Name, Rank & Serial #
One of the first things we were told upon entry into the folds of military service was that we were not to make any decisions. Our every move belonged to them; especially during basic training. We were told when to go to bed; when to get up; when to eat; what to wear; etc.
There was a long list of things that we were expected to memorize; among them, our own personal serial number and our weapon number; To emphasize the importance of keeping our individual weapon in top-notch shape, it was constantly drilled into our heads that if we inadvertently dropped it; we would be required to sleep with it in the tiny G.I. cot for several nights.
Part of our training included instruction as to the proper behavior while on Guard Duty. Every guard was required to memorize the list of General Orders, and recite them, word for word, at any time a superior officer approached and asked for any or all of them.
After better than sixty years since I was asked to recite one of the orders, the only one that comes to mind is the first. “To walk my post in a military manner; keeping always on the alert for anything within sight or hearing.” To assure that we remembered, an officer or non-commissioned officer would occasionally ask; “Soldier, what are your first and forth General Orders?”
Another item that was stressed throughout the entire eight weeks of basic training was that: In the unlikely event that we would be captured by an enemy, it was extremely important to reveal NOTHING but our Name, Rank, and Serial Number. This was even mandated by The Geneva Convention. The mandate was supposedly a memorandum directed to include both Friend and Foe.
Most of the instructions heaped upon me, by the military, has been forgotten over the many years since I was a raw recruit; but the latter mandate is still clear in my mind, even down to the serial number. There have been incidents when parts of my training have helped stabilize my commitment to my child-bride of fifty-seven years.
One event that I’ve never forgotten came in the early years of our marriage. Like most young couples, we were faced with ‘too much month at the end of the money.’ On one particular payday (a Friday), I did not get to the bank before it closed to deposit my pay check. I asked the cashier at the office to cash my check.
That evening, we were invited to a cook-out at our friends’ home. While we were eating, my friend and I began to compare notes as to whom was the more wealthy. My friend began citing all the property he had acquired that he claimed was, worth a fortune.
Not to be outdone, and since my wallet was stuffed with small bills from my tiny paycheck, I displayed it to the awe and admiration of my audience. That is; with the exception of my wife who became quite pale and asked, “Did you go to the bank?” She then added, “I wrote checks for all of the utilities yesterday/”
Tearfully, she asked in a quivering voice; “What can you say in your defense; and it better be GOOD!”
Calling on all my military training, I stood at attention, saluted, and replied—.
“DEMIJON: SERGEANT: RA-14-360-609 !”
Enough said. Compassionate soul that she is; she spoke to me, without ‘Malice Aforethought,’ several days after paying the overdraft fee. Dj.
