Part VI of my Thank You list...

begins on my arrival at Andersen Air Base, Guam.  Once known as North Field, it was the home of the 43rd Strategic Bomb Wing as host unit when I got there; however, I had been assigned to the 605th Military Airlift Support Squadron (MASS).  My sponsor and new boss, TSgt Cecil C. Morgan met me at the terminal and drove me to the barracks that would be home for the next fifteen months.  He seemed like a nice guy but he wanted me at work the next day (Saturday) to help out as they were preparing for an inspection by higher headquarters.  That inspection started on Monday and when it was over, the unit administrative function was rated unsatisfactory.

TSgt Morgan, whose photograph should appear next to the definition of asshole in the dictionary, tried to put the blame for that failure on me.  When the Colonel in command told him that was bullshit he said that he would fix everything personally.  What he said and what happened don't mesh.  I fixed every area that was my responsibility so that when the re-inspection came around, my portion of the office was rated Excellent.  The only reason it wasn't rated Outstanding is that you can't get an Outstanding on a re-inspection from an Unsatisfactory.  But the office was rated only Satisfactory overall and again he tried to pin the blame on me.  And again the Colonel didn't buy into his reasoning, especially when I was commended in the re-inspection report.  So he treated me even worse for the rest of my tour.  In fact, when I was recommended for an Air Force Commendation Medal, he stopped the recommendation by tossing it into his desk drawer (I happened to have a copy of the recommendation, so I ended up being able to get the award in the end).

What did I learn from this jerk?  That there are assholes of every level in society, and you just have to suffer through them.  When they aren't your boss or in your social circle you just avoid them.  When they are your boss, or co-worker or in that social circle, you just do the best you can.  That was a good lesson and I thank him for it.

Then there was his immediate supervisor, Lieutenant Dula.  His biggest problem is that while he was very smart, he wasn't as smart as he thought he was, and he was threatened by anyone smarter than he was.  Not just in terms of raw intellect (he was way up there in that) but in common sense and how things work in the real world.  I have nothing but respect for the majority of those who teach and I consider myself a teacher but there are people in this world who do personify the adage "those who can do and those who can't teach".  He was one of those people and I heard he went into academia.  I won't further describe his flaws other than to say he was probably the worst commissioned officer it was my displeasure to work with in 10 years on active duty.  He taught me that the Peter Principal does work, that cream doesn't always rise to the top, and there are people in this world who simply can't be trusted.

On a much more pleasant note, there was SMSgt Zachary W. Taylor.  He was the First Sergeant of the Supply Squadron back at Homestead when we first met and he was my First Sergeant on Guam.  He became a friend, a mentor and someone who supported me in every endeavor I undertook.  He had me over to his house, he helped me buy a moped so I could get around and when TSgt Morgan tried to screw me over on something; not only did he stop it, but he gave the screwing over right back to that asshole.  He was so good at being a First Sergeant that I encountered him again in my next assignment in Mississippi, where he became the commandant of the First Sergeant's academy.  A whole generation of First Sergeants benefitted from his knowledge and experience.  He taught me that you protect those who you care about, and who are loyal to you.  He taught me that there's no point in getting mad and you don't necessarily need to get even.  He also taught me that there is a great benefit to networking, building relationships and being willing to be the first to extend yourself to help others, without expectation of anything in return.  He was a very wise man and I think of him very fondly.  He was also a fun guy to hang out with.

And there was the person who was "Zack's" best friend, CMSgt John J. Major.  He was the senior man in the personnel office at Homestead when I first met him and he ended up in that job on Guam before I arrived there.  He too was a friend and mentor.  He taught me how to make the personnel system work better for the airmen that I provided support to.  He taught me that it isn't enough to know how regulations work, but that you need to know how they were intended to work.  He was also a lot of fun to hang out with and I spent many pleasant evenings in the NCO club in the company of "Z.W." and "J.J." which is how they insisted on being referred to away from work.

It was a guy who I won't name but refer to as Sgt. H. who gave me the clue to realize why Cecil Morgan disliked me so.  Sgt. H. arrived in our office in November and Cecil C. wanted to make him my direct supervisor so as to insert himself as my secondary rater on performance evaluations.  But I was on the selection list to SSgt and once I was promoted, I outranked Sgt. H.  Then he was no longer interested in anyone else supervising anyone within the office.  Later on, Sgt. H. finally got his line number to SSgt but it came too late.  However, at his promotion party, where he was lamenting how it had taken him 14 years to make that rank; while I'd done it in less than four years, he told me that he'd researched Cecil C.'s records and he had taken ten years to make SSgt and 16 to make TSgt.  And that it probably bothered him to no end that I'd get to the rank it had taken him 16 years to get to, in less than eight years (he was right, I made TSgt six months before my eight year anniversary on active duty).  So I thank him for handing me that critical piece of knowledge.  It made my last months on Guam much easier to deal with.

Lastly I want to thank a number of people who I was stationed with on Guam, who gave freely of their wallets during the copious hours of "double-deck GI pinochle" I played in the barracks and at the NCO club.  Your generousity and inability to recognize the fact I could count 80 cards with ease made my financial obligations much easier to bear.  Thank you.

Next, the long list of people I need to thank at my next duty station, Keesler AFB, MS.  This time as permanent party personnel, not a student.