Even the heartless army had grace. The word grace means unmerited favor, at least in religious realms. I experienced it just one time in my military life.
We supposedly had a 24 hour grace period at the end of our leaves. I never tested that. My dad was strict regarding my thoughts of coming home. I still remember the first time he meticulously checked my leave papers. He laid down the rule, “Don’t come home without proper leave papers! Always return to your unit on time.”
I got the point that he would disown me for being AWOL…absent without leave. He knew that I would have homesick days. He kindly stated, “I will personally take you to the military police.” Yes, those were his exact words! He believed in honoring commitments.
My friend Christopher Smith and I went home at the same time. He lived in Pennsylvania and I lived in Maine. We split somewhere in Ohio to complete our personal journies. I was surprised when we landed back at our barracks at the same time.
Smith aka DZ asked me, “Did you sign in?” I replied to the negatative. Being my big brother he barked, “Get your butt down to charge of quarters!”
I got off my lazy butt and headed down the stairs to the CQ. However, I had this moment of brilliance. I asked the CQ, “Do I have a grace day?” He quipped that I had to sign in before midnight tomorrow on this set of leave papers.
DZ never gave it a thought to ask of my progress, when I returned to bunk out for the night. The travel made us both weary. We both slept pretty soundly.
Our assistant platoon sargeant graciously greeted us the following morning with, “Get to hell out of the bunk troops…leave is over.” I snapped off my bunk.
DZ calmly remained in his prone position. Sarge said, “I am not repeating myself Smith.” DZ replied, “I got grace.” Sarge asked, “Did you sign in last night?” DZ said, “Yes.” (He probably should have said, ‘Yes, Sargeant.’) Sarge said, “Leave is officially over when you sign in. No grace Smith. Get your ass out of bed!”
By then DZ knew he was had. I stiffened as Sarge glanced back at me. He barked, “Did you sign in Thompson?” I responded, “No Sargeant.” He advised me to make myself scarce. I knew how to do that with great proficiency.
Showered and spiffy in my civilian clothes, I exited the barracks. I peeked into the kitchen window and spied my buddy DZ. Apparently Sarge found something for DZ to do, on his first day back.
I dutifully drew close to the window to ask DZ how it was going. He narrowed his eyes to say, “If you don’t get out of my face, I will beat your ass.” I smiled and replied, “Grace.”
Currahees…I had a fabulous day goofing off. I didn’t sign in until about 2100 hours. Had time to see DZ as he recovered from all those pots and pans. However, I didn’t push my luck that night. We learned a practical lesson about the fine points of grace that day.