Comments for Explaining the Poseur Brigadier

Explaining the Poseur Brigadier

2010-01-21T13:02:56Z

I had an epiphany.

We need to back off on this guy. He was just trying to make an honest buck to cover his bar tab.

Put those ropes down and lemme 'splain. Anyway - ya wanna lynch somebody, lynch Frank - he's the one who made it clear to me when he said "I thought he was just the doorman?" in the comments to the post. It reminded me of an applicable TINS.

Back before the Auld Soldier retired, he was the Professor of Military Science at the University of Missouri. Mizzou is one of those relatively few schools that have detachments from all three ROTC programs, Army, Navy, and Air Force. One of the things that ROTC detachments are responsible for doing is preparing their charges for their military responsibilities - and this included (at least it did back then) the social niceties, so as not to embarrass the Service when we were let out in public.

Back in the late 70's and through the early 80's, before the pencil-necked, sunken-chested, marathon running buzzkill geek generals destroyed the club system, it was useful to know your salad fork from your dessert fork, lest you embarrass yourself at a fancy dinner in front of a barrel-chested, hard-drinking. cigar-chomping stone-cold killer of a General who would impale you publicly (assuming your brother and sister officers didn't get to you first). Y'know, Creighton Abrams, vice, oh, Wesley Clark. The Clark's would just smile and kill you professionally with a knife to your back via your efficiency report. Oh, don't hate him, he can't help it. He's like the scorpion of fable.

Anyway, to effect this training, we had the Tri-Service Dining Out.

This would be vice a Dining-in. The difference? At a dining-in, it's service-members only, usually within the unit, but fellow warriors from sister units could also be invited. They usually came with Traditions, most of which were some form of frat-style, drinking game hazing. In the 1st Herd of the 22nd Regiment of Artillery of the Field, it was drinking the hands-free "Nikolashka." A dining-out is a more genteel affair, still oh-so-formal with Mess Dress or Blues, but where you would invite Outsiders, like spouses, politicians, and other exotica. Usually dining-outs don't conclude with "carrier landings" or PLF contests, but rather with dancing. Sometimes that could get, um, well, hot, but not usually like this.

Anyway, the Tri-Service Dining Out would be held in the spring, before graduation. Many, if not all, the seniors-about-to-be-commissioned cadets and midshipmen would own a dress uniform by then, and the faculty would usually go full-goose bozo and wear their Mess Dress with miniature medals and such. The last dining-out before the Auld Soldier's retirement was held at the local Hilton. The Auld Soldier, a Colonel with two wars and lots of danglies, was wearing his Mess Dress with all the trimmings. He opened the door for my mother, who was stuck doing her wifely duty, and then held it for another couple who had just un-assed from a limo.

As they went through the door, the gentleman pressed a twenty dollar bill into the Auld Soldier's hand and said, "Thank you, my good man."

The Auld Soldier nodded politely, said, "Thank YOU, sir" and used the money for his bar tab.

That's class. And classic.

Comment from John of Argghhh! on 2010-01-23

2010-01-23T13:13:59Z

Actually, Rivrdog, the Hinkson flows unvexed to the Missouri... I would have thought, back in the day, that the posh hotel for Columbia would have been the Tiger Hotel downtown.

And yes, Columbia has changed a lot since you were in college and I was in kindergarten. And 61-63, Dad would have been on the faculty.

Comment from Rivrdog on 2010-01-23

2010-01-23T06:06:22Z

Wow! Who'd a thunk it. A hotel in Columbia, MO where folks would actually think that there was a DOORMAN? My, how THAT burg changed.

When i went to Mizzou (and probably studied Army ROTC under your Dad) in '61-'63, the fanciest hotel in town was the Holiday Inn. I was an underclassman then, my frosh and soph years, and we didn't do Dining Ins or Outs. I saved that for my USAF experience 4 years later. Besides, I was GDI, not Greek, and had my own social life, which I tried to cram in after the varsity Rifle Team, and oh yes, classes.

That means that Columbia must be very cosmopolitan nowadays, and Hinkson Creek probably flows through a culvert...

Comment from Carol Kirk on 2010-01-22

2010-01-23T02:27:32Z

Oh Gawd, I remember Nickolashkas. I was introduced to them while dining with the officers of the 1st Australian Field Force. The General was quite insistent I join them in that quaint native custom. And all I could think of was how I was going to explain the burns to my Chief Nurse when I got back from that very illegal venture into indian country.

Comment from Walter M. Clark on 2010-01-21

2010-01-22T04:40:59Z

I spent most of my 24 years in an Army Reserve Civil Affairs unit, slightly larger than a Company but commanded by a Lt. Colonel and about a quarter of the unit members were officers. Being reservists we were mostly on a friendly basis, no matter whether you were a PFC and were working with a Major. When we did our two week active duty on a regular Army post it was really fun to be walking somewhere with, say, a Major and a 2LT, me being a Sergeant, and approaching a small group of regular Army troops. Everyone spent a very long time (couple of seconds) figuring out who out-ranked who and who needed to salute who. The regular Army troops usually figured the old rule from Basic Training - if it moves, salute it - was the safest.

Comment from Cricket on 2010-01-21

2010-01-22T02:04:09Z

Ah...nothing like reading the TINS aloud to the Engineer, the Young Man and the CLUs. We gather of an evening every now and then, and share these stories. Sort of like an online version of 'The Waltons'.

Comment from Grimmy on 2010-01-21

2010-01-22T00:29:31Z

My own personal horror story of uniform foh pawing occured at Camp Walker in Korea.

There I was, a Sgt of Marines, with my Marines in tow, looking for a bank or other instution that could cash their checks so my boyos could get paid.

I'm walking down a road on this Army base and, in normal USMC custom, swinging my arm up in a hand salute at everything that comes into view with shiny crap on their uniform collars.

While doing this, I'm thinking to myself "hell, is everyone in the US Army an officer? And why are these officers so damn young?"

Comment from threadbndr on 2010-01-21

2010-01-21T23:51:05Z

The total uniform confusion thing doesn't only happen with the big boys.

Case in point. My FIL's funeral at Fort Riley. OUR Old Soldier requested to be laid to rest on post and with the full honors. He was estranged from his birth family and to him the Army WAS his family and had been since he was 17 so he wanted to lie with them.

So my hubby is there in KS Hiway Patrol dress uniform and my son in his cadet dress blues per his grandmother's request.    It so happened that the honor guard we drew were mostly so new they squeeked.   Seriously.   I don't think there was an E-3 or up among them other than the Sgt in charge.

After it was all over, JC went over to give them the family thanks, and it was funny to see them try to figure out if they needed to salute him or not. All they could see was the blood stripes and the cover, so I do understand their confusion until they saw the JROTC patches.

Re that day - I held it together for the sake of my MIL until JC came to attention at Taps, saluting his grandfather's coffin.   Grapefruit in throat time.    Of course, I knew by that point that the cadet uniform would be giving way to the real thing within the year.

Comment from lvncenturion on 2010-01-21

2010-01-21T22:42:07Z

When I was commanding a battalion of infantry, we were invited to march in the Armed Forces Day parade in the City of Chicago. Actually, this came down as a tasker from Division, but I accepted in hopes that the troops would get a little R&R out of it. They did, in spades. A trip to a Cubs game, a picnic with kegs and a live band at the McCormick estate, and turned loose on the town with a full escort by the Chicago police force to make sure that got to the right bars and that no one screwed with them.

While the troops were on the town, I was summoned to the Mayors Armed Forces Ball and attended with LTG Rick Brown, the 5th Army Commander. We were attired in Mess Jackets and had just handed our empty cocktails to a waiter who was off fetching a refill when we were approached by one of Chicago's dowager elites. Her drink was likewise empty, and she gave quite clear instructions to LTG Brown on how she expected her drink to be prepared. He listened carefully and hustled away to answer her wishes. I then explained to this diamond bedecked lady who her waiter for the evening was. Priceless.

Comment from Martin Morehouse on 2010-01-21

2010-01-21T21:25:08Z

The first time I saw the new class A shirt from the seventies, with epaulets, I thought the captain wearing it was Belgian.

Comment from Cricket on 2010-01-21

2010-01-21T19:36:09Z

That is a great story. I was so ignorant of Army Stuff that my dad had to 'splain things to me. He had a chart in his office (I have since commandeered same) that showed the ranks of all the services (both enlisted and officer as well as which ones were company, field, and general and warrants), and had me memorize it so I would not embarrass myself nor the Uniformed One. This was important; sometimes we were the exotica at Family Events and other gatherings.

Comment from fdcol63 on 2010-01-21

2010-01-21T18:50:57Z

LOL - great story!

Comment from WereKitten on 2010-01-21

2010-01-21T18:35:18Z

dang it.
I used to be "other exotica" also... but alas... I am "just" a spouse now.

*sigh*

Comment from MikeD on 2010-01-21

2010-01-21T17:40:48Z

When I was at DLI in 92-94, there were two Brits on post. One an officer, the other a CPO of some manner. The problem was, while it was tough telling a US naval officer from CPO in khakis (look for a shiney on BOTH sides of the pisscutter before saluting), it was damned impossible to tell with out friendly Brits. Many's a time when I saluted the enlisted Brit. He'd smile, return the salute and explain he was not an officer. Good guy.

Comment from BloodSpite on 2010-01-21

2010-01-21T16:46:22Z

As a youngman freshly entered in to the Army, barely a E-2 (I had enlisted as E-1) I had little no knowledge of other military uniforms, save the US Navy primarily due to my fathers time in service.

Even with that my exposure to Marines was minimal.

My father had served on the USS Midway as a Aviation Ordanace Chief to the F-4's (he later became a instructor on the F-4 Weapons systems)

As such he was invited in the mid 1990's to her ceremony for retirement
While visiting "officers country" and myself having accompanied my father in civlian clothes, I observed a well dress fellow standing by. I recall my father making several remarks when i was younger of there being "coffee stewards" in "Admiral country" on aircraft carriers.

So I inquired of the gentlemen if he could aquire me a cup of black coffee.

What he failed to tell me were those "coffee stewards" were US Marines. And my misofrtune continued as this one was an officer of what rank I have since forgotten.

I'm not sure who was more embarrassed or who laughed the hardest. Myself, my father, or the Marine.

Comment from John of Argghhh! on 2010-01-21

2010-01-21T16:29:54Z

Well, perhaps if he'd been wearing the prescribed uniform, vice the proscribed, she wouldn't have snarked him!

;^ )

Comment from SGT B on 2010-01-21

2010-01-21T16:13:07Z

Back in "The Day", when my Pappy was still serving in the United States Navy, he was assigned to the Department of the Army Material Readiness Command as a liaison officer for procurement of ammunition for the Unites States Navy and Marine Corps. As such, he was the only Sailor amongst a whole passel of Army officers.
Which opened a rather large barrel of well-meaning faux pas and opportunities for levity...
On his first day, he arrives in the Proscribed Uniform of the Day: Winter Blues (him with four gold stripes atop a gold star upon his great coat epaulets, and the same on the sleeves of his blouse.)
He entered the place, and then into the elevator. His fellow passenger, a young secretarial lass of tender years and high energy, looked him up and down, wanting to exchange pleasantries of the morning but not quite sure what to make of this elder war house in the strange uniform.
"Good mornings" were passed, and after a few moments, the winsome lass plucked up her courage and asked, "Excuse me sir, I was wondering..."

"...What country are you from?"

Comment from John of Argghhh! on 2010-01-21

2010-01-21T15:29:30Z

Indeed, Princess. You are the prototype...

Comment from Maggie on 2010-01-21

2010-01-21T15:19:29Z

I love that! BTW, do I fall under the category of "other exotica"?