In 1992, I was attending Army AIT at Fort Benning, Georgia. Halfway through my training cycle, I had to pull detail as CQ (Charge of Quarters) Runner. Being the CQ Runner sucked. You (the Runner) and the CQ (a Drill Sergeant) sat at a desk in the Company's main office, monitoring the phones, and responding if any of the soldiers in the Company did anything stupid.

During my CQ Runner shift, I was stuck with Drill Sergeant Griffith (not real name). DS Griffith was both a married man with multiple children, and a ladies' man with multiple booty calls that he liked to brag about.

An hour into my shift at the CQ Runner's desk, fighting boredom by reading the incredibly boring Soldier's Guide, while DS Griffith is on the phone in the next room talking to some woman that he obviously intended to bang.

DS Griffith hangs up the phone, walks up to me and tells me, "you monitor the phone. I need to head out to the shopette." It was obvious that DS Griffith was on his way to meet the woman on the phone and get laid, or 'get some guts' as he used to say.

Ten minutes after DS Griffith left the CP, I received a call from a woman claiming to be DS Griffith's wife. I told the woman that I didn't know where DS Griffith was, but I would DS Griffith know that she called. The woman began calling every five minutes for the next two hours, each call more frantic, with more crying, and more desperate than the last.

After more than a dozen calls, I decided to lie to DS Griffith's wife. I told her that there was a fight between a couple of soldiers in the barracks, and one of the soldiers had broken some teeth. DS Griffith had taken the kid with the broken teeth to the Emergency Room. The woman was relieved, thanked me, and didn't call back.

Thirty minutes after the last call from his wife, DS Griffith returned from his trip to Bootyville. I told DS Griffith that his wife had been calling non-stop. DS Griffith looked like he had shit himself. "What did you tell my wife, Private?" I told DS Griffith the lie that I had told his wife. DS Griffith ran into the next room and called his wife. I heard him say, "yeah, these two sorry-ass knuckleheads got into a scrap, and I had to take one of them to the ER. Sorry I didn't call you."

DS Griffith hung up with his wife, walked up to me and said, "I'll be right back, man. I mean it this time." A half hour later, DS Griffith returned with a large pepperoni pizza and a six-pack of Miller Genuine Draft. We sat there, ate pizza, drank beer, and watched a VHS tape of ComicView on BET.

DS Griffith told me, "what you did tonight is what being a good soldier is all about."