One day the platoon sergeant, SFC Jones, called my name in formation and asked me to stick around after formation. A couple of my buddies elbowed me and said, “Okay, Masters, what the hell did you do, now?” “I didn’t do anything. Honestly. If you don’t believe me, just ask me.” “What kind of bullshit is that? Well, we’ll catch you later.” After formation, SFC Jones came up to me and said, “Masters, you can drive just about anything, right?” “Pretty much, Sarge, as long as it has wheels and an engine.” “What the hell does that mean?” “Well, there was this one time at Fort Lost in the Woods (Fort Leonard Wood) where the drill sergeant asked for volunteers with drivers licenses. I smelled a rat so I didn’t bite. But there were a lot of gull-e-bull suckers that day.” “Gull-e-bull??? What the hell is that shit?” “Seriously, Sarge? You’ve never seen Bugs Bunny? Gull-e-bull – gullible. Overly trusting or easily deceived. Get it, got it, good. Anyway, it turned out that the drill sergeant was looking for people to drive wheelbarrows to haul dirt. Fun, huh? That’s kind of why I qualified my answer. I ain’t licensed to drive wheelbarrows or lawn mowers or other assorted small machinery.” No can do. “You’re so goddamn full of shit. All I was looking for was a simple goddamn answer to a simple goddamn question.” “Refresh my memory. What was the question again?” “I’ll try to ask a more direct question cuz you’re such a pain in the ass. Can you drive a jeep?” “Shit, Sarge, I thought everybody could drive one of those. They’re like small cars without a roof and doors.” “Okay. Report to the orderly room. You’ve been assigned as the duty driver. The First Sergeant will tell you what to do.” I reported to the orderly room for my tasking as the duty driver, and the First Sergeant told me to jump in the jeep and report to battalion headquarters before I had even sat down. I grabbed my hat and the key and the log book for the jeep, jumped in the jeep, and beat feet for battalion headquarters up at Kelly Hill. The First Sergeant had told me to report to the Battalion S1 (that is the Personnel Department for you civilian types). I walked into the S1 shop and spoke with the personnel NCO. He said you have a new WAC that just came in and was assigned to your unit (for youngsters who do not recognize the acronym, WAC, it stands for Women’s Army Corps). It was abolished in 1978 when women were fully integrated into all ARMY units. Anyway, I looked around, and slouched on this couch was this dirty-blonde with a tomboy haircut. She would have been a perfect girlfriend for a French artist. She had that look. That look was too unique to put into more descriptive words. Yes sir, the look of a French artist’s girlfriend. I walked over and said, “I’m your ride.” Her first words to me were much less memorable, “Hey, you got a cigarette?” She said that as she smacked me on the shoulder. Yeah. That’ll definitely endear you to me. Hit me the first time we meet. ‘Of course, you realize this means war!’ Bugs Bunny and I see a lot of things alike. She said, “I know you have cigarettes cuz I see the shape of a pack in your right pocket.” “Let’s get something straight, Einstein,” I replied. “My name ain’t Einstein.” “Yeah, and you ain’t smart like him either. Anyway, Einstein, as I was saying, I don’t smoke. It happens that I do have a pack of cigarettes in my right pocket for special friends. You ain’t one of them. However, I could be persuaded to give you one. Here.” I pulled out my pack of Pall Mall non-filtered cigarettes and shook one out for her, but she refused to take it. So, I said in disbelief, “What the hell kind of shit is that? You asked for a cigarette. It’s the least I could do. The very least.” “Get my bags and let’s go,” she said. “Get your own damn bags. I ain’t the goddamn porter. I’m the driver, and the damn train is about to leave.” “There are too many and they’re too heavy. Please help me?” “Well, since you said please. But no more shit, alright.” “Why don’t you like me?” “Oh, I don’t know? Maybe it’s because you hit me before you even said hello. What kind of stupid shit is that? By the way, I never caught your name.” “My name is Bambi.” “Like the deer? For real? What the hell. Were your parents mad at you or something?” “I get that a lot. They were watching the movie when it was time for me to be born.” “Oh. I see how that worked out, now. It’s just too bad they didn’t name you Thumper. Just a thought.” She didn’t catch the reference until we were almost to the unit. “Hey?!?” So, I delivered the new WAC, Bambi, to our unit, but we never became really good friends. Like I said, she had that look. The look of a French artist’s girlfriend. So our chance encounter when I was the duty driver was just another exercise in futility.
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