The fault of no one

The first sergeant, the one we called Coke Bottles because of his thick glasses, called me into his office.

"I want you to take these duty rosters over to the Sergeant Major," he ordered. He handed me a string tied envelope with a manila file folder inside. I n the file folder were the duty rosters--KP, guard duty, charge of quarters--for the month of December, 1967.

I made the trip across the compound to Battalion HQ. The ground was covered with snow and ice, and I made my way without falling down. God help the man who presented himself to the Sergeant Major in less than starched fatigues and spit-shined boots. Our SM had been in the Army since the early days of World War II. He was the original Old Soldier, rough hewn as a log fence, crusty as year-old bread. His job was to bring fear. He breathed fire from his nostrils. Our Battalion Commander, a Lt. Colonel, was timid around him. So were the junior officers and non-coms.

I gave the Sergeant Major the envelope, and he dismissed me with a wave of his hand. By the time I had worked my way through the frozen parade ground to Charlie Battery Coke Bottles was impatiently motioning me inside his office. "Sergeant Major just called; wants to know where the duty roster is for December 21."

"I don't know, Top. I didn't open the envelope."

"Well, I put it in there, goddammit. The Sergeant Major says it's not there and he didn't lose it, I know it was there when I put it in the file, and that leaves just you as the only other person who touched it." Ever feel that feeling when injustice is visited upon you? When you know you're wrongly accused? I got hot. I tried to control my voice: "I didn't open the envelope or the file and take out your duty roster. I had no reason. I was busy trying to keep from falling down in the snow and messing up my uniform and having Sergeant Major chew my ass!" I stuck my chin out and stared through the thick lenses into his owlish eyes. He looked back at me for a moment and said, "All right. I believe you."

Whew. But it was then I found out the concept of no one, and the fault of no one. Coke Bottles called the Sergeant Major and talked to him for several minutes, then had me type a statement that read "C Battery Duty Roster for week of December 21, 1967 lost due to the fault of no one." That incredible statement cleared me. Coke Bottles signed it and I took it across the compound to Sergeant Major, who said nothing, just grabbed it out of my hand. I turned on my heel and left.

So that excused it! No one did it! The fault of no one! What an incredible concept. If no one was at fault, then how did the duty roster disappear? I knew I hadn't done it; Coke Bottles said he didn't lose it, and Sergeant Major wasn't about to be blamed. You could catch Sergeant Major with a bloody knife standing over a pile of bodies and he wouldn't take the blame. So I guess that "no one" who was at fault in this case was…me. Good lord! It's mind-boggling, really. Like the invisible man I could commit all sorts of infractions because I was no one.

A year later another incident occurred; I drove a truck for the first time out of the motor pool and within a half mile the clutch went out. Once again, it had to be my fault, I was driving, wasn't I? and once again I argued my case. Since the clutch going out wasn't the fault of the previous driver, or the mechanics, or the guys who were supposed to be keeping maintenance on it, to my great relief it was the fault of that invisible no one.