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I was back from a year of flying helicopters in Vietnam. The Army gave me a make-work commo officer job at Ft. Riley, Kansas, a base over-crowded with dejected Vietnam returnees. I hated it there, where they said “Custer told us not to change a thing until he gets back.” I was angry and disillusioned and clueless about where my life was headed.

A major called out to me in a hallway. “Captain, you’re going to be the notification officer next month.”

“Sir, does that mean what I think it means?” I asked. He was an old major, a mustang combat vet in his last duty station. He wasn’t a bad guy and we had been working in the same battalion for several months without incident. Of course, he hated me on general principles for being an aviator. I hated him for not being one.

“You’ll be on call for a month. When a new killed-in-action report comes in you’ll visit the family with the chaplain and you’ll give the official first notice.”

“No sir, I won’t do that.” Was that really my voice?

He looked surprised. Likely no young captain had ever told him that he wouldn’t obey an order. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Do you understand that this is not a discussion, it’s an order?”

“Yes sir” I replied. “I understand. I won’t do that job.”

“I can take this to the battalion CO if you want.” That was a profoundly underwhelming threat. I didn’t care, period, and I wasn’t going to do that job.

He brought out the heavy artillery. “I can court-martial you for this.”

“Yes sir, I know. You’ll do what you have to do but that won’t change my decision. I will not, under any circumstances, be the notification officer.”

The real reason was that I couldn’t bear the thought of inflicting that kind of pain on the good family of a good soldier. I was still raw from the war. I didn’t want to live the back end of events that I had witnessed in Vietnam. My emotions scared me and brought back ugly memories.

I had unintentionally created a real problem for the major. He could, indeed, take this to the CO. He could certainly bring court-martial charges against me, charges against which there could be no defense. If he did, though, it would also bring to light his inability to control an officer, namely me, under his command.

“We’ll talk about this later”, he said. In the Army that translates to “I’m going to give you some time to consider the error of your ways before I decide on your punishment.”

We did talk again a few days later but there was nothing for me to reconsider. My mind was made up; I wouldn’t carry out his order. I understood that I would be punished and I would accept whatever punishment he and the CO deemed appropriate. It would surely be a court-martial. That kind of insubordination must have serious consequences.

He surprised me by asking “Can we reach a compromise?” Compromise is not the Army way. “What kind of compromise?” I asked.

“We need a presentation officer for the rest of the month and there are no presentations scheduled. If you’ll take the job we’ll forget about your other problem.”

A presentation officer (PO) visits the family of a killed-in-action soldier. He delivers whatever medals and awards the soldier had earned and expresses, once again, the regrets and condolences of the Army. It’s not as bad as being a notification officer, not quite.

There were only a few days left in the month and the major, after all, had said there was nothing scheduled. It looked like I might skate on this yet. It didn’t take me long. “OK, sir, you’ve got a deal.”

I had forgotten that the Army is a scorpion with a vicious sting. The next day an order came down. I was to make a presentation in three days to a family in southwest Kansas. My first urge was to refuse that order too, but I had made a deal. I was honor-bound to carry out my part of it regardless of the behavior of the other side. Honor has its own sting.

The newly-grieving family deserved more than the Army offered in the way of condolences and they deserved someone better than me to deliver them. I was terrified but I didn’t yet know how bad it was going to be.

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I think there's going to be a Part 2. I've written a couple of pages already. It will be a lot longer story that I originally anticipated. I read it in class last night, our last writing class of the winter quarter, and it was well received.

Thank you Dad. I know sharing any part of your time in service has taken you a long time. It is personal and private. This was well written and I enjoyed getting to know that part of you a little better. I too like Lisa want to read part two. So I hope you decide to share it with us all.
I find it so curious how much a like Rob and you are. Not just in personality but in service to your country as well. Rob had been chosen to be the notification SSGT for Dessert Storm. He knew it would be difficult but was prepared to do his duty as unlike you he was not coming back from war this time this would be part of his service. At the last minute on his way to Dover AFB his orders were changed and he ended up pulling Morgue Duty. It was a horrific tour for him. He has been able to share most of it with me. Coming home from that tour changed him like nothing else ever has. Not any war he's served in, not even Hurricane Katrina. It changed his heart and his mind as I am sure only another soldier or vet could ever understand. Again thank you for sharing I look forward to reading more.
I read this the day you posted it. I was profoundly moved. I was waiting for inspiration on something to say. I am still looking for words.

Theologians describe hell as: the place of punishment for the damned, be they demons or men

I have no idea why we humans have to spend time there while we are alive. And why would good people be damned to such a place. But, my friend, you lived there. I am sorry for that.

The hero of this story is full of character and honor. He has my admiration and respect.

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