THE GENERAL AND THE TRUCK DRIVER
By Maj. Gen. Jerry R. Curry (ret'd)
CurryforAmerica.com
In the spring of 1982 I became
Commanding General of the Military District of
Washington which was headquartered at Fort Leslie J.
McNair in South West Washington D.C. It was a kind
of homecoming for Lady Char and me since years
before I had been the Deputy Commanding General of
MDW. It also meant that we could continue living in
Quarters Two, one of the large, gracious homes along
General’s Row nestled on the banks of the
My job was to take care of the
needs of the soldiers, officers and military
families who lived and worked in the National
Capital Region. This included providing pay, health
care, goods and services, and supervising the
administration of military communities such as
“
This particular summer day was bright, cheerful, and sun filled. I donned my rumpled gardening coveralls, slipped a pair of pruning shears and gloves in my back pocket, and headed for my wife’s, Lady Char’s, rose garden to perform my weekly “groundskeeper’s gardening duties.”
A short time later a large delivery truck chugged up the street along the front of the houses of General’s Row. A tall African American delivery man was hunched over in the driver’s seat peering out the partially rolled down window as if he was searching for a specific house number.
When he saw me he smiled, pumped his air brakes, stopped, stepped down from the cab and sauntered across the lawn towards me. I stopped my pruning, dusted off my coveralls, and walked over to meet him.
“These people nice to work for?” he inquired, extending a heavy calloused hand.
I pulled off my gloves and we shook a warm greeting. “Yes,” I said, “They’re very nice to work for … very considerate … very thoughtful.”
“How long you been working for them?”
“A little over two years,” I answered.
“Uh-huh,” he took off his baseball cap and wiped his sweaty forehead with his shirtsleeve. “Years ago I used to work all up and down this street, just like you. “Everybody treated me real nice. These are fine people to work for.”
I nodded in agreement.
Satisfied that things hadn’t
changed much from the time when he had worked as a
groundskeeper at
I didn’t tell him that I was the Commanding General of the Military District of Washington; I just went back to pruning Lady Char’s roses.