Sgt. Sadist
Trent Reedy
I’ve recently returned to substitute teaching. Real teachers sometimes warn, “That class is rowdy.” They don’t understand that I received my best teacher training in the Army. Near the end of one school day, I issued firm orders for my fourth graders to ready the classroom for inspection. The children saluted and marched around as they cleaned. Several are proud of their military family members. A martial directness stops would-be rebels and gets the job done. Of course, I don’t bring close to full drill sergeant intensity. That would be sadistic… like my drill sergeant back in basic training was.
All drill sergeants punish soldiers for infractions, but Sgt. Sadist was extra cruel. After a field chow breakfast, he asked, “Who wants more?” I wanted more, but I wasn’t going near Sgt. Sadist. Forty privates fell into his trap and did pushups while Sadist sat two privates next to an enormous pan of potatoes. “You will eat it all in five minutes or be punished.” Of course, the men failed, barfed, and were still forced to do pushups until they barfed again.
One night, Sgt. Sadist caught Pvt. Pries in the latrine after lights out. Pries was thrashed for two hours, returning to his rack sweating and gasping.
One day, I was assigned to kitchen patrol, serving meals in the dining facility, and cleaning up afterward. There was always a supervising drill sergeant, but he mostly remained out front, leaving us alone in the kitchen. A squad from the Sapper Leader Course burst into the dining facility in sweat-soaked uniforms. The course was notoriously demanding, producing fierce, brilliant warriors. Sappers were gods among us combat engineers.
“See those guys, Pries?” I asked, imitating one of them, panting, “P-p-p-potatoes!”
Pries looked fearfully over my shoulder. I turned around. Sgt. Sadist glared murder at me, his shoulders heaving. “You messing ‘round, Pvt. Reedy? I’ll return, inspect this kitchen. Anything dirty? That’s on you. I’ll kill you.”
It wouldn’t matter how much we cleaned. He would torture me for the pleasure of witnessing my agony. “Guys,” I said to the others, “we can either keep cleaning or say we’re done, which Sadist will say we’re not. Even if we finished, we’d sit out there with him, doing pushups. Let’s keep cleaning as long as we can.”
We scrubbed parts of that kitchen that hadn’t been cleaned in forever. Under the grill, I scraped off years of caked-on liquid egg crust. We removed the canisters from the silverware dispenser case and made it all shine like new. We polished the fridge shelves. I cleaned for hours because my life depended on it. We each checked the entire place at least six times. There wasn’t a spot, scuff, crumb, hair, or dust particle anywhere.
At last, I stood at attention before Sgt. Sadist. “Sergeant, my kitchen stands ready for inspection.” And may God have mercy on my soul.
“Better be spotless!” Sadist checked the kitchen, smirking when he found some little crevice he was sure would be dirty, disappointed to find it clean. Finally, he scratched the tiny metal ring around the sink drain, finding hitherto invisible food residue. “What’s this!”
“I’ll clean it at once, sergeant.” I did so.
Sgt. Sadist looked around the kitchen before fixing me with his murderous gaze. “This kitchen’s adequate, Reedy.”
I was spared! I couldn’t believe it.
On another range, we were ordered to remove our helmets and don our caps. To my horror, I realized I’d forgotten my hat. I was smoked for the infraction.
Later, Sgt. Sadist showed up, spotting my helmet. “Forgot your hat, didn’t you, Reedy!” My muscles ached in anticipation of the inevitable punishment. He glared at me. “You won’t do that again” was all he said.
That clean kitchen must have impressed the man, and so he spared me. Likewise, my little fourth graders impressed me as they cleaned their desks and room, good children dedicated to bright futures.
*Some names and call signs in this story may have been changed due to operational security or privacy concerns.
Trent Reedy, author of several books, including Enduring Freedom, served as a combat engineer in the Iowa National Guard from 1999 to 2005, including a tour of duty in Afghanistan.