All Present or Accounted For

Another unwanted duty was officer of the day at battalion level. This required getting up before the crack of dawn and standing before the assembled batteries of sleepy-eyed men to report their presence.

This picture is retained in my memory. It is still dark, since the sun is not up yet. At least four batteries making up the battalion of 1,000 men or so are stretched out in front of you. It is at least a block and a half each way for the forming of the troops. The job is simply to call them to attention (without aid of microphone or any other artificial sound equipment) and get their reports.

“Battalll…ion! Atten…hut!” the DO bellows, and after the troops snap to, he requires them to “Report!”

“A Battery all present or accounted for, sir!”

“B Battery all present or accounted for, sir!”

“C Battery all present or accounted for, sir!”

This goes on until all units are heard from.

I had finally realized the emphasis on command presence—a loud voice, in the exercise of that morning. Of course, no unit ever reported anyone missing. That was all handled on the morning report, a written document submitted daily up the chain of command. On it those missing, on leave or sick call, or perhaps actually absent without leave (AWOL) would be so identified. Thus everyone was in fact present, or accounted for.

I suppose getting all the troops out at one time in a uniform fashion served some perverse army purpose but I never found out what it was.

Early in my assignment to Camp Atterbury I went to the first sergeant in my battery to get acquainted. He was a career man and had spent some time as a Texas Ranger before entering service, as well as having pulled duty as a guard at Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas. Those jobs give some indication of his general demeanor.

I admitted to being green as a gourd, which was obvious to him, and would appreciate any help and direction I could get. He said he would help when he could and we became good friends during my stay.

I was filling in for an officer in another battery, who was gone on emergency leave, and happened to be alone when the phone rang. Certain protocol is required when answering the phone and I followed it precisely:

“First Battalion, Battery C, Lt. McCormick speaking, Sir!”

“Are you standing at attention, lieutenant?” a voice on the other end asked authoritatively.

“Yes, Sir!” was my reply.

“Well, you don’t have to stand at attention for a sergeant, lieutenant.” I knew then it was my first sergeant pulling my leg.