My Veteran’s Day Tribute to  

First Sergeant Orville Wilson

This week I learned that a great man had passed and left us. Most people will never have heard of him. However, I’m sure that those who had the fortune of crossing paths with him will never forget him. I am speaking of Orville Wilson, Retried First Sergeant of the US Army. 

In 1981, I completed basic training and Infantry School during a brutally hot and miserable summer. When I returned home, I reported to my first unit, the Mighty Mighty Company A, Third Battalion, 18th Infantry Regiment, 187th Infantry Brigade (Separate). Alpha Company was located in Roslindale, which is a working class neighborhood located within the city of Boston.  

SFC Wilson, at the time, was the acting First Sergeant of Alpha. We affectionately called him Willie, but always when he wasn’t nearby, and never to his face. Wilson was my first and only First Sergeant during the 5+ years I had the privilege of serving in Alpha Company. Under his mentorship and that of my older and more senior NCOs, I rose in rank from E-1 (PV1) to E-6 (Staff Sergeant and Acting Platoon Sergeant) in just 5 years. This was no small accomplishment. After a rather short period of time, Wilson was promoted to the rank of First Sergeant, and he was no longer acting First Sergeant, but he sewed on the chevrons and he became the Top Soldier in Alpha.

The troops that served with 1SG Wilson feared him, and at the same time we all loved and and perhaps more importantly, respected Willie. Believe me I don’t use those terms lightly. He forged a unit, a line company, an infantry outfit that, like all infantry outfits, lived and operated in and under the most miserable, trying conditions military service offered. Because of those hardships, we thought we were better than anyone else in uniform. Cocky? Oh hell yeah! You better believe it. 

The Commissioned Officers in Alpha came and went, some were good, others less than proficient. Each put in their required time to advance their careers then moved on. The one constant, the one person who set the unwaiverable, non-negotiable standards of behavior and performance from his company, the one person who insisted that those standards be followed, and make no mistake, Company A was Top Wilson’s company, during all my time there was First Sergeant Wilson. 

A-3-18 INF had the best Esprit de Corps of any unit I served with during my 31 year military career, and I served with some good ones. This was no small feat because during that time of much lingering racial strife in Boston after the forced busing of the mid 70s, Wilson took a company of Reservists, mostly inner city kids and men and molded them into an incredible family. 

Company A (my best guess) consisted of about 50% Black soldiers and leaders, 40% white, and the remainder consisting of Puerto Ricans other Latinos, Asians, you name it. I even had a Russian kid in my platoon. White soldiers from South Boston and Black soldiers from Roxbury and Mattapan, all who grew up on the mean streets and projects around the city, who if they ran into each other on the streets as civilians might try to kill each other. But Willie and his troops were all Army Green, Infantry Blue, brothers who would defend one another physically and otherwise at the drop of a dime or insult. We truly were a brotherhood and genuinely cared for each other as those who constantly shared hardships tend to do. 

The Drill Sergeants at Ft. Benning (in my company they were a a mix of mostly Black Drills, a few Whites, Latino and Caribbean Islanders, some Vietnam Vets) taught us early on that above all, there was only one color that mattered. That color wasn’t skin color. It was Army Green, and any soldier was to be judged only by their performance, being part of a team and the rank on their collar, but never their skin color, ethnicity, or where they came from. That environment may have been the only truly post-racial period I experienced and lived through during my life. After a week or two at Ft. Benning, I can truly say that I never looked at, saw or cared about the color of the skin of the man on either side of me. 

1SG Wilson continued to forge that environment in the small part of the world he controlled, and he didn’t do it by preaching to us about equality. He did consistently told us stories of the unjust treatment he’d seen and anytime a soldier was not treated correctly for whatever reason, not to preach to us, but to educate us as how we were to act as our leadership roles grew. We, as our responsibilities increased were the ones that would be on the lookout for and charged with eliminating unfairness in all aspects of life. He did this by example. He did it with his brand of discipline (one of the roles of the Army First Sergeant is to be that Unit’s disciplinarian), what he said to us, how he held us to the highest standard and by sitting with us man to man whenever he could and taking to us about not only the Army, but about life in general. We would have followed him anywhere. We were always thrilled whenever Top Wilson would plop himself down onto the ground or into one of the Fox holes we were digging and spent some time with us. He was never above grabbing a shovel or broom and pitching in whenever he had a minute. 

On the other hand, when we were wrong, he had no problem giving it to us, either as a group or individually. And when he gave it to us, he held nothing back. It was often harsh, to the point and laced with obscenities. He gave us feedback in a way that we all could understand. The Army may have considered his language inappropriate or unprofessional, but there were no woman in infantry companies in those days, and Top knew how to get through to a bunch of hard headed city kids who thought we were the shit. 

Those five+ years that I served with and under Wilson’s tutelage, I watched him, I took in every leadership decision, tried to dissect each so I understood his reasoning, and I made him my role model. Actually I CHOSE to make him my role model, the person and leader I aspired to be as my own career progressed. I took his lessons with me, applied them throughout my career, and again emulated him as I led and trained leaders, during both “peacetime” (we’ve had little of that over the years) and during wartime and in combat. 

The apex of my career came, after I returned from Iraq when was when I finally attained the rank of First Sergeant, and during that time I did my best to emulate First Sergeant Wilson, and hopefully inspired a few of my NCOs to carry on his tradition.

Don’t misunderstand me. I never tried to be Top Wilson. It wasn’t like when I tried to copy Carl Yastrzemski whenever I swung a baseball bat when I was a kid. No, Top Wilson and I were different persons. Aside of the fact that to this day, I don’t consider myself worthy enough to carry his ruck and I never did. I knew that Top and I came from different places with different experiences, but the United States Army was the entity which leveled us all, taking us to the same plane in life regardless of our differences and our backgrounds. I took the many, many positive attributes that Top Wilson had, and blended them in along with my own personal leadership style that would fit in with my personality. 

As tough as Willie was, and he was tough, more importantly he loved his soldiers and cared for them and their families. Much of what he did for his soldiers he did out of uniform and quietly behind the scenes. We all loved him then, and our respect hasn’t waned over the years. 

Now, I’d like to share some of my experiences and lessons that we all learned from Top Wilson during those years. I’ll apologize ahead of time form any language that may offend anyone who takes the time out to read this, but I can only honor Willie by sharing some of those verbatim gems of wisdom he would often lay upon us. 

Wilson would not tolerate too much familiarity between his NCOs (Sergeants) and their men. Being a reserve unit, several members knew each other outside the Army, and in uniform, they sometimes referred to each other by their first names etc. This went right up Top Wilson’s ass. I stood in several formations when Willie would tell us in his high pitched voice (When Willie got pissed his voice would rise, the angrier he got, the more the pitch of his voice rose so we all knew when we were in deep trouble) that “every NCO here has a first name. And that first name is Sergeant. I better not ever again hear any Hi Tom or Hi Dick…”

What did I take from that? When I finally sewed on my own Sergeants Chevrons, I never allowed a lower enlisted soldier to call me Sarge. With the exception of my squad members, and later platoon members, the ones that had won my respect, I was Sergeant to everyone else, including the Officers I worked for. Whenever a soldier I didn’t know would refer to me as Sarge, I would correct him by telling him that ‘a Sarge was a fish that swam around and ate algae. I’m not a fish and I sure don’t eat shit!’ Point made. Willie made us take pride in the fact that we were Non Commissioned Officers, even though we were reserve soldiers. 

During home station drills, which didn’t occur very often because we spent most our time in the field, Top Wilson would scrutinize our appearance, and anyone he deemed in need of a hair cut was thrown out of the building and ordered not to come back until they saw a barber. For that, the offending soldier would be docked a half days pay and given a U or UNSAT for performance that day.  I’m not sure if we could get away with that today in the Guard or the Reserve, but back then Top Wilson’s word was law. 

During A Class A uniform inspection in ranks, the Commander at the time stepped in front of Top Wilson to inspect him before moving to the rest of the company. What the Commander didn’t realize at the time, was that Top Wilson had inspected him, and after doing so brought the inspection to a stop by announcing to the Commander in his high pitched tone: “You ain’t gonna inspect me Sir, until you get your shit right, and I’m here to tell you your shit ain’t right” He then quietly advised the Commander to go back to his office and correct his uniform before he continued the inspection. Top Wilson always told us that we had no business making any type of correction to any soldier unless we were right ourselves, and as leaders we’d better be right. If you’re not sure, keep your mouth shut until you looked up the correct answer. That advice served me well throughout the rest of my career. 

One year the entire battalion marched in the Columbus Day parade in Revere Massachusetts. We marched in green fatigues, steel pots with our weapons. We were a big hit. No dress uniforms for us. As we unloaded from the trucks that delivered us to the staging area Top Wilson got us into formation, and delivered a few of his off colored remarks. The one that stands out to me this day was this warning-

“And when you are marching I don’t want to hear any cadence about We are P—y eating Alpha or Motherfuckin Alpha out there” (which actually was a common marching cadence) We all laughed, but all the marching cadences that day were clean. Top Wilson never had to threaten us. All he had to do was lay down the law and we fell into step. 

One winter day we were at Ft. Devens. The training schedule had us eating breakfast at our Battalion Mess hall early in the morning, before we went out to the field to train for a few days. When we got there, it was still dark out, we lined up outside, and were told there was a change, and breakfast would be sent to us later after we went out to field. 

Well First Sergeant Wilson was having none it. They say the First Sergeants job was beans and bullets, that is making sure the troops get fed and they get their other needs seen to in the field. 

Wilson told us to stand fast and stormed into the mess hall, his long legs taking three steps at a time. Wilson had a rather loud discussion with the Dining Facility Manager. While this “discussion” was going on, certain people were coming and going from the mess hall, and each time the door open all we could hear was Wilson ripping someone’s ass, telling them that he has a signed training schedule signed by the Battalion Commander and only the battalion commander had the authority to change it. Then the door would close and it would be quiet until the next person walked in. The mess hall people weren’t buying it, and finally, Top Wilson stepped outside and ordered all the NCOs into the mess hall. When we were there, he announced that we were taking over the mess hall and feeding our company. 

The officers, NCOs and cooks stood slack jawed while we took out places on the line and at other spots and lined up troops and fed them. We spooned out their food, poured their coffee and handed out cartons of milk. No one dared to challenge us or Wilson. We got the job done. Quick and with no fuss.

Later, I was by the Company C.P. (Command Post) in ass deep snow when the Battalion Commander showed up. He jumped out of the jeep and I figured that was trouble for us and Wilson, but I overheard the conversation. The Commander told Top that the next time he had any trouble with the mess section to tell him. Top’s response? 

“I’m not going to have anymore trouble with those motherfuckers, Sir. I know you signed that training schedule and I sure as hell know that no one but you can change it. I know what the m’fuckn regulations are and they don’t but they’d  better learn and start following them from now on. Don’t worry about a thing Sir!” The Battalion Commander walked away, and I’m not sure Wilson had put his fears to rest or not. One thing for sure, if you challenged Top Wilson about anything, you’d better know the appropriate regulations because Wilson surely did.

One year we were at Ft Drum, NY (when it was Camp Drum) and for some reason I was doubling as Top’s driver, which was bad news for me. While the rest of the company was grabbing their couple of hours sleep, Top was running around post taking care of business all night, and I was with him. 

When the company came in from the field one night one of our entire squads was arrested by the MPs at the EM (Enlisted Men’s Club, Do you old-timers remember those?) Club for fighting with some other unit, and then the MPs. After he got that squad sprung from the MPs he gave them quite the ass chewing. After he put them to bed for the night he told me off to the side that in reality, he was proud that the entire squad got arrested together and it demonstrated outstanding Esprit de Corps for the unit. But he never told them that. He let them believe he was mad at them. 

That year, he went on to tell me, as he roused me from my limited sleep several times, the MPs told him they were arresting other troops from other companies and they could never find their leaders so they asked Willie if he would get these soldiers and take them back to their units or they’d have to be locked up all night. Willie agreed, and we made many trips to the MP station late at night to pick up several troops who we didn’t know and return them to their units.

One winter, during a miserable winter AT (Annual Training) we were at Camp Edwards I found myself with Top one day. I was driving him around in a Jeep and he instructed me to take him to Brigade Headquarters. 

We were filthy, tired, most of us were sick. We’d been in the snow, freezing rain and cold in the field without a shower for almost two weeks. Several soldiers and key leaders had come down with immersion foot and were either hospitalized or back in the rear “with the gear’. In fact, we had so many cold casualties, I found myself as the squad leader of my squad. Normally, an E-6 of Staff Sergeant would serve as a Squad Leader, but our ranks had been thinned out and I found myself as an E-4 squad leader. 

So neither of us were in any mood for niceties when we arrived at Brigade HQ. The poor E-4 on duty inside the entrance stopped us and respectfully told us we were not allowed entry looking like we looked. No doubt we looked wretched, but the sight of all the personnel running around inside of the HQ, each nice and clean, fatigues nicely pressed, boots with a brush shine, dry and warm kinda irritated me, to say the least. But, I kept my mouth shut. Fuck all these motherfuckers I thought to myself. 

Which was more than I could say about Top Wilson. Top started in on the poor E4 who was only doing her job, and then stormed past and behind her, as though she didn’t exist. 

He then started grabbing random soldiers and lined them up against the wall all the time making a big show of it. Those soldiers were looking at their NCOs and Officers, looking for either guidance or help, but the more Top went on, the more others in the HQ either averted their eyes to the spectacle unfolding or just plain walked away. You see, by that time, First Sergeant Wilson had a certain reputation within the Brigade, and it was widely known you never screwed with him.

Top Wilson lined up all the soldiers he grabbed up and selected, then counted them off. There were like nine of them or so, and he loudly announced to everyone inside-

“You see this? It takes nine of these Mother F——s to support every one of my infantrymen in the field. So don’t give me any shit about we can’t come in here looking like this!” He then went about his business while others stood by and digested what had just happened. Nobody said a word to us, including the officers present. Thing is, Willie always included a lesson whenever he stood up. 

When I went back to the company later and told the story of how the First Sergeant stood up for us and infantrymen everywhere to the REMFs (a not complimentary term Infantrymen used to describe everyone else in the Army with the exception of Medics which literally meant Rear Area Mother F——s.) his legend and endearment to all of us only grew. 

The Company was training at Ft. Devens one day and Top was due to re-enlist. He had some type of feud going on with the Company Commander during that time so he decided that he did not want that officer to administer the oath of re-enlistment to him. 

“But Top?” The Officer protested…”Who else are you going to get to swear you in?” Wilson replied in an even, unemotional way by saying-“Army regulations state that I can be sworn in by the officer of my choice, and Sir, that ain’t you.” Which was followed by a sharp salute from Wilson and a near perfect parade field about face as he left the Officer standing wondering what had just happened. “What balls” I thought at the time. But Top Wilson wasn’t finished, 

The next officer who wandered into this scene happened to be a stranger. It was an unsuspecting Lieutenant, wearing a Green Beret form the 10th Group which was stationed at Devens at the time. Top walked up to him, stopped, saluted (the two had never seen each other before) and said “Excuse me Sir, would you be willing to administer the oath of enlistment to me and swear me in?” The Lieutenant appeared surprised but quickly recovered and replied by telling Wilson “It would be an honor, First Sergeant!” and Top Wilson was then re-enlisted in the United States Army for another hitch.

Then there were always then annual Family Days at the Company. During December Drill periods, we usually never went to then field that month. Instead we trained at the center on Saturday, then on Sunday we would always report in our Dress Greens for first formation, than after a pretty thorough inspection, we started to prepare for the noon Holiday meal which our families had been invited to attend with us. Usually, one of the NCOs or Platoon Leaders would play Santa, and we all bought small gifts for the children that would attend, and Santa would arrive before the meal and distribute the gifts and some candy, while the younger kids got onto his lap and told him what their Christmas wishes were.

Now I want to take a minute to say that we at Company A were very fortunate to have a cook by the name of Sergeant Hines attached to us. Whenever the Battalion was in the field, he went back to HQ company and worked in Battalion Mess. But when we drilled separately, he was our assigned cook and prepared our meals for us. 

Now Sergeant Hines was a professional chef. At the time, his civilian job was at the restaurant located in the Sheraton Boston hotel. Hines would always purchase food and ingredients on his own dime, and take the bland meals cooked inside the drill hall and turn them into something nice. They say an Army runs on its stomach, and we surely all loved and appreciated Sergeant Hines. We never referred to him as a “Spoon” which was the derogatory name we applied to most other all mess hall cooks. Sergeant Hines was one of us, even though he wasn’t a grunt. 

We went on to set the Drill Hall up, we put up some festive decorations and we took various weapons and equipment out to display which we could show off to our families and the kids when they arrived. Normally that all went off without a hitch, and when the meal was done, the enlisted men were allowed to leave with their families, but Top made the NCOs stay back and clean so that the troops could leave early. It was just one of the prices we paid for being NCOs in Top’s world. 

So, one morning formation, as we got ready for that years Family Day, after the Company Commander turned the formation over to Top, Wilson decided to give us some advice, and do it in his own plain talk fashion that we came to love and fear at the same time. 

Top told us of a recent Family Day, and one of the wive’s arrived a bit early, so one of the NCOs, not her husband, escorted her inside, offered her coffee or tea then sat with her for a few minutes. The wife started discussing how hard it was being married to a Reservist, and that with all those weekend drills, at least two weekends a month, it makes things tough on the family. Well, instead of just keeping quiet, the NCO blurted out the fact that they only drilled once weekend a month, which was true back then. 

Needless to say, this created quite a row when the wife later confronted her husband over the two drills a month he’d been going away for. The dispute got loud and out of control and resulted in the police responding followed by a nasty divorce. 

The moral of the story? Top Wilson then told us to be friendly, courteous towards the wives and family members, say yes Ma’/am and no Ma’am, but other than that offer no opinions and “Keep your Fuckin mouths shut!” His advice was heeded.

Back in the 80s, we had to personally appear before promotion boards, and anytime any us went to a board, we had to meet at the Reserve Center first at which time Top performed a thorough inspection of us in our dress greens. He then gave us advice on how to act at the board, tested us with some basic questions and tried to calm our nerves. At the time, there was a regulation that if a black soldier was appearing at a promotion board, at least one member of the board had to be a black soldier. Top Wilson, being Black (possibly the only Black First Sergeant in the Brigade) sat on promotion boards all the time throughout the Brigade, and as such, he was able to give sound advice to soldiers prior to appearing. Wilson said he had no patience or regard for other First Sergeants and leaders who allow their soldiers to show up for boards unprepared and fail. He blamed them, not the soldiers. Company A soldiers almost always got their promotions when the time came. Again, credit to that goes as much to Willie as it did us. He forced us to prepare.

I think the pinnacle for Company A, at least during the time I was there occurred the last AT I attended with them. It was at Ft. Drum (a miserable place to pull duty back then, even in the summer) and most of our officers and key leaders were away at various service schools. So, we went to AT with only two officers, our Commander and our Executive officer, and the rest of us were bumped up on our responsibilities. I found myself as a Platoon Leader, normally an Officer’s job, answering directly to the Company commander. I found out that month what the “loneliness of command” felt like, as all my squad leaders turned against me every time I brought back instructions form the C.O. 

In any case, Willie wasn’t there with us, and our other Platoon Leaders and Platoon Sergeants were away at school, so we all had to step up our game. We went through all our training, with the usual lack of sleep and existing in the field, taking with us only what we could carry on our backs. We were evaluated as we conducted our assigned collective combat tasks by teams from both the 101st Airborne Division (Air Assault) the 76th Division (Training). At the end of that grueling training period, Company A was named as the outstanding company in the entire Brigade. The moral of the story? We performed and executed at a high level, even without our key leaders present. I attribute that to the fantastic leadership and atmosphere that existed in the company and the leadership, training and excellence demanded by our Officers and NCOs. They motivated us to want to be the best. Willie played no small role in forging that mindset. In fact, I credit the Commander at the time for letting Top Wilson do his job and run the company on the day to day basis, which allowed the officers to do their jobs.

Top, whenever possible, loved to get down on the ground with his troops and just hang out with them, letting them know he was one of then and he cared about them. Of course, having been a First Sergeant myself, I know how difficult it was during the duty day to take time to do that. You spend all day checking the boxes, and there are many of them, and running around putting out all the fires that you never started, and never would have started if only your advice had been heeded when it was given. But we alway knew that nothing bad would ever happen to us when Top Wilson was around. 

During one AT, the Battalion Commander came to the company CP and ordered Willie to lay down, take his boots off and go to sleep after he discovered Top hadn’t slept for a few days.  

One winter we were training at Ft. Devens. We were assigned to one of those old WWII Barracks that most people have seen photos of, the temporary buildings that were in used for more than 50 years at so many bases. It became apparent that we only had enough bunks for about 2/3rd of the Company. Right away, Top held a formation outside and announced that bunks would be assigned starting with the lower ranking soldiers on up. At that point, Top called the roll call in inverse rank, beginning with the E-1s, and started assigning the soldiers to individual bunks. By the time we got to the E-6s in the company, there were no more bunks. So, the rest of us, put our bedrolls on the floor wherever there was room. That included Top Wilson. It was a lesson to us all, that we took care of our soldiers first, whether it was bunks, chow, uniforms whatever. And, he led that way by making an example himself, at the same time not trying to make a show of it. That was the price of leadership, as taught to us by First Sergeant Wilson.

One time, when I was a young Squad Leader, I received a newly assigned soldier to my squad. He had just left the Army, and he had been a Ranger, assigned to one of the Ranger Battalions which had just made the jump, under fire, into Granada. Well, this soldier was an E-4, and had earned his Combat Infantry Badge during the ground combat he participated in on Grenada. 

He told us about his experiences, and we were all pretty much enamored with him. We had a couple of old-timers who had earned their CIBs in Vietnam, but to get a combat veteran who wore the CIB from a recent conflict, well that was amazing and we all looked up to him. 

One time we were in the field, and we had a break to eat lunch. At some point during the day, I had lost me meal (MRE) and as the squad sat to eat, I put out security and then went off by myself to rest a bit. A short time later, this Ranger E-4 showed up, and asked my why I wasn’t eating. I mentioned that I lost me MRE earlier during one of the raids we had practiced, and told him no big deal. 

At that point this soldier took out half of his MRE and offered into me. It touched me, but what really moved me was what he said after I refused to take food from him. He told me that since he arrived at Alpha Company, he watched me, he watched me take care of my soldiers and take care of him, and now, Goddamnit, he was going to take care of me for once and told me to eat. I was stunned that this previous active duty combat veteran complimented me in such a way, he genuinely thought I was a worthy NCO. What a high compliment to be paid by such a soldier. I think my soldiers noticed. I didn’t have to tell them I looked out for them, I didn’t have to baby them, they knew instinctively that I always had their best interest at heart, no matter how tough I could be on them. All of this was Willie’s doing. 

It was not always fun and games during my time at Alpha Company.  During my time there, we had two soldiers commit suicide. The two incidents were a few years apart, and they certainly were not related. Both of them hit us hard, as you might imagine. The first to kill himself was a young Corporal I’ve always remembered fondly. The story was he killed himself over break up with his girlfriend. He had a wake in Cambridge, and Top ordered us all to show up (if we weren’t working our civilian jobs) in full dress uniform, and we did. I know it meant a lot to the grieving family. 

A few years later, our Full Time / Active Duty Sergeant, an E-7, suddenly killed himself. This Sergeant was also highly respected and ran the company during the week when the rest go us were working our civilian jobs. 

Nobody knew why that Sergeant killed himself, not even his wife. It came clearly out of the blue and was completely unexpected. We were all at his wake, and Top was talking to the widow, and the widow told Top that the sergeant, who was to be buried in his uniform, was without his Cover, or his hat. She said she felt bad about it, but she couldn’t find his Service Cap, the one we called the Bus Driver’s hat. 

Well, Willie disappeared for quite a while, and suddenly, before the evening was over, an Army Green Service Cap magically appeared on the coffin. It turns out, Top Wilson drove home, which was about 30 or 40 minutes away, got his own cap, returned and quietly placed it on the coffin. The widow was so touched. We all just nodded our heads up and down, saying that was just the type of thing Willie would do. 

Of course Willie often gave us hard lessons on life whenever he felt we needed one. One time, a bunch of us were in our Dress Greens and that Saturday night we went to Kenmore Square and had a good time. My brother, myself, Porteneur, Ranger Pomer and a few others had a fun night. We weren’t feeling as good when we reported to duty the next morning without sleep. 

During formation, Top ordered us to shave (we hadn’t shaved that morning for obvious reasons) and we each went to the latrine where we found a dull, rusty, discarded razor in the trash. We passed it around and did the best we could shaving with a bar of soap. When we showed up for the next training event, each of us was bleeding from several cuts all around our faces, and numerous pieces of toilet paper stuck to our faced trying to stop the bleeding. 

The rest of the company erupted in uncontrollable laughter when we made our appearance into the classroom. Willie looked us over and said maybe we’ll remember to shave next time before we step into his formation. I do think I may have just detected just a twinkle in his eye as he said it. 

As I said, we were up pretty much all night, but at one point we, meaning I, lost one of my soldiers. He didn’t show up for formation the next morning, and Top knew we were all out together the night before. He called me into his office and told me I’D BETTER FIND THIS SOLDIER, OR ELSE! 

Eventually, I learned that the soldier, suddenly had enough and decided to drive home, but he never told anyone. He was there one minute and gone the next. We just carried on with our merriment figuring well, he’s a big boy, he’ll be alright. But, he wasn’t. He got onto the highway, and after bit he figured he was too drunk to drive and pulled over around the Blue Hills area. There, he passed out in the car and work up late morning, very sick and he headed home. 

All is well that ends well, so I thought when I reported that I found that soldier and he was fine. I even chuckled about it. Top Wilson didn’t agree. He went on the chew me out, telling me I was not good enough be wearing sergeants chevrons. He went up one side of me and down the other, telling me I lost one of my men, and worse left him behind. He went on to list the unpleasant things that could have happened. That soldier could have been dead somewhere. he could have been in an accident, he could have killed someone, he could have been arrested. Up to that point in my career, I can honestly I never thought about things those terms. Sure, we took care of our troops in the field, but I suddenly realized that wasn’t enough. It was an enormous lesson I learned, but that kind of stinging rebuke from Willie really hurt. I was afraid I lost his confidence.   

At the end of that long duty day, after the troops had been dismissed, I checked into the orderly room and the crusty old Sergeant who was on duty looked at us and exclaimed “Well, well. it looks like the joy boys are ready to go home” He then threw us out. Sadly, a few months later, that NCO had killed himself. 

By the time 1986 arrived, I had a decision to make. Should I re-enlist or get out. My six year obligation was soon coming to an end. I decided that it was time for a change, so I looked around for another unit before I re-enlisted for another six. But other things started happening at Alpha Company. 

Meanwhile, I found that I was eligible to attend drill sergeant school as an E-6, and become a drill sergeant, so I transferred to the 76th Division in Providence. As much as I loved Alpha Company and hated to leave it, I decided it was time.  

I knew Top Wilson was leaving, and I had no real desire to hang around after he left. The Battalion Sergeant Major had had enough of Willie, as did several other officers throughout the Brigade. The Sergeant Major started preaching that it wasn’t good for any soldier to “homestead’, that is to spend too many years at any assignment. Three years or four at the most, then move on. Of course, that new philosophy, suddenly embraced by the Sergeant Major seemed only to apply to Top Wilson. It was time for Top to move on and find a new home, and it wasn’t going to be in the Brigade. Top found a home at a USAR School as an instructor but to do so he had to revert to the rank of Master Sergeant and give up the diamond that was in the center of his Sergeant Chevrons. Ironically, both of our final drills with Alpha Company were on the same weekend. 

We went to the field that Friday night, which was normal, after first formation. Willie approached me before formation and said he wanted to spend his last drill there with the troops and do whatever they were doing. He asked me if I’d be acting 1SG for the drill. I was honored. I said of course. He handed me the training schedule, and said “Take Charge Top” and I did. Willie then fell in at the end of one of the squads for the duration and I spent a couple of sleepless days and nights trying to fill his shoes. It wasn’t easy, but fortunately I had a lot of training and experience from my time there. That Sunday afternoon I sadly bid farewell to Alpha Company for the last time and left them in my rearview mirror. I re-enlisted in my new unit and in March of 1987 I joined class 88-1 of the 76 Division Drill Sergeant School / Leadership Academy, where I met a whole new crop of outstanding leaders and soldiers. 

The Army finally made good on it threats and deactivated the 187th Infantry Brigade in the early 90’s, along with Alpha Company and all the other units that once comprised it. Alpha Company, a unit that had earned over two dozen battle streamers during its lifetime no longer exists. It’s battle history includes fighting at Kasserine Pass, Sicily, Omaha Beach, Normandy, Aachen and the Battle of the Bulge  But it’s spirit is still strong and I recently attended a reunion of the old A-3-18th and met with many off those I left behind in 1986.

Of course, Willie was much, much more of a soldier, leader and man than anything I can write here. First Sergeant Wilson was also a family man, and I’d had the fortune of meeting his wife and children. In 2011, I retired, as a First Sergeant, transferring into the Inactive Ready Reserve, effectively ending my military career of 31 years. Although I made the E-9 promotion list, and had been board selected for Command Sergeant Major, I recognized my window was closing. I didn’t want to go, but I knew it was time. 

There, in the IRR I waited until the Army officially retired me when I turned 60. My last unit had a little get together for my family and I to mark this event, and I reached out to Top Wilson, who had long ago retired, and wouldn’t you know, he graced our presence at that little get together. It was so good to see him and we regaled our families and the other soldiers with many of the same stories I told here. Willie, sat, smiled, a bit embarrassed and tolerated it all with good humor. Sadly, Wille never did make E-9 or Command Sergeant Major. The selection for CSM can be political, and Willie burned all his bridges when he was the First Sergeant at Alpha Company. He retired, I believe, as a Master Sergeant, still a great accomplishment. It was the Army’s loss that he was never selected to serve as a Command Sergeant Major, who serve as the Army’s chief advisors on enlisted issues at various higher command levels. I can only hope Top left us knowing how much he meant to us all.

Fittingly, First Sergeant Wilson will be laid to rest at a Veteran’s cemetery on November 10th, in Georgia, on the same day our country commemorates Veteran’s Day this year. Nothing could be more appropriate. 

Rest Easy, First Sergeant. Those that we trained and mentored and their troops that rose in the ranks will take it from here. I have no doubt that your spirit, example and leadership which has been passed down by all of the Alpha Company crew is still alive and well. To me, Orville Wilson will always be the ultimate professional soldier. To me, you will always be First Sergeant Wilson.