Chapter 17: Caroline - Part 9

This is about me now...

Caroline, her mother Mary and I may as well have all moved in together. I only checked in enough to keep the parental units from putting my face on a milk carton. Dad, I explained the situation to and he, more or less, agreed with it. The witch found out, not exactly WHO I was with, but threatened to get dad to disinherit me. Fat chance of that, but warnings of being ruined for any woman right down to boys my age having sex would cause me to need glasses. I was ‘turning into an animal JUST like my father.’ I slowly moved a LOT of my clothes to Caroline’s bedroom closet. Yeah, we were an item, one that pissed a lot of my male classmates off.

My biggest problem, Viet Nam was in full swing and Uncle Sam had sent me an invitation, saying ‘Please come to our war’. I saw guys being pulled out of school because they were either 18 or had very poor grades, not likely to graduate. Two of the band members and I made the required trip to the recruiter’s office to take physicals and a stupid test. The drummer failed out because he had flat feet (lucky bastard!) My organ player was majorly good at art and if he’d sign up for enlistment as SOON as he graduated, he was promised a job in the Army’s art department. Both guys finished their physicals and paperwork and left. Our original plan was to go in on the ‘buddy system’, but that was not to be.

They left me there as the draft board guys pushed test after test in front of me. Not to brag, but I’d maintained a 4.0 average all through high school and outside the band, I was considered a nerd. I asked WHY I was taking test after test when the other two only took one and was told ‘if the Army wanted me to know, they’d have told me.’ Finally done, I was ushered to the door without a word. About a month later, I got a notice telling me to report to the induction center at Ft. Polk, Louisiana. Bullshit! I haven’t even graduated yet. A family friend was a Congressman, so dad made a call. A couple of days later, the Congressman called and told us the army would graciously SEND me my diploma when the rest of my class graduated - also bullshit. We talked a while and he told us he would see what he could do. What a total clusterfuck!

In a week, he called back saying the best he could do was to get me into an Army reserve unit until I graduated. I guess it would do, compared to the alternative. The upside - my time in reserves counted, so by the time I hit the REAL army, I’d be a PFC going in. My brother had been in the National Guard and they’d been called to active duty because of the Cuban Missile crisis. That had been several years ago, but he still had TAILORED uniforms that fit me. All I had to do was rip off the lieutenant’s patches on the shoulders. All my new uniforms had visible dark patches on them. They left a darker area on the OD green blouses, but who cares. I had a few choices and joined an airborn medical unit, a mobile field hospital bunch. First it was cool, then really boring until we had race riots in the state capitol. We got called up.

Because of the threats made and a couple of National Guard armories had been broken into, we were armed to the teeth with a machine gun on the roof of our reserve building and patrols with M-14’s around the unit’s perimeter. I got the unique pleasure of sleeping on a cement floor with a blanket for the next two weeks. We had a cook unit, and I have to say, they fed us well.

Soon, the crisis was over and I returned home, only to find a local university had incited the blacks in town and my school that THEY were being downtrodden and should rebel. We had a couple of rapes right in the school and the teachers had no clue how to handle the problems. I had a black freshman come at me with a switchblade as I went down some stairs. Unfortunately, he was about four steps lower than me, so I just drop-kicked his young ass down the stairs then proceeded to stomp a mud hole in him. I kept the knife. Us ‘low lifes’ would go across the street to a little store off campus so we could smoke. We were all standing around talking about the race problems when the kid’s older brother came out and 1. wanted to kick my ass for beating his brother, and 2. wanted HIS knife back. Naturally, we fought and soon, the cops came. We got hauled downtown where we were wisely separated and we each told our stories. I handed the cop talking to me the switchblade and didn’t get any charges for having it, mainly because older brother was bitching that I’d taken the knife from his innocent little brother, after I’d beat the shit out of him. The brother was still in the nurses station when the cops took me back to school. I had to tell the principal the story and regretfully, got 5 days suspension for fighting. The two brothers got expelled. Things finally calmed down but not before nearly our entire high school male component went to the college and ‘convinced’ the bleeding hearts of the error of their ways.

Caroline and Mary weren’t exactly overjoyed that I’d be joining the boys in green anytime soon and threw a total fit because I had to cut my hair to military specs. Reserves weren’t as drastic as basic training, so I still had SOME hair left. Of the whole damned band, I had SHORT hair compared to the others and they never let me forget it. Maybe I have a wig in my future??

Basic Training – the beginning of a clusterfuck

Time passed all too quickly and I received notice to report to basic, again in Ft Polk ... FOUR days after I graduated. That day finally arrived. Dad, Caroline and Mary rode with me to the airport. The witch chose to stay at home. I had to dress in my spiffy, TAILORED dress greens with PFC stripe, my reserve unit ribbons from WW2 and Korea, a purple shoulder lanyard, purple ascot and a purple beret to make my debut. Because of my old reserve unit, I had on jump boots with zippers instead of laces. The rest of my shit, plus some civvies, were packed in my duffle bag. This turned out to be a mixed blessing.

Caroline and her mother cried and kept hugging me. My dad even got misty-eyed, but shook my hand and told me he was proud of me and to watch my ass.

Arriving at Ft. Polk, we lined up in a rough formation and I got singled out almost immediately. I was escorted to the base barbershop by some corporal and given the standard head bone haircut. I was then taken to a barracks in the reception center and given a room to myself.[odd, to say the least] I just went along with whatever. I heard the new recruits come in with armfuls of bedding and fatigues. A sergeant told me I was not to fraternize with any of the others. Later in the day, I wondered where my duffle was at and was told it was lost somewhere in transit. I was also told I wouldn’t need it.

The next morning, we were rudely awakened by our barracks sergeant. The troops were lined up in a column and ‘marched’ out the door while I was held back. I was told to wait and a jeep would be by to take me to the base exchange. [VERY odd]. No one was telling me what was going on, just leaving me to contemplate my navel. Soon, I heard a jeep honk and went out to meet it. I was TOLD to ‘please’ sit in the back by another corporal. Hey! If they wanted to chauffeur me around, I wasn’t going to complain.

We parked at the PX and WE went in. I was told to find utility uniforms in my size, plus REAL combat boots. The corporal was waiting for me at the checkout line. I asked him how I was supposed to PAY for this bullshit and he told me to just sign the voucher put in front of me. Back to the barracks we went. I got to cool my heels until chow call that evening.

After a ‘delicious?’ meal, I went back to my room. Why was I being singled out? I intended to find out. I walked across the narrow hall to the barracks sergeant’s room and knocked. The door opened and the sergeant saluted me. I dunno, I guess it was expected. To this point, I’d only saluted officers in my unit. Doing the only thing I knew to do, I saluted him back. Shit was getting out of hand here. I ‘asked’ him to sit while I took the only chair in the room.

“Sergeant, what the fuck is going on here? Why am I being singled out from the others?” In my mind, I wondered if my Congressman had anything to do with this.

“Sir, permission to speak freely.”

“Go for it, Sergeant” I replied.

“You won’t report me for talking to you, will you?”

“Who am I going to report TO?”

“IG, sir” [Inspector General’s office]

“What? Why the hell would I do that?”

“We were told you were a plant, sent to check up on us.” Oh shit! I KNEW I was headed for trouble now.

I told the sergeant my story. He asked how I came by the uniforms with the officer’s bar areas on them. I EXPLAINED where they came from as his eyes narrowed. In about a heartbeat, I was out the door, gathering what little stuff I had, depositing them on an empty bunk with the rank and file. The sergeant beat feet out the door. The rest of my military career went along like the common soldier until we started basic training.