Military prose has its own cadence, syntax, grammar, and
logic.
For instance, a set of orders might tell a soldier. “Rpt NLT 1400, Orderly Rm, Co. C, 5th
Bn. Having Had.” All that meant was that the solder was to
report to the headquarters office of Company C of the 5th Battalion,
before 2 pm, and was to have already eaten lunch (having had).
One Vietnam evening, Jesse came into the hooch with a folder. He had borrowed it from his work in the USARV assignments office, and had to share what he swore was, “The single finest example of military prose since Caesar observed that he Vini Vidi Vici in Gaul.”
He had the personnel file of one PFC Smith, perhaps the most accomplished screw up in the war zone. At least the biggest who was still living. Smith was 9 months into his 12 month tour, and had already been reassigned 4 times. Each unit choosing the “boot him along” option as opposed to all of the paperwork of a court martial. His list of infractions was both lengthy and ingenious. And, the cherry on top—he was a 31 Bravo, an MP. A cop.
At present, Smith was in the Central Highlands with the MP detachment of the 4th Infantry Division. Jesse had the dilemma of trying to find a worse place to send Smith next. There just wasn’t much worse than Infantry in the Central Highlands. But the reason Jesse had brought the file round to display was a single sentence of military prose. In fact, the final line in the folder. The last line written by Smith’s commanding officer in the document justifying the request that the PFC be transferred.
One Vietnam evening, Jesse came into the hooch with a folder. He had borrowed it from his work in the USARV assignments office, and had to share what he swore was, “The single finest example of military prose since Caesar observed that he Vini Vidi Vici in Gaul.”
He had the personnel file of one PFC Smith, perhaps the most accomplished screw up in the war zone. At least the biggest who was still living. Smith was 9 months into his 12 month tour, and had already been reassigned 4 times. Each unit choosing the “boot him along” option as opposed to all of the paperwork of a court martial. His list of infractions was both lengthy and ingenious. And, the cherry on top—he was a 31 Bravo, an MP. A cop.
At present, Smith was in the Central Highlands with the MP detachment of the 4th Infantry Division. Jesse had the dilemma of trying to find a worse place to send Smith next. There just wasn’t much worse than Infantry in the Central Highlands. But the reason Jesse had brought the file round to display was a single sentence of military prose. In fact, the final line in the folder. The last line written by Smith’s commanding officer in the document justifying the request that the PFC be transferred.
A couple of days earlier, there had been a Battalion
formation to introduce the new commanding officer. Depending on its mission, a battalion at full
strength will be between 600 and 1,000 soldiers. If it is at full strength. In Vietnam, few were ever actually at full
strength.
As the formation was dismissed and broke up, with a few hundred men wandering about a dusty parade ground, there was an informal meeting of the new CO, the Executive Officer of the battalion, and the Sergeant Major, along with the Company Commander and First Sergeant from Smith’s company. There was no indication in the file what the meeting was about, but it might be safe to say there was a good chance the problem of PFC Smith was under discussion. A CS Tear Gas grenade suddenly landed in the middle of this meeting group, and it began vigorously delivering its contents.
Then came the sentence that had awed Jesse. The words he felt were historic and, in their own way, poetic.
“Although there is no substantive proof that PFC Smith did in fact deploy said ordinance, PFC Smith was only EM (enlisted man) in the area both in possession of, and wearing, a gas mask.”
As the formation was dismissed and broke up, with a few hundred men wandering about a dusty parade ground, there was an informal meeting of the new CO, the Executive Officer of the battalion, and the Sergeant Major, along with the Company Commander and First Sergeant from Smith’s company. There was no indication in the file what the meeting was about, but it might be safe to say there was a good chance the problem of PFC Smith was under discussion. A CS Tear Gas grenade suddenly landed in the middle of this meeting group, and it began vigorously delivering its contents.
Then came the sentence that had awed Jesse. The words he felt were historic and, in their own way, poetic.
“Although there is no substantive proof that PFC Smith did in fact deploy said ordinance, PFC Smith was only EM (enlisted man) in the area both in possession of, and wearing, a gas mask.”
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