My husband, a certified public accountant, works 15-hour days for the first few months of the year. In spite of his hectic schedule, he took time out to order me flowers for Valentine's Day. While pondering what sweet endearment to write on the card, he obviously began thinking of the many hours of work still ahead of him. His note read: "Roses are red, violets are blue. If I weren't thinking of you, I'd probably be through."
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My dad and uncles were all in the Army during wartime, but only two of the three served overseas. One day, at an event honoring veterans, a young man asked where they had been stationed. “I served in Japan,” said Uncle Sid. “I served in Korea,” said Uncle Jerry. “Baltimore,” said Dad. “Keeping it safe for democracy.” —Lori Shandle-Fox
Aboard a troop carrier crossing the Atlantic, I noticed a seasick pal of mine losing it over the railing alongside several other soldiers. “I never knew you had such a weak stomach,” I said. “It’s not weak,” he replied. “I’m throwing up just as far as the rest of these guys.”
Anyone wanting to take pictures on our base’s airfield needs a letter from public affairs, which happens to be me. One day, while out snapping photos, I was stopped by the military police, who asked for my letter from public affairs. “But I am public affairs,” I said. “Without a letter from public affairs, we’ll have to take your camera.” I did the only thing I could do: I pulled a notepad and pen from my bag and wrote a letter giving myself permission to take photos. The MPs read the letter, saluted, and left.
It was our first day on the rifle range at Lackland Air Force Base. I felt confident as I aimed and squeezed the trigger of my carbine for my first shot. “Good news and bad news,” my instructor said. “The good news: You got a bull’s eye.” Before my head could swell too much, he added, “But it was in somebody else’s target.”
During a combat medical training class, the topic was blast injuries. At one point, our very intimidating instructor pointed at me and said, “There’s been a jeep explosion. What would you do if you came upon an injured man with a steering wheel embedded in his chest?” Nervous and unsure, I blurted out, “Drive him to the hospital?” For some reason, the rest of the room found this hilarious.
As A.J. and his platoon of recruits were marching, their sergeant slipped and tumbled down a ravine. The irate sergeant scrambled back up amid guffaws and barked, “Those who laughed, get down and give me 20!” A.J. and some others fell to the ground quickly and did their push-ups. Meanwhile, the sergeant glared at the others. “As for the rest of you, get down and give me 40 for lying!”
While serving in Vietnam, my friend and his buddies were hunkered down in a mud-filled hole that had been dug into the side of a berm and covered with lumber for protection. Their one extravagance: a bare light bulb they’d hung from the “ceiling.” One guy was reading a newspaper article from back home about a congressional investigation into why some troops were living in relative luxury. The guy put down the paper, turned to my friend, and said, “Well, there goes the light bulb.”
While serving as chief medical officer at Fort Ritchie in Maryland, I attended a nearby wedding. Since it was a formal affair at a country club, I went in my officer’s dress blue uniform. Once at the club, I drove up to the entrance, where the doorman promptly came to the passenger door and assisted my wife out of the car. He then made his way to my side. But before I could get out, he pointed to the other end of the building and said, “The band entrance is that way.”
Soon after arriving at basic training, we were marched to the base barbershop, where we were told we’d find a clipboard with our names on it. “Next to your name,” the sergeant said, “initial it.” Everyone seemed OK with this order except for one confused recruit. “Sergeant,” he said, “what if we don’t have any initials?”
