The Man On Your Right

BOLO: Military term used as a mishap(BOLO) during an initial action requiring an individual to retry or perform that action again to pass a required criteria.

"BOLO'S! Fall out and report to Staff Sergeant Zelinski for re-education! The rest of the company is dismissed!"

I looked at the sky and sighed. I couldn't believe I was a bolo. I was a squad leader, I ran faster than anyone (except my brother) and did more push ups and sit ups than most. I could take apart and reassemble my M-16 in less than 45 seconds. I passed all skills and tests. Land mines, hand grenades, tear gas, machine guns...no problem. But after 8 weeks of Army basic training, me and 8 other guys were called bolo's and threatened with repeating the 8 weeks until we got it right.

My problems were on the rifle range. You see, I could shoot fast and I could shoot straight...I just couldn't do both at the same time. I scored high enough on the circular targets where I could take my time to find the center and shoot. But I failed miserably on the range with the silhouettes that popped up for five seconds from 30 feet to 200 feet away. By the time I saw the target, moved my rifle, aimed, and pulled the trigger, the target would drop back down again. It was even more frustrating knowing that 231 other men (and 4 women) in Charlie Company were able to pass without a problem. I knew for a fact that many of those guys couldn't even hit the urinal half the time.

"CROCKER! I can't believe I'm looking at your sorry ass back on my firing range! What is your problem, boy! I thought you were supposed to be some sort of leader!"

Although screaming at me never helped my aim, I did know the psychology behind it. It was part of the bonding process. One way to mold us into a cohesive unit was to give us all a common enemy to hate. The Utah Mormons, Tennessee rednecks, Minnesota farmers, and New York Jews in the company all hated the drill sergeants. The African Americans, Puerto Ricans, Asians, Caucasians, Mexicans, and Native Americans all had that in common. It brought us together. When one of us screwed up we were all punished. One untied shoe meant we all did push ups. One un-made bed meant we all slept on the floor that night. One unfair enemy (in our minds)made us bond pretty quickly. We had each other covered. We corrected and tutored and trained the slower soldiers because they were a part of the whole that we all belonged to. One Unit.

As we bolo's waited for the truck to take us to our last chance on the firing range, Staff Sergeant Zelinski said, "Since you girls don't seem to appreciate my most excellent instructions on how to shoot an enemy, I've brought in some special education help for you all." He pointed to nine of our friends walking up to join us. Nine friends who were also the highest scoring marksmen in Charlie Company. "These gentlemen are giving up an afternoon of rest and relaxation to re-train you bolo's."

Responsibility for my "re-education" was assigned to Richard. I haven't seen him in 25 years but I recently heard that he was a Colonel serving in Iraq. Richard went through the steps with me for about 10 minutes and offered a couple of pointers. I thanked him but said I didn't see how this was going to make a difference.

"I've got a feeling you're going to pass this time, Jim."

The firing range consisted of a row of about 20 fox holes with firing "lanes" in front of them. We all test at once, firing at the targets in our own lanes. When it was time to test, Zelinski ordered our tutors to get into every other fox hole so that they could better observe what we were doing wrong. Richard climbed in to my right.

The test started and gunfire erupted. My silhouette popped up and I fired and the silhouette went down. Hit. Again...pop, fire, hit. pop, fire, hit. I was doing good. Half way through the test I clearly undershot a mid range target and saw the dirt kick up in front of it...but it went down anyway. Puzzled, I was way too slow with the next shot but watched my target go down before I even pulled the trigger. I continued to shoot and targets continued to fall. I'm not sure if I hit any of them.

When the test was over there were no bolo's left in Charlie Company. Richard smiled at me, "I had a feeling you'd pass." Richard had my back. Turns out even the "unfair" Zelinski had my back.

I remembered this story because I was watching an interview on the Today show this week. The reporter asked a soldier in Afghanistan what motivated him? What kept him going? He said, "I'm fighting for the man on my right and I'm fighting for the man on my left. I believe they are fighting for the same reasons."

In Iraq, I hope Richard has men just like that on both sides of him.