Stories

Kitchen Patrol

Drill Sergeant Nickerson called me into his office. "Neel, I'm about to teach you a valuable leadership lesson. Never ask your soldiers to do anything you are unwilling to do."

He showed me his DA Form 6, a duty roster for Kitchen Patrol. This roster was populated Alphabetically by Rank. Since I was Platoon Guide, I was first on the list.

"You and these two men have KP tomorrow, beginning at 0500. Report with them to the Mess Sergeant fifteen minutes early in Fatigues, shirttails out, boots, and no covers."

I had become the Platoon Guide about a week before. I was older than everyone in the platoon, paid attention, took things seriously, and had proven scrappy enough that people didn't mess with me. My Drills picked up on that and put me in charge when they were not around. I wore a black armband with Sergeant's Stripes on my left sleeve. Squad Leaders wore the same with Corporal Stripes.

I was proud of this armband and wore it to the mess hall, reporting on time at 0445.

The Mess Sergeant met us at the door. "Oh, you're the Platoon Guide! You're going to be in charge."
"Cool," I thought.

He put the other two to work. The Dining Room Orderly (DRO) fetched things for the officers and drill sergeants and removed their trays after the meal. Line Orderly helped with the serving line, replenished food trays from the kitchen, and restocked the cereal line.

He took me to the back of the kitchen to a room filled with sinks and stacked full of dirty pots, pans, plates, and glasses.

"Platoon Guide, YOU are in charge of cleaning everything in this room."

I spent the next seventeen hours soaking wet, ankle-deep in greasy hot water, scrubbing everything in sight.

When I returned to the platoon, I was a mess. My buddies had a good laugh but never once complained when I told them they had KP.