Military Guide-On Bearer

It was like any other day; my family had just finished dinner, and my father looked me in the eye and made a statement that changed my life.

"John, go upstairs and put on a good pair of pants, a clean shirt, and your best shoes. Your cousin Larry Bryant will be picking you up at 7 PM to take you to join the New Jersey National Guard," he said.

To say I was shocked was an understatement as I left the table and headed upstairs. Before I hit the first step, I was crying and entered my bedroom, wondering what had just happened. I was only 15 1/2 years old, and my friends would mock me. My mother came upstairs to help me find my good clothes. I was sitting on my bed with my face in my hand, crying my heart out.

"John, you have to listen to your father as he knows best," she said.
 
I realized that my objecting to joining the National Guard was futile, as you never questioned my father. What he said was the law in my house. I dressed and headed to the front porch to wait for my cousin. Tears were rolling down my cheeks as my cousin arrived.

"Larry I don't want to join the Guard, I'm not the right age," I said. 

Larry gave the same answer as my mother. I quickly realized that he was the one that convinced my dad that I should join. It took us about 35 minutes to get to the Westfield Armory in New Jersey from my grandmother's home in Springfield. During the trip, Larry told me about the advantages of joining the National Guard. I stopped crying as I approachArmory Armory. 

"John," he said, "Since you are not 17 years old, you have to put down on the induction form that you were born in 1935 instead of 1937, which will make you 17."

I went to Armory Armory, a very unhappy young man, and was assigned to a room where I was handed a form to fill out. A young man was sitting opposite me. I later found out his name was Donald Jacobi, and he asked me what he should put down if he was only 16.

"I had to subtract two years from my birthday, so I guess you have to subtract one year from yours," I said.

Our forms were reviewed by a clerk, and with a few corrections, we headed to take our physical. It took about one hour for both of us to complete the entire physical. Don Jacobi passed, but Johnny Barr failed. Boy! Was I happy! I didn't have to join the Guard and let my dad know that I had not gone against his word. The reason given to me why I failed was that I was immature. Of course I was. I was only 15 years old. Then my smile quickly went away, and I learned a lesson in life: it's who you know and not what you know!

My cousin, who held the rank of Major, poked his head in the door and said, "Dr. Nevin, how did the Barr kid do?" The Doc said, "He failed." My cousin quickly said, "He passed!" The Doctor quickly said, "He passed!" 

I passed, and within minutes, both Don and I were sworn in. I was now a member of Troop D, 5th Recon, 50th Armor Division, New Jersey Army National Guard. Both Don and I were assigned as riflemen in the first platoon. When the 1st Sgt. saw me he knew right away that I would make a great company guide-on-bearer. I must have reminded him of the pole that held the guide-on. I was 6 ft. 3 inches tall and weighed a whopping 140 pounds, soaking wet. The Guide-On looked like my twin brother. He gave me a manual and told me to learn to be a Guide-On Bearer. Boy, I read and read and knew everything about the job and used a broomstick to practice. 

My basic training was one night a week, two hours a night for 13 weeks. What can you learn on that schedule? It is very little! You never left the Armory, and never fired a weapon, but you looked good with your boots highly polished and your uniform heavily starched. I passed all the tests mainly due to the questions Major Bryant asked me when he drove me to drill. I usually got 100 percent. Remember, I was too young to drive. Once basic was over, I was back to being a rifleman and Company Guide-On-Bearer.

The word spread quickly through the ranks. In two months, the Inspector General will be inspecting our unit. The entire company was brought into the upstairs classroom, where our commander and 1St Sgt. told us what was expected of us relative to the inspection. We were all given several sheets that contained information that we better knew for the inspection. I was on top of it and spent a great deal of time learning everything on those sheets.

The day of the inspection arrived, and I had memorized everything from those sheets. I could recite my 10 general orders backwards and forwards, I knew everything about my rifle. I was ready. Platoon Sgt. Joe Williams brought us all together for a quick review. As he asked the questions, I was quick with the answers. I knew my stuff.

"Barr, let someone else answer the questions," said Williams. "In all my years, the Inspecting General never inspects the Guide-On Bearer," he added. That was a relief to me when I walked to the front of Troop D about a few steps to the left side of my commander. I was proud to be there in front, waiting for the arrival of the IG. I was looking forward when I heard my commander say, "Sir, Troop D, 5th Recon, ready for inspection. After some small talk, the IG made the following statement. "Captain, I usually don't inspect the Guide–On, but I'm going to start with him," said the IG. Come on, IG, I'm ready, as military answers raced through my brain.

Within seconds, the IG was standing before me, eyeing me up and down. He asked the following question. "Young man, how tall are you?" Where did that question come from it wasn't on the papers I studied. I stood there with my mouth open and my brain not functioning, as that answer was no where to be found. It was filled with all kinds of military facts. I was brain-locked. After what seemed an eternity, which probably was only seconds, he addressed my commander.

"Captain, before I leave today, I want this soldier to see me and let me know his height," said the IG.

The inspection went very well for the rest of the company, and all of the men, from the officers to the enlisted, were proud of the job they had done, getting ready and passing the inspection. But what about the private that didn't know his height? The 1st Sgt. approached me and told me that the commander wanted to see me in his office. I was a little nervous as I knocked on his door, was signaled to enter, saluted, and waited for him to speak. 

"Pvt. Barr, don't you know how tall you are?" he said with a puzzled look on his face.

"Sir, I know that I'm 6'3", but I had so much military information going through my head I that had no room for that kind of information," I answered. "And, Sir, it wasn't on the sheet.".." He shook his head still with a puzzled look and told me to go immediately and find the IG and tell him my height. He told me to remember to salute him when I approached him.

I quickly found him and approached with a snappy salute.

"Sir, Pvt. Barr, I'm 6'3", I said. He answered, "I knew you knew how tall you were," he said. He continued by saying, "Young man, have a great career, our paths will cross again."