The activity I’m about to describe is familiar to all
viewers of mystery series. The viewer will see a long line of policemen moving
across a landscape side by side and poking the ground with sticks or clubs for
clues. In those mysteries this seemingly happens instantly—as soon as some
vital thing (like the murder-weapon or a lost child) needs to be found. I often
marvel at the power of the Hero Detective who can summon up such masses of
uniforms just minutes (seemingly) after the need arises.
In the Army they used to call this “policing.” We were
marched out and made to move across open terrain every other morning or so—the
object being to pick up litter. The word, of course, goes back to the Latin politia, civil administration—and its
deepest root is the Greek polis, or
city—a place where massed humans make a mess. Indeed “police” is powerfully
associated with order, keeping and restoring it.
This is the nasty season hereabouts—and policing is in
order. The snow has almost entirely disappeared and revealed the junk,
branches, and litter it had covered over. My own policing was of the solitary
kind, just one old man picking up branches and the occasional littered package
or candy wrapper the wind had blown on the yard. Done quite voluntarily—without
the usual grumbling that accompanied policing in the Army. All in the name of
order. I wonder if they still do it in the Army—the same way we used to do it.
Is it a fit activity for “warriors”? We were just soldiers in my day—with every
fit male subject to service. In what now seems ancient times, soldiers were
called even more carelessly GIs, an acronym for “general issue.” Not bad for
people who won a world war. Back then you could herd them out there. These days
that “policing” may well be hired out to companies, some even listed on the NY
Stock exchange.
It looks a little better out there; and with Spring just
four days away, it already feels like Spring, but the smell is not yet here.
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