How does one get his birthday back?

One of the things that has created a sore point for people in my family since the early 70s is my birthday. People try to celebrate it only to find I haven't had one since I was in the army.

My First Sergeant took it away from me because some idiot major with nothing to do wrote me up for having my hands in my pockets. At the time I was caught with my hands in my pockets I was at a vending machine fishing for a quarter to buy a coke with.

Of all of the officer ranks I had to deal with, majors seemed to be the biggest pains in the ass. Likely because they were not captains anymore and couldn't run company sized units. They were not lieutenant colonels, either and hence there were no battalions for them to run.

Majors seemed to be people with nothing to do unless they were lucky enough to be battalion XOs.

I wasn't the first one in the battery to get written up for this dastardly deed, nor was I the last. I suppose most of the people that were nailed for this criminal act were guilty because they were diddly-boppin' along.

My case was legit. I was fishing for a quarter.

I got hauled into Top's office and asked what getting popped by the major was all about. I told him the truth that it was a case of the major being chicken$hit and pulling a cheap shot by hanging out at a vending machine.

I think he was getting ready to rant and rave at me until he heard my side of the story. When my platoon leader came in and backed me up. Top grew a lot softer. He knew that the charges were bogus and although he could be a pretty tough cookie, he was fair.

He also respected my platoon leader, a second lieutenant, which was rare for an senior NCO. Second lieutenants are generally fresh out of school and inexperienced. My platoon leader was an exception. I often saw the lieutenant and Top eating lunch together in the officer/NCO section of the mess hall.

"OK," he said. "I have to do something about this to keep battalion off my back."

"Hell, First Sergeant, just tell them you took away my birthday," I said. He turned at me for a second and glared.

My platoon leader, a second lieutenant, grinned. "First sergeants can do anything, Top. I'd love to see how you can take this man's birthday away." 

"You're no help, Sir!" snapped the old First soldier to the young lieutenant. There was no rancor in it. After he said that he grinned. Top then turned to me.

"When's your bitrhday?" he snapped.

He grabbed a bottle of white-out off of the clerk's desk, went to the calendar and lifted the month-pages until he got to November and whited the 12th out.

"That, Lieutenant,is how you take a man's birthday from him!"

The lieutenant chuckled. I was smart enough not to. I figured there was more to come. Top looked at me. "Dismissed!"

I popped to parade rest, relaxed and started to leave.

"Pic," said Top in a kind tone. I turned.

"I'll take care of this." he said. ''You didn't do anything wrong. Just keep your eyes open the next time you want to get a coke."

If I am not mistaken that was supposed to have been my 22nd birthday and I have stayed 21 years old since.

As I write this I just had a thought. I am still 21 years old because I haven't been able to have birthdays since then yet I am nearing retirement.

I wonder how I am going to explain this to the social security people?

Maybe I'll write the army to see if I can have my birthday given back to me. Maybe there is a form I can fill out.

Hmmm. I wonder if the Sergeant Major of the Army can help me out.






To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: http://piccoloshash.blogspot.com/2009/12/my-feminine-side-blog-stays-pink.html NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY