Every now and then, someone will say, "Hello, Sergeant Pass!"

And every time, it makes me smile. Because that title means more to me than most people realize.

I've often said that becoming a sergeant was the equivalent of earning a doctorate degree.

Now, before all the doctors get upset with me, hear me out. You spent years earning the right to be called "Doctor." You worked for it. Sacrificed for it. You deserve that title.

Well, in my little corner of the world, that’s exactly how I felt about earning the rank of Sergeant. It wasn't just another symbolic stripe sewn onto a uniform. The title represents trust, leadership, and responsibility. It meant somebody believed I could be counted on when everything around us was falling apart.

It happened in Vietnam.

One evening, following another day in the field, word came down that I was to report to the command track. When that happened, my first thought was, "What did I do? Did I mess something up?”

I walked in and scanned the room. The captain was there. The platoon leaders were there. The lieutenants were gathered, planning the next day's mission. 

Then, First Sergeant Bishop looked at me and said, "Pass, step forward."

Notice he didn't say Sergeant. Not yet.

At the time, I was jokingly referred to as an "Acting Jack."

See, I was already serving as a Track Commander. And while I wore little black acting sergeant stripes on my jungle fatigues, I wasn't officially an E-5.

Then something happened I'll never forget. First Sergeant Bishop reached up and started pulling my stripes off. My first thought was, "Lord, have mercy, I've been demoted."

About the time my stomach hit my boots, he reached over, picked up a brand-new set of stripes, and pinned them on me.

He stepped back, looked around the room, smiled, and said, “Gentlemen... Sergeant Pass."

The room broke into applause. Not loud applause, mind you. You didn’t do that in the middle of a combat zone. But it was an ovation, nonetheless.

The platoon sergeants lined up and shook my hand. One of them patted me on the back and said, "Sergeant Pass, you're a good leader."

Now, in my 78 years on this planet, I’ve received many a compliment. I’ve built a successful business. I’ve won awards. I’ve raised a phenomenal family. 

But no words have ever meant more than another soldier telling me I was a good leader.

That wasn't a title. That was a responsibility.

And that’s why, all these years later, hearing someone say, "Hello, Sergeant Pass,” still makes me stand a little taller.

Be well.
Stay well.

Thanks for reading' 

Francis Pass

P.S. You know, titles only matter if you live up to them. Whether your title is Mom, Dad, Coach, Teacher, Preacher, or Sergeant, the real honor isn't the name, it’s earning it every day.