Sergeant First Class Balfrey walked the line, inspecting his platoon while they stood rigidly at attention. He touched each piece of gear like his Platoon Sergeant taught him, taking extra care not to forget something by muscle memory.
Rifle, magazines, first aid kit, ear protection, eye protection, CBRN masks, helmet, and body armor. As he turned down the next line in formation, he would slap the Camelbaks that were strapped to the backs of his soldiers.
He rapped a knuckle into a male Soldier’s chest and stopped when he didn’t feel the dull thud of ballistic plates underneath the Kevlar vest. He turned sharply. “Garcia, why are you out of uniform?”
“Sorry, Sergeant, they’re still in my duffel.”
“They won’t do you a whole lot of good in your duffel bag, will they Garcia?”
“No, Sergeant.”
“And unless you plan on carrying your duffel around all day, you’ll be separated from your plates, won’t you Garcia?”
The line of questioning finally dawned on the young soldier, and he hesitated. “Yes, Sergeant, but-”
“And if your plates are not accounted for, the Commander will expect me to recommend you for an Article 15, correct?”
“Yes, Sergeant.” He paled. “I was going to put them in before we did radio checks.”
There’s always one, SFC Balfrey thought. Yet these same knuckleheads will complain about every PCI or PCC before a movement as if this never happens.
“Fall out and equip your gear,” SFC Balfrey commanded.
SFC Balfrey returned to the front of his formation and fought the urge to find his pack of cigarettes in a cargo pocket. “At ease, soldiers,” he said to the group, watching them assume a more relaxed position. “Talk to me. What are we doing here today?”
Brown, a young Specialist with a good head on her shoulders, was the first to answer. “We are protecting federal property and federal immigration officers.”
“Correct.” SFC Balfrey nodded approvingly. “We will represent the great state of Texas and the United States Army with distinction today. Remember to keep your bearing and maintain your uniform wherever you go and whatever you’re doing. I don’t want to hear about any of you unblousing your boots, hanging items from your MOLLE that don’t belong, walking around without headgear, putting your hands in your pockets, or giving statements to the press. Do I make myself clear?”
A murmur of agreement followed.
“When we fall out, each of you will report to your squad leaders who have already briefed you on today’s mission. Squad leaders, if you have any questions today, refer to your CONOPs first before coming online. Keep the radios clear unless there’s an emergency.”
He paused, surveilling the group. “Any questions?”
“I’ve got one, Sergeant,” said one of his squad leaders. Of course you do, McKinney, he thought.
“Why aren’t we allowed to carry live rounds? Without ammo, I don’t see the point in carrying rifles and magazines.” McKinney said the last part with a chuckle that replicated across the line.
“Alright,” SFC Balfrey began. “Thank you, Sergeant McKinney, for your astute observation.” More laughs. “Listen up, chucklefucks, I wouldn’t trust any of you with my laundry, much less live rounds.” I need a cigarette, he thought.
He assembled his body into the position of attention: heels together, toes at 45 degree angles, fingers curled and joined with his thumbs knuckling the seams of his trousers, chin up, facing forward.
“Platoon, attention!” They snapped to attention. “On my command, gather around and pop a squat, drink some water, whatever you need, but stay here. Fall out!”
He lit a cigarette, taking a few slow drags while his troops fanned out and got comfortable. They were good kids and some half-decent NCOs, but only a handful had served active duty before.
SFC Balfrey began gathering his thoughts. “Have you ever heard the term: when your only tool is a hammer, everything looks like a nail?” Unconvincing nods bounced in every direction. “A soldier is, first and foremost, a warfighter trained to deliver overwhelming force on behalf of this nation. As National Guard soldiers, you have also completed training and field exercises for emergency responses, but your first calling is to make war.”
Agreement rippled through his platoon with pride. This is what they signed up for, and it was good to remind them of what they may one day be activated to do in an active theatre.
“We are wearing full battle rattle because that’s the uniform of the day,” he continued. “If and when that changes, I will notify your squad leaders immediately.” Noticing Garcia rejoin the platoon, SFC Balfrey beckoned him over while he talked to tap him on the chest, spin him around, and confirm he was also wearing his back plate.
“The case could be made that your battle posture affords you a measure of protection. Failing that, these ballistic plates are both for your safety and to protect the Army’s investment in each of you. Besides, the last thing the Commander needs is to be notifying your parents of an incident in which you couldn’t come home.”
SFC Balfrey looked around, marking that his words had the somber effect he intended. He took another drag.
“But there are assholes out there attacking law enforcement,” SGT McKinney took advantage of the pause. “Just last night there was some psycho on the news that sucker punched ICE agents. They were just lucky he didn’t have a gun.”
“What would you have done if you had a gun?” asked SFC Balfrey.
“I don’t know, Sergeant, but I would feel much better knowing that I could defend myself if I had to.” SGT McKinney spread his hands wide in a pleading motion.
“Listen up, warriors.” SFC Balfrey stamped out his cigarette on the pavement. “The police have been trained in very specific rules of engagement on when to use deadly force against a civilian. And if they have to discharge their weapon, they have their own procedures and processes to deal with it. They also enjoy significant protections in the court of law. You,” he pointed at several of the soldiers in front of him, “have no such protections.”
“What do you mean?” asked Bonkowski, a Private First Class that was fresh out of AIT.
“I mean that you will face civilian and UCMJ punishments in the event that you are found guilty of discharging your weapon when you shouldn’t have. If a negligent discharge into a firing barrel outside the DFAC on a military installation can get your balls in a sling, what do you think would happen if you fired your weapon at a civilian on American soil?”
SGT McKinney answered, “But we’re being asked to go into a hostile situation without being able to defend ourselves. Imagine being deployed to Kandahar or Fallujah without weapons.”
SFC Balfrey’s eyes narrowed, and he made sure to let his voice carry. “This is not Iraq or Afghanistan, ladies and gentlemen. The men and women that you see today are not enemy combatants. They are citizens of the United States of America just like you and I.”
“But what if one or more of them have guns?” asked a quiet voice from the back.
“They’re not allowed to have guns at a protest in Illinois,” responded SGT McKinney. “If you see someone carrying openly or concealing a firearm at a protest, inform the police immediately.”
SFC Balfrey nodded. McKinney was young and maybe nervous or scared, but he wasn’t dumb. At the end of the day, he was a good squad leader.
“SGT McKinney is right. Sometimes, soldiers, we are asked to be the tip of the spear. Sometimes we are asked solely to defend a position. Hell, sometimes we are asked to rake lines in the dirt and fill sandbags before evening chow.” Nervous laughter started and stopped. No one wanted to be filling sandbags at home, much less in another state.
“One day, you may even be asked to lay down your life in service of this great nation. But today is not that day, 2nd Platoon. Keep your heads on a swivel. Be vigilant. But don’t forget that this is Chicago, not a warzone. The sector you’re patrolling today may not be your community, but it is an American community.”
SFC Balfrey slapped his hands together, signaling the end of the discussion. “Alright, Wolfpack, let’s load up per the convoy manifest and conduct radio checks. We SP at the top of the hour.”
Using a sword as a shield just blunts the sword, he recalled from a book he read years ago. But this can still be good training even if it isn’t the doctrine I’d prefer.
“And Squad Leaders,” SFC Balfrey called out loudly, “Beginning tomorrow, you will inspect your squads like I did today. We inspect what we expect. If I find a member of your squad out of uniform, you’ll both answer to me.”