He’s Going Eleven Bravo

I was replacing the fueling nozzle when I saw what looked like a body in the bed of a small pickup truck in the neighboring lane of the gas station. As I stepped onto the pump island to get a better look I heard, “Thank you for your service, sir!”

I looked at the man standing by the truck’s driver door. He was dressed all in black. Leaping from his chest in stark white lettering were the words,

GANG ENFORCEMENT DIVISION

POLICE

I haven’t worn a military uniform since the mid 80s, so…how did he know? Then the light in my head stopped flickering and shone steady: my license plate.

I thanked him then explained that I was curious about his cargo. He laughed and stated the obvious, that it was a training dummy. He was on his way to teach a class.

We then spent several minutes discussing law enforcement and the military. He had a nephew who was getting ready to enlist. He straightened and looked at me directly. I watched his chest expand and heard the pride in his voice.

“He’s going eleven bravo.”

Military jobs are classified by duties performed. A given classification is known as an MOS, a Military Occupational Specialty. 11B is Infantry, “The Queen of Battle”. The tip of the spear. Boots on the ground. The soldiers who, even if they didn’t start it, will finish the fight. The man was justifiably proud.

“I saw your license plate”, he said, “My nephew mentioned becoming a Ranger.”

I felt my own chest expand.

“I got my Tab back in 1973. All these years later it’s still the crowning achievement of my life.”

He smiled and nodded several times.

“It’s something they’ll never be able to take away from him”, I said. “Once a Ranger, always a Ranger.”

We spoke a few moments longer. Then I extended my hand.

“Thank you for your service.”

I watched him pull away as I fastened my seat belt. I caught a glimpse of myself in the rear view mirror and saw that I was still smiling. The policeman had no way of knowing that he’d made my day.

~ Dempsey 🌵