"In the fall of 1989 at Fort Campbell, Ky., I was a patrol leader returning from a night reconnaissance patrol when I went to the platoon command post to submit my patrol report. When I arrived, my platoon sergeant, Sgt. 1st Class Larry Johnson, was manning the radios, both the company network and the fires network, and was the only person awake at the position. He motioned me down, placed a finger to his lips (for me to be quiet) and asked for the report. I gave him the report and he said that he would let the platoon leader know what I reported when he woke up later. “Sgt. Johnson, have you had any rest yet?” I asked. “Nah, I’ll wake the platoon leader in a little while and rack out then,” he said. “They (the platoon leader, radio operator, fire support specialist and medic) need the sleep more than I do. Besides, I’m used to this.” He smiled and waved me off to also get some sleep. As I walked back to my position off the perimeter, I thought about how our grizzled platoon sergeant was always taking care of us and hoped, when it was my turn, I would do so as well."