Fifteen years ago, I stood in formation with the rest of my Army boot camp battalion, praying that the blowhard Sergeant Major would finally shut up. We were minutes away from being released on a three-day pass for the 4th of July holiday, but had to endure the requisite safety briefing. Stationed at Fort Lewis, WA, just about every one of the 600 soon-to-be lieutenants had chipped in to rent cars and drive to Seattle for 72 hours of drunken debauchery. The rental agency had delivered the cars to post, and they sat within sight, mocking us. And still the Sergeant Major droned on.
"I've got just two rules for you to follow this weekend," he boomed. Great. As if the 20 minutes of safety tips wasn't enough. "Remember these rules, and you'll have a successful mission."
Something about that last line stirred interest in the ranks. Mission? He continued. "If you have high standards...lower them!" Did he really just say that? Giggles slipped out among us, a rarity while standing at attention.
"Lastly, a two at ten...is a ten at two!" Forgetting all military standards, we erupted in laughter. The old man's not so bad after all.
"Dismissed!" We nearly threw our caps in the air ala West Point graduates. Sprinting to our cars, we felt invincible.
I'm embarrassed now to think of how many times that weekend my friends and I let our dog tags "slip out" and subsequently told older women we were "just back from the Gulf," trying to impress them with our fictional service in Operation Desert Storm.
I wonder if any of those guys are still in Iraq. Or were over there, and came home too early.
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