![]() They will lead working parties, but when you come to check on them, the specialist is somehow nowhere to be found and an enterprising E-2 has taken charge. Like the Warrant Officers, they have never been spotted working. They are Legion, yet they are rarely all seen at once. They are the lifeline, the conduit, between the non-commissioned officers and the private soldiers. I guess it was then that I knew I was going to be an officer.Į-4’s do run the show. I pointed out to him that it was actually the privates who did all that, but he merely looked at me with the familiar pitying glance in his eye. Who stands roadguard during brigade runs? We do. “The NCOs may tell us what to do, but we have the power. “That might get the sergeant involved,” I said, never one to rock the boat. “Yeah or I could have the other E-4’s give him a sock party,” mused the Godfather. “Well…if he doesn’t toe the line he could sleep with the fishes.” The Godfather furrowed his brow and spit into an empty water bottle. “I’ll do what I always do,” said the Godfather “I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.” I looked back, wondering what would happen. Instead you come into my barracks on the day my brother is to be promoted, and you ask me to do work. You don’t even think to call me ‘Godfather’. “Now you come to me and say, ‘Specialist, give me justice!’ But you don’t ask with respect. You,” he said, pointing to me, “can stay.” He put in a thick lip of tobacco and got right up in the PFC’s face. “Is this guy an idiot?” asked the Godfather, looking around. And may their first child be a masculine child.” The PFC was white with fear, and said, “I am honored and grateful that you have invited me to your barracks on the promotion of your brother. I once watched a private first class be hauled in, guilty of some minor crime, such as not sharing tobacco or not stealing 2nd Platoon’s guidon. Woe betide to those who crossed the Godfather, however. It was the damnedest thing I’d ever seen. Godfather stared at him for a second, then slowly shook his head, murmuring, “This thing you ask of me, I cannot do it.” The staff sergeant seemed surprised, then confused, and walked away scratching his head. Once was when a staff sergeant came in and told Specialist Godfather to mop out the latrines. I’ve only seen the Godfather in action a few times. Ever see specialists do work? Neither have I. The Sergeant Major of the Army may be a scary man, but he’s got nothing on the Godfather of the E-4 Mafia of the Army. The Godfather looked at me askance when I left, but didn’t put a hit on me. But then I strayed and took a commission as an officer, leaving the E-4 Mafia. And specialists take advantage of that to create an environment of barely controlled chaos. They live in a nebulous zone that everyone finds confusing. They are not yet non-commissioned officers, and they are not privates. Army.įor the uninitiated, specialists are those soldiers that bridge the gap between privates and sergeants. Those people are the specialists of the U.S. That’s because the people who run things were very keen on ensuring that their names are left out of popular sayings. The saying didn’t include anything about who runs things in the meantime. Battles are planned by generals and won by sergeants, so the saying goes.
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