Frontlines
Essays from
America’s Soldiers
Frontlines
is a collection of real life essays from Wayland Baptist University students, devoted to military life and service. Some
have seen combat in Iraq and Afghanistan. Some support
those missions. Some are Army, some are Air Force, and
some are National Guard. Some are career soldiers. Some
are not. All serve the citizens of the United States of America, and these essays are a historical marker and testimony
to that fact. Frontlines and Wayland honors the sacrifice
and service of these men and women.
“The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the
soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and
scars of war.”
~ Douglas MacArthur
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Old “G”
by Varnell Johnson
M
any years ago, Chief Master Sergeant Buddy
Crabgrass retired. He had achieved the highest
enlisted grade possible in the Air Force. He
served thirty years and was a mentor to me and many others.
Some retirements are boring; however, some are quirky,
fun, and filled with excitement. You never know what to
expect or how experiences in a person’s life can impact an
individual. Everyone knew for sure Chief Crabgrass would
have a huge celebration, with many family members and a
host of people to thank. From his sharp style of dress, articulate and moving speeches, and many accomplishments,
one would imagine his background probably consisted of a
middle-class upbringing and college for sure.
The entrance to the theatre marked the beginning of a
slow walk into the dank, musky main ballroom. In the
lobby attendees laughed, shook hands and some sat close to
exits for an easy escape, if needed. The echoes of chatter
filled the room. Some people were alone, and some were
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eager to get the event started. The ceremony was small, as
Chief’s family consisted of his wife and three adult children and, surprisingly, no others, plus a room full of military members whom he had touched one way or another
throughout his expansive career.
There was shop talk in one corner, complaints that the
schedules were unfair and the like. The food arrangement
was picture perfect, the honor guard was as sharp as usual,
and everyone was hyped to hear from the man who inspired
them so much. Most of us could only imagine what he
might say, as he didn’t share much of his past experiences;
he mostly provided guidance.
“America the Beautiful” played, and there were some
misty eyes, but most eagerly prepared to hear the parting
words of wisdom from the respected guest of honor. Many
times people who retire talk about the usual stuff: mother,
father, and their inspirations. Some are dry and uninspiring,
but claps always follow in congratulations for the individual retiring. Chief Crabgrass, however, was always well
spoken. He proudly displayed his Master of Education degree in his office and won numerous awards and accolades.
He was the man, the one to emulate.
For a few minutes the room was quiet. But in that instant
Chief began to speak. This speech turned out to be more
than an old cliché. He began to faintly describe how he lost
his parents at the young age of thirteen. He ran away from
foster care and was raised in the streets. Chief then stated, “I
finished high school mostly because of a gangster from my
neighborhood; we used to call him Old ‘G.’ He saved my
life and helped me to become the person you see today.”
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Now completely curious, my eyes were wide open.
Everyone in the ballroom waited anxiously for more. Some
looked at each other in amazement and surprise, as if wondering, “Did he just say that?” Chief explained how he
spent many years imitating this gangster.
Old “G” was the only one Chief Crabgrass called family; he walked like him, learned to sell drugs like him; he
wanted to be just like him. Old “G” always told Chief there
were bigger things in life to do than gang bang... like getting an education. He threatened Chief that if he didn’t go
to school, he would kick his butt. Everyone chuckled when
they heard this. With a slight tremble in his voice, Chief
went on to say, “I never got caught selling drugs and was
never arrested, and somehow I even found time to finish
high school.”
The climax of the speech was when Chief Crabgrass
explained how he managed to hide his criminal activities
from Old “G” and avoided the enemies in his hood, until
one day there was a violent gang interaction. All that was
heard was a loud pop! Hot lead from a 22-caliber pistol
grazed Chief’s head; at that moment, with blood dripping
from his scalp, he thought he was surely dead. Old “G”
took Chief to the hospital, watched over him for a few days
and then demanded, “You’re going to leave this neighborhood and join the military.” By then, scared for his life,
Chief Crabgrass was willing to do just about anything.
He explained, “I wasn’t as tough as I thought; I was
glad to be alive.” After a toss of a coin to determine which
service branch to join and then barely passing the entrance
exam, Chief Crabgrass’s journey in the United States Air
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Force began.
With mouths wide open in amazement, everyone listened to this testimony, mostly wondering, like me, why
they never knew this about Chief before. Some may even
question, “Why don’t leaders share their stories before retirement? Someone may need to hear it now, rather than
later.” Chief Crabgrass admitted his biggest lessons learned
were from the streets and Old “G.” He nonchalantly admitted, “I knew about leadership, communication, building a
team, and hard work well before coming into the military.
Truth is, had it not been for Old ‘G,’ I might not be alive
and standing here today.”
Chief’s words echoed throughout the ballroom; you
could hear a pin drop. As if it couldn’t get any better, he
then asked a question, “What do you think Old ‘G’ would
have done if I said no to joining the military? Probably kick
my butt again?” Everyone laughed ecstatically but tuned in
to Chief’s conclusion: “My accomplishments today are a
result of my experiences throughout the years, primarily
those on the street, but refined by the military; you never
know what a person has gone through to get to where they
are today; what is most important is that they got there.”
The Chief thanked God for his wife and children and
prayed we all remember those Old “G’s” around us, those
life savers who don’t always receive society’s praises, like
the movie stars, athletes, school teachers, and even politicians do. At work the next day, people were calling each
other “My old G,” even though one could assume they really didn’t know its true meaning. After the retirement ceremony, and reviewing my life, it was easy for me to decide
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to always share my experiences with others well before my
retirement day. You never know who might be influenced
to succeed or inspired to push forward as a result of sharing. Maybe one day someone will look back and consider
you their Old “G.”
About the Author:
A native of Chicago, Varnell Johnson enlisted in the Air
Force in 1984 after graduating from high school. He has
served 26 yeras, traveling to six different bases in England,
Mississippi, Alabama, Texas and Nevada. During his tenure, he has worked
as a mental health technician, often
working with soldiers dealing with the
emotional effects of deployment.
Johnson earned his BAS in Mental
Health Services from Wayland Baptist
in June 2011 and is currently pursuing
his Master of Arts in Management degree in healthcare administration. He
plans to retire from the Air Force in early August and return
to San Antonio to live.
Johnson and his wife, Tracey, retired from the Air Force
and also attending Wayland, have three children – Varnell
(VJ), Ashleigh and Troy – and a 13-year-old cat named
Boo-Peep.
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