Mad Dog

Now that I’ve been assigned to Det Cuba I have a new Chief and his blood-shot eyes and sloppy swagger make him look like a poorly kept dog that’s been through one too many fights. He’s mean and gets a thrill from humiliating troops with degrading punishments. So far I have managed to stay on his good side, if it can be called that, and to keep my head low, so I avoid the brunt of his rages and insults.

A month ago I earned a 96-hour liberty chit because of my high performance on our physical fitness test (it was my fastest run ever recorded at 11:34 and, even though it’s not that fast for a mile and a half, I was pretty pleased with myself). I’m taking the liberty this weekend from Friday through Monday to spend time with friends and what Chief tells me, at least once a day, is, “Make sure you remember that one hand washes the other. Do you know what I’m saying? One hand washes the other.” I think I do; I think he means that I am indebted to him for granting me a liberty that I earned for myself, through an incentive program implemented by the Skipper, one morning in my sweats and sneakers. So when the Chief pipes up, “Just remember, one hand washes the other. Do you understand me?” I look into his crazy eyes and tell him, “I do.” And then I softly smile and bow my head almost imperceptably, to make him feel good about himself, so that he doesn’t take the liberty away.