Getting drafted and serving in the military, created enough anxiety in young men, that some shot themselves in the foot, ran away to Canada or some other country. They went to jail, committed petty crimes just to have an arrest record. They invented many ways to keep out of the army and stay far away from Viet Nam. What did I do? I put on clothes and shoes I could throw in the trash when I reported to boot camp. I didn’t bring a watch, a wedding ring or anything else except a toothbrush. At Basic, they gave us a box and a shipping label so we could ship our personal things home. I gave my box and label to another trainee.
We arrived at Ft. Campbell between Christmas and New Year. Someone screwed up. We weren’t expected. We didn’t have our drill sergeants. Supply gave us each a blanket. That was it. We slept on the floor in the barracks. We ate chili and rice, two times a day, and generally did whatever we wanted.
At the end of the new Year Holliday, our drill sergeants came. Things changed. A lot of things changed. Everything changed except the blanket they gave us.
The barrack building stood two stories high. The first floor was raised off the ground on posts spaced about four feet apart. I rarely snowed in Kentucky. When it did, it would melt in a day. When we got off the airplane, a drill sergeant tried to intimidate us, saying the temperature might go down to freezing. He yelled that we might even get snow. He wasn’t sure what to think when 100 of us started laughing. We had all come from below zero air and two feet of snow in Minnesota.
With our new drill sergeants, Supply gave us uniforms, underwear, boots, a jacket and more. We got our heads shaved and ratty old mattresses. Finally some decent sleep. Inside the barracks on each floor were two rows of bunkbeds with wooden slats for springs. The beds were a row away from the wall, where we each had a tall metal clocker, like in high school and a wooden footlocker with a tray inside and a lid.
I made my bed, stowed my new belongings and went outside. Next to our company C barracks, was a smaller hut, about the size of a single car garage. That was our headquarters shack. An intercom with loudspeakers connected the two. Looking down the street I counted about 20 similar barracks and HQ setups.
I heard a commotion from inside, so I scampered up the steps to the second floor where my things were. The trainees were lined up. They stood stiff, afraid to move. The drill sergeant had just finished screaming to them about something. He was standing by bunk with a riding crop in one hand and the other hand pointing at my bunk.
With all my sisters, I had grown up taking care of myself. I have made up my bed. It looked neat and tidy, I thought. The kaki sheet was folded down and my pillow nicely fluffed. The drill sergeant had my tall locker and my footlocker open.
“Glad you decided to join us private…” He leaned closer to read my name tag. “…Blumer. Is this your work or did you bring your mother?
There was some laughter that stopped when my drill sergeant looked up.
“No mother with me,” I said. “Sisters, either.”
“Did I say you could talk?” he yelled, spitting his words enough that I ducked my head. “You asked me a question, so I answered.”
He moved closer and was nearly in my face. “You don’t talk unless someone with a higher rank gives you permission. UNDERSTAND?”
“I…” I shut my mouth and nodded furiously.
He stepped to my bed.
I remined still.
H tossed my pillow on the floor, then stripped my bed down to a bare mattress piling everything on top of my pillow. Turning to my footlocker, he kicked that over, sending all my shaving gear skittering across the tile floor.
He shouted at the others. Line up outside. He followed the last of the trainees, toward the door. “I want this mess cleaned buy the time we get back from breakfast.” Out the door he went.
I let out a breath and muttered, “Nice guy.” I really wished I was brave enough to tell him he couldn’t match my dad in a yelling contest.
I looked at how all the other beds were made. No sheet folded over the blanket. One blanket stretched like a drum head. You really could, as the saying goes, bounce a quarter on it. Blanket number two covered the pillow and was taught like the one playing bedspread. I rounded up my gear and peeked into a couple of other footlockers. Ah, ha. Underwear is folded into 4-inch cubes. Shaving later, razor, toothbrush, etc. It looked like they were owned by someone with OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) I wanted to take a quick nap but hesitated even sitting on my bed. I sat on my footlocker, leaned against the wall, shut my eyes and waited, listening to my stomach make gurgling sounds.
When the soldiers came back, the sergeant told them they had 10 minutes and then should form up outside.
The rest of the day was uneventful, meaning I stayed out of trouble. We ran a couple miles, took a turn at the obstacle course, had lunch, a first aid class and jogged again. Whew... we did a lot, but nothing was very strenuous for me. A lot of bodies were out of shape. There was coughing and wheezing after both runs. Luckly the obstacle course was built on sawdust. I went through it twice, and lined up for a third, but the drill sergeant stopped me.
The routine was the same each day for three days. One thing I wasn’t looking forward to being was ‘fire guard.’ They were worried about us catching influenza. In the barracks they kept the big double hung windows open 3 inches at the top and bottom. The circulation was supposed to keep us healthy. It didn’t. I just made us cold at night, so we kept the thermostat turned up. That made the staff worried about fire. So, for each hour of each night, one of us trainees had to stay awake for an hour in case the fire alarm needed to be sounded. There were always two drill sergeants in the HQ shack overnight. Erach hour, they’d page a soldier over the intercom. The selected fire guard would report the HQ and come back, sometimes wiping tears away. When the next hour came, another page woke us up and another trainee headed to HQ.
This was only day three and I admit, I was getting a little crabby. At 3AM that night, the voice on the loudspeaker, crackled and called, “Private Blumer, report to HQ.”
I hopped to the floor and put on my boots and uniform. Taking the steps two at a time, stopped to tuck in my shirt then knocked on the HQ door.
“Enter,” a voice hollered.
It was pretty plain inside. Across from the door and under the window was a desk. File cabinets lined the back and one side wall. Another small desk had some office machines and a typewriter. Skinny but quick Drill Sergeant Dudley sat on the smaller desk. He had his arms folded and was slowly swinging his legs.
Behind the main desk sat the tall, muscular, football player looking, Drill Sergeant Collins. He leaned back in a swivel chair, had his feet up on the desk and held a manilla folder. He thumbed through the folder pages. He put the folder and his feet down. Leaning forward, he gave me a stare. “Blumer, Blumer, Blumer,” he said. “Is it true, what I just read about you?”
“Yes, sergeant. I have been fooling around with your wife.” It turned out that was not a good answer. Collens flew across the desk and had me on the floor gasping for breath. I saw little blinky, blink stars.
Seargent Dudley sprang on top of us and pulled at Collins. “You’re choking him. Let him get a breath. Punch him instead or something.”
Dudley and Collins rolled to one side. I gasped and struggled to my feet. When both men were up, they hollered a lot. They told me about all the ways a trainee could die in basic training. When they had no more else to yell, they had me stand at attention for two hours, then let me go.
Between the two buildings I stopped and considered life in Canada. Then I spotted the pay phone booth about a block away near the bowling alley. I ran to the booth. I had memorized the account number of a calling card my mom had given to me for emergencies. I figured this qualified as one.
I called directory assistance and asked for the phone number of Senator Karth. The operator connected me and a staffer answered Karth’s phone. I explained and apologized for the HQ “incident.” The staff person said the Senator was in Washington. I was told to go back to my barracks and not worry.
“Okay, ya, sure,” I said and hung up. “I’m dead,” I said and headed back to the barracks. I was no more than half an hour, and the intercom crackled on. “Private Blumer, get your ass over hear.”
I held then blew out a deep breath. Mom was right, I thought. Why is my life always like this?
Back in the HQ shack I got grilled, called stupid and screamed at for using the pay phone. The two drill sergeants had me empty my pockets to make sure I didn’t have any coins. It was attention time again. I figured the only way for them to know about the call was to get one themselves. It was nearly time for reveille. They gave me a warning before letting me go. They said I’d probably live but the next two months would make me wish I was in hell instead.
Back outside, I stood and looked at the barracks, then the HQ hut and then the payphone. I took off running toward the phone. This time, the Senator’s staff patched me through to Karth in his Washington office. After briefing him, he instructed me to go back to my barracks. He said to stay there until new things were safe. I asked him how I’d know? He said, “You will know.” He thanked me for my service and hung up.
All I could do was trust what he had said. I thought about another phone call to my wife and my family. Then I thought that it would be awful of me to start them worrying. Either I’d live through this, or they’d send my body home for a nice military funeral. I wasn’t in the barracks for more than 10 minutes, before the intercom voice, calmly said, “Private Blumer, we’re sorry to disturb you. We do need you at headquarters. Please come at your convenience.
Heads popped up in half the bunkbeds. Faces all looked in my direction. I gave a little salute and headed out the door. This is it, I thought. I’m dead.
At headquarters, Dudly and Collens stood in the ‘at ease’ position by the smaller desk. Behind the big desk sat our Company Commander, Captain Fullerton. He had my folder.
When he looked at me, I snapped to attention and saluted. I thought I might as well go out in style.
The captain ordered me ‘at ease,’ and said, “Sit down, private.”
I looked back and forth.
“Dudley, get him a chair,” the captain said.
When I sat, the captain put down my folder. “Blumer, I think what we have here is a failure to communicate. I see here you got here a bit earlier than we anticipated. Chili and rice never has been one of my favorites. And sleeping on the floor? That’s not how we treat our soldiers, even trainees. I see here you worked for the phone company when we drafted you.”
I nodded, yes, but kept my mouth shut.
“They have trucks in the phone company, don’t they. I bet you know how to drive a truck.”
I gave another nod.
“well, you see, for each basic training cycle we need a truck driver. Now that truck driver misses out on a lot of activities. He doesn’t get to march out to the rifle range because he needs to drive the truck. He doesn’t get to camp out on Bivouac because he needs to drive. No KP kitchen duty and so forth. As a token of our goodwill and our new understanding of communication, I’m offering the truck driver to you. Collins will get you a military driver license. No need for a test. We’ll take care of that. I’ll have the motor pool bring us a jeep. Oh, can you drive a stick?
I wanted to say, “You son of a bitch. You got the second call, didn’t you.” But thankfully I wrung my cap in my hands and looked at the floor. “Thank you, sir.” I turned to the two sergeants. “I’m sorry and apologize. I was a bit crabby. Let me know if I can do anything to make up for it.”
“We’re good.” Dudley said and took my chair. “Actually, it was kind of funny. Nobody dares tease Collins.”
“Dismissed,” the captain said.
I saluted and headed back to my barracks.
I got more than a few looks. Everyone was up and ready for inspection. I looked at my bunk. It was still a mess from me sleeping in it. My drill sergeant came out of his office and began his inspection. When he got to me, I grabbed my bedding and threw it on the floor. Being somewhat careful I opened my footlocker, took out its tray and dumped that on top of my blankets. I tipped the wooden box upside down, then stood at attention.
My drill sergeant stood still with a questioning look on his face. “What was that all about?” he asked.
“I knew it wouldn’t pass. It looked like fun when you tip everything over. I thought why should you have all the fun. Eather way I get to clean it up. This way kind of evens it out. I suppose you heard about my fire guard fiasco?”
“No. What are you talking about?”
“I know,” I said. “In a gruff voice I yelled, Blumer, have this cleaned up before I get back.” I grabbed a handful of blankets.
Sergent Awkie, gave me another strange look as he walked backwards away from me. After about ten paces he turned and ordered everyone outside.
After mess, the Company returned and was getting ready for the rifle range.
A soldier came and spotted my name tag. “Here are your keys. The jeep is outside. I’ll need a ride back to the pool.”
Awkie heard him and gave another puzzling look.
“I’ll be…”
“I heard,” Awkie said. “Join up with us out at the range.” He walked past and bumped shoulders with me. “Stay away from the wives,” he said so only I could hear him. “He laughed, loud enough for everyone to hear.
