The plane landed in the smallest airport that I had ever seen. We got on a bus and were driven to the reception center at our new post. I figured that we were in for a whole new ration of shit from our new drill seargents, but to my supprise we were treated with respect and called gentlemem insted of all the other obsenities that we were used to being called. No screaming or yelling, they spoke to us like we were humans not animals. Processing was pleasant and fast. We went to our new training batteries, and the drill seargents were even nice to us. This was a strange but welcome change of events.
Shortly after we were setteled into our barracks, a seargent came around and asked if anyone wanted to go to the LPC Academy. (Leadership Preparation Corse) He said that there was no extra details, or K.P. duty at the academy only fire guard. He also said that if we completed the corse it was a gauranteed promotion to E3. And no K.P. at our next training battery because we would be acting seargents. I thought it over and talked to my buddies about it, two of us, me included went for it. the other one Fred Espy was his name, wanted no part of it. So we said solong and went to the academy for the two weeks and learned how to drill troops and all of that other good stuff. It wasn't bad duty, and the food was excellent. The only thing that wasn't so great was you had to break starch every morning. That is what they call
trying to get into a set of fatigues that are pressed with enough
starch to make them actually stand by themselves. Stiff as a board. We were assigned to a training battery as acting seargents after our LPC training was completed. Then I got lonely for my wife and son, so I got permission to live off post with my family, and had them come to Oklahoma to live with me.
We got an apartment in Lawton, Oklahoma. Near C and 3rd. What was refered to as the impact area. I had to get up at 3:00am to catch a ride with another guy that was in my battery.
About 2 days after we got setteled into the apartment I had to go on bivouac for a week, just what I needed. One week in the field sleeping in a pup tent getting cold and wet. The only good part was that there were pecan trees everywhere, and I love pecans. The other guys were curious as to what I was always eating, and when I told them they didn't believe me. But I made believers out of them in short order. When I got back from bivouac and finally got home it was gettin around time to get our orders, it took another 3 weeks but they finally were posted, and I bet you can't guess where I was going. The fact is that only 2 guys didn't get to go to viet nam. One went to Germany, the other went to Alaska.
Now it ws time to send the family home and get a 30 day leave I thought. when I was handed my orders there were an extra set that said I was to go to a self propelled artillery unit for firther training for 1 week. Man I couldn't win for loosing. So here we go again. Another week of getting your balls broken by a bunch of lifers that need to get a life. I survived the extra weeks worth of training without to much pain. Untill I found out that the week I spent training was deducted from my 30 day leave.
Needless to say I went ballistic. But it did no good, I was stuck with the luck of the draw. So home I went with 3 weeks insted of 30 days leave coming. The best part is that aftr I got home I found out that I didn't have enough money to get back to California from New Jersey. The Army in there twisted wisdom only
gives you enough cash to get to your next duty station. So I had to go back to work for the 3 weeks I was supposed to be enjoying myself. Back to the junk yard. Aint that a bitch? But that's the kind of luck I had been having. I sure hoped it would change before I got to the Nam or I wouldn't last very long. The time came when I had to go to the air port. My father drove me down. We went without my wife, which now that I think about it was probably the best way to do it. He walked with me to the plane and stayed with me untill I boarded. As the plane pulled away from the terminal, I happened to glance out of the window. My father was still standing there, and he was crying. That was the first time I had ever seen the man cry. He knew that even if I made it home, that I would never be the same again. He was a Sailor in WWII, and he knew something that I didn't.
Get your own Free Home Page