Several years ago, as a second lieutenant in the Texas National Guard, I was attending my first summer camp at Fort Hood. The tent area for my platoon was next to that of a group from Dallas. I noticed that they spent all their free time throwing a football around, so one day I approached their captain with the proposal for a football game between his men and mine.
He studied his group for a moment, then turned to me and said, “Well, lieutenant, I’m sure my men would enjoy it, but I’m not so sure that yours would. You see, when my men are not at guard camp, they’re called the Dallas Cowboy’s.
At the Connecticut Military Academy, every National Guard officer candidate is inspected by one of the tactical officers before he enters the mess hall. During one inspection, the officer stopped a candidate and asked, “Is that a golf suit you have on, candidate?” (A “golf suit” is a set of fatigues of which the shirt and pants are of non-matching shades of green.) “Yes, sir,” replied the candidate. “Permission to play through, sir?”
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