We had finished high school and had not yet graduated, so we had a week to goof off. Buck had already signed up for the Army's Delayed Entry Program, and was due to ship out in two months. He stopped by the recruiter's office and told us he had to go in and check on something. I was being led to the slaughter, but didn't know it. One thing led to another, and being the naive kid I was, I had agreed to go take the Entrance Test. It was much later that I learned that if Bucky had gotten one other person after me, to enlist, he'd have come in with a stripe on his sleeve. I'm glad to say that I was the only one guillible enough for his shenanigans.
I rode the Greyhound Bus from Glenville to Beckley. They put me up at the George Washington Hotel, in downtown Beckley. I took the tests, got a physical exam and went to talk to the guy in charge of getting orders. I wanted to be a truck driver, so he told me that I would go to school to become a Motor Transport Operator (that's an impressive way of saying "truck driver"). I said OK. I then tried to get a duty station near West Virginia, but I settled for Ft Sill, Oklahoma. That's pretty close isn't it? It was only a few inches on the map! I was ready to start driving trucks, but they wanted me to spend a couple of months at a place called Ft. Jackson, South Carolina. I knew Buck was going to be there soon, so it wasn't a bad deal.
If I had been told I would have to get on an airplane, after I signed up, I would have had some serious reservations about the whole deal. I got on a DC-3 (propeller plane) in Beckley (didn't even know they HAD an airport) and landed in Lewisburg, W.Va, Roanoke, Va. and National Airport in D.C. I switched to a smaller plane to fly from there to Philadelphia. I thought that this was a strange route to take, going to South Carolina, but was too nervous, from flying, to ask about it.
I REALLY knew things weren't going as planned, when I landed in Philadelphia and got into an Airport Limo heading for Ft. Dix, New Jersey . Actually it wasn't a real limo, it was a station wagon with 4 doors on each side. I got there at about 11:00 P.M. That's 2300 for you lifer types. We were greeted by a band of curious creatures called Drill Sergeants. They appeared to be almost human. That is....until they spoke. One distinguishing characteristic about them is their inability to communicate without screaming and defaming your entire personal and cultural heritage. I don't recall any of them ever NOT speaking at less than 10 on a volume scale. And they had some bad points, too!
We did all kinds of fun things, those first few days. One of my favorites was going through the shot line. Medics were positioned into a gauntlet formation, armed with high pressure air syringes. We were given a cursory "Don't flich," and then riddled with machine gun like inoculations. To keep our arms from getting stiff, they had a fun exercise schedule lined up for us. I was beginning to turn into a soldier.
My personal Drill Sergeant was James Fanto, from Augusta, Georgia. I will forever remember his face, inches from mine, telling me that I was a $#$%# and would probably never make it through Basic Training. How I looked forward to reveille each morning, that I might awaken to the melodious ballads, streaming forth from his golden vocal chords. That and the trash cans he kicked everywhere. He allowed us a leisurely 10 minutes to shave, dress and make our bunks. Then if we were good, he'd let us run 4 or 5 miles to work up an appetite for breakfast. We needed that, too. Later in the morning, we would be exercising.
The two most notable features of Ft Dix were sand and pine trees. I don't have a problem picturing pines in New Jersey, but how did they get all that sand in the middle of the state?? It made our marches to the rifle range so pleasant. Ft. Dix had about 85 different ranges. Most were rifle ranges and a few were .45 and grenade ranges. No matter which one you were going to, or from what direction you came, the range you were going to was the farthest one from your starting point. The sand was not only great for building up your calves, but it especially made cleaning our rifles a very rewarding experience.
Well, I made it through Basic Training and Truck Driver School. Upon completing the Motor Transport Operator's School, I was awarded the 64C30 Military Occupational Specialty (MOS) (again, an impressive title for "job"). I bid a fond farewell to Ft Dix and went to W.Va. for 2 weeks leave. I bought my first car, a 67 Chevy II (in 68 they became Nova's) and prepared to drive to Ft Sill, Oklahoma . I had been to Enid, 4 years before, so I knew it would be flat and hot. What I forgot about was the wind. Wind chill factor became a new part of my vocabulary. Although it was very hot in the summer, it was not humid. Overall, I liked it there. Oklahoma is OK....hey, I've got an idea for a song!
I drove a 5 ton ammunition truck, for an Artillery Battery. My unit was Alpha Battery, Second Battalion, Eighteenth Field Artillery, Eight Inch (Self Propelled). Or as it was written, A Btry, 2/18 FA, 8in (SP). It was the largest howitzer that the Army had. I'm not sure if it still is. The self propelled means that the howitzer can move on it's own. Other versions have to be towed behind a truck or jeep. The rounds for these weighed 200 lbs. We used to roll them out of the back of the truck, onto the ground. Take that OSHA!!!
In summer of 1976, we packed off to West Germany (they were still divided, remember) for training and to prepare for the 1/30 FA to make a permanent transfer there. We took vehicles out of storage in Mannheim, and drove them down the Autobahn to Augsburg. The tracked vehicles went by rail. It was a neat 2 day trip and we got off the main road several times. I don't know why, but going through some of the small villages was really fun. Everyone came out to the road and waved to us. The rest of the time we spent repairing the barracks and motor pool for the arrival of the other unit.
President Carter had just taken office after we returned. I don't know if anyone else recalls his campaign, but he promised all taxpayers a $50 rebate, when he was elected. Well I never got mine! That's the last Democrat I ever voted for. Any comments, Mr. President? E-mail me if you have a decent excuse.
Shortly after returning to the States, I went to Wheeled and Tracked Vehicle Mechanic School. After completion, I was a 63B20 and a 63C20. Soon after that, I attended Field Artillery Weapons Mechanic School and was awarded a 13B10U6 MOS. But for all that, I was ready to get out. I didn't like working all day as a mechanic. I enjoyed working on my own car, but not 20 or 30 others too! In June 1978, I was discharged.
I went back to W.Va. for a while, and found out that the employment opportunities weren't much better than when I left. After a month, I went to stay with my Aunt and Cousin in Daytona Beach, Fla. I had a few meager attempts at the REAL job world, but didn't really put my heart into it. I then went back to W.Va. In a matter of weeks, I was contacting the Army Recruiter. He gave me some incorrect information (said I would have to take Basic Training again, later found out that wasn't so) and I called the Navy Recruiter about what they had. They said I could enter as an E-3, and wouldn't have to go through Boot Camp. I decided to have an Adventure...not just a job! Little did I realize that I was about to become a LIFER!!!
