Following orders seems simple at face value:
Someone tells someone what to do and the second someone does it.
Done deal?
Not so fast.
In the old days, by which I mean before the Vietnam War and the Mai Lai massacre, you took an order and got after it until it was done.
A thorough investigation changed that.
. . . using a detailed survey of the American press, governmental records, and academic treatments of My Lai over the period 1968 to the present, Poe analyzes the origins and history of the commonplace that there were “many My Lais.”
Young guys, soldiers, hopped up on testosterone and war and fear and loss, took their orders and executed them.
How could there be ‘many My Lais?’
Maybe that’s why people don’t want to answer the question, “What did you do in the war?”
That all changed by the time I showed up in 1974.
The New All-Volunteer Army
The U.S. Army reinvented itself after the end of the draft.
The new Army was presented as a place ‘to be all you can be.’
What I saw in the ranks were young men who wanted to be more than they felt they were, and the Army was a start in the right direction.
With that in mind, the seasoned Drill Sergeant’s, E-6 and E-7’s, put me in charge of the whole platoon.
The assignment came with the pep-talk of pep-talks to be the man I wanted to be, a man among boys, a leader.
They knew what they were doing?
I had my own room to myself, not a bunk in the barracks.
Even at nineteen I could smell a shit sandwich before the first bite.
I still took the first bite, though.
The job of Platoon Guide came with more extras, like leadership school, where we were taught all about following orders.
The actual classes were about giving orders, but I heard it differently since the instructors were senior NCOs.
I was there as a result of following orders, and the class was taught with the same aim.
In a shocking turn, at least to me, one instructor explained what to do when given what might be perceived as an ‘illegal’ order.
Instructor: If, in the course of doing your duty, you receive an order that gives you pause, repeat the order back for affirmation.
Student: I question an order?
Instructor: You paraphrase it back for affirmation. If you believe the order to be illegal you say, “That is an illegal order, Sergeant/Sir, and I cannot follow it.”
They explained it further using Mai Lai as an example.
If we were ordered to stand over a ditch full of women and children and old people and empty our weapons on them, we had a choice?
The Order: Waste ’em.
The Question: Do you mean stand over a ditch full of women and children and old people and empty my clip on them?
The Order: Yes.
The Question: No.
Historical Reference For That Ditch And Following Orders
During WWII the German military recruited small town policemen and firemen and mailmen with a different public service in mind.
While the combat troops pushed the front lines east, the new recruits followed behind, following orders from town to town.
Most of these ordinary, middle-aged German men became willing, although not enthusiastic, killers.
A small minority consistently excused themselves from the task at hand. Browning argues that those who killed, did so because of:
“[T]he pressure for conformity—the basic identification of men in uniform with their comrades and the strong urge not to separate themselves from the group by stepping out… [The] act of stepping out…meant leaving one’s comrades and admitting that one was ‘too weak’ or ‘cowardly’.”
They wanted to set a good example for the young guys on the front lines? Was that it?
Middle-aged men too often want to ‘take charge.’
By their actions, willing if not enthusiastic as they may be, they felt ‘part of it.’
Was that what the Mai Lai crew were? Part of it?
From 1968 until now, we have a better grip on which part to participate in.
Which part is that?
None of it.
Care About Doing The Right Thing
Due to a series of unfortunate events I became a 24/7 caregiver for my Parkinson’s afflicted father in-law.
After a year and a half my wife and kids and I took a family vacation that lasted six weeks in England.
The old man was set up in senior foster care, where he lasted one day before falling out of bed.
He spent the next five weeks and six days in a senior care facility.
It was all news to me when we got back because my mother in-law didn’t want me to worry while I was gone.
The senior care place looked lovely and cool when I visited compared to the scorcher of a day outside.
It even had a water feature.
The hallway I was directed to was broiling.
At the end sat an empty wheelchair. Art least it looked empty.
The closer I got, the more it came into focus. Not empty.
Some poor old man was folded into the seat, chest on thighs, head hanging down.
All I saw was the back of his head, not his face, but I knew it was my guy.
Instead of sitting him up, I laid on the ground so he could see me.
I told him I was breaking him out of the place, to get his bag packed and be ready.
I heard someone walk up.
Staff: What do you think you’re doing?
Me: Talking to my buddy.
Staff: He can’t understand you.
Me: Yes, he can.
Staff: He’s barely said two words since he’s been here.
Me: He’s particular in who he talks to.
Two days later, with a doctor’s appointment, he was transported in an official wheelchair van to the office.
We met there.
Doctor: I’m not sure why you made this appointment.
Me: We’re here because I want you to call the nursing home and get him released back to me.
Doctor: They said he is too fragile to release.
Me: Then I want you to call the police and have me arrested in front of this old man. I want him to know someone gives a shit about him enough to fight.
Doctor: We don’t need to do that.
Me: Sure we do. It’ll give him a boost. He used to be a cop. I won’t make a fuss, but I want him to know.
Doctor: We don’t need a policeman.
Me: Then how about the parking guy I saw. He’s in uniform. Bring him in here to take me out.
Doctor: I don’t think any of us need the drama.
Me: I agree, so why not call the nursing home and tell them to release him.
Me to Kenny: You’re coming home, son. Fuck this shit, right? You’re all set up. Clean clothes, favorite chair, fresh sheets on the bed, Andy Griffith on TV. And we’ll be taking laps, not naps. We’ll pick up where we left off. You ready? Let’s hear it.
Kenny: Ugh.
Me: He says he’s ready. Make the call, please.
Following Orders Takes A Toll
You start out solid like a man of steel.
If you don’t stand up for yourself the first time, the second time, then it’s a habit to not notice.
What you’re missing is internal.
Following bad orders makes you fragile, breakable.
About David Gillaspie
