Johnson is on his meds and sleeping. The Master Sagreant would like to see Johnson somewhere other than Bagram. He would like to see him on a remote FOB, or Jalabad or at an IHOP in Alaska.
The Master Sargeant is 44 from Puerto Rico and is all Army. His army. He looks and moves like a middle weight. He talks like a Master Sargeant not profane like in the movies but a directness filled with certitude. There is zero indecision in MSGT. He prays before every meal making the sign of the cross and attends mass every Sunday. The Catholic Church has a chain of command like the Army. The Pope is the Commander in Chief and is infallible. Orders are orders. The Cardinals are the officers. Bishops are the NCO’s handling the priests and the rest of the parish. This structure aligns with the MSGT’s sensibilities.
We eat together everyday at six. He is from a family of 16 and the cardoard tray we use as a plate is full. He eats each serving one at a time: carrots, then potatoes, then fish, then salad, then dessert - compartmentalizing.
He says - Robert Clemente was the greatest ball player from the islands and Puerto Rico then Roberto Alomar. Clemente could pick off a base runner from right field. He brought his mitt and a baseball over here but hasn’t thrown a pitch.
There isn’t a question about the army, the base or his unit that he can’t answer. This is his army, his base and his unit. God, military and family clearly defined all the moving parts are his responsibility. His job is 24/7.
He reads Neruda and sends his wife love poems. Just when I thought I had him pegged comes the curve. The MSGT is capable of the unexpected
He wasn’t with the 3-61 Cav at COB Keating on October 3 but he knew them. They were TF Warrior and passed through his world. When I asked him about it he says, “the fighting went for twelve hours.”
“What happened ?” I ask.
“The Afghans walked off,” end of conversation.
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