It was another fine day at Fort Benning, and we were standing around waiting for Muster formation. After morning roll call, Sergeant First Class (SFC) Jones said, “I need five volunteers. These volunteers will paint common areas in the barracks in preparation for the IG inspection. Here are the soldiers I want: Masters, Johnson, Di Anzo, Williams, and Smith. The rest of you are dismissed to report to your duty areas. If I called your name, listen up. Here is what you got to do. Masters and Di Anzo, you will paint the latrine. Johnson, Williams, and Smith, you will paint the first floor and the second-floor hallways. Masters and Johnson, see me to get the paint and painting supplies. That is all.” I called out, “Sergeant Jones, I have a question. So, is this one of those orchestrated sideshows, or is this a circus? Maybe it’s a dog and pony show? Well, which is it? Inquiring minds want to know.” SFC Jones stopped and said, “Masters! I might have known. Why does it always have to be you? For your information, this painting has to be done for the IG inspection not for any of your trumped-up excuses. Okay? But I think I already said that. Now get to work.” Private Johnson and I walked over to SFC Jones’ office to get the paint and painting supplies. Once we had the supplies, we returned to the barracks to begin work. Di Anzo started painting in the shower room, while I started painting in the latrine area. After painting for about 20 minutes, I felt a presence behind me. I don’t know what it was exactly that gave me the sense that something or someone was behind me. I just knew that something or someone was behind me. I ducked and turned simultaneously. It was fortunate that I ducked as I turned because private Winston had just swung an entrenching tool toward my head. As I skittered backwards, I exclaimed in a loud voice, “Jesus Christ man! What in the hell are you doing?!? What the hell’s the matter with you? Why did you do that?” But Winston just looked at me with a kind of glazed look in his eyes, and then he raised the entrenching tool again. Once again, he started to swing the entrenching tool toward me. I thought to myself, “This is bullshit. I gotta do something now.” I jumped to my feet and rushed Winston. I caught him off guard. Winston was not expecting me to attack. When I moved in on him, I swung and landed with a left hook that hit him squarely on the jaw. He started to slump to the floor. That was the break I was hoping for. I grabbed a hold of him and yelled for Di Anzo. Di Anzo came running from the shower room. I yelled, “Di Anzo, grab the entrenching tool away from Winston, then go get Sergeant Jones.” Then, I dragged Winston over to the nearest toilet. By this time, Winston was struggling to get to his feet. Winston was considerably bigger than me. He stood about 6 foot four and weighed about 220 pounds. I knew I had to get on top of him to subdue him, and I had to do it quickly. It was obvious to me that he was high on something. I pinned his arms behind him and interlocked one of my legs with his. Then, I grabbed the back of his head and dunked it into the toilet and held it there. After about a minute or so, I let him up to breathe, and then I dunked his head in the toilet again. I kept this up until Di Anzo returned with SFC Jones. When SFC Jones arrived, he asked, “What’s the problem, Masters? And explain why you’re holding Winston’s head in the toilet.” I said, “Well Sarge, it’s kind of like this, Winston attacked me with an entrenching tool. I had to punch his ass and have Di Anzo take away his entrenching tool to prevent him from hitting me with it. Then, to prevent further attack, I decided to cool him off while Di Anzo went to get you. It seems like he’s high on something. Some kind of drug.” “What kind of drug? And, what in the hell do you expect me to do about it?” “How The hell would I know what kind of drug? I ain’t his doctor, so I didn’t prescribe him any drugs. And I sure as hell ain’t his dealer, so I didn’t sell him any drugs. Jesus H. Christ! You’re the platoon sergeant, Sarge. Do your goddamn job. I don’t know what that job is. But do something. At least call the MPs and get this creep out here. For Christ sakes, he attacked me with a lethal weapon. There has to be something you can do. Hell, I don’t know? Call in the damned Marines for all I care. But do something.” “All right. All right already. I’ll call the MPs. Just hold onto your shorts. No need to get into a tizzy fit. And Masters, I’m going to need you to write a statement. I quipped, “No problem, Sarge. Would you like that in triplicate? I can also backdate it. Would you like catsup and mustard to go along with that? How about a side of fries? Will that be all for your order today, or can I get you something for dessert?” “Always the wise ass, huh Masters? Just write the goddamn statement. Di Anzo, go to the orderly room and have the clerk call the MPs.” “Uh, Sarge, what should I have the clerk say to the MPs?” Asked Di Anzo. “Seriously? I need to tell you what to tell the clerk? Fine. Just say that the MPs need to come out here ASAP and report to me. Do you have any questions?” “No, Sarge.” “Then get moving. Dammit, Masters, take Winston’s head out of the toilet.” “All right, Sarge. But I gotta warn you, this boy is high on something and he’s an awfully big boy. This was the only way I had to restrain him, unless of course you got handcuffs or some rope. You know, a log chain would be even better. Yeah. A really big log chain with a heavy master lock. Locks and chains. I like the sound of that. Maybe you could throw a couple iron balls on top of that? Yeah. Then, we could hook the big iron balls to the chain. That way, he could drag the big iron balls around on the chain. That would be cool, don’t you think? Yeah. That would hold him until the MPs got here.” “Masters, son, you’ve got a really sick mind. Do you know that? One helluva sick mind. They should have you locked up in a straitjacket in a white padded room. Sick. Sick. Sick.” “Well, we have to restrain him. So, all I’m saying is do you have a rope or a chain?” “No. For the last time, no.” The MPs arrived a short time later and arrested Winston for attempted assault and battery with a deadly weapon. Thus, I narrowly escaped another exercise in futility.
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