40 Weight

Oily Green

First, some splainin’.

I haven’t thought about 40 Weight in years. We called him 40 Weight (40W) because he was always soaked head to toe in oil. He said it was because of the job he did. He worked on our tactical power generators at our radar site in Korea. He was let’s just say a little challenged in some areas involving personal hygiene. I was his barracks sergeant. Actually I was a Specialist 5th Class (SP5) but they hadn’t had any luck with actual sergeants in dealing with this barracks so I was picked. I wasn't a hard stripe sergeant until I was a Drill Sergeant but that was a while away.

Because we had multiple shift workers due to our 24/7 manning (I was at a HAWK missile battalion in Korea.) we would have barracks inspections without everybody being present. They would even let shift workers sleep that were in the barracks. Our First Sergeant would show up unannounced, grab me whether I was asleep or not and we’d do an inspection. He would have me open wall lockers as we went around. (Yes, I could open a locked wall locker.) Things were really going pretty good until we got to 40W’s locker. He was up on the hill working his shift. I popped his locker open. There on the shelf at the top sat a malted milk cup that came from the snack bar.

The First Sergeant said, “What’s that, Specialist?”

“It looks like a milk shake, First Sergeant.”

“Get it down.”

I should mention here that he was not happy in his tone. I retrieved the offending cup and we looked at it. It was old, separated, and warm. Looked pretty nasty. He asked me whose locker we were looking at. I told him. He said, “Get him.”

Now he also conveyed to me that he didn’t want me to go get him. Me, he wanted to talk with. I went and roused a guy to run up to the tac site and get 40W immediately. I told him to NOT come back without him. He could see the First Sergeant standing at the other end hands behind his back rocking back and forth on his heels, seething. First Sergeants are never more than a few seconds away from seething on a good day. This wasn’t a good day. Even running we were talking twenty minutes before they got back unless a jeep happened to be there.

There was no Jeep.

I went back to the First Sergeant. There isn’t a pretty way to say this but in essence I received as it turned out a 25 minute ass ripping. I think that’s why to this very day I have no ass. Personally I think that he was a little redundant and repetitive at times. He made up for it in colorful commentary bordering on eloquence at times. He did not talk about my mom.

40W showed up just in time. The First Sergeant was starting to drift towards physicality. He ran up to us and said, “Yes, First Sergeant!” Always a good way to start a conversation.

The First Sergeant grabbed the cup out of my hand, stuck it right under 40 Weight’s nose, and said, “What is this?”

40W stated the correct answer, “A malt.”

This as it turned out was in fact not the correct answer and did 40W think that he was stupid? He didn’t. The question really was what was it doing there?

“I was saving it for later, First Sergeant.”

“To drink?!”

I have to tell you that 40Ws answer probably saved him. The First Sergeant actually got a little pale at that answer and he was a black guy. The First Sergeant and I both leaned and looked at the contents of the cup. Then we looked at each other. Then he looked at 40W and asked, “To drink it?”

“Yes. I do it all the time.”

The First Sergeant looked at me and just shook his head. I was really praying that he wouldn’t ask him to drink it. I just didn’t want to watch that. The First Sergeant handed the cup back to me and said, “As you were, sergeant.” He knew my rank. I believe that he recognized what I was up against. He didn’t go any further. He did stop at the door, turn back to look at us and shake his head again. Kind of a sad shake.

Now at no point during my truly awe inspiring and monumental ass ripping did I make any excuses or point at anyone else. Know why? I was in charge and that’s the way it works. Making excuses or laying it off on others would have only made it worse for me. I knew the job I was assigned to do. It was my responsibility. Period.

It was at the beginning of my first month as barracks sergeant. We took first barracks at the end of the month. There were a couple of fights. Weapons were involved in one. Fortunately they were resolved successfully without serious injury otherwise I would have got to talk with the First Sergeant again.

There wasn't any ass left for him to chew on.