“So, Mike,” Faith began, “You know that job I asked you for?...”
“Yeah, look,” Mike stated, “I’m really sorry man, but the 1st of the 1st thing isn’t going to work out. Apparently you were right; there must be some residual bad blood down there because they said they’d rather have someone else.”
Faith laughed, this certainly made his decision-making easier. “It’s all good brother, it looks like something else may have fallen into my lap here at Group.”
“Really? I’m glad to hear that,” Mike said, sounding relieved.
Later that evening, Faith recounted the day’s events to his wife. The story of what happened sounded even more bizarre than it did when it first happened.
“You guys have a strange way of doing things in Group,” Faith’s wife observed.
“Tell me about it!” Faith agreed.
“So, are you going to take the job?”
“Yes; the more I think about it, the more excited I am. I’ll be out from under The Dud, I’ll still be in Group, and since I’ll be in command again, it’s more likely that I’ll be able to change some of the jacked up things I see in the intel community within Group. I think I’ll start with some really basic things: come to work on time, wear your uniform, salute when you’re supposed to, don’t leave big-ass safes standing in the hallways outside the SCIF, simple stuff like that.”
“You have a safe outside your SCIF?” Faith’s wife asked, concerned.
“Yeah, but it’s empty,” he replied, reassuringly.
“Well, we need another safe, if you’re not using that one in the hallway, do you think we could have it?”
“I don’t think it would be a problem, but no one knows the combo.”
“A lot of times, no one changes those combos from the default settings,” Faith’s wife informed him, “Have you tried the default?”
“I didn’t know there was one.”
Faith’s wife rolled her eyes. “And you call yourself an intel officer?” she asked, incredulously. She asked him to describe the safe, and then gave her husband the likely default combination for that make and model.
“Want me to send my NCOIC and a couple of guys over tomorrow morning with a hand truck?” his wife asked.
“No, let me find out who owns it first,” Faith replied, “and let me see if I can get it open. Supposedly it’s empty, but for all I know, there’s someone’s ear necklace left over from Viet Nam in that safe. Besides, if we can’t get it open, it’s of no use to you. I’ll give you a call tomorrow and if I can get the safe open, and no one wants to claim it or what’s in it, your guys can come get it.”
“Sounds like a plan,” his wife said.
The next morning, for the first time Faith felt good about going in to work. He hardly even noticed when he passed the same Soldier just outside the office, and again the Soldier didn’t salute. Faith was beginning to assume that SF NCOs simply didn’t have to salute non-SF officers. Or wear their headgear outdoors, either. Faith absently wondered why SF Soldiers went though so much trouble to earn the green beret, only to shun the opportunity to wear it. Maybe that was the point, though.
“Hey, YOU!” a voice thundered. It was so unexpected, that Faith stopped in his tracks. “Yes, YOU!”
Faith turned in the direction of the voice and saw Chief Michaels standing in the building’s loading dock, smoking a cigarette. He was looking in the direction of the Soldier who had just passed CPT Faith.
“Get over here!” Michaels shouted at the other Soldier. “You, don’t go anywhere,” Michaels said to Faith. Not knowing what else to do, Faith stood in place.
The loading dock where Michaels was standing was far enough away that Faith couldn’t make out everything that was being said, but it was obvious enough. When the Soldier first reached Michaels, he stood casually at first, and then snapped to a rigid position of parade rest
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After a few words from Michaels, the Soldier snatched his green beret from his cargo pocket and jerked it into place on his head. A few more harsh words from Michaels, and the Soldier was nodding vigorously. A few pokes in the chest later, the conversation was over. The Soldier turned in Faith’s direction, snapped to attention, and rendered a picture-perfect hand salute. Faith returned the salute, and the Soldier hurriedly left the area. As he walked away, Michaels pointed at Faith and then to the ground beside Michaels in what was clearly a “get your ass over here” gesture.
“Sir,” Michaels began, “when you walk past a violation of the standards, you create a new standard. Your whole life people are going to test you; that’s especially true when you’re a red hat living in a green hat world. When you, as an officer, allow Soldiers to choose what rules they are and are not allowed to follow, you risk the integrity of the entire organization. And I know that your old man would never have put up with what just happened.”
“More importantly,” he continued, “When you don’t uphold the basics, you make more work for people like me. And if there is one thing that warrant officers hate more than anything,” he added, grinning again, “it is work.”
“I understand, Chief,” Faith responded.
Chief Michaels shifted his cigarette from his right hand to his left, snapped to attention and saluted smartly. “Have a good day sir.”
“You too, Chief,” Faith responded, returning the salute.
Faith knew that that he had just been on the receiving end of some “tough love,” but he found himself admiring Chief Michaels the more for it. He resolved right then that he would never walk past something that needed to be corrected ever again.
Entering his office, he saw a piece of paper on his desk that hadn’t been there when he left the day before. “I really need to start locking this place up,” he said to himself, irritated that someone had again entered his office without permission. Looking at the paper, he saw it was official orders appointing him as the commander, military intelligence detachment, 2nd Special Forces Group.
“Well, I guess it’s official,” Faith said, out loud.
“Yeah, look,” Mike stated, “I’m really sorry man, but the 1st of the 1st thing isn’t going to work out. Apparently you were right; there must be some residual bad blood down there because they said they’d rather have someone else.”
Faith laughed, this certainly made his decision-making easier. “It’s all good brother, it looks like something else may have fallen into my lap here at Group.”
“Really? I’m glad to hear that,” Mike said, sounding relieved.
Later that evening, Faith recounted the day’s events to his wife. The story of what happened sounded even more bizarre than it did when it first happened.
“You guys have a strange way of doing things in Group,” Faith’s wife observed.
“Tell me about it!” Faith agreed.
“So, are you going to take the job?”
“Yes; the more I think about it, the more excited I am. I’ll be out from under The Dud, I’ll still be in Group, and since I’ll be in command again, it’s more likely that I’ll be able to change some of the jacked up things I see in the intel community within Group. I think I’ll start with some really basic things: come to work on time, wear your uniform, salute when you’re supposed to, don’t leave big-ass safes standing in the hallways outside the SCIF, simple stuff like that.”
“You have a safe outside your SCIF?” Faith’s wife asked, concerned.
“Yeah, but it’s empty,” he replied, reassuringly.
“Well, we need another safe, if you’re not using that one in the hallway, do you think we could have it?”
“I don’t think it would be a problem, but no one knows the combo.”
“A lot of times, no one changes those combos from the default settings,” Faith’s wife informed him, “Have you tried the default?”
“I didn’t know there was one.”
Faith’s wife rolled her eyes. “And you call yourself an intel officer?” she asked, incredulously. She asked him to describe the safe, and then gave her husband the likely default combination for that make and model.
“Want me to send my NCOIC and a couple of guys over tomorrow morning with a hand truck?” his wife asked.
“No, let me find out who owns it first,” Faith replied, “and let me see if I can get it open. Supposedly it’s empty, but for all I know, there’s someone’s ear necklace left over from Viet Nam in that safe. Besides, if we can’t get it open, it’s of no use to you. I’ll give you a call tomorrow and if I can get the safe open, and no one wants to claim it or what’s in it, your guys can come get it.”
“Sounds like a plan,” his wife said.
The next morning, for the first time Faith felt good about going in to work. He hardly even noticed when he passed the same Soldier just outside the office, and again the Soldier didn’t salute. Faith was beginning to assume that SF NCOs simply didn’t have to salute non-SF officers. Or wear their headgear outdoors, either. Faith absently wondered why SF Soldiers went though so much trouble to earn the green beret, only to shun the opportunity to wear it. Maybe that was the point, though.
“Hey, YOU!” a voice thundered. It was so unexpected, that Faith stopped in his tracks. “Yes, YOU!”
Faith turned in the direction of the voice and saw Chief Michaels standing in the building’s loading dock, smoking a cigarette. He was looking in the direction of the Soldier who had just passed CPT Faith.
“Get over here!” Michaels shouted at the other Soldier. “You, don’t go anywhere,” Michaels said to Faith. Not knowing what else to do, Faith stood in place.
The loading dock where Michaels was standing was far enough away that Faith couldn’t make out everything that was being said, but it was obvious enough. When the Soldier first reached Michaels, he stood casually at first, and then snapped to a rigid position of parade rest
![paraderest-1.png](/proxy.php?image=http%3A%2F%2Fi1106.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fh375%2F67Shelbygal%2Fparaderest-1.png&hash=1879ef177dd0a4d7baf7f3c504672fe8)
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After a few words from Michaels, the Soldier snatched his green beret from his cargo pocket and jerked it into place on his head. A few more harsh words from Michaels, and the Soldier was nodding vigorously. A few pokes in the chest later, the conversation was over. The Soldier turned in Faith’s direction, snapped to attention, and rendered a picture-perfect hand salute. Faith returned the salute, and the Soldier hurriedly left the area. As he walked away, Michaels pointed at Faith and then to the ground beside Michaels in what was clearly a “get your ass over here” gesture.
“Sir,” Michaels began, “when you walk past a violation of the standards, you create a new standard. Your whole life people are going to test you; that’s especially true when you’re a red hat living in a green hat world. When you, as an officer, allow Soldiers to choose what rules they are and are not allowed to follow, you risk the integrity of the entire organization. And I know that your old man would never have put up with what just happened.”
“More importantly,” he continued, “When you don’t uphold the basics, you make more work for people like me. And if there is one thing that warrant officers hate more than anything,” he added, grinning again, “it is work.”
“I understand, Chief,” Faith responded.
Chief Michaels shifted his cigarette from his right hand to his left, snapped to attention and saluted smartly. “Have a good day sir.”
“You too, Chief,” Faith responded, returning the salute.
Faith knew that that he had just been on the receiving end of some “tough love,” but he found himself admiring Chief Michaels the more for it. He resolved right then that he would never walk past something that needed to be corrected ever again.
Entering his office, he saw a piece of paper on his desk that hadn’t been there when he left the day before. “I really need to start locking this place up,” he said to himself, irritated that someone had again entered his office without permission. Looking at the paper, he saw it was official orders appointing him as the commander, military intelligence detachment, 2nd Special Forces Group.
“Well, I guess it’s official,” Faith said, out loud.