... was actually the third
My first day at the unit was Single Soldier Day out at a local lake. All the soldiers on post, except those with additional duties, were out at the lake having a barbeque, or playing volleyball, or hiding their beer drinking. Only those who had duty driver, or staff duty, or who were of such sufficient rank that they could not go or were able to choose not to go were not there.
There were three people at the unit when the sergeant who inprocessed me called to get someone to pick me up. Because the other two were the Commander and the Platoon Sergeant, SSG Calangelo was low man on the totem pole, so he got tasked to get me. This suited him fine, actually, as I was to be in his squad, and he could be my first impression of the unit instead of some MI pogue. Get me off on the right foot and all.
The man is intimidating. While in his car, I only spoke when questioned. He did most of the talking, letting me know he was my squad leader, what he expected of his soldiers, that we would make this unit great. It may have been the most positive talk that I ever received from him. I wonder sometimes if I’m a disappointment, as I doubt I’ve lived up to his initial goals for me.
We arrived to the unit, which is fairly far away from the main post where he picked me up. I met the Platoon Sergeant and the Commander, who had little honest interest in seeing me. I think they had planned on going home early and felt obligated to stay because a new soldier was coming in. They dismissed me fairly quickly; They were all relieved when I told them I already had a place to stay. SSG C asked me if I had a car. He seemed to have forgotten that he had driven me there. So, while the CO and PSG left for the day, he drove me all the way back onto post where he had just gotten me from.
Of course, I saw him a lot from then on, but something nagged at me. Hadn’t I met him before? And then it came to me.
Briefly, at AIT, in the smoke pit… I recall a man beschnozzed with what I have come to know as a Lebanese nose. Sitting on a picnic table, he was spitting into a soda can. He exuded Armyness, with his SSG’s rocker and his other acoutrements on his uniform. That was it, right?
No. There was still something. And then it came to me.
At language school, we have what is referred to as an LTX: Language Training Exercise. We go to a MOUT site for a day, and interact as a squad with other linguists who pose as natives in an elaborate set-up of a made-up foreign country. We move from station to station, dealing with military and linguistic challenges as we go. There was the “buy weapons from the insurgents” station, there was the “help to mostly friendly insurgents treat and carry their wounded until you get ambushed by the mostly unfriendly insurgents, and then react to ambush” station.
And then there was the “town during a coup” station. The local governmental authorities (a mayor or governor or something) had just been assassinated, and there were many wounded villagers laying about. The local constabulary was attempting to take charge and calm people down, but there seemed to be some insurgents still in the town, hiding in buildings. Our squad leader, a former Airborne Infantryman, directed one team (including me) to start administering aid to the wounded. He and the other team (including Sangus) headed into a building to start room clearing. More gunfire. Sangus yelling. We stop treating the wounded and try and regroup. Sangus comes back, the squad leader is dead. SPC Goose is in charge. The police chief is yelling at him in Arabic, “Get the fuck out of my town. You’re making things worse.” It all clicks in my head.
“Goose, this is the asshole who’s responsible!”
[beat]
[beat]
[beat]
“ASSHOLE!? MA M”N? ASSHOLE?” His eyes flaring, the police chief, a shaved bald man with a Lebanese nose started towards us. Goose ordered us out of the town. “What about the squad leader?” Sangus asked. “Let’s just go,” replied Goose.
Suffice to say, one of the points in the AAR was “you never know who knows English in a situation.” The embarrassment of my actions, and the possibility that I could’ve just gotten everyone killed, is the reason I hadn’t relayed this tale to anyone.
Not even SSG C.
I wonder if he remembers.