OREO COOKIES
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Every second lieutenant acquires embarrassing memories when he
wears gold bars; it seems to come with the job. The first time
the Air Force sent me on temporary duty by myself, I experienced
probably the most embarrassing moment in my life, which I tell
here in hopes that other butter bars out there won't make the
same mistake.

I was traveling from Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, Ohio to
Vandenberg Air Force Base, California one spring, and the flight
scheduled me for a two-hour layover in the St. Louis, Missouri
airport. I decided to hit the snack bar and bought a cup of
coffee, a package of Oreos and a newspaper. After giving the
cashier the nine bucks or so these items cost, I scanned the
crowded sitting area for a place to relax. The lounge was
crowded, but there appeared to be a spot across from a fellow in
a military uniform of some sort. "Great!" I thought, "another
soldier. Maybe he can tell me about life in the forces..."

With my coffee on the right side of the table, my newspaper on
the left and my Oreos in the center, I sat down before I took my
first close look at the man opposite me. He was a Marine Corps
brigadier general -- a mean-looking man with no hair, a real-life
scar on his forehead and about six rows of ribbons, including the
Silver Star with a cluster. To me, the general had horns, fangs,
a pitchfork and a long, pointed tail as well.

I was already committed to using the table, but not wanting to
bother the general, I meekly squeaked out, "Good morning, sir,"
before sitting down.

I had begun the paper's crossword puzzle and was making good
progress when I heard a peculiar rustling sound, much like the
crinkling of cellophane.

I looked up out of the corner of my eye to discover the general
had reached across the center of the table, opened the package of
Oreos, taken out one and was eating it. Now, not having attended
the Air Force Academy, I was not familiar with how to deal with
the finer points of military etiquette, such as what to do when a
senior member of another service calmly rips off one of your
cookies. Several responses came to mind, but none of these seemed
entirely appropriate.

I realized that the honor of the Air Force was, in a small way,
at stake here. I certainly couldn't let the general think I was a
complete weenie. Besides, at airport prices, one Oreo is a
significant fraction of take-home pay for a second lieutenant.
The only response I could make was to reach across the center of
the table, open the opposite end of the package (trying not to
notice that the other end had mysteriously come open somehow),
extract an Oreo and eat it very, very thoroughly.

"There," I thought, "I've subtly shown the General that these are
my Oreos, and he should go buy his own."

Marines are known for many qualities, but subtlety is not among
them. The general calmly reached out for another Oreo and ate it.
(By the way, the general was licking the middles out first before
eating the cookies.) Not having said anything the first time, of
course, I couldn't bring it up now. The only thing to do was to
take another cookie for myself. We wound up alternating through
the entire package. For an instant our eyes met, and there was
palpable tension in the air, but neither of us said a word.

After I had finished the last Oreo, they announced something over
the public address system. The general got up, put his papers
back into his briefcase, picked up the now empty wrapper, threw
it away, brushed the few crumbs neatly off the table and left. I
sat there marveling at his gall and feeling very foolish.

A few minutes later, they announced my flight. I felt a great
deal more foolish when I finished my coffee, threw the cup away
and lifted my newspaper to reveal... my Oreos!

Today, two of us are running around the Armed Forces telling the
same story, but only one of us has the punch line. And general,
if you are reading this, get in touch with me and I will be glad
to send you a case of Oreos.