You're in the Army now. . .

My son-in-law, Chris, is in the Army. He's about to deploy to Afghanistan. When we started our military action there, one would have thought that we could bomb the place into the Stone Age, but that's not possible. As George Will pointed out, you can't bomb a place forward a thousand years.

Last week I saw that Chris' group was held over until 1830 (that's 6:30 PM, for you 12-hour-clock folks.) Someone in their company messed something up, and all paid a penalty. That's military life. In the Navy there's somebody in every group, no matter how small, that just doesn't get it. I'm guessing it's the same in the Army, the Marines, the Air Force, or the Texas Air National Guard. The military has its own set of urban legends, and these usually hinge on that one person.

The story is told in the USMC about one Private Wright. Private Wright was almost always Private Wrong. In one incident on the firing range Wright's weapon jammed. He called a sergeant over, and the command was given: "Cease fire! Cease fire!" Firing ceased. Someone started walking toward Wright to look at his weapon, and someone else started walking down the range to see if Wright might have accidentally hit his target once or twice. At that moment, Wright's rifle worked again: a loud POP was heard, and an instructor's hat sailed downrange.

The Marines do frown on that sort of thing, and a collection of sergeants spent the next few moments - er - frowning on Private Wright. And, I'm guessing, one of the sergeants may have needed a change of clothing.

Is this story true? Why, of course! Did it actually happen? I dunno. I would bet that a lot of military people would swear that they know Private Wright. I KNOW that everybody, in every organization, knows someone just like that. It takes all kinds - as long as all kinds don't have loaded M-16s in their hands. Those M-16s and the USMC lead to another story, for another time.

Have a great day, all!

I heard that!

Today my wife has surgery. It's a routine matter, we're told. But, things that occurred in the period before today have caused me to think about the way our ears pick out one word in a lengthy conversation. Our minds won't let that word go. We may not even remember the rest what was said beyond that one word.

"This procedure is common. It's frequently done when this sort of precancerous result appears. I'll let you know I've done hundreds of these, and we have an outstanding record."

You do know which of these words I glommed on to, don't you? "Cancerous? Cancerous??"

A lesson from customer service and diplomacy: if you don't want to suggest the possibility, don't even say the word. This was a different setting. In order to have the discussion based on reality, the word had to be said. And the doctor has been a doctor for a long, long time. She knows whereof she speaks. My wife has tremendous confidence that all will be well. But, for the past few weeks I've had a leaden ball sitting in the pit of my stomach. The leaden ball wasn't dinner. Most nights.

I'm reasonably sure that, were the roles reversed - had I been the one subject to the surgery - I would have been the one hearing "It'll be OK." She would have been the one hearing "cancer." Loaded word, isn't it?

I'm sure also that there is a loving God - and it's all in Her hands.