Hob Nobbling with the General, thank you very much!

That evening I got back to my room only too excited to tell my roommate I'd be hanging with THE Judge Advocate General, a position appointed by the President himself. I spent the evening thinking of all the intelligent witty things I was going to tell the General --regale him of my Chicago stories and give him a taste of "a day in the life of a private" because after all, isn't that what any good Grandpa-ish General would want to know, how the troops are and such? I had stories, I had big words. I had knowledge. Psh! Who knew the 1st AD Crim Law pretrial better than me? I was going to be spit shined, starched, polished, tucked in, pinned up and sharp as a tack.

The next day I unfortunately had to do those lowly enlisted things like report for formation but afterwards, I headed straight to the SJA office ready to begin my day of hob nobbling -- you know, brushing elbows with the highest echelon of officers. I almost felt sorry for my lowliest of comrades in arms.

The General and Major and Colonel all had officer stuff to do --arrive late, drink coffee, tell stories, pat each other on the back -- officer stuff. When it came time for us to depart, a car came for us. I mean A CAR --like a General grade officer car, which I'm pretty sure is just step below a Presidential limo. In fact, it was a BMW I mean we were in Germany and all and that's the way me n' the General like to roll --BMW and all. We headed off to the heliport, which was about 15 minutes down the road at Katterbach.

Upon our arrival there was a furry of activity. Our helicopter awaited us, soldiers were saluting (the Major, Colonel and General) and I was along for the ride. Look at meeeeee! I had to sign a log for the helicopter ride you know, in case it crashed they'd know what soldiers' next of kin to contact. I was asked if I ever rode in a helicopter before and you know, come to think of it, no --no I have not. So the kind Sergeant went on to give me instructions at the very moment the helicopter pilot decided to fire the bird up --so I heard nothing of what the kind sergeant said --which was no concern to me considering I wasn't flying the bird, just riding in it. No sooner than we were told to load the helicopter did I realize --I was clueless. Like on TV's MASH, everyone was running towards the helicopter, head down. Must we run? Must we bend over? I sure wish I could hear those instructions . . . so I decided to run, sort of --and bend down, sort of. It wasn't until the last, almost too late second, I realized I also had to hang onto my head gear. It was WINDY! Crazy wind. Crazy loud.

The flight to our destination was --boring. It was too loud to converse (tell the General my stories that he was dying to hear) and I was too short and too buckled down to see out of the window. So much like a child harnessed into a car seat, I sat strapped in with nothing more to do. Another car awaited us at our arrival point (I think we went to Erlangen but I can't be sure) and off we were. When we got to our SJA office, everyone flocked to the General --the Colonel and Major introduced the General to ALL the staff and well, I was just a tag along. No one introduced me to anyone. No one noticed me. I was nothing more than a shoe-shine boy! I was regretting tagging along. I felt like one of those guys in the circus that just walks behind the elephants waiting to catch their poop. Just walk behind the officers don't speak.

Hob Nobbling certainly wasn't as fun as I thought it would be.

The ride home was more of the same. We flew on the bird, landed, got into the waiting car . . . On our way back to 1st AD as if I had just appeared on the scene, the General spoke to me, asking me where I was from. GREAT! That's a perfect segue into all the witty stories I had planned, "Chicago, Sir", was all I said. *insert awkward silence here* Think, Melissa! Think! Tell him something! Talk Army. Talk Chicago. Talk JAG --be smart, be witty --be humorous! Be something other than a shoeshine boy!

Okay so --that was the extent of my big conversation with THE Judge Advocate General. Yup, out of all the things I wanted to say, planned to say, and could have said -it all boiled down to, "Chicago, Sir."

After we got back, of course everyone wanted to know how my big day was with the General. I didn't go into any of my shameful details as I wanted them to envy me nonetheless than before (because they did envy me for getting to ride with the General). I mean hanging out with a THREE STAR General WAS a big deal, don't get me wrong. I was honored to do so. There are only a handful of them Army wide so it's not every Private that can say of their Army career, I rode in a helicopter with a General -that alone was something to remember but the experience taught me more about the Enlisted/Officer divide than anything else, especially when there's a General in the house because as soon as people got those stars in their eyes, I was instantly invisible.

BUT --turns out the pilot was the husband of one of the civilians that worked on our office and unlike those other starry-eyed people, he did notice me and did remember me and that would later work to my advantage.

Ah, another Army story to be written.