It is 5:00 a.m. The squads are out on the parade ground. The roll is being called. There is an important lecture in a few minutes that all should hear. The sergeant calls out,
“Where’s Private Jones? ” “Oh,” says Jones’ buddy, “Jones was out late last night and did not feel like reveille. He said to tell you he’d try to be here next time.” “Okay,” says the sergeant, “tell him we’d sure like to have him with us when he feels like it.”
“Where’s Brown?” “Oh, he’s playing golf,” yelled another soldier. “Said this was the only day he could go golfing,” “All right,” answered the sergeant.
“Where’s Smith?” “He said tell you he has trouble getting up this early – he’s still asleep,” cries another. “Fine,” replies the sergeant.
“Where’s Robinson?” “His folks are visiting him,” comes the answer, “and they would feel hurt if he didn’t stay to entertain them.” “I see,” says the sergeant.
“Where’s Ackerman?” Ackerman’s buddy spoke up, “Uh, Sarge, he’s mad at something you said in your lecture last week. He told me he wasn’t going to come anymore while you were still sergeant.” “Sorry to here that,” says the sergeant.
“Where is Snodgrass?” “He has a slight headache,” comes a voice, “and thought he would just hang around the barracks today.” “Okay,” cries the sergeant.
“Is Private Black here?” “No,” says a buddy, “he is thinking about moving over to another company; he says this group is not as friendly as it should be.”
“How about Alexander?” Says one of the men, “Oh, he’s quit. He claims you emphasize rules too much.”
“Has anyone seen Snavely?” “He couldn’t find any suitable uniform this morning,” answers a friend. “He told me he would be back soon as he had a chance to pick out a decent looking outfit.”
“Where’s Blankenship?” “Right here, Sergeant,” says the soldier, “and I want to tell you right now that I’m getting pretty tired of all this tough talk in your lectures and always running down the enemy, calling their name and talking about all kinds of tactics and, strategies and . . . Sarge, er, Sarge . . . where are you going, Sergeant?”
Guardian of Truth XXXV: 5, p. 136
March 7, 1991