Sergeant Maximilian “Max” Roberts saw what was happening and didn’t like it one bit. The men in the 16th Infantry Regiment, days away from their participation in the landing at Omaha Beach, had walked into the makeshift ballroom set up by the USO and had scattered to the corners of the room like a wave breaking against an inhospitable and rocky shore.
In the center of the room, dozens of ladies waited for the offensive to begin, but the men showed little inclination to engage. Almost to a man, they were nervous and after months of training, had almost entirely forgotten how to interact with a woman. Music played but the dance floor remained vacant.
Bold action was needed.
Max called the troops to gather in front of him.
“Men, I know most of you have never been with a woman. In a few days, we will board transports that will deliver us into the teeth of the German army. Into hell itself. Some of us will not make it through the encounter.”
The men shifted their weight from one foot to the other and looked down, the gravity of the situation sinking in.
“You are some of the finest men I’ve ever had the honor of serving with. It’s with this in mind that I remind you of the opportunity that lies in front of you. Don’t miss your chance, perhaps your last, to meet a girl. Maybe even a nice one.”
From the back a lone voice said, “But Sarge, Rule 7 of the junior hostess guidelines say that no young lady is permitted to leave the Service Club until the dance is over and Rule 8 says at the conclusion of the dance, girls will leave only with their chaperones. If that’s the case… what’s the point?”
Many of the men grumbled and nodded their approval at this observation.
“Bullshit!” countered the sergeant. As if on cue, stirring music began in the background. His back straightened and his eyes got a faraway look.
“We shall fuck them in the coat rooms, we shall plow them in the bathrooms, we shall nail them in the broom closets and in the pantries, we shall hump them in the kitchens; we shall never stop trying, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, you are shot down or rebuffed, the man next to you will step forth and continue the pursuit, until, in God’s good time, harnessing all of the company’s power and might, all of their panties and inhibitions have been liberated.” He paused for effect.
“I’ll even shag the old bird who’s supposed to be standing guard to keep her preoccupied.”
A loud roar went up from his men and they turned as one to face the ladies. A flock of sheep in wolf’s clothing ogling a pack of wolves in sheep’s clothing.
A good time was had by all. Especially the old bird.
Twice.
Four days later, twenty-nine of the thirty-six men in that room were killed in action, including Sergeant Roberts.