Butter Bar

Davidson Post, second lieutenant in the United States Marine Corps just received his uniforms from the dry cleaners. Immaculate and starched to perfection, the garments remained gems. He laid out the officer's Blue Dress "A" uniform on his rack. He took a look at the single gold bars in a bag that sat beside the uniform. He wrestled with the thought, “What if?” What if he just jumped up about nine ranks and donned the silver stars, four of them to be exact. Then he could command respect. He encountered enlisted staff non-commissioned officers (SNCOs) who, based on their billets, could reprimand him and call him a "butter bar" behind his back. Sure, they saluted him, but that was only out of customs and courtesies. If they had the choice, they would breeze by without rendering the sign of admiration and solemnity. He wanted to change all of that.

He drove over to the post exchange and darted directly to the aisle which offered all of the insignia and ribbons, badges, devices, and buttons. He honed in on and grabbed at the stars for generals and the decorations that would go with 40 years or more in the Corps. He collected all of the materials that would go into fashioning his new identity. While rushing to the counter, a master gunnery sergeant who accompanied Post on his change over named Hoyle Kern noticed Second Lieutenant Post.

“Good evening, sir. Looks like you’ve got your hands full. Just got your uniforms back from the cleaning ladies, right?”

Post grew embarrassed. “Yes, I, uh, I wanted to make sure that I was squared away for the inspection tomorrow.”

“Is there an inspection?”

Post knew that there wasn’t an inspection. In fact, there wouldn't be one for another two weeks. Quickly, he bypassed the question.

“Are you going to PT in the morning?” Post asked.

“I’ll be up at zero dark thirty stretching on the PT field, so yes, sir.”

The fact that Master Gunnery Sergeant Kern had called Post "sir" stuck like a dagger in his consciousness. How was he even worthy of such a title knowing what he planned to do?

Kern waved a hand goodbye and said, “I’ll see you out there.” The dagger twisted.

Post finally paid for the gear. He cruised back to his residence at the barracks in Dover, Delaware on the Air Force Base. His purpose for being on an Air Force base was to make the transition from Marine second lieutenant to Airman second lieutenant. But he wanted to do one last deed. He wanted to see if he could pull off being a general for at least one day. He figured that in the civilian world, there are Fortune 1000 companies with CEOs in their early twenties, too. Why couldn’t he command thousands of troops like employees of a FANG stock firm?

He set the medals down on the left chest and aligned the ribbon-only awards expertly onto the right of the Blue Dress uniform. He donned the outfit and stood backwards against the mirror, afraid to face himself.

“I’m going to do it,” he said.

In full uniform, Post stepped out from his barracks house. He didn’t get far when quizzical looks by military personnel began to arise. In moments, Marines and Airmen alike swarmed the second lieutenant.

“That is unsat, you can’t be a general. You don’t rate,” Corporal Benin Chester pointed out.

Technical Sergeant Alanda Heller shook her head. “I’m calling the CO about this.”

Air Force Major Calista Geller commanded Post to stand at attention.

“You do realize that your transition from the United States Marine Corps to the United States Air Force has been terminated, right?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“And you do realize that you will be brought up on charges according to the Uniform Code of Military Justice, Article 134?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

"I must strip you of your false accoutrements.”

Major Geller took each rank insignia and ribbon and clutched them in her hand. She threw them to the deck and squashed them with her heel.

“Now, you’re nothing.”

Post looked about the faces and accepted the opprobrium. Soon, two military policemen (MPs) then escorted Post away for him to realize his punishment.