Membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints changed me from a shy, backward farm boy to a standout.  As I look back and remember some honors that I received in the military, I see no reason that I would have been chosen for those honors except that I was a practicing member of the Church.

Immediately after my baptism I left for Navy boot camp in San Diego, California.  I let it be known there that I was a member of the Church, shied away from questionable conversations and associations, and was friendly to everyone.  During down times when we didn't have duties, the other 59 men in my company would gather in groups where they smoked, swore, and engaged in raucous conversation.  I was uncomfortable in those gatherings, so I quietly went to my upper bunk in the corner where I could unobtrusively stand and read my New Testament.  The book was fascinating to me.  I could finally understand it.  Standing there studying at my corner bunk I considered myself unnoticeable.

I was a social misfit among those men.  One-on-one, however, was a different thing.  I visited with each one, and they were my friends.  I was also a squad leader in charge of nine men.  I helped each one.

Surprisingly, at the end of our 11-week training, those 59 men elected me as the outstanding recruit.  It was an honor, but set me up for some uncomfortable situations.  Being the outstanding recruit of my company made an interview with the base commander necessary.  I had to do double-time (run) across the base to the interview.  I was ushered into a room where three or four officers with scrambled eggs on their caps were seated.  They questioned me.  They had obviously looked at my dossier.  All of the questions were either about the farm or about the Church.

"What's the purpose of a saddle horn?"

"Why did you join this Church?"

"Did your family join the Church with you, or did you do it alone?"

I don't remember the other questions.  I don't remember if I was seated or standing at attention.  It seemed like a long interview, but I didn't feel intimidated in the officers' presence.

Those poor men had to interview 25 sailors that day--the outstanding recruit from each of 25 companies representing 1,500 men.

I was shocked when it was announced that I had been selected as the outstanding recruit from among those 1,500 men.  At the graduation I had to march up to the podium to receive the award from the base commander.  I had to go up again to receive the American Spirit Honor Medal.  I suppose I got that honor because of being the outstanding recruit.

I went from San Diego to the Defense Language Institute (DLI) at Monterey, California to learn the Russian language.  One day the class walked downtown where we were to view a Russian movie in a theater.  The movie was "Knyaz," meaning, "The Prince."

The Prince was an unusually compassionate, helpful, kind, and friendly young man.  I was very touched by the movie.  As we walked back to the barracks I wanted to be alone so that I could think about what I'd just seen.  However, a bunch of guys caught up with me, and walked with me.  They were discussing the movie.  Surprisingly none of them had liked it.

"It wasn't real."

"It didn't represent life."

"People aren't like that."

"Except Kerns!  He's like the prince.  Knyaz Kerns."

From that point on I was Knyaz Kerns.  I didn't mind.  I was honored.

My next honor came from the mouth of a drunk.  It was late at night in the barracks at Monterey.  I was sound asleep in my cubicle.  I was awakened by someone shaking my shoulder.  There sat Terry Weller, a soldier from Iowa.  He was sitting in a chair which he had pulled up by my bed.  He was drunk, and he wanted to talk.  I let him.  I visited with him.

Finally he said, "Kerns, you're the most amazing person I know.  I thought you'd be mad if I woke you up.  You're always nice.  You never say anything bad about anyone."

That statement astonished me because not saying anything bad about anyone was exactly what I had been working on for the past few weeks, and he'd noticed!  I consider that one of the greatest compliments I've ever received.

I apparently stood out to those sailors, soldiers, airmen, and Marines with whom I served.  I was different.  It was because of the Church, and I was respected.

My next honor came from service at the base mess hall at the Yokosuka Naval Base in Japan.  My ship was dry docked there.  We ate our meals at the base mess hall, so the U.S.S. Banner had to supply one man per month to work there.

My turn came.  It was horrible duty.  The mess hall was greasy, and my co-workers were filthy, also.  During their frequent breaks they sat around a table to smoke, swear, and tell jokes.  I didn't join them.  I kept working.  I cleaned behind the stoves where it had never been cleaned before.  By the time my month was finished, I had that mess hall shining.

The head man at the mess hall was a big, black man.  He asked, "Where you from, boy?"

"Oregon."

"You must have good folks.  Why don't you become a cook?  We could use a good man like you."

"Thanks, but I'm happy where I am."

The next week, one morning back at the ship, a call went out for "All hands on deck."  We were standing at attention in our ranks.  The captain of the ship said, "From time to time the U.S.S. Banner has to send men to work at special assignments on shore.  It brings great honor to the ship when reports come back about the outstanding service they render there.  We have received a letter of commendation from the commander of the base commissary concerning the service given there by seaman James E. Kerns.  Would he please come forward so that I can present it to him?"

I was surprised, honored, and embarrassed.  Who else in the world ever received a letter of commendation for work done in a mess hall?

The pinnacle of my honors while serving in the military came as I was leaving the U.S.S. Banner for the last time.  A sailor named Armstrong came up to me, vigorously shook my hand, and said, "Kerns, I want to thank you!  When you came aboard the ship there was a bet that you could be taken to Yokohama and brought back drunk.  I won the bet!"

I wonder how much he won?  It must have been significant.

I thought that I was just an everyday sailor everywhere I went, but I wasn't.  The Church made me a standout.