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The last day of the month was payday in the Army. While Direct Deposit was mandatory by the time I joined, tradition dies hard, and so a carryover from the days when people were actually paid in cash was “payday activities.”  That is, usually the battalion would release troops early, say at noon, to go out and pay their bills, attend to their tailoring, and otherwise take care of tasks during business hours that they normally couldn’t.

In the 1st Battalion, 27th Infantry, the Wolfhounds, tradition was that each end of month payday was marked by the entire battalion going for a run. Not just any run, but up to the top of Kole Kole Pass, and back. Round trip, it was right at 13 miles. At the tender age of 19, it was kicking my butt. But the run wasn’t made by just 19 and 20 year olds like me. All the old farts in the battalion were along as well. To be sure, it wasn’t a very fast pace. But still, 13 miles is 13 miles.

And so it came to pass that one payday, just as we were turning the corner to reenter the quad that was the battalion’s garrison, our Command Sergeant Major, a man in probably his mid 40s, fell out of the formation, fell upon the grass in front of Battalion Headquarters, and died of a massive heart attack.

I had rather liked and admired our Sergeant Major, though he was pretty much the only CSM I’d had any dealings with in my very brief time in the Army by then. He was strict but fair, and showed obvious concern for the welfare of his soldiers. On the other hand, he was a Sergeant Major, and I but a PFC, and my general rule of thumb was to avoid all unnecessary contact with people senior to my platoon sergeant.

Of course, Battalion Command Sergeant Major is a critical position, and until Division or our higher headquarters, US Army Pacific (USARPAC) could find a qualified replacement, the senior First Sergeant in the battalion stepped in as acting Sergeant Major.

Soon enough, USARPAC found us a qualified CSM. Unusually for an Infantry Battalion, our new CSM was a Cavalryman. Technically, CSM is its own Military Occupational Specialty, and is branch immaterial, but as a practical matter, virtually all Infantry battalion Command Sergeants Major are career Infantrymen.

CSM Patterson, however, had actually started out as an Airborne Infantryman, but by happenstance had switched over to Cavalry when he deployed to Vietnam, helping to fill out the ranks of the 101st Airborne Division’s Cavalry squadron, 1-17CAV.

And his tour in Vietnam with 1-17CAV?

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity in action at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty. Sgt. Patterson (then Sp4c.) distinguished himself while serving as a fire team leader of the 3d Platoon, Troop B, during an assault against a North Vietnamese Army battalion which was entrenched in a heavily fortified position. When the leading squad of the 3d Platoon was pinned down by heavy interlocking automatic weapon and rocket propelled grenade fire from 2 enemy bunkers, Sgt. Patterson and the 2 other members of his assault team moved forward under a hail of enemy fire to destroy the bunkers withgrenade and machine gun fire. Observing that his comrades were being fired on from a third enemy bunker covered by enemy gunners in 1-man spider holes, Sgt. Patterson, with complete disregard for his safety and ignoring the warning of his comrades that he was moving into a bunker complex, assaulted and destroyed the position. Although exposed to intensive small arm and grenade fire from the bunkers and their mutually supporting emplacements. Sgt. Patterson continued his assault upon the bunkers which were impeding the advance of his unit. Sgt. Patterson singlehandedly destroyed by rifle and grenade fire 5 enemy bunkers, killed 8 enemy soldiers and captured 7 weapons. His dauntless courage and heroism inspired his platoon to resume the attack and to penetrate the enemy defensive position. Sgt. Patterson’s action at the risk of his life has reflected great credit upon himself, his unit, and the U.S. Army.

CSM Patterson never announced his award, but word quickly spread throughout the battalion that he, in fact, held the “Blue Max” as the Medal of Honor was sometimes rather irreverently known.  I still maintained my personal policy of having as little interaction as possible with Sergeants Major, but he was an excellent Sergeant Major, tough, but fair. And he was always there. At the time,  while each of the companies of the battalion might be in the field for three or four days out of the week for two or more weeks in a given month, it was rare the entire battalion actually deployed to the field. Nonetheless, if a company was out in the field, it could count on CSM Patterson showing up at least once, checking on training, seeing how the soldiers were doing, and of course, ensuring the standards were held up.

The Pritzker Military Museum and Library interviewed now retired CSM Patterson about six years ago. Unfortunately, I can’t embed it here, but you can watch the thoroughly entertaining interview here.