Bob Dymonds "Col. Millett, The Bayonet, and Me

"Col. Millett, The Bayonet, and Me" by Bob Dymond ziobob@home.dmv.com

It was the winter of '65-'66, and for this California native, it was unbelievably cold. I always thought that when it was this frigid, there should also be at least a little bit of snow, but all there was this damn wind, and cold. As I was walking past his building, a particularly brutal gust of wind blew the swinging "HQ - ASA TR REG" sign off of the attaching hooks. I heard the clatter behind me, turned around, went back about 15 feet and picked it up.

Since I was an 05H trainee, it took me a while to figure out how to reattach the sign, but after a few false starts, I got it back up, and proceeded upon my interrupted journey, secure in the knowledge that my good deed for the day had been done.

I got about 50 feet down the walk, when I heard the sweet tones of our beloved Battalion Sergeant Major calling to me:

"PRIVATE! HALT!"

Being a curious individual, I looked around to see if I could figure out which one of the sorry individuals in the area was the subject of this command. Even though I did not possess the lightening swift intellect of, say, someone who would later work in the bowling alley, it came to me that the SMAJ was probably calling to me. I arrived at this conclusion by pure deductive reasoning e.g. I was the only other person in the area.

I responded the only way I could: "yesseargeantmajor"

"THE COLONEL WANTS TO SEE YOU, PRIVATE."

There is a body of thought which states that the only sins committed are the sins discovered. One of the corollaries to this is that if you eat a half gallon of Breyers Vanilla ice cream at 3 o'clock in the morning, and only by the light of the refrigerator, the calories don't count.

And I truly wish I could BELIEVE in that.

Unfortunately, I was raised Evangelical United Brethren, which, if I remember correctly, had two major tenets: 1. no dancing, either vertical or horizontal, & 2. Martin Luther was probably a leftist.

The bottom line here being that when I heard
"THE COLONEL WANTS TO SEE YOU, PRIVATE."

I immediately commenced to catalogue all the stuff I had done that I shouldn't have done, and all the stuff I had done and shouldn't have. Not a long list, mind you, but a list nonetheless.

And then you also have to remember that Col. Millett was our hero.

Even as a trainee at Devens, you quickly learned that your friendly local army recruiter hadn't quite told the truth about our USASA.

I recall trying to get through the 5 word-groups-per-minute, and wondering what the hell this had to do with the "stirred, not shaken". And, when were we going to get the part about how to make the choice between the Aston Martin, and ......the Lamborghini. And the babes. Where were the babes? I mean, some of the girls from Leominster were OK, but nuthin like Pussy Galore.

But Col. Millett ? Well, Col. Millett actually existed. Here was someone we look up to. I mean, Col. Millett LOOKED like a warrior. And if half of the stories about him that circulated through the barracks were true, well, jeeze, how could you not admire him. Not only a hero, but a mench too.

And not just in the distant past either. I remember the class we had on how to inject yourself with the spring loaded atropine syringe. Most commanders would have made a nominal appearance at the class, and left for "more pressing business". But not our Col. Millett. Hell no. He stood on the stage and said: "Men, this is how it is done.", proceeded to drop his trousers, sit down, and jab that nasty looking device into his thigh.

I think we have all heard bosses say "I wouldn't ask my people to do anything I wouldn't do.", but Col. Millett was one of the few I have ever seen actually do it.

But he had the reputation for being a little wackey too. After all, there was the rumor that the bayonet he wore on his belt was, in fact, the bayonet he used in the last successful bayonet charge in the US Army (Korea - basis for his Medal of Honor). And then there was the rumor that he would use that bayonet as an emphazsizer during staff meetings. To Wit: when really pissed, he would stick it in the table top.......repeatedly.

And this guy wanted to see me, a lowly E3 ?

What ? ..........Had he run out of table tops ?

I remember walking back to the Sergeant Major, and saying: "Sergeant Major, could you possibly apprise me of the purpose Col. Millett's request?"

That is what I remember.

Of course, if you asked the Sergeant Major what I said, he'd probably lie, and tell you that I said something like:

"Wha......who me? ......Col. Millett? me....I.....? ......but.....ME?....Jeeze....." (That's the problem with history, is it not?, always at least two sides to the story.)

In any event, I recall the Sergeant Major advising me that my posterior was required in the staff room. NOW.

As I entered the staff room, I saw Col. Millett standing at the head of the long staff table.

"Private. Were you the individual that picked up my sign?"

"Yessir."

"Private, are you sure?"

"yessir."

"Well, Private, do you know what most people would have done with that sign?"

"nosir."

"They would have looked at the fallen sign, then looked around to see if anyone had seen them see the fallen sign, and if they figured nobody had seen them, they would have just kept on going. That's what they would have done."

'yessir.'

"But you didn't do that, did you Private?"

"nosir"

"You didn't even look around to see if anybody saw you, did you Private?"

'"I don't remember sir."

"Well, you didn't. I know, because I did see you."

'yessir."

"I like initiative, soldier, and I believe that initiative should be rewarded. So you are going to get a four day pass. How do you like that, soldier?"

"Four......day......pass....? "

"That's what I thought. And it won't show up on your 201 either. And since you're gonna be gone for four days, I guess you're gonna need some money. I remember when I was a PFC, I never had any money this time of the month, so here's fifty dollars. Have a good time."

Then he turned to the Sergeant Major and said: "Sergeant Major, see that this soldier gets squared away."

I went to Boston, saw Gerry Mulligan, got lucky, etc.

Oh yes, that story about sticking his bayonet in the table. Well, I never saw him do it, but his end of that table had some real rough pock marks in it.