," I thought to myself upon leaving. Top didn’t tell on me after all. The old man knows nothing of my offense.
Days later I got a call from my new friend. “Specialist,” he said jovially, “the information section you are in has a slot for a sergeant and no officer in charge. Let’s cut some orders to make you an Acting Jack and you can be the NCOIC.”
A couple days later I had the hard stripes sewn in place, a genuine field promotion.
The next time I pulled guard duty, I was the sergeant in charge of a platoon, checking it for fakers wearing somebody else's name, for shame.
The next time I pulled guard duty, I was the sergeant in charge of a platoon, checking it for fakers wearing somebody else's name, for shame.
