It takes a village to prevent an idiot from driving drunk

By David W. Kuhns Sr., Northwest Guardian

How do you get through to anyone dumb enough to drive drunk?

That’s a question we should all ponder. For all the campaigns on TV and other media; with all the dire threats handed out during pre-holiday safety briefings; despite all the resources thrown at cutting the number of drivers under the influence — in spite of all that, there are still people out on the road every day who shouldn’t be allowed near a steering wheel.

The Army has worked harder than just about any institution to cut drunk driving. And a lot of progress has been made over the years. It wasn’t easy. Some fundamental elements of Army culture had to change.

There was a time when, to be “one of the guys” it was expected that you head to the club for happy hour after work — maybe not every day, but at least some of the time.

That was a tradition that spread across the ranks. There might have been enlisted, NCO and officer clubs, but each had a happy hour featuring a packed bar with plenty of people in uniform knocking them back pretty hard. And for many of those at the club, the way home included getting behind the wheel of a car.

Heck, you didn’t have to wait until 5 o’clock. You could have a few beers over lunch at the club, too. I remember propping guys up in the ranks at a 1300 formation. How did they get to formation from the club? They drove, of course.

The institutionalized drinking even crept into duty time. I remember getting in from the field back in my artillery days. We’d all be in the motor pool cleaning equipment and putting it away and the first sergeant and battery commander would pull up in a jeep with a trailer holding two or three trash cans full of ice and cold beer. The troops were supposed to limit themselves to one or two, but no one was counting.

That all had to stop. Too many Soldiers were killing themselves and others. The lunchtime beers are gone and so is happy hour. The cultural acceptance of drunkenness as part of being a Soldier is pretty much gone, too.

But there are still some who haven’t caught on.

Some of them are hard core drunks, of course. The Army has programs and training to identify those individuals and give them the help they need. But eliminating alcoholism is not something any public campaign can accomplish.

There are other drunk drivers who can be stopped — the men or women who make conscious decisions to get behind the wheel after a night hitting the clubs or a social outing with friends.

They drive after two or three drinks because they convince themselves they can handle it, or because the alternatives are too inconvenient. If we are all honest with ourselves, there are probably plenty of readers who nod in agreement at any condemnation of drunk driving, but who have driven when they knew they shouldn’t.

That’s where everyone has a role. We can’t let those around us make dumb decisions about drinking and driving. You know what to do; you’ve heard the speeches and watched the ads on TV. Take away the keys, call a cab, give them a place to sleep it off — do what you need to do.

But what you can’t do is look the other way.

David W. Kuhns Sr.: david-kuhns@us.army.mil