Wrongful Termination – An Ode to Military Humor – Springtime Folly

After I had been reassigned to the 227^th Maintenance Battalion At Yongsan, Seoul, Korea and took command of the 305^th Supply and Services Company, somehow at my change of command ceremony I was rewarded with a strike on my very first day in command. Scoring strike one and being designated a loose cannon on your first day in command before you’ve really even had a chance to do anything, has to be some sort of record. One which I managed to set. They should have given me some kind of an award. Instead, I got my ass chewed. What the hell was up with that? Shortly into my new command, an event occurred that managed to reward me with a second strike and a second ass chewing. You may recall that I scored that second strike because I successfully removed my inherited First Sergeant for cause. The problem was that this First Sergeant was my senior rater’s pet. You know, I had a pet once. In fact, I posted about that pet. You may have even read about my pet. But my pet was not a person. My pet was a dog that I named Molly. You may remember me wax poetic about my dog Molly, an that Molly chose me. I didn’t choose Molly. I wonder if that’s the way it was with my old First Sergeant and my senior rater. No. I didn’t mean that my unit First Sergeant was old as in, he was an old guy. Cuz, an old guy would be old and decrepit and kind of feeble. You know. The Army doesn’t let old, decrepit, feeble looking guys join the military. Cuz they have rigorous PT standards. I meant that he was old as in my ex First Sergeant or previous First Sergeant. Anyway, I wonder if he chose the Group Commander like a dog chooses its owner? Hmmm… I’ll have to think about that. I wonder how a pet First Sergeant would choose an owner? Would it just go up to its new owner and sniff it a few times and piss on it? I would think that if the pet First Sergeant pissed on its new owner, the new owner might get a little upset. And knowing how upset the Group Commander gets, he must’ve really liked his pet First Sergeant. And then, would it just sit down at its owner’s feet? My third strike was totally undeserved. Really. If you don’t believe me, just ask me. I had written a company PT uniform policy and got it approved by the Battalion Commander and everything. My whole company was in the same uniform. Nobody else in all of Eighth Army including the Eighth Army Commanding General said so much as a single word about my company PT uniform. But the Group Commander fired my ass because my company looked better in its collective PT uniform than he did sitting on his ass in default ARMY PT gear. Sorry about that shit. Except, strike three, you’re out! You’re out, in this case translated to me being out. Dammit. I hate that shit. When I got back to my company, I called up my Battalion Commander. When I got through to the Battalion Commander, I said, “Sir, listen very carefully. Colonel Gross fired my ass! You need to appoint somebody to take my place immediately.” The Battalion Commander replied, “Wright, I think you must be mistaken. The Group Commander would not arbitrarily fire you.” “Well, that’s exactly what he did.” “Tell me what he said to you.” “He said, and I quote, You are fired! Get the hell out of my sight! Your office better be empty when I get there. As a result, I am cleaning my office right now.” “I’m sure he was just kidding.” “No, Sir. He was so damn mad that I thought that he was going to have a heart attack. I have never seen anybody as angry as he was. He absolutely did not like my company PT uniform.” “That’s bullshit! You stay put. Don’t pack a damn thing. You aren’t going anywhere. He isn’t going to fire you today. Not for that.” “Sir, I’m telling you that he told me not to be here when he got here. He is coming here. I don’t want to be in the middle of that shit storm.” “You stay right there. I’ll handle this, God dammit.” “All right, Sir.” As I was hanging up the phone, I noticed that a crowd of officers and NCOs had gathered around my office. Just two short months ago, most of those people hated my guts. Now, they acted like my cheering section. They seemed very interested in what was going on. As soon as they saw that I was off the phone, they fired a million questions at me all at once. I said, “Hold on. First, I cannot understand everyone when you all speak at once. Second, I cannot answer all of those questions at one time. How about we try this a little bit more democratically? I’ll designate somebody and that somebody can ask me a question.” Then, I proceeded to answer all of my soldiers’ questions as best as I could. I told them that the best way to handle the situation was to call a company formation. I told them that they better do it PDQ (pretty damn quick) because the Group Commander and the Battalion Commander were likely headed toward the company. It seemed as if the whole company wanted to know what in the hell had happened because the NCOs had the company formed in less than two minutes. When my Executive Officer told me that the company had been formed and was waiting for me, I walked out and posted in front of the formation. I quickly informed them that we had definitely set the standard in the 227^th Maintenance Battalion that day and perhaps even in the 501^st Area Support Group. I did state that we did not go unnoticed, particularly by the Group Commander. In fact, we made him so jealous that he decided to fire me out of spite. As a result, the 305^th Supply and Services Company was temporarily without a commander and my status as their commander was in jeopardy. I told them that the Battalion Commander was working to resolve the situation at that moment. In other words, the Battalion Commander was attempting to save me from wrongful relief of command. I told them that it had been a pleasure serving as their commander and that I hoped to remain their commander. At that very moment, I really didn’t know if I even had an ice cube’s chance in hell of being saved from wrongful relief. I really didn’t know if I had stepped into an exercise in futility so huge that I could not possibly extricate myself from it.

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