twenty minutes. It didn’t take long before bad things started to happen. A few minutes after leaving the lot, I hit a patch of ice while trying to stop at a stop sign. I wrestled with the wheel and slammed the brakes but still ended up clipping the back fender of a Volkswagen Bug.
“You have got to be kidding me!” one of the soldiers yelled behind me.
“Shut the fuck up, ladies. I got this,” I yelled before getting out to greet the old German man who had stepped out of the car, with his wife waiting in the car.
“I’m sorry, sir, I’ve never driven in snow bef—”
“We’re never getting home, are we?” I hear someone shout from behind me.
“Shut the fuck up! As I was saying I’ve never driven in snow before. I apologize if I scared you and your wife,” I said, noticing her looking back at us from the passenger’s side window.
The old man looked at the fender and looked at the soldiers. I could tell he wanted to get out of the snow, and he could probably smell the alcohol on my breath.
“You should put some chains on your tires, so you have more traction in the snow. Don’t worry about it. Just be careful from now on.”
I thanked the old man and got back in the driver’s seat. A few soldiers in the back found a compartment on the bus that had chains. News to me because I was never taught how to do that. We managed to get some chains on the back tires and all piled back in the bus. Before I started to drive, the staff sergeant came up to my seat and asked me to let him drive.
“Do you have a bus license?” I asked him.
“No,” he said, a bit puzzled by my question.
“Then sit the fuck down and let me do my job. I’m the only one qualified to drive this bus, and if you fuck anything up, it’s on me.”
He seemed like he wanted to protest, but I started to press on the acceleration, forcing him back into his seat.
After a little while the lack of visibility from a combination of darkness and snow only got worse. I accidentally drove down a one way in the wrong direction and took at least ten extra minutes backing up to get out of it, taking out dumpster and a few trash cans along the way.
There’s more than one way to get to Schwabisch Hall from Frankfurt. Unfortunately for us, I unknowingly picked a path that led us down a road on the side of a mountain. I could only see as far as my headlights threw their light, and even that was fuzzy because it was still snowing.
It had snowed so much that the snow had begun to pile up as high as three feet, so I had to use the guiding poles along the side of the road to guide me along. Some of the poles were positioned too far out, making the road seem wider than it was, so I would occasionally veer too close to the edge of the mountain. Every time I veered close to the mountain edge, the men would start crying and screaming like little girls all in unison.
“Shut the fuck up, ladies. I’m handling this!” I yelled back confidently, slurring my words as I spoke. I understand that the threat of falling off a cliff a thousand feet high is something to cry about, but it was taking a while to sober up, and the yelling and shouting wasn’t helping my concentration.
It took a couple hours to finally get the hang of it, and I could finally function soberly. I was able to drive smoothly the rest of the way back and even nailed parking the bus correctly. As redeemable as that was, I knew that the sergeant major wouldn’t be too happy when he heard what had happened.
Nothing else came of it the next day. It wasn’t until the day after that that the sergeant major called me in. I thought I was done for. I would be sent home, dishonorably discharged with a court-martial. When I got to the office, I could tell he was not too happy to see me.
“Sit down, Sergeant,” he said to me aggressively. As I sat down he quickly started to talk again. “I got a report from Staff Sergeant Taylor, and before I decide whether or not I’m going to send you to Major Hoople, I want you to tell me what happened Sunday morning.”
I told him exactly what happened, how I had all the odds stacked against me. I had less than twenty-four hours to take a twelve-hour bus course, which I didn’t do. I told him that early Sunday morning the snow was too dangerous for even the sober locals to drive through. I also mentioned that Staff Sergeant Taylor used his rank to force us to leave even though he should’ve agreed to wait until daylight when the snow had melted.
He seemed to get the angriest when I mentioned that I had been at the enlisted club the night before, drinking with the fellow soldiers because I thought the flight arrived at 7:00 a.m. He didn’t buy any of it. I had to go talk to the battalion XO, Major Hoople, again.
When I got to Major Hoople’s office, I stopped outside and I thought for a minute. I was raised religious, and I hadn’t really prayed much during Vietnam. Before Vietnam my uncle had laid hands on me and prayed a prayer of protection for me. But other than that, I was far from your stereotypical Holy Roller.
But I felt the strange urge to pray at that moment. Before I stepped inside Hoople’s office, I lowered my head for a second and asked for divine protection through this mess before me. When I walked through the door, I got the same aggressive greeting as I had from the sergeant major.
“Sergeant, I’ve read the report from Staff Sergeant Taylor. I’m going to have to take action against you for endangering the lives of the troops. You’ll be getting a court-martial, and you will be tried in a courtroom. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
I thought for a minute. All the odds were stacked against me. I desperately needed an ace up my sleeve to even the odds. Fortunately for me, I did.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my bus license. Major Hoople seemed a bit puzzled, but he stayed silent, waiting for me to speak. I put the license on the table and slid it over to him.
“This is what I’m going to show to my defense attorney when I get court-martialed.” I could tell he wasn’t understanding what I was trying to say, so I continued, “This is the bus license that you signed for me. The license I needed to take a twelve-hour course to get. But I only took one hour, and you waived the rest. You’re one of my witnesses in this trial.”
He sat there staring at the license for what felt like hours but was mere seconds. He knew what he had done. Since I got the authorization for the license from him, he would be the one taking responsibility for my actions during a court-martial. This is why I didn’t let Staff Sergeant Taylor drive that night. He took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes. It was terrifying at first, staring into the eyes of a battalion executive officer with a vein bulging from his neck. It was what he said next that helped to melt some of my fears.
“Since you want me to be a witness, the battalion commander won’t let you go to court to be court-martialed. Go back to the sergeant major. He will decide what to do with you next.”
I breathed a secret sigh of relief and left Major Hoople’s office. I felt my adrenaline rushing as I walked over to the sergeant major’s office. I wasn’t going to be sent home, and I wasn’t going to be court-martialed. I felt like a new man. Hoo-ah.
When I got to the sergeant major’s office, I was snapped back to reality.
“Bravo, I did not expect to see you come back into my office. I have no idea how you weaseled your way out with the major, but you’re not getting off that easy. I will have a task for you. I’ll be speaking to your company commander, and the first sergeant will let you know when to come see me.”
I had a little anxiety about what the task would be, as the last one almost got me court-martialed after all. It took a couple days before the first sergeant came to me and told me to report straight to the sergeant major’s office. When I got to his office he looked a bit happy to see me, which couldn’t have been a good sign.
“Sergeant, sit down,” he said to me in an almost pleasant tone. “Me and the company commander have talked, and we’ve decided to assign you to take eight weeks of Special Forces Recondo