Dear Tom:

I was sitting in my office one day when a well-dressed, self-assured gentleman of middle-age walked in unannounced. He introduced himself as "Lieutenant Colonel ... ", representing some insurance company. He explained that he was a retired Marine officer, and had been in Tanks (had we been an engineer company, I'm sure he would have claimed engineer skills), and told me that he would be in my area that afternoon and evening talking to the troops about their insurance needs.

I was a mere first lieutenant at the time, but had developed a deep suspicion of insurance salesmen. I didn't bother to ask the colonel to sit, as I had made the decision that he wasn't going to be there that long.

I said to him, "You are not going to be in this area during working hours. If a Marine desires to initiate a conversation with you regarding his insurance needs, you may be present in my Duty NCO office from 1800 until 2100. You are to remain in that office, and you are not to wander about the company area. This privilege will be extended to you only because you are a retired Marine, and for one night only."

The good colonel bowed up and indignantly replied, "Lieutenant, perhaps you fail to understand that I am a superior officer."

"At the moment, I'm talking to an insurance salesman. If you desire to come here under the conditions I outlined, you may do so. But, don't let

me catch you anywhere outside the Duty NCO office, and don't let me even think you are bamboozling some young Marine by use of your awesome former position in life."

"For your information, your battalion commander has authorized me to be in the battalion area."

"That's all he authorized, colonel. I'm not denying you that privilege; I'm merely putting some strict parameters on your presence in my company area." I had no fear at all that the battalion commander would fail to back me.

That night he was there at the Duty NCO office. I had briefed the young corporal. The next morning the duty NCO reported to me that things had gone rather well. At one point, the colonel got up and told the Duty NCO that he was going "to walk through the quonset huts." The Duty NCO said, "No, sir. You are not." The colonel sat back down.

He didn't sell any insurance that evening.

I had learned to dislike insurance salesmen from an event which preceded the above experience by a year.

The Cuba flap came and Camp Pendleton was getting ready to go to war. The insurance salesmen came crawling out from under the rocks, cornering young Marines, telling them of combat, and painting bleak pictures of their chances of survival, and shaming them for not leaving their loving parents twenty or thirty thousand bucks. I spent a great deal of my time chasing those idiots out of the area.

Please understand, I did not deny a Marine the opportunity for insurance. I merely made sure that he wanted it, and that he had not been conned by some insurance snake.

I found harassing insurance salesmen to be a most pleasant pastime in idle hours. There were plenty of idle hours on Okinawa, and plenty of insurance salesmen of former military status.

In Company D, Marine Support Battalion, located at Torii Station, was suddenly swamped with

insurance allotment forms made out by the troops, and all for the same insurance company.

Before I signed the first one, I asked that the Marine who had made out the allotment be sent to me. I asked him if he really wanted that policy at that seemingly high premium.

"Well, not really, sir."

"Why did you let the son of a bitch talk you into it?"

"Sir, he said he was a friend of yours; that the two of you had served together a number of times."

He got his insurance papers from his walllocker, and the name of the salesman was not known by me. The Marine then decided he didn't really want that policy. I asked if he had paid any cash to the salesman, and he had not. I told him to tear up all the papers and forget about it, and when the insurance salesman started to bug him about non-payment, to send the thieving bastard to me.

In each case of that instant the Marines had been told by this idiot that he was a close personal friend of mine, and "Major Duncan believes in insurance for his Marines. Holding insurance is a sign of maturity, necessary for Major Duncan to recognize if he is going to promote you." "Major Duncan and I attend Happy Hour every Friday at the Kadena Officers' Club."

I instructed my 75 Marines that should any insurance salesman come to our section of that large Navy barracks, that whoever saw him first was to tell him, preferably in an impolite manner, that he had thirty seconds to vacate the third deck of that building, or he would be bodily heaved down the ladder.

I didn't have to wait very long. The duty chief on the first deck called one day and told me this idiot wanted to see me. I told the chief to send him up. One of my officers happened to be present in the office, so as a leadership training project, I briefed

him and told him to take care of the matter. He didn't do so well. So, I interjected myself into the conversation and used my inherent and polished tact in making my point. "You're a persistent son of a bitch, but please understand me. If I ever catch you talking to one of my Marines who has not expressly asked to see you, you're going to leave this barracks on a stretcher. You are barred, under any circumstances, from being on the third deck of this barracks. Now, get the hell out of here.

He left in a hurry.

A couple of years later, I was transferred up the road to Camp Hansen where I became the company commander of Ordnance Maintenance Company. The insurance snakes kept tabs on changes of COs. He was authorized to be on the base but it was left to the individual commanders insofar as the degree of freedom he was to have within a given area.

I had no sooner taken over the company when this same idiot came breezing into the office, introducing himself as though he had never seen me. But there was a look of mild question in his eyes. After the introduction he said, "I think I know you from some place."

I stood up and said, "I've got to go down to the maintenance shops. I'll be back in forty-five minutes. You think about whether or not you know me. If you can't recall, come back. If you do, I don't think you'll want to.

He suddenly remembered and quickly left. My company was probably the only unit at Camp Hansen totally neglected by the insurance folks.

As a matter of fact, one of my troops told me that he had been accosted by this salesman one day while on liberty in Koza. The guy was writing up the policy when he asked the Marine which unit he was in. When the Marine told him, the salesman stopped writing, looked forlornly at the Marine, and said, "What's the use," and tore up the paperwork.