In Washington: Missionary

(2 of 4)

Prospects pop up all over town. At Mr. Ed's drive-in, where Yasenak fills up his coffee jug late in the morning and then sits down for a warm, sweet butterhorn pastry, one of the waitresses, Julie Lynn Ratliff, makes an appointment to talk later.

Among the questions he asks, before getting down to more complicated business, are her weight (both he and she blush) and eye color. "Blue," she says. He looks up from his Army form for a fond moment. "I never argue with a lady about the color of her eyes." But it comes out that Ratliff, who is turning 19 as she sits in the recruitment office, did not finish high school. Female recruits must be graduates. "I have to send a lot of good people out the door because of that diploma," he tells her.

"He's nicer to the girls," teases Kevin Cooper after Ratliff has left Yasenak's office. Cooper, 18, enlisted in mid-March.

"Nicer? Oh, I probably am," concedes the sergeant. "But I'm not missioned to get a lot of women, so I don't go out of my way to get them." Yet his wife Linda swears that he eyes women on the street only to reckon their Army qualifications: a passing teen-ager looks to be about 5 ft. 4 in., 140 lbs.—a tad too chunky. "Guys, in essence, can be little butterballs," says Yasenak, who is perfectly lean.

"Army opportunities, Sergeant Yasenak. May I help you?" Just as he is leaving for lunch, a hot prospect rings up. With the phone cradled on one bony shoulder, Yasenak flips on a lamp and leans over his desk from the front, pulling out a file card as he says, "Sure, uh-huh—what time do you get home from work?" Within 90 seconds, tops, Yasenak has the youngster agreeing to take a 334-item aptitude test. "A little old gray-haired lady administers it," the sergeant says, "and you'll be asked questions about all kinds of strange things."

Yasenak acts like a charming older brother toward his signed-and-sealed recruits, by turns sardonic and heartfelt, especially with the ones who stay around town for some months between enlistment and basic training. They treat him like a favorite teacher, his office almost as a hangout. "He showed me all the sides to the Army, including the disadvantages," says Rhonda Clark, 18, a blond former cheerleader who will help operate a ground-to-air missile battery in Europe. She is just days away from basic training. "It's a little nerve-racking, like he said it would be. Going into a new society, I mean," she explains. "For most of basic, I won't see children or watch TV or hear music or even see animals." Cooper, however, does not confess any apprehension. He calls Yasenak "Yasenak," like a pal, and believes he knows what he's getting into. "He showed me videos of the different Army occupations I could take." A combat specialty does not appeal? "You can't really get a job, later in life, firing mortars."