Volunteering

There are things you learn in life.

I think much of that has to do with

survival. Not that you’re always

given a choice about some things.

Before enlisting in the Army, I had

watched a lot of documentaries on

TV, some of which covered WWII.

The landing at Omaha Beach in Nor-

mandy on D-Day taught me that you

probably didn’t want to be first off

the LST to set foot on the beach, nor

did you want to be the last. Seemed

to me being somewhere in the middle

was the safest place to be.

Sometimes it is a comforting security

to be burried within the phalanx of

society, knowing you are surrounded

by others in the mass of humanity.

I’m sure, though, if ranking as an officer

or an NCO, you would either be positioned

at the head as a leader of the charge or

bringing up the rear, delegated to ensure

that everyone was moving ahead.

In a peacetime Army, of course, life and

death choices or preferences are rarely

a factor. There are, however, lessons to

be learned as well. One of which was

taught to me early on, don’t volunteer

for anything.

In Basic Training, one of the drill ser--

geants asked his troops if anyone

played baseball? Of course, several

hot-shot jocks raised their hands.

(Sounded like it was going to be fun,

but I was certainly not one of those.)

You, you, you and you, he pointed out

to those who had raised their hands,

follow me. Now, I want you to snag all

the cigarette butts and trash off the

parade field, and pitch it into the trash

barrels.

I took an oath to serve my Country

and defend the Constitution whether

that included marching into war first

in line or last.

To me, policing the area for cigarette

butts seemed an easy task relatively

speaking. I may have been advised

against volunteering in Basic Train-

ing, but I came to realize, the uniform

that I wore signified that I already had.

                                    -30-

Chris Hanch 7-19-2020