Mama always taught us to treat others with dignity and respect until they deserved to be treated otherwise, for as she said, unaware to us, they might be angels. Her words rang true when I met a most unlikely angel: Sergeant Major Henry Dawkins.
Mama was proud but apprehensive when I got drafted: proud because she felt that every real American must perform his patriotic duty, and apprehensive because the Vietnam War was in full pitch, and young Americans were being sent home severely injured or in flag-covered coffins. When worries beset her, Mama always resorted to prayer, and the confidence she got from communicating with the Lord obviated worry.
Having finished basic training at Fort Polk, Louisiana, I was shipped to Fort Leonard, Missouri, to undergo advanced infantry training. I called Mama one day to tell her that I would ship out soon for Southeast Asia. With no emotion whatsoever in her voice, she said, “I’ve been talking to God, and He promised me you wouldn’t go there.”
Keenly aware that Mama never allowed us kids to dispute her word, all I said was, “Yes, Ma’am.” The next day, revised orders notified me that I was being sent to Germany.
When I called Mama from Ft. Dix, New Jersey, to give her the news, her voice showed no emotion whatsoever as she said, “Told you. God doesn’t break promises.”
Upon landing at Frankfurt, Germany, I found out why my orders had been changed. Sergeant Major Dawkins was looking for a “boy.”
A native of South Carolina and as Southern as a man could be, Sergeant Major Dawkins harbored an intense dislike for Yankees, and because of his rank, could choose his underlings. Only Southerners worked for him, and being from Mississippi, I qualified.
“You want to be my boy?” he said, staring down at me from a solid-muscle frame of almost six and a half feet. “If so, you’ll work for me and me only, and you will never be called out for extra duty.”
Pondering his offer for less than two seconds, I said, “Yes, Sir.”
Then he said, “Notice I said no extra duty, but when it comes to duty, you’ll do exactly what I say, when I say do it, and how I say do it. Break this rule, and you’ll be shipped elsewhere.”
In the two years I worked for him, he never once called me by my name or rank; he only called me boy. I can still hear him roaring from his office, “Git in here, boy!” and he’d give me a list of things to do.
When I returned to civilian life, I was a changed man. Sergeant Major Dawkins instilled in me a virtue that was not well developed in my life before military service: a sense of duty. To this day, I cannot shirk responsibility — especially to God, family, country, and fellowman, and when I do, I hate myself.
All credit goes to Sergeant Major Henry Dawkins: an unlikely angel.
Jimmy Reed——
Bio and Archives
Jimmy Reed is an Oxford, Mississippi resident, Ole Miss and Delta State University alumnus, Vietnam Era Army Veteran, former Mississippi Delta cotton farmer and ginner, author, and retired college teacher.
This story is a selection from Jimmy Reed’s latest book, entitled The Jaybird Tales.
Copies, including personalized autographs, can be reserved by notifying the author via email (.(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)).
