9.
Surety Inspection
Sergeant Wright had a good relationship with the Medical Clinic in Babenhausen, and a fairly good one with Battalion level personnel in Darmstadt, Germany, where he had been many times checking out personnel files, whom had direct command over his unit, the 545th Ordinance Company. And so with the records from both areas: namely, medical records, and personnel records on the personnel at the 545th and 9th MP’s, his surety records were constantly being updated to include his Nuclear Surety-duty Roster–which prior to this was an unkempt, and disastrous looking roster: consisting of a half page misspelled-soldier’s names piece of paper, showing their level of security clearance, but not much else. He had taken it to quite a higher level in a short period of time.
In addition, he took his three other personnel that worked for him and they started to do cross checking with all the records to include the ones in the Company-Orderly Room at the 545th insuring he had the best information on each and every person at the compound, and should he be asked by an inspector, or Military Intelligence, or the FBI, he had the answers–and answers was the name of the game, that is, to have good ones. First Sergeant Hightower had taught him well the first two years he worked for him, and now being First Sergeant, he was somehow always his mentor, even if not seen. Sometimes in life a person will pick out one, a person, teach them, if he is the willing, like Sergeant Wright was, and had Wright failed an inspection, Hightower’s reputation would have been wounded also, and that was always a source of pride for both, for Chris wanting to show Hightower he could pass them, and for Hightower being proud of his work in Sergeant Wright, for he was the teacher.
Dr. Sharp, or otherwise known as Captain Sharp, he and the good Sergeant were good friends, during duty and off duty, a Mormon by religion; and although Sergeant Wright was of no certain denomination, they both took time to review their beliefs in that area. Matter of fact, it was on a number of occasions they would both met at the Captain’s house for dinner along with other friends of the Captain, and along with food carried on the most interesting conversation in the area of religion. Furthermore, they both seemed to like shooting pistols, and often found themselves out on the range together, Chris with his 45-Colt Automatic, and the Captain with his 357-revolver.
Their relationship was built up over a two year period, thus, they both came to trust one another’s judgment, and if the Surety Office looked good, so did the Babenhausen-dispensary [medical clinic], as the good Sergeant, would always insure he told the inspectors the great cooperation he was getting by Captain Sharp. For often the inspectors looked at prescription drugs being prescribed, and if these people were on the site area, and if so what were the effects of the drugs on the people working in the site, and therefore this was a most sensitive area, and Wright had to learn quickly the effects of pharmaceuticals.
–And so the day came when the inspectors arrived–arrived for the big inspection, right from Washington DC [Congressional], not simply from Group, or Battalion, or the main European one USAEU, for there were three basic inspections and the Congressional came every two or three years, and if you didn’t pass them, they came every year. Sergeant Wright had donuts and coffee sitting on the tables, and several chairs about ten-feet away from them, for which, he’d sit in one, and he had two reserved for his assistants [the setup was taught to Wright by Sergeant Hightower], and the others vacant, incase the Surety Officer came in, whom was a young 1st Lieutenant from the 9th MP’s–Lieutenant Nelson, a black officer, whom was never really around, too busy running the MP’s but was given the job of overseer of the Surety Office, thus he got glory if it passed any inspections, and cursed if it didn’t; but had no time to do a thing within the office, was never trained in the area and had he spent time, he most likely would have not had time to run his Detachment’s security purpose for being on the site to secure the nuclear chemicals they had in the back area. And so Sergeant Wright knew this, and respected the fact he was trusted by him to run the office as he see fit, and so he did.
There were five inspectors, two went around asking questions from the personnel at the site, while the other three compared, and reviewed the three sets of records, medical, personal, and security files. And so at 9:00 AM sharp, the donuts were being eaten, coffee was on the table, and the inspection started.
As the day moved forward, about thirty-minutes into the inspection, one of the three men looked up at Sergeant Wright, indicating there was a problem emerging. He stood up and walked to the inspector,
«Yes sir, can I help?» By this time they knew his reputation, and that of the ‘Surety Office’, in that they had never failed an inspection in years, and so he was cautious to point a direct finger at him for negligence, at this juncture anyhow, and so the inspector said with a bit of reserve,
«I see this person is on a prescription medication,» and as he mentioned it, he inferred it was a barbiturate. He knew that Chris knew the chemical effects of the substance, and looked into his eyes [barbiturates being an anesthetic sedative of sorts–with the effects of disorientation–similar to alcohol]. He wanted an answer, but was willing to wait–or so it seemed, since he did not push it, nor did he close down the site immediately, which he could have.
The Sergeant smiled, said to himself: ‘how could this be, we checked, and double checked all the records’. Then he looked at the date of the prescription, it was today’s date, –he pointed it out, then asked if he could look into this for a moment, that he had an explanation for it, but needed to double check. He really didn’t have one, an explanation, but was playing out a hunch–he was stalling, but he knew he’d find an answer somewhere quick, for surely there was something wrong, he had gone over those records just last night, picked them back up this morning two hours ago, and checked them quickly again: scanning them for the most part. So he had his assistant stay right there in front of the inspectors, so they would be assured they were not being abandoned, while he went and got another co-worker, to find the man, the soldier in question, and make sure he did not go to work, at the same time, he called the clinic.
–Twenty-minutes later, he walked back into the room where they were having the inspection, three inspectors heads popped up when Chris walked in.
«Sir,» said he, «this is Private Benson [whom was standing by his side],» he had him sit down is his own seat as he stood, approached the three inspectors, in particular the one who had brought this situation to his attention; thus, he had living proof.
«Sir,» he continued to say, «Private Benson works in the back site as you know, went down this morning to the clinic, because he is a bit ill, was given medication, has a prescription for it, and has not, and I emphasized, he has not gone to work, he was in his room sleeping. The Orderly Room had the slip he returned with, but had not gotten to give it to me yet, but had there not been an inspection this morning, I would have received it most likely two hours ago, or a phone call.»
The inspector looked up at Chris, and Benson, took the records back and said, «Private Benson, is that true?» asked the inspector with a calm but established voice, as not to scare him: «…you have not gone to the back area as of yet, nor do you plan on it until the doctor indicates you can–right? «
The private said, as quickly, and nervously as possible, «Yes sir, yes sir, I am just going back to my bed, get some sleep. I never go back to the site until I get an OK from the Surety Office.» Thought Chris, if that doesn’t over it, nothing will, but it worked, and it was fair. The inspector, smiled and I sat down waiting for the next crisis.
And that is how it went for three days–a few more crises that were put out–like a fire, as fast as the Sergeant could. At the end of their inspection, the inspector commented: «Job well done Sergeant,» and Chris would receive a medal for his outstanding work, somewhere down the road; Sergeant Hightower would make sure of it. Everyone was happy, to include the: inspectors, the new Commander, Wastrel, and the Battalion Commander, the Surety Officer, Nelson, who was applauded for his work, and First Sergeant Hightower, who used to be ahead of the Surety Office, and all three clerks from Chris’ office, everyone got a piece of the glory, but Sergeant Wright would get the award.
The Major, the new Company commander, Wastrel, got a little disturbed by the Surety Personnel. They were the only ones that did not go to formation, and the reason being, Sergeant Wright had them working the moment they walked through the door. The sergeant felt it really took too much time. And LT the Surety Officer, as he was called by the Surety Office staff, asked several times if Wright would please make an appearance so as to calm the Commander down, and go to formation, and so he did. The major saying, «I’m glad you could show up–Sergeant Wright,» emphasizing the ‘show up,’ part. But even Sergeant Wright liked the power and influence he had with his Surety Office. But he didn’t want to abuse the fact he had it, and portray him was not replaceable: save for the fact, he knew he was replaceable; and ‘Pride comes before destruction,’ he had learned. And so he made formation for about six-weeks before he dismissed himself from it again, saying it was time consuming, and privately feeling it was worthless standing around taking roll call–Army drills and wasting good investigation time.
10.
Mexican Standoff
[Sergeant Wright]
[From: Chris Wright’s Journal]
«I am a Buck Sergeant now–and the NCOIC [Sergeant in Charge] of the whole Surety Program at the 545th and 9th MP Detachment; a whole lot of responsibility; –I not only have to deal with Military Intelligence now, but indirectly with the FBI. The whole compound, site, knows my name. On one hand, people are more in a panic state coming into my office than the commanding officers wondering if or when their security clearance will be in danger, which means career position, and longevity in the military service, I think they think I will mess around with their career if I dislike them so they play cool with me. Things are changing, or have changed. I have even changed, matter of fact I got a special medal from the General, he flew in by helicopter, and gave it to me in front of 200-soldiers for being an outstanding soldier I guess, but the only thing outstanding is that I’m passing all these inspections for him, making him look good, and staying out of harms way. Sergeant Hightower, at the last minute, our First Sergeant now, looked at my pants–the day the General was to give me the medal–I had patches on them, and he shook his head, told me–bluntly–to go and change them before the general comes, and so I did–and I got an Army Commendation Medal. Yes, I have a little power now, but under control; I like it also, why not, I’ve worked hard to get it. And I get a medal pinned on my chest for the best of the best, Surety Sergeant in all of Europe; you can’t beat that. But everything has its price, you pay sooner or later, I am beginning to get fried, burnt out–my brain is reacting slower, or so it seems. My head can’t think straight, or should I say, can’t concentrate on simple things very long, surely a sign of ‘burnout.'»
[Update for the Journal] «The shoes were taken off the tree a while ago, after I had seen them there for several months got tired of looking at them–now I have time under my belt; I am learning, to duck– that is, stay out of harms way, you could also, or possible, call it out waiting the many things happening around you to simply go away–yes, they simply may disappear, go away, I found out they do just that: it’s one of his ways of looking at things now, things I have little control over. And they did go away. The new Major has no real leadership skills with people, and is–for the most part–despised by his subordinates, he is a robust figure of a man, red faced, and a little slim in posture, reddish hair, about 35-years old [Major Wastrel], but a drunk, and it shows on his West Point face, yes, an Ivey League drunk–a man of Harvard but still a drunk no matter how you sliced the pie: and a detriment to the mission here.» Signed, SGT Wright
–It was on this certain day Chris observed a happening that would push the Major to get find his replacement to its limits, for it would cast a shadow on the Major’s leadership and cause loose-talk to be looked at by higher headquarters, from Battalion level to Group–had it not been for the passing of all the Nuclear Surety Inspections, the Major might have been replaced immediately, or long ago; it was early afternoon when the incident took place [October]: the Major, came out of the PX-store, kitty-corner from the Mess Hall, when Private Rodrigo was making his way across the center of the compound, by the flag pole, and almost walked smack into the Major:
«Private Rodrigo,» said the Major, «Are you drunk again…(a rhetorical question at best, for the Private was beyond drunk ((hence, the Private looked up to the Major’s face after looking at the ground–as if in an emotional cluster–as he was walking, and gave a smirk)):»
Said Rodrigo,
«Borracho, no, señor, no lo soy, porque dice eso? Usted es el borracho [Draunk, na-a, me no unk, si, major sir,-r, why ya say that?]» and started to walk away laughing like a lunatic.
«I order you to go back to your room [which was above the mess hall], immediately–Private!» said the Major, in front of several people escorting the Major.
This was not the smartest move the Major had ever made, for the private had a well known reputation [so Chris had learned] for being spontaneous with resistance in a harmful way, in other words, he could be dangerous [Chris was thinking: had he been in his shoes he’d had just relayed the message to the MP’s and had him taken away, but for some reason the Major needed to show off his power, which at times he liked to do, as many officers did].
Rodrigo, about five foot six inches tall, a beer belly, about twenty-seven years old, turned around, looked at the Major now some six-feet away to the side of him, then did another quick 45% angle turn making him directly facing one another now: leaped, like a foot-ball player after a football, right on top of the Major with a knife in his hands and put it next to his artery alongside his neck. Everyone froze for a moment, every single person taken by surprise: eyes were bulging from corner to corner on everyone’s heads, and mouths were open from ear to ear–it was a shock to see this.
Said the private in a slurping, stuttering drunken stupor, reverting back to English instead of Spanish: «So yaw like to give me orders major, haw…! Modar-fa-er, give dhem now–boy!» The private then, punishing-ly said: «I can’t hear you…uuuuu Ma-jor rr- gringo-OO.» Then came from the private the devil-tongue, with his insulting remarks: «Ya moder fu-er, sy somedhing now, or I cut your ugly fat red neck…hot shot-shit, moderr fuc-er.» But the Major was stone-frozen, silent as a graveyard at 2:00 AM, with big bulging eyes, didn’t know what to say or do; about a dozen people were now around. Chris stood by, he had seen this scene before, in Vietnam. Many an officer got on the wrong side of their men and never made it back home.
By the time the Mexican was pulled off the Major–after a few soldiers tried to calm him down, soldiers that were standing by the major, in consequence, convincing the private, telling the private it wasn’t worth it, that he’d end up in jail should he kill him, while several other soldiers calmly put more potent remarks out at the Major, the private sensed he was losing his audience [for most didn’t’ care about the Major that much anyhow, but this incident was going to extremes, plus the MP’s had arrived with weapons].
Unexpectedly, the private took a knee and moved it over to the side slowly looking at the Major like a prey [a Jaguar] who had just lost his meal, as two soldiers lifted the Major up cautiously, insuring the Major would not be approachable by the Mexican–as one of the two stepped in front of the Mexican, and took his knife: at the same moment, the knife was lying on the ground and the soldier didn’t want the Mexican to grab it again it was but a foot away, should the Major feel overly safe and say something stupid; then the two MP’s escorted the Private back to his barracks.
–«Sir,» said one of the MP sergeants, now standing around the Major as the two men had just lifted him to his feet: «What should we do with him?» The Major just walked away, not saying a word. He stood there in amazement if not shock, unable to speak possible, not sure if he was a coward, or just smart enough to say nothing for once. In either case, the private was taken out of the company area within twenty-four hours, and nothing was ever heard of him again. It was bad news to exploit such news, or let it get out to the American Press, least it cause an investigation right out of Washington DC, for a Nuclear Site was big news when it came to such things, and therefore the Major would soon be replaced also.
Echa un vistazo a nuestra variedad de Camisetas de fútbol. Camisetas de entreno y partido de clubes nacionales y selecciones internacionales. Un jugador muere por un golpe en un partido de fútbol. EFE. Javier Tebas acompaña la cena de Nochebuena de Cruz Blanca Huesca.