The Pin and Naiveté

There was a girl back home, I went out with casually

once or twice. Nothing heavier than a mild attraction

and a curious infatuation; never even a petting, an

innocent kiss or hug between us. Bunny was her name.

I enlisted in the Army at age seventeen, and barely

eighteen, I was shipped to my duty station in Germany.

My newly assigned unit was the 3^rd Reconnaissance

Squadron of the 14^th Armored Cavalry. We wore a

patch and an enameled medallion. It depicted a shield

with a snake and sword on a field of gold with a blue

diagonal stripe from top to bottom separating the two.

Symbolically, the images stood for earlier campaigns in

which the unit had been involved—the 1847 War with

Mexico for the snake, and a Moro Kris Tribal Sword for

the 1899 Philippine Insurrection. Way cool, I thought.

And even though both actions were way before my time,

I felt a pride in now belonging to the military history of

it all.

I was young and impressionable back then, and never

even considered the injustices committed, the wounding

or killing on both sides of those conflicts. Anyway, I thought

it would be really neat if I would send my friend, Bunny, a

medallion as kind of a boastful gift from me.

Well, about a month or so later my gift was returned to

me with a note from Bunny saying regretably she could

not accept my unit pin. What the hell, I thought, it didn’t

cost me very much? It wasn’t like gold or a diamond or

anything like that. I was hurt in any case that she didn’t

appreciate the thoughtfulness of my virtuous intentions.

Anyway, I told one of my buddies what had happened.

He shook his head in disbelief at me. Don’t you know why

she refused that medal? It was like a college fraternity pin

to her, meaning that you two were going steady, a warn-

ing to other guys—hands off, no dating, smooching or

hanky-panky—this girl is spoken for. I was crushed. But

I...but I...I didn’t mean to imply that we were an item,

I told my friend.

I have never been to college, nor have I ever even had

a girlfriend before. I’m overseas alone in a foreign land,

and a long way from home. How in hell was I supposed

to know? Well, you do now, he laughed at me.

As for the stupid unit pin, after that, it lost most its luster

and grandeur for me, and I never gave one away again.

Besides, “Bunny,” that’s kind of dumb name for a girl anyway.

Chris Hanch 6-22-19