Hillside Assistance

Here's a sneak peak at a short story collecting I am putting together:

Hillside Assistance

Remembering better days and staring at a blank screen, I began to have this strange stream of consciousness. I started documenting a hillside scene of a time some 141 years ago today on the 25^th of June, in 1876 when my imagination turned to:

 “What might have happened if there was a millennial serving that fateful day alongside a 1950s version of a Calvary Commander and a cell phone was introduced into the transaction?”

Thinking the conversation might have started sorta like this and continuing throughout the remainder of the afternoon; well, part of the afternoon anyway:

*****

“Shit! We need reinforcements NOW! Send for the semaphore guy! Summon a rider immediately? Where’s my Aide-d-Camp?”

“Here sir! This is what ya need?” responded the Aide.

“We’ve got to get help and we need it fast. What the Hell is this thing?”

Confidently standing there with a chest puffed out and completely bare of medals and campaign ribbons, the shave tail aide says: “But here sir! I’ve got one of these newfangled devices the Quartermaster ask that I take along and test out. He said it’s gonna be the best thing since leather boot laces.”

“OK! Give it to me. What good is this little box gonna do me? How do I work this damn thing anyway?”

The aide responded with complete confidence that he had the solution: “Wait sir—do this.” as he turned the box around and flipped it open. “Poke that button right there, talk into it, and Siri will help you out.”

Struggling with the box and the aide: “Who the Hell is Siri anyway? Damnit! OK, gotcha.”

“Hello! Have I got the War Department?”

*****

“Whadda you mean? Do you wish to connect to the Pentagon?”

*****

“Pentagon, smentagon! I need Plans and Ops in the War Department!”

*****

“Where the Hell are you anyway? Good! Connect me right away.”

*****

“Have I got the War Department now?”

*****

“OK, OK! Could you connect me with Plans and Operations?”

*****

“Plans and Ops, I have a question ‘bout today’s operation.”

*****

“No Sarge! Damnit! I want to talk with the officer in charge. Please get him and be double quick about it!”

*****

“Hello! Are you the guy who wrote today’s op order?”

*****

“OK, I’ve got the guy I wanta talk to now. I have several immediate questions.”

*****

“No, no. I’m in Montana. I’m not in Afghanistan somewhere with, what did you say, the Taliban? Give me the guy in charge of the Montana operations order!”

*****

“Hello! Are you the guy who wrote today’s op order?”

*****

“I’m out here with the 7^th Cavalry and I see in paragraph number 1a that the enemy force estimate says there might be light opposition. Man, do you have any idea just how God Damn many Indians there are out here?”

*****

“Right Major! Well, we’re here in the Black Hills just west of the Little Big Horn on a hillside overlooking the entire valley and we’re currently engaged with your light opposition. I wanta’ tell you that your Intel was a bit off.”

*****

“Well, let me tell you one thing; there’s a whole hella’va lot more than light enemy action out here. The God Damned Indians are everywhere. Major, we need reinforcements NOW!”

*****

“I don’t know where you got your Intel, but mine is first hand and I’m telling you there’s a hell’ava lot of Indians out here today. The hills are crawling with Indians.”

*****

“Have I heard from Reno? I’ve lost contact with him hours ago. He shoulda been here, but he aint! Anyway, what kinda question is that? Shit, Reno’s probably got his ass in a crack just as much as we have!”

*****

 “What’s the chance you could send in the Immediate Reaction Force? They aren’t in contact are they?”

*****

“Whada ya mean they aren’t available and just what good do you think the South Dakota National Guard will do me in the next thirty to forty minutes? We’re surrounded on this hillside by more God Damned Indians than you’ve ever seen. There’s Indians everywhere and they’re still more a’comin’. I don’t think activating the South Dakota National Guard is our answer. We’d probably need the South Dakota, North Dakota, Montana plus the Wyoming National Guard just to make a difference, and we’d probably still be sucking hind tit.

This isn’t some band broken loose from a Black Hills reservation running around the prairies fornicatin’ everywhere. You do understand what I mean when I say there’s a whole lota God Damned Indians out here?”

*****

“Wait a second. I gotta say somethin’ to Sargent Jones.”

“Watch out Sarge! Oops, too late! Say Ops, just how many Survivor Assistance Officers do you have on call today?”

*****

“I’m a’thinkin’ you’re gonna need to get a few more ready!”

*****

“No Major, I talkin’ a shitpot more than that!”

*****

“Where’s that smart ass Aide-d-Camp? Hold on another second there Ops. I gotta…”

Why I Write (Like I do)

The story is the important part. The audience determines the words. I write nonfiction. The stories are true; you may not believe it, but they are. I lived them. They happened either to me or around me. I just tell them the way they originally happened.

My best guess is that the current trend of the fictionalization of nonfiction is my enemy. When I started to relate these stories to others, my audience was made up of people for the most part very similar to me. With the exception of a hand full of wives that might be temporarily in the immediate area, those that were listening were my contemporaries in the Army.

There was no need to elaborate about the Cold—85 degrees below zero was 85 degrees below zero—they had all been there also. They knew and understood. I just had to say -85⁰F and keep moving along. When I said I was responsible, I didn’t have to go into any more detail, they understood and knew exactly why and how.

After departing the Army, I found that I was part of a very small minority—5 to 10% of those I associated with had any idea, concept, or understanding of the circumstances encountered in the stories I might tell. Nobody had even the slightest concept of -85⁰F. If I said -112⁰F, it struck no chord in their brain at all. Their Cold existed at another level that compared not one iota in relation to the Cold I spoke of. Very few had even the slightest concept of a GI and the depth of situations that one could get into. They had no idea of the hardships, troubles and responsibilities of conducting their daily business one day in a brick and mortar facility and the next a thousand or more miles away under canvas in an environment 180 degrees opposite of yesterday’s and completely hostile to all they held dear to themselves.

To enable the use of my stories as teaching and learning points, I had to find ways to enable their understanding. One of my first light bulbs was the revelation that everybody had played army as a child and they truly enjoyed hearing the stories as they were told—just as they were with zero explanation or altering. My task was to make the story relevant to their situation—that association made it real to my staff and co-workers. Once it became relevant to them, each anecdote began to work as I intended them to—experiential learning and problem solving solutions that they could learn from and use to better their conditions in life.

The best feeling came to me when I might come upon a direct report doing something that resembled a solution we had discovered through our discussions of a particular anecdote and that guy or gal would, right out of the blue, say “Howard’s Law #3” and just keep on working—it would warm my heart and made it all worthwhile.

From the standpoint of Leadership and Management anecdotes, I haven’t written a new story in the last ten years. Everyone I put to paper has been locked away in memory since the day they took place and are just as fresh in my mind when I begin to recall the facts and circumstances as they were the first time I experienced or told them (or kept to myself depending on the circumstances or need) as they were the day (or night) they originally occurred. Oh, I have written new stories but not about Leadership and Management—they’ve been about my grandchildren, my travels, memories of my youth or just streams of consciousness or thoughts on the everyday happenings occurring around us all.

Besides the foregoing, I have come across, maybe, more than my share of interesting and crazy people that have shaped my present and my future. My wife and kids, in addition to the community I now associate with, have never heard or experienced any of that of which I write. I choose to get down as many as possible before I can no longer remember the facts, the situation and the circumstances that arose in the creation of the accounts I have to share.

So, instead of applying all those fictionalization traits to my stories, I will continue to write them just as I have always told them and let the chips fall where they may.