I had been reassigned to the 227th Maintenance Battalion at Yongsan, Seoul, Korea, to take command of the 305th Supply and Services Company. I had asked the Battalion Commander to give me a few days to G2 the company incognito before he introduced me to the company formally and we started the change of command inventory process. After I had ended the G2 investigation and that I had started to inventory the property of the 305th Supply and Services Company. On my very first day of property inventories, I ran into issues. Let me backup and rephrase that. On the very first set of hand receipts that I was scheduled to inventory; I ran into issues. First, the hand receipt holder (the NCOIC of the section that I was inventorying) assumed that I would be just another joke like the incumbent commander. He wrongly assumed that I was a pushover. After the Battalion Commander had finished with him, I asked to see him alone. When he and I were alone and away from everybody else, I said in a low voice, “Sergeant First Class Roberts, listen to me and listen carefully. I will only say this once. You are lucky because I am not yet your commander. If I were your commander, you would no longer have a job in my company. As it is, your days under my command are numbered. Mark my words. Your days are numbered with a very small number.” When I had finished my little pep talk, I walked away from SFC Roberts and I told his commander that I expected him to have his section ready to inventory the next morning at 0800 hours. Word travels quickly when you put the fear of God into somebody. I received word that the Battalion Commander wanted to see me in his office before 12 o’clock noon that day. When I got to the Battalion Commander’s office, he asked me if the rumor was true? I asked him what rumor? He said, “Sergeant First Class Roberts said that you told him his days in your company were numbered. Is that true?” I replied, “Yes sir. You are damn right it’s true. Pardon my French. I told him I wasn’t going to put up with his bullshit. And I won’t, Sir. If you don’t like it, we can call this whole thing off right now. But the way I see it, there can only be one chief. That would be me. If I can’t call the shots down there in that company, then I don’t want that goddamn company. It’s your call. Just say the word, Sir.” “No. No. You’re quite right. There can only be one chief. If you say that he has to go, then he has to go. I’ll support you.” “That’s good to know Sir. Cuz I may identify more problem children whose heads will have to roll.” “Look, Captain Masters. You can’t just arbitrarily replace the whole damn NCO corps in that company just because you think there is a problem.” “Excuse me Sir. I don’t think there’s a problem. I know there’s a problem. Several to be exact. How many, I am not exactly sure until I have finished my assessment of the company. But you yourself know that there are significant problems in that company, or I would not be here. Am I wrong?” “No. Unfortunately, you are not wrong. That’s what bothers me.” “Don’t worry, Sir. You hired me because I fix broken shit. This company has some seriously broken shit.” When I left the Battalion Commander’s office, I went to the mess hall to eat lunch. I seriously hoped to meet the Mess Sergeant this time because he or she had not been there the last time I had eaten there. When I walked into the dining facility, I noticed that they had not learned much from my previous visit. I thought to myself, what in the hell is this shit? Don’t these people ever attend formations or get the word passed down from the company headquarters about what is happening in the company? I guessed not. Cuz if they did, they’d know by now that I would soon be their new company commander. As I went through the line to get food, I noticed that they were out of the entrée again. What in the hell was up with that shit? Two soldiers in front of me didn’t even get served. They just left their trays on the counter and walked out. That cut it. I had seen enough. I yelled, “Who in the hell is in charge here?” Sergeant First Class Ward appeared from the back of the kitchen. He said, “I am Sir.” “Sergeant First Class Ward is it?” “Yes Sir.” “Do you know who in the hell I am?” “No… No, Sir.” “You are a lucky man, Sergeant Ward. In a few weeks, I will be your commander. If this mess hall is still in this condition, after I become your commander, you will no longer be the Mess Sergeant. Do I make myself clear?” “Oh yes Sir. What are the problems that you found Sir?” “Well, to start, you don’t have any food to serve people when they come in. Two soldiers ahead of me left their trays on the counter and left because you are out of entrées. There are dirty trays and refuse sitting on the tables in the dining area from soldiers who already ate and are obviously not policing after themselves. But the biggest sin of all is that your ice cream machine doesn’t have any goddamn ice cream in it. Every time I have come in here, that ice cream machine has been out of ice cream. When I was a little kid at home, I used to make the ice cream myself just so that we wouldn’t be out of ice cream at home. Hint. I love ice cream. You can be out of a lot of things and I can forgive you. But if you are out of ice cream, ooh, very bad! Do you catch my drift?” “Yes, Sir. By the way, Sir, how often will you be dining in the mess hall?” “Well, since I gotta make sure that you’re taking care of my soldiers. I reckon that I’ll be eating here pretty got damn often.” “Does that mean every day Sir?” “I can’t say.” “You can’t say, or you won’t say?” “Yes.” “Yes, what?” “Exactly.” “Exactly?!? What in the hell does that mean? If I don’t know how to prepare, how am I supposed to be prepared?” “Always be prepared. Then you will never have to worry.” The impression that I got from Sergeant Ward was that he would try his damnedest to fix the mess hall to bring it up to my standards. I just had to coax him in the right direction. That reminded me of something. It was time to go visit the orderly room. I had heard that there was a truly outstanding Lieutenant working in the orderly room. Lieutenant Andrea Cook was her name. I would need her to order about 40 copies of the book, The One Minute Manager. I would use that book as the basis for my professional development training for my Officers and NCOs. But first, I needed to focus on fixing a lot of broken shit. I continued to inventory company property while I navigated endless exercises in futility.
by 
by 
Pingback: Bad Drivers – An Ode to Military Humor – Springtime Folly – An Ode to Military Humor