And, telling the truth is overrated, sometimes it’s best to leave ‘truth’ alone, don’t mess with it. This seemed like one of those occasions.
This is an excerpt from my book, ‘The Adventures of an Air Force Medic.” It’s based on my two years as an air force medic in northern California back in the early ’80s.
Sergeant Takahashi called out, “The first shirt wants to see you.” Quicker than I could take my next breath, she added, “Anytime the first shirt wants to see you, it’s not good.”
Sergeant Takahashi, my new boss, held an elevated rank – Staff Sergeant (SSgt). The four blue stripes on the shiny metal insignia pinned to her collar reminded me of her high status in case I ever needed reminding. On my white uniform collar sat a pair of shiny metal insignia showing only one blue stripe signaling my not-so-elevated rank – airman. Her official title, NCOIC, breaks out to mean ‘non-commissioned officer in charge.’ Yes, she’s the boss, I’m the lowly worker. And she talked to me in a tone of voice reinforcing our boss-worker relationship.
SSgt Takahashi presented a confusing front. She had a kicking Japanese last name but an ordinary American first name, Elen. I learned her first name quickly; almost everyone –except me- called her by her first name. The practice of calling people by their first name shocked me a bit coming straight out of basic training and tech school. At basic training and tech school, the first name given to you by your parents is something you had in a previous life. In the military, your first name is your rank. But, as I would come to learn, I now belonged to the hospital squadron, not the military. The military has their way of doing business, the hospital squadron has theirs.
Sergeant Takahashi didn’t have a Japanese bone in her body; Midwest USA gal. Turns out she got her exotic last name while stationed in Okinawa. She married a Japanese guy; then divorced him. She left Okinawa for California, dumped the man but kept the name.
She didn’t seem too happy about her exotic last name but she displayed it every day for all to see via white lettering against a blue background – her nametag. She’d throw off dirty looks as if to say, ‘What you looking at?’ when folks did double takes trying to work out how she could be – in any way – Japanese.
Per SSgt. Takahashi’s instructions, I scooted downstairs and reported to the First Sergeant’s office. His secretary gave the OK to enter, so I walked in respectfully and stood in front of his imposing wooden desk. Observing Master Sergeant (MSgt) Thomson sitting at his presidential desk looking down at paperwork, writing and ignoring me, I began to worry, ‘Elen warned me, if the first shirt wants to see you, it’s not good. Maybe she’s right? But, I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve only been on-base a few days, just arrived from tech school, this is my first day at work; how can you be in trouble on your first day? But, then again, look at this guy. He’s got a buzz cut, looks like he’s in the Marine Corps, not the Air Force. And, look at the scowl on his face, would scare off Genghis Khan.’
I scanned the office walls noting dozens of awards, plaques, decorations and medals. If I listened closely, I could almost hear the first shirt talking to me via his office setup, ‘I been doing Air Force longer than you been alive, and I’m good at it.’ I felt intimidated. I had flashbacks to basic training where the instructors excelled at intimidation.
Finally, MSgt Thomson looked up, directed his eyes straight at mine, gave me his best Genghis Khan scowl and delivered a welcome I’ll never forget,
“You have the right to remain silent, anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand?”
My mind scrambled, ‘Am I under arrest? What did I do? Right to remain silent? Court of law? What’s he talking about? Is he for real? Have I entered the twilight zone?’ My knees wobbled. The blast from his crazy words almost knocked me over. A heavy silence took hold and quickly filled all space in the room. I had to respond. But, how do you respond to an ‘other universe’ welcome like that? His words made no sense, way outside the bounds of reason, I wondered, ‘Is he nuts?’ I had an instant re-think about this air force decision of mine, ‘What have I done? Am I in the loony bin? Is this the funny farm Mom used to joke about? The place she said I’d end up one day? Well I’ll be damned, she was right, I’ve arrived.’
I gathered my thoughts and came up with a response, something to fill the stagnant lumbering silence. Creativity and truthfulness had no part in what I had to say. I didn’t have enough time for ‘creative.’ And, telling the truth is overrated, sometimes it’s best to leave ‘truth’ alone, don’t mess with it. This seemed like one of those occasions.
I remembered MSgt Thomson’s last sentence, “Do you understand?” I didn’t understand. But, that’s OK, I figured now’s as good a time as any to lie. I resorted to the standard military basic training all-purpose response; seemed the most logical way to go, even if it’s a lie. So I used it. Only two words …
“Yes sir!”
The First Shirt shot back, “Don’t call me sir! I work for a living airman,” then he continued, “Do you know what you’ve done?”
Now, I told the truth, “No sir, I mean, no, Sergeant Thomson.”
“OK, I’ll spell it out for you. I went by your dorm room yesterday and saw the broken bathroom window. You were the last person in there, so we know you did it, don’t deny it. I’ve got you on charges of willful destruction of government property. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
I thought, ‘Oh, yeah, the broken bathroom window, I can explain this one. Take a deep breath, hold it together and tell him.’
“Sergeant Thomson, the dorm manager marked it as damaged yesterday on the room inspection report. That’s the first I’d seen of it, I didn’t do it. It’s been noted and he told me not to worry about it.”
I tried to sell my story, but MSgt Thomson wasn’t buying it without proof, “I’ve been in the air force longer than you’ve been alive. I’ve seen it all, heard it all. You think you can fool me, forget it. I’ll get a copy of that in-going report and if the broken bathroom window isn’t noted, I’ll have you up on charges. You’ll pay for the window and I’ll make sure you get slapped with an Article 15. You won’t have a career when I’m done with you. I don’t tolerate troublemakers in my squadron. I’m calling the dorm manager now and you better be telling me the truth. Now go back to your duty station.”
That ended my first meeting with the first sergeant. Elen’s prophetic statement proved correct, ‘Anytime the first shirt wants to see you, it’s not good.’
The friendly dorm manager filled me in later that week, “Sorry, Sean. The first shirt saw the broken window before I handed in your incoming inspection report. I waited a day, I figured it wouldn’t matter, but he saw the broken window and went crazy. I explained the whole thing, you’re off the hook.”
MSgt Thomson never spoke to me about the broken window again. I took his silence on the subject as an official military apology.
Photo: Thomas Bunton, Lackland Air Force Base Basic Training Graduation, on flickr.
