“What’s your name?” the officer growled.
“Joshua Greenleaf, Sir. I mean, Greenleaf, Joshua,” I said remembering that the Army didn’t like first name’s first.
“What’s your service number?”
“My… my service number?”
“Yes, your service number.”
Josh unbuttoned his shirt, pulled out his dog tags, read his number, put his dog tags back, and buttoned his shirt.
The officer glared at him. “You were supposed to have memorized your number, soldier. An officer must have told you that. Why didn’t you memorize your number?”
Josh was sure he was doomed. “I have trouble with numbers, sir.”
He continued to glare at Josh. “What kind of trouble, soldier?”
“Well,” Josh said seriously, “I can’t remember numbers. My mother was like that. She could never remember numbers. Phone numbers. Birthdays. No numbers. My father remembered numbers, but my mother could never remember numbers, so that’s probably where I got it, it being the numbers problem. I guess I’ll always…”
“I get the point,” the officer interrupted.
“Oh, God, my goose is cooked,” Josh thought. “I was boring him to death; now he’ll never let me out.” Then came the magic words and Josh’s panic disappeared.
“Soldier, you are about to be discharged from the United States Army. Before I sign your discharge papers, I have to ask you if you want to re-enlist.”
“No, sir, I do not.”
“Okay, if you want to give up the good life,” he said with a straight face.
Josh wanted to say, “I’d rather die,” but being a coward he controlled the urge.
The officer signed his discharge papers, thrust them at Josh, and said with hostility in his voice, “Okay, now get out, civilian.”
Resisting the impulse to scream for joy, Joshua left the office dragging his duffel bag behind him. When he was in the hall, Josh folded his discharge papers, put them in his pocket, dragged the duffel bag to the door, put the bag on his back, groaned a lot, and left the building. “Pain or no pain, I am going to get to that front gate,” he yelled in his head, and, bent like a paper clip, again, he moved one foot at a time forward to take his broken body to the front gate. All of a sudden, a pair of shoes appeared in front of him. The shoes didn’t move, so Josh had to stop.
The shoes talked. “Hold it, soldier.”
“Oh, oh,” Josh grunted. “It has to be an officer,” he thought.
“You’re supposed to salute an officer, soldier. You do know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” Josh said, gasping for air. Then, he almost laughed when the voice said what he said next.
“I’m an officer, soldier. Stand at attention when I talk to you.”
“Okay,” Josh said, each word oozing pain. He let go of the duffel bag strap, the bag slipped off his bag, and he tried to stand up, but, of course, he couldn’t.
The officer squatted and looked in his eyes. “Is something wrong with you, soldier? I’m an officer. I told you to stand at attention.”
Josh moaned and tried to stand, but nothing happened.
The officer was having a stroke by now, and screamed at the top of his lungs at Josh. “Are you deaf, soldier? I’m an officer, and I gave you an order. I’m not fooling, soldier. I said stand at attention.”
Josh decided to try to reason with his shoes. “I can’t, sir.”
When Josh said, “I can’t, sir,” the words must have pressed the insanity button that some officers come with, because he disappeared. Josh was sure he must have jumped ten feet in the air.
The officer landed screaming. “What? What? You can’t stand at attention and salute me? I’m an officer. You have to. Enlisted men are supposed to salute officers. It’s a rule. I demand that you stand at attention and salute me,” he screamed.
Josh tried to reason with his shoes, again. “I can salute you, sir, but I just can’t do it standing up straight.”
“You are IN-subordinate, soldier.”
“No, sir, I’m IN pain. It’s my back. It’s in the stuck position. I can’t straighten up.”
“Pain is no excuse for not saluting an officer,” he screamed sympathetically.
Josh decided to put him out of his misery. “If you help me straighten up, I’ll be glad to stand up straight and salute you.”
He just couldn’t control his sympathetic side from coming out. “What? You want me, an officer and a gentleman, to help you, an enlisted man? You want me to touch you?”
“Yes, sir, if you wouldn’t mind. All you have to do is stand behind me, hold on to my shoulders, put your knee in the small of my back, and slowly pull. When you do it, I’ll scream from the excruciating pain, but don’t let that bother you. Keep pulling until I’m standing straight.”
Josh got the distinct feeling that the officer did not want to help him. “You want me to what? I’ll bet you would just love it. Then you could claim I assaulted you. I know your type. You hate officers. Not on your life. Keep your cotton-pickin’ salute,” he babbled and walked briskly away.
Josh yelled to him. “Please, come back. I don’t hate officers. I love officers. I’ll salute you twice.”
Now, Josh was stranded. There was no way that he was going to be able to stand up. When all seemed lost, he heard the sound of the cavalry riding up. It was a large soldier who was heading in his direction. “Hey, y’all, looks lahk y’ all could use some help.”
Josh tried to look up, but he couldn’t lift his head up enough to see much. However, he could speak. “Thank, God. I hurt my back carrying my duffel bag. Now, I can’t straighten up.”
“Shucks, ah knows what t’ do ’bout that,” he said without even asking me to salute him. Josh’s savior put his hands on Josh’s shoulders, put his knee against Josh’s back, and pulled. There was a cracking noise, and excruciating pain, but Josh was standing up straight. “You saved my life. I was just discharged and I was trying to get to the front gate, but I couldn’t. You saved my life. How can I repay you?” Josh asked the kind giant.
He smiled a wonderful smile and shook his head. “No need, buddy. Ahm glad ah could help. Ahm a free man, too. Here, let me get that duffel bag for y’. Us ex-soldiers gotta help each other get out o’ this place just as soon as we can. Yes sir,” he said, picked up the duffel bag with one hand, swung it onto his shoulder, and off they went. At last, Josh was heading for freedom.
About Saul Greenblatt
One Comment
Greetings from a fellow member of R-12-85 from long ago. Hope you are well. Looks we have outlived a couple of conflicts and as hard as it tried, the Army didn’t do us in. Be well.