Chapter 18: Caroline - Part 10

Still me & the military

Lucky me. Either for something to keep me busy or some discreet punishment, I spent two weeks painting rocks in the company area white. There are a God-awful lot of rocks in the company area. The bright spots were mail call. I got letters from Caroline AND Mary wondering how military life was treating me. I continued to paint. The letters made me miss my women. Both wrote me religiously every week. Some were crap going on in our home town but nearly all had some steamy parts in them. Hard dick and NO place to use it except old lady 5 fingers. After the two weeks were up, I got called in again, this time to the Top Sergeant.

“Go pack your duffle, you’re leaving.”

“Exactly WHERE am I going?”

“Ft Rucker, Alabama.”

“And that is... ?”

“WOCS” [Warrant Officer’s Candidate School]

“Top, correct me if I’m wrong, but a WO has to extend their commitment for 6 years in addition to their remaining enlistment time.”

“So?”

“I didn’t sign up for WOCS at any time.”

“According to your records, you did. You also volunteered for Shake & Bake.” [NCO school - you come out a corporal]

“Sergeant, I’m not going anywhere that isn’t stated on my contract. I volunteered to four years to get my choice of jobs and duty station.”

“You are going to make this VERY hard on yourself, troop. There are a lot of rocks and trees that need painting - get busy.”

I got a pass to the PX annex where a bank of pay phones stood. I turned $10 dollars into quarter inside. Grabbing a phone, I called my dad and had him get a hold of the Congressman, giving him the pay phone number. I grabbed a coke and a picnic table and waited several hours until the Congressman’s office called back. Whatever aid I talked to there took down notes of this nightmare my service was turning into and she promised the Congressman would see it as soon as possible. I had to return to my paint bucket. I could tell all those rocks were just anxiously WAITING for my attention.

Later that evening, I was summoned to the Top’s office where I had a phone call. It was our family friend, the Congressman. I had to kind of insist this was a private call as Top hovered over me, trying to listen in. I mentioned the privacy problem to our friend and the sergeant found something really important to do in the other room. Once I could talk, I filled him in on what the Army was attempting to do to me. After listening to the whole story, he told me to just paint my rocks and trees and not make any waves. He promised to check into it.

I’d no sooner hung up when I was ordered into the CO’s office.

“Since when does a Congressman call up a piss ant PFC in MY unit?”

“I guess since the Congressman is a friend of my family and a school chum of my dad’s, SIR.”

“Get the fuck out of my office, maggot.”

“Sir, Yes Sir” and I took my exit. Did all this help or were they going to bury me in some shithole? Suddenly ALL my mail was opened prior to giving it to me. This necessitated ANOTHER trip to the PX and a long distance call. I was hardly back in the company area when the CO pulled me in.

“Maggot, be damned glad you’re leaving. Your fucking ‘family friend’ just called to personally tell me he was thinking of paying a visit to my company and review our records. What have you got to say?”

“Can I quote you on the ‘fucking family friend thing’? Probably do your career a LOT of good.” I thought he was going to stroke out. No one, no one at all bugged me the rest of the time in my old company.

I did finally end up agreeing to go to NCO school. Sixty days later, I went to AIT [Advanced Infantry Training] where I learned to kill and maim quite efficiently. A lot of good that does me in a field hospital. But hey! Be ALL that you can be ... right?

Late the next day, I was told to pack. I’d be getting a ride to the airport, headed to San Antonio and Ft. Sam Houston to honor my ‘contract’. Goes to show it’s WHO you know. I pity any bastard who doesn’t have family connections.

Medical school was a hoot, hard, but enjoyable. We DID have an axe over our heads - fail a subject and you became the motor end of a litter in ‘Nam [field medic]. I managed to graduate 7th out of 195 in my class. Nam was scary as hell, even though I was supposed to be a surgical tech in a field hospital. We were far enough back, we could hear mortal fire, but way out of range.

I got called into a meeting with our top doc (bird colonel) and 2 ‘civilians’ introduced as Smith and Jones. I was told to pack a medical bag and be prepared to catch a chopper at 0500 tomorrow. My job was to see to any medical needs that showed up. After being dismissed by the colonel, Smith and Jones told me exactly what was expected of me – watch their backs, say nothing to either of them unless it was urgent and to keep my mouth shut about where we went and any activities that went on. Failure to do this would result in my untimely demise ... a sad casualty of war. I was issued an M-16, a pouch for my web belt to hold magazines and a Beretta 9mm. I REALLY wanted a Colt 1911.45 pistol.

Packed my shit and my kit and spent a glorious hour flying to God knows where. All I know is all my AIT training looked like it was going to pay off. We weren’t anywhere near OUR boys, mostly parked on whatever high ground, watching these two spooks watch troop movements and villages. I’ve got some sage advice for you– avoid getting shot, whether you need to or not. I caught a ricochet or a lucky shot while we were making a ‘tactical retreat’. Wasn’t too bad, I patched myself up with only an hours delay ... the words ‘beat feet’ comes to mind. Worst part was, no one could say anything about it because then, you’d have to explain WHERE it happened and HOW and WHY. Remember – we were never there. Such is the fate of a wanna-be spook. So, no purple heart for me. There is also a whole big section of my DD214 that’s redacted and refined to cover that time period ... other parts were blacked out.