Anne LeGare

While in the Protocol job that kept me from my babies, I had a few more embarrassing moments.  The commmanding general (CG) had a short list of company and battalion commanders he preferred for escort duty when a VIP visited.

When one of the officers in the CG’s preferred “stable” wasn’t available for escort duty, the job would sometimes fall on me, because I knew the boss’s requirements for a VIP show-and-tell.  After all, I was the one crafting most of the itineraries.

One time, a three-star general was visiting, and I was tapped to be his escort officer.  He was the Army’s top personnel officer, so the post Reception Station was high on the list of places to take him.

I could tell right away he was thoroughly uncomfortable with a female escort.  I would jump out of the sedan to open his door and he would already be out of the car.  I would go ahead of him to open a door for him, and he would refuse to go through it.  It was awkward for both of us to play the role-reversal game.

But I persevered because I was his escort!  I attempted several more times to beat him to a door, to no avail.  Finally, I acquiesced and started following him.  That seemed to make him happy.

After the Reception Station briefing, the general started walking briskly toward the front of the building, so I was double-timing to keep up with him.  As we rounded the corner and through a doorway, the general turned to me and said “I think I can take it from here, Captain.”

We had just walked into the men’s bathroom!