linguist (eBook)

CHAPTER ONE

Graduate high school, West Chicago, a suburb. Father commuted to a government job in Chicago. He was ex-military and suggested it might be a good option for me? If I didn’t keep my grades up, which I didn’t.

I had worked and saved some money for college. I really didn’t know what I wanted to do. I only knew I didn’t want to sit in an office for thirty or forty years and try to look busy, kind of like sitting in school.

I decided to try college anyway, to see if anything caught my interest. Probably a waste of money, but I had nothing else to do anyway. Besides, most of my classmates were going.

One year of college didn’t seem too difficult from high school, except no parents around, on your own, so more partying. College and parties were expensive, and to my surprise, by the end of the year, most of my money was gone.

We had a good time in college, but nothing there had caught my interest and my grades showed it, so I guess it was off to the job market.

I was surprised when my father was not disappointed when I told him I was quitting college to look for a job. I had a couple of friends that were installing metal siding and wanted me to join them.

I thought I might give it a try. “Not a bad idea,” my father said, “but I want you to talk to somebody first.”

“Who?”

“See a certain person at this address” he advised me, not saying who it was.

I found the address and parked out front, got out of the car, looking up, there it was, “US Army Recruiting.” Big hint? OK, I had been thinking about it. But from the back of my mind I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go in and see what he had to say.

The first thing he asked for was my draft card. After checking, he said my draft number was twenty-seven, which I already knew, but I still had my student deferment.

“Well,” he said, “at number twenty-seven, you will have to deal with it sooner or later.”

I didn’t know what to do and he could tell, so he said, “You may not even qualify, you do have to pass the physical. If you don’t pass the exam, your decision is made. If you do, you can decide from there.” Then he went on to explain all of the opportunities the Army has to offer: education, job skills, GI Bill, travel, a steady job. The economy was not good, and I really didn’t want to install metal siding. So we made a schedule for the exam in a week.

I went with my friends to install metal siding for that week and was thoroughly unimpressed. I couldn’t imagine doing that for the rest of my life. They seemed to love it: good money and working for yourself. Work as much or as little as you want. Good points, but it lacked something I couldn’t put my finger on. It may have been advancement, or something.

So, a few days later, I was on a bus on my way to the US Military Induction Center. The bus soon filled up with young men heading to the same place I was. We were all wondering and discussing the same thing. What was coming, in or out, A1 or unacceptable?

Some of them actually wanted to get in. Vietnam, the 600-pound elephant. Most thought it was almost over. Some discussion on how to fail the exam and escape induction.

The Induction Center was what we expected, no nonsense, efficient military business. The exam was quick and dirty: “Congratulations, you are all A1.” Only one of the original bunch was not there.

Twenty-one of us as a group were escorted to the front, where we were told to pass our draft cards forward. The sergeant took them and tore them up and put them in an ashtray and burned them. We all seemed elated. Were we now free to go, with no repercussions?

Our elation was short-lived. He told us to raise our right hands and repeat after him.

We all looked at each other, but everybody said, “I promise to serve my country…blah blah blah…so help me God!”

The decision was made for me. Good. We were all young, indecisive procrastinators and learned a first life lesson: if you don’t make up your mind, somebody else will make it up for you.

Before we could think about it, off we went, on the train to Fort Lewis Basic Training.

Basic Training: 4:30 AM lights up, beds made, floor waxed, breakfast, and first thing—hair.

“What kind of haircut do you want?” Big joke. All off. When I got to the barber, he was up to his knees in hair. Somebody said, “He’s not a barber, he’s a sheepshearer.”

Uniforms, calisthenics, classes, marching, guns, more marching, calisthenics, classes, fourteen-hour days. Yes, the Army does do more before breakfast then some people do all day.

Military regimen saluting and the dream sheet. Dream sheet? What do you want to do in the Army? The only thing on it that looked any good was aviation, so all three choices were aviation. Every Army MOS was on there, including food preparation. I wanted to ask if anyone had ever checked that one.

Of course there was a catch. I had officially volunteered for the draft, so I got the two-year option, but was still (RA). The catch was sign up for more years. I was surprised that with one year of college they pushed hard for me to extend my enlistment. Even a one-year extension and I could get what I wanted.

The alternative was IIB Rifle Infantryman, and to you-know-where.

We all heard that the US was pulling out of Vietnam. But personnel were still being deployed there. The current president was just reelected on a promise to get us out of Vietnam, but no president wanted to be the one to lose the war.

But if it was still an issue, I wasn’t sure the Army was for me. I wanted to experience it before I went any further, so I went with two years and took my chances.

US Army Boot Camp. 4:30: calisthenics, run, shoot, shoot, shoot, classes, military etiquette, march. Fourteen-hour days.

Fort Lewis was also a return center for personnel returning directly from Vietnam. We were told to not fraternize with these people, as if we had time to fraternize with anybody.

I could tell these people were different somehow. I had had very little exposure to the current drug culture. The small community college I went to was out of the mainstream.

But there was something I couldn’t help wondering, if it was the drugs or the Vietnam experience.

Even though I was doing fine in Basic Training, it was a unique experience and nothing I couldn’t handle—exciting, actually. But it was starting to hit me as to where I was and where I might end up.

I knew everybody that served in Vietnam didn’t end up like that, because the drill instructors and the sergeants had all been there and seemed to have handled it.

Don’t worry about it too much, political talk about getting out, OK!

We had medical classes, one of which was about a sucking chest wound: how to seal the wound, and roll the injured onto the wound so the blood would not collapse the good lung. OK.

Two days later, one of the Vietnam Vets shot another one in the chest. Apparently, he had been urinating in the potatoes instead of adding butter. So, the duty officer put a stop to it.

So, we got the wound sealed and rolled wound down and the man lived, but we never saw either one again. Something I had never seen.

Back to run, run, run, classes, shoot, shoot, shoot, the Army no-nonsense business of war.

One soldier shot his finger off and about 10 percent of our original class of 100 were derosed out. But we finally finished the longest two months of my life, and I had a feeling I had accomplished something.

Orders: Infantry A1, Fort Ord, California. Christmas leave.

Christmas leave, two weeks home to Chicago, and cold. Dad was proud, drank beer and told war stories. All friends were full of questions. Great leave but went by fast and off to sunny California.

Wow, I didn’t know any place was so nice and warm in the middle of winter and Monterey Bay right there. I loved it. But back to training, more shooting, classes, calisthenics. But fun stuff too, big machine guns, hand grenades, claymore, AIC, and helo deployment.

But also specialized in SE Asia Training Jungle, body traps, and other weapons used by the soldiers of North Vietnam. IIB we learned everything about tier tactics, weapons, camouflage, the terrain, and topography.

We were all gaining confidence about being successful in Vietnam. Many of the trainees were getting very gung ho. Let’s go.

Even with all of the political talk about getting out, the war raged on. Massive protests against the war. America wanted out, but the politicians didn’t want to lose.

So, after honing us into a professional fighting force, we were ready. Training done. Off to Oakland Army Camp. Orders: Vietnam. But after bombing North Vietnam, they returned to the negotiating table.

Oakland Army Base, three weeks. Some of the soldiers were horrified that we may not go. There was talk of sending us to Korea if the war was over.

But alas, the politicians failed...