August 2026

I had told my drill sergeant exactly the wrong thing.  When he had inquired (at 120 decibels) why I was joking around during hand-to-hand combat instruction, I had told him that I had mastered all the moves and didn’t need to practice any more.

That had earned me 20 pushups and a requirement to stand in the back of the class holding up a wooden rifle with bayonet that we had used in the training.  I had to hold the small end with my arm straight out.  As I stood there, shoulder aching, my anger at the Army festered.