40th
anniversary: Learning that words have power
By Mike Fak
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[August 26, 2011]
Next week it will
be my 40th anniversary of never officially being in the
U.S. Army. You see I never said the oath that day, I had gone to the
bathroom and when I came back into the room the sergeant told the
hundreds of young pups shoved together that we were now all
soldiers. I never did use that loophole to just walk away from the
whole affair being lucky enough to catch a creampuff assignment.
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In a strange way, the Army is what caused me to
become a writer of satire and eventually a columnist and now an
editor at LDN although there are days when I look at what I wrote
that I'm not sure that is anything to be thankful for.
Shortly after my arrival at my assigned military base, the
installation started up a small weekly newspaper. Since I already
had a reputation of making my opinions about army life known,
several of my buddies said I should submit some of my diatribes to
the paper. I wrote a column making fun of the new mess hall's menu
and the fact we weren't allowed seconds to support the original
measly portions we had slopped on our trays.
I expressed my disdain by wording the column as if I was writing to
a family in Korea asking them to adopt this company of poor starving
G.I.'s. The editor, a lieutenant and a graduate of the University of
Iowa, thought the piece was hilarious and printed it in the next
edition of the small four page newspaper.
I remember how everyone on the post made it a point to come up to me
and slap my back or buy me a beer that week. I had said something
they believed needed to be said and had said it in a way that made
them all laugh. I had always been a comedian, getting in trouble as
a jokester since third grade, so this new-found celebrity sat well
with me as I enjoyed my moment in the limelight.
I remember hearing that the post commander was none too happy with
my column. I also was told the editor stood up for me because even
in the Army, the First and Fourth Amendments were still a part of
the Constitution. The editor relayed to the post commander that
there was truth in my column and perhaps he should check it out for
himself before getting too mad at me. I told the L.T. that
technically I wasn't a soldier if that would help but he advised me
not to go there with that defense.
A few days later I learned my first real lesson in the power of the
word. As I and my platoon were in the mess hall eating a skimpy meal
of undercooked chicken, two company captains and the post commander
walked into the mess. They always ate at the officer's club so this
was a shock to all of us. All three walked up to the line and taking
trays, went through the mess line as soldiers scurried to get out of
the way.
Of course when they came to the chicken, that day's main entrée,
they all received double portions as if that was the norm. Everyone
was watching and everyone was mad and I recall a few nudging me to
go tell the commanders we didn't get fed that well. I figured I was
on soft ground already and didn't need the post commander attaching
a face to the column I had written so I told everyone to shut up.
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As luck would have it, one of the captains tore into his chicken
breast and found the meat still blood red. Now anyone knows raw
chicken is nothing to serve even to young draftees but for the
captain to get one of these pieces of crap was a thing of beauty.
Now I will never know if he was just really ticked off or had
decided to put on a show for the post commander. Whatever the
motive, the captain stood up and threw his tray full of food against
the wall and started screaming at the mess hall sergeant to pull
every piece of food off the line and to get a new meal prepared in
fifteen minutes or his kiester would be in Alaska feeding "blankety
blank" Eskimos.
After that day, the food was better and the portions we received
were also more in line with what young men needed to not feel like
we were starving.
It was my first real lesson in what the power of words could do. I
never forgot it. I never will.
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