In 1987, while serving as the public affairs officer at Fort Bragg, I would frequently visit the local high schools to speak to the students about the Army. As alieutenant colonel , I found it particularly rewarding to talk with the teenagers about the benefits of military service, if only for a few years of their lives. During one of these visits, I reported to the secretary in the principal's office to let her know that I was here for the third-period class. I was a little surprised when she told me. "The principal would like to see you before you go to the class." As I entered his office, I was greeted by a gentleman who appeared to be in his late thirties, and he welcomed me with a smile and a handshake. "You don't remember me, do you?" he said. I looked closely at the face again and could not recall where we may have met before. "You were my company commander in basic training at Fort Jackson in 1970," the principal said. "Let me help you out," he suggested. "You gave me a three-day pass to go home and see my newborn baby." I immediately remembered the incident! "Yes," I said. "I remember now." It was the only three-day pass I had issued because the soldiers were on their way to Vietnam immediately after they finished training. But I knew if I did not let him go home to see his son and _ , I would regret denying the opportunity he had to be with his family. "Come on, Colonel. I'd like to introduce you to 'the baby'. He's in your third-period class. By letting me go see him, you gave me a reason to stay focused and to come home safe from that war. Thank you , sir." It was the most rewarding class I had ever given, and I had no problem in telling the students about the bonds of friendship and the values that Army life can provide...and that can last a lifetime. What might be the most suitable title for the text?
A soldier remembers. A principal thinks A baby grows A lecture continues