Today, JAG officers come into the Army as captains.  Not so when I raised my right hand.  We came in as first lieutenants with the understanding that we would get credit for our time in law school and be promoted to captain in 18 months.  My particular class ended up getting stuck on the bottom of a promotion list that took 21 months.  We were then told that Congress would correct this three month error.  Can you imagine anyone being so naive as to believe that one?

Then there was the vague promise of professional pay.  Doctors, dentists and even veterinarians in the military receive pro-pay, but not lawyers.  Every few years, some congressman would throw a bill in the hopper to give JAGs pro-pay.  We would get all excited and the bill would go nowhere.  Many of my JAG contemporaries would argue that what we did was more important than some veterinarian going around inspecting meat or vaccinating horses.  My approach was different.  I insisted that all the other Army officers held us in contempt because they thought we got pro-pay, so we might as well get it.  We never did.

Shortly after I made captain, the III Corps and Fort Hood Office of the Staff Judge Advocate (JAG Office) held a picnic at Belton Lake.  It was kind of neat.  It was a typical picnic with hamburgers, hot dogs and beer.  Sometime during the middle of the picnic, an enlisted man from the office came up to me.  He was short and stocky and I knew who he was, but didn’t know him well.  He took me aside and said, “Sir, can I speak to you man to man?”  I figured he had a personal problem and I was quite willing to help, so I said, “Sure.”  He then proceeded to tell me that I was a worthless SOB; that I was arrogant, and not half as smart as I thought I was.  I was stunned.  Because I had told him we could speak “man to man,”  I wasn’t sure what I could do (maybe that proved his point about not being half as smart – ).  I got away from him without doing anything stupid.  Life was a lot simpler when you could just punch a guy out.  The picnic had lost its excitement.

After leaving Fort Hood, I spent six months at the Presidio of Monterey learning how to speak German and then, I was assigned to the 4th Armored Division Headquarters in Goeppingen, Germany.  Most of the 4th AD troops were stationed closer to the border, but we were about 30 miles east of Stuttgart.

I had been promoted to major in less than six years, so I guess I should quit complaining about the three extra months as a first lieutenant.  My early promotion to major had a lot to do with the Viet Nam War build-up and very little to do with my accomplishments.  It did, however, cause me to be the Division Duty Officer one Saturday/Sunday.

Early Sunday morning, we were visited by the provost marshal.  He was a big strapping lieutenant colonel who looked like he had played tight end for a major university.  He was literally hauling a drunken GI.  The drunk, a tall skinny soldier, could hardly stand up.  The colonel told us that he was just out for a morning stroll and he saw this GI fall off the sidewalk and roll down a rather steep hill.  He wanted us to find out the soldier’s unit and have someone come get him and take him back to his unit and put him to bed.  The colonel was just interested in the soldier’s safety.

After the provost marshal left, my NCO got on the phone and located the man’s unit.  During this time the GI was carrying on about how he wasn’t drunk and could take care of himself.  Finally, he looked at me an said, “Sir, can I talk to you man to man?”  I immediately said, “Absolutely not!”