"And if a house be divided against itself, that house cannot stand." Mark 3:25

I hate to admit this, as I am ashamed of this in my past, but before I went into the army, I was racist if you were not white or an American. I have to say that I was stupid...and I didn't like you. It was not because of who you were but because of the label I put on you. I'm glad 'Papa Duce' helped me to see the error of my ways..

Now who was Papa Duce?

Papa Duce was the biggest black man you ever did see in your life. He looked like a stone statue. He had a yelling voice like thunder and a singing voice like a song bird. Some of the best military cadences I ever heard came from this man's mouth. He had talent. He could have easily been a singer instead of soldier, but he was where he needed to be. Papa Duce was my drill Sergeant. He was a tough man but he was a wise one too. He never did explain why we had to call him Papa Duce. He would say, "I am not your momma, I am not your daddy. I am here to teach you, and I am the Papa Duce." We never called him anything else but Papa Duce.

Now I didn't have a lot of respect for Papa Duce when I first met him. I only paid him the respect that was due someone his rank. Our barracks were a wreck. When I got there , the buildings we were supposed to be housed were  under repair, so our cycle had to stay in the old world war II barracks which were in worst shape to begin with, then the barracks were under repair. But we had a bigger problem than poor living conditions. Our barracks was divided. The blacks had their group, the whites their group, the Hispanic their group. This caused a lot of problems for us.  We did not work as a team and our scores in the school and also the barracks reflected this. This division was causing our suffering.

It was only a short time that Papa Duce allowed this to happen, but these were such bad conditions it seemed like an life time. Because of our poor performance in school we were not allowed any privileges, such as going to the PX or even drinking soda/pop in the mess hall. This was not boot camp this was AIT(Advanced Individual Training). I found out later that it should not have been this bad, as I ended up later in my military career going to another AIT , which was a breeze compared to what was happening there. I also ended up running into Papa Duce while at the other training too....but that is another story.

The lesson of Papa Duce

I can't remember what time it was in the morning. I just know it was early even for the army. It was pitch black outside and it was a weekend. I was awoke by a thunderous roar, it was Papa Duce screaming at the top of his lungs. I even think my bunk was rattling from the vibration of his screams. He was screaming. "I am Papa Duce and I am here to teach you!" He yelled us all outside for formation. Once we were formed up,  he told us to break into groups. The Hispanics joined up in their group, the blacks in theirs, and the whites in theirs. Papa Duce looked at us and shook his head in shame. You just don't see it do you, he said.

Today I am going to teach "We all bleed the same color". Papa Duce broke us up into what he thought were the right groups. Each group had a makeup of different people. Also, in the wisdom of Papa Duce, he just knew which people we had the most problems with. Now the people in my group... I didn't really know them. I just didn't like them because  they fit the label that I use to believe. Our group's mission was to make a rock formation in the name of Papa Duce. Now I thought, "oh this will be easy. I'll make this Papa Duce rock garden...hit my bunk again and get away from these jerks."

I think these WWII barracks hadn't had anything done to them since WWII. The ground was rocky and full of debris. It took hours and hours to remove the debris. After a time I looked at my hands, I was exhausted and thought I was going to pass out in the hot sun. I had many cuts which were bleeding. I looked over to one of my fellow group members and noticed he too was bleeding. He was bleeding the same color as me. We both stopped and looked at each other, smiled and laughed. I saw him as a person. His blood was the same color as mine. He became a human being to me. This experience seemed to charge me. My hands didn't hurt and I seemed to be going on an energy which was not my own. The work seemed to speed up. It was not a chore anymore. We all started to talk and laugh. It became fun.

We all finished that day and what a difference it made in our life conditions. This wreck of a building became ours. We had hot water...the roof didn't leak anymore. The toilets were flushing properly and you were not scared to go into the shower room anymore and we had our rock formation in the name of Papa duce. Our scores at school did improve, for the ones of us that accepted the lesson. A lot of us actually graduated top in our class. I actually was the honor graduate of my class, but I didn't get there because I was the smartest or the best. I got that because I believed in my other soldiers. They helped me and I helped them. We went from being the worst cycles they ever had come through that school... to being one of the best cycles that went through that school.

THANK YOU Papa Duce. You can't imagine how that changed my life and how many riches it has brought me. I am proud to understand that we all bleed the same color!

You can visit me at www.autismideas.com, a site dedicated to using technology to help autistic individuals.

 

Editor's Note: If you are not getting a safe and secured 6% to 12% on your IRA or Roth IRA investments, click here.​

If you found this article helpful, please make a contribution to the site now. Every dollar helps keep this site available. Thank you.

Amount: $ One Time Weekly Monthly Annually

< Prev		Next >