Bus Stop

          It's hard to explain to people why staying in the Army is ever a good decision.  Of course it’s easy to explain why it’s not. I can give you five or six reasons before you can say “stop loss”.  My justifications would range from absolutely heart-breaking to the completely trivial.

           I won’t bore you with those.  However, I saw something this morning that reminded me of what I do enjoy about the Army, amidst what Soldiers simply refer to as “all the bullshit”. 

          There’s a bus system here on the forward operating base (FOB).  All the big FOBs have them.  Ours is terrible.  Normally, two buses sharing the same route end up 100 feet from each other and stay that way for an entire shift.  I’m not sure how this happens so often or why no one can seem to fix it.  Cities across America have mass transit consisting of thousands of buses, bus stops, traffic lights, and passengers, and they have somehow managed to create a schedule to keep it all on track.  Our FOB has two buses driving in a two-mile circle and somehow they manage to bunch up EVERY SINGLE DAY.  Thanks, KBR, for another wonderful use of my tax dollars! 

          But, hey, it beats walking.  When I got off at my stop this morning, a Private saluted me immediately.  I thought he was getting on as I got off but instead he stood there at the position of attention and addressed me with the appropriate greeting.  “Good Morning, Sir,” he said.               

          “What’s Happenin’?” That is my customary greeting, although decidedly inappropriate.  

          “Sir, do not forget your ID card on the bus.” 

          “Ok, I won’t.  Good lookin’ out, man.”  I was confused. 

          “Or what?”  A second voice came from behind the soldier.  A Staff Sergeant; I hadn’t noticed him at first.  He was clearly the private’s squad leader.  

          “Or you will have to stand here, and remind people about their ID cards for a week,” said the soldier, a touch robotically. 

          “Ok, good tip.  Thanks a lot,” I read his name tag, “Private Johnson.” 

           “You’re welcome, sir.” 

          I walked the rest of the way to work smiling and thinking about what I had just been made a part of.  We call it “corrective training”.  It’s a disciplinary action that is meant to reinforce good habits in a Soldier when he has committed some sort of offense.  The days of hazing and arbitrary harassment are long over.  Today, punishment does not have to necessarily fit the crime, but it must somehow be related to the crime.  So if you forget to shave, you might wear your razor tied to your wrist, or if you don’t get to formation on time, you might spend all day on the parade field shouting out the time of day and using your arms as a human clock.  In this particular case, the kid obviously left his ID card on the bus and was now being correctively trained in order to keep such a fate from befalling him or any other passenger ever again.  It’s well within the regulation and while it may seem harsh, it was refreshing to see that his squad leader, who had no doubt come up with the idea himself, was sharing in this exercise, disregarding his personal agenda, and not asking a soldier to do what he would not be willing to do himself.  

          Ok, it might sound like I’m going all Toby Keith on you here, but I’m really proud to be in an organization that does stuff like this.   As a civilian I would have loved to see some of my fellow employees held to the fire after making the same bonehead mistake twice.  And I would have respected any supervisor who would care about me enough to pull no punches, and share in my misery as I learned a lesson. 

          In the Army, stories are more important than medals.   And this private may not stay in for a career, but he won’t soon forget this experience and will tell his friends and family about it someday.  He’ll remember his squad leader’s name, the bus stop where he was standing and the way he felt as he reminded hundreds of people to double-check their ID cards.  If we’re lucky, soldiers like him will stick around long enough to carry on these time-honored leadership techniques in an organization that thrives on them.

          I got off the bus again the next day and there he was.  I greeted him with a smile this time and called him by name. 

          “Good morning, sir.  Do not forget your ID card on the bus or you will have to stand here, and remind people about their ID cards for a week.” 

          “That’s some fine information, Johnson.  I appreciate it.  How much longer you gonna be out here?” 

          He glanced sheepishly at his squad leader, standing stone-faced nearby.  He dropped his salute and told me sadly, “four more days, sir.” 

          “Well,” I smiled, “See ya tomorrow.”