Private Shmedlapp
by CaptainPig
Copyright© 2023 by CaptainPig
True Story: Why Platoon Sergeants have no hair.
Tags: Military
In June of 1980, I was promoted to Staff Sergeant, which changed my MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) from 45N Organizational Tank Turret Mechanic (M60s) to 45K Support Maintenance Armament Sergeant.
Two weeks later I was on my way to Germany for my second peacetime overseas tour. The change in MOS had me going from Armor and Cavalry units (Garry Owen! The Seventh First!) to a support maintenance unit, and what a culture shock that was. I will not identify the unit or the post in order to protect the innocent. And the guilty. And me.
I arrived on a Sunday and they found me a temporary bunk in the barracks. Monday morning I fell out for PT and was shocked to see everyone dressed in random sweats or shorts and tee shirts and wearing running shoes. No one matched anyone else, not even the officers or NCOs. I was in fatigues and combat boots just like I was used to. First shock.
My new company commander didn’t know what to do with me so he made me the training NCO and also the Headquarters Platoon Sergeant. All of a sudden, I went from running a 4 man maintenance section to in charge of an 85 man platoon with 5 Sergeants First Class and 8 Staff Sergeants, all senior in rank to me, but answering to me. Second shock.
I also ended up in charge of all training records and training scheduling for a 190 man company. That turning out to be a full time job in itself for the first six months until I got things straightened out after years of shoddy or non-existent record keeping. But that’s another story.
Three months in and I was starting to get a handle on things when HE showed up. Private Shmedlapp (and yes, that really was his name). He fell out for work call wearing fatigue trousers, a zippered hoodie and combat boots with no laces. No hat, no field jacket, no fatigue shirt, no dog tags. Not even skivvies or socks. He had managed to lose his duffle bag and all of his uniforms while in transit and had borrowed everything he was wearing from others in his squad. After explaining to his squad leader that I was not amused, I sent the pair to the clothing sales store to get him squared away.
Problem solved.
I thought.
Nope.
Shmedlapp had to be the worst and unluckiest soldier since Sad Sack. First, he fell into the sump in the oil change pit. Never mind that the oil change pit was covered with wooden boards and there was a steel grate over the sump. He managed.
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