Paper pirates: Taps for Long John Silver’s
Trent Reedy
As a child, if given the choice of restaurants, I always begged for the fresh fish and tender juicy chicken from Long John Silver’s. I was crushed to learn this week that they tore down my beloved Long John Silver’s near my childhood hometown in Iowa.
I’ve tried to console myself by cherishing Long John Silver’s memories, including thoughts of an episode from the LJS across the street from my Iowa Army National Guard armory in Davenport. When my fellow soldiers and I wanted something other than Army chow, or when we wanted a break from our leadership, we’d take lunch at Long John Silver’s. The fish, chicken, and tasty fries! We’d gossip about Pvt. Screwup’s latest failures or speculate about when we might catch up with the rest of the Army by being issued the M4 rifles to replace our aged M16s. We ate like kings — er, pirates.
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I guess that’s where the idea originated. I don’t know who thought of it, and today nobody would claim the inspiration. But those who have sailed with Long John Silver’s in the past might remember the paper pirate hats young diners loved to wear. Wouldn’t it be funny, we thought, if, at final formation at the end of that weekend’s drill, we all removed our Army hats and slipped on paper pirate hats when we were ordered to the position of attention? Happy and contentedly stuffed with LJS goodness down to the brown crunchies at the bottom of our plates, our whole squad agreed this was a brilliant idea.
At the end of the day, we all stood in a sort of pre-formation, lined up waiting for 1st Sgt. Wolf to call us to attention so he and the company commander could review our weekend’s progress and possibly issue a promotion or some other award. The guys in my squad exchanged knowing looks and excited giggles, the paper pirate hats in our cargo pockets. Wolf at last took his position at the front of the formation. This was it!
“Company!” the first sergeant shouted.
“Platoon!” shouted the platoon sergeants.
“Atten-TION!” Wolf finished.
We were all to snap to the ramrod straight position of attention. But first, my squad switched our Army hats for pirate hats. Then we stood tall, trying to control our laughter. What a sight we must have been! A whole squad of uniformed soldiers wearing Long John Silver’s pirate hats!
If our senior leadership had noticed, they didn’t say anything. Finally, our captain stood before us. “Good work this weekend, men! We have a special guest today. The battalion commander is here!”
Next to me, tough-as-nails Sgt. Jackson groaned quietly. Soldiers aren’t allowed to move when at the position of attention, but were we really going to stand before the battalion commander wearing paper pirate hats? Shouldn’t we hurry and change our hats back? I couldn’t ask. Soldiers aren’t allowed to talk when at attention.
The battalion commander said some motivational stuff. Then our commander said some more motivational stuff. I wasn’t listening. I knew all of us in my squad were doomed. We were condemned men walking the plank.
“Everybody get home safely,” Wolf said. “Oh, and all of you pirates—”
This was it. He was going to make us do pushups until we went blind. His actual name was Wolf, after all. A trickle of sweat rolled down my temple.
“—don’t crash your pirate ships on the way home,” he finished. “Dismissed!”
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Free to move, we whipped our pirate hats off very quickly, glad to be safe. That was a close one, but I guess one can’t expect to be a pirate without a little danger. Now that my childhood Long John Silver’s has hustled its last hush puppy, the exit bell has gone silent, and my old seafood sanctuary has been demolished, laughing at this old National Guard memory brings me some comfort.
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.
*Some names and call signs in this story may have been changed due to operational security or privacy concerns.