In August 1969, I went to basic training at Fort Lewis, Wash., with Training Company D-5-1. We were one of four companies competing for the top company in our training battalion. We won the Manual of Arms portion of the test.

Our company stood in front of the reviewing platform, where there were several officers and their wives. After we opened our ranks, we fixed bayonets. Once the bayonets were fixed, each of us tapped the bottom of the bayonet to make certain it was properly attached to the rifle. One of our basic trainees was James Sailor from Hebron, N.D., and we called him "Doc." All of us had oiled our rifles so they shined for the competition. Doc had also oiled his bayonet, but when he tapped the bottom of the bayonet, like a greased pig or a rocket, it shot up in the air over our ranks, landing directly in front of the reviewing stand. All of us froze in shock, including Drill Sgt. Herrera. Doc stepped forward and crisply marched to the errant bayonet, using smart left and right turns. With a quick flourish Doc replaced the bayonet in his scabbard and marched back to formation like this was a planned move. We finished second in the competition; nothing was said about the bayonet.