A fine balance
The other night I went to bed pretty early, say nine-thirty or so. At about quarter to eleven I was awakened by a hammering sound in the next tent. I'll be honest, I was annoyed. I realize I am not in the suburbs right now, but come on. So, "Bang, Bang, Bang!" On it went. And I will be honest about this too, having a friend killed doesn't leave you feeling your most chipper. So I made a calculated decision. What were the chances that the person making the noise was a Major or higher? Less than one in a hundred.
So I yelled over through the tent canvas, "Hey! Howz about doing that shit during the daytime?!"
And the response I received back amounted to a serious miscalculation by the sender. "Some of us 'work' during the daytime!"
Now, to the layperson, or actually the civilian, this may seem to be nothing more than a meaningless exchange of words between two idiots. Perhaps. But to anyone who has ever been in the military, let alone in a line unit in a forward area, this was potentially a big mistake on this guy's part. And as it turned out, given my mental state, it was.
It was probably about 15 or 20 seconds later that I found myself standing over two enlisted guys, crouched down, hammers in hand, over some amateur construction project. One was a sergeant who I knew, if only vaguely. The other was young. That's all I noticed.
I do not remember what I said first, only that they looked surprised and a little scared. I know I asked when they went on and off their shifts and I said okay when he asked if they could start at zero-seven-thirty. But it was the exchange that occurred as I was almost turning to go that I distinctly remember. Turning to the one I knew I said, "I don't know which one of you made that comment but 'you' know there are three Captains in that tent! Are you crazy?! Are you fuck'n trying to piss me off?!"
"No sir! No sir, I wasn't!" he quickly replied, seemingly taken aback by my sudden escalation.
"I mean, are you trying to make me angry?!"
"No sir. No, I wasn't!" he pleaded.
I became aware that my body language had become something akin to what professional wrestlers try to emulate for theatrics, except my eyes ruled out any doubt of sincerity. They looked scared. I turned and left their tent.
Now I was not proud of myself for this and I knew that my reaction was charged by the emotions I had regarding my friend being killed. I do not take pleasure in this sort of thing, although many in the army do. I am supposed to be a counselor for these guys for crying out loud. But I am also a Captain. It can be a blurred distinction at times. But he forced my hand with his comment and he knew it when I called him on it.
