ARMY ENLISTMENT? HAPPY ANNIVERSARY

Me: Today is my Army enlistment anniversary. Did you remember.

Wife: It’s also the day my Mom died.

Me: It is? I mean, yes, it is, and also my anniversary.

Wife: I’m glad you remember it.

Me: And there’s another thing to celebrate on the same date.

Wife: What?

Me: There’s also another thing on this date.

Wife: Yes, I heard you. What is it?

Me: Guess. I was in for two years.

Wife: You got a promotion.

Me: You could call it that. It’s also the day I got out of the Army.

Wife: In and out on the same day?

Me: Two years later. I didn’t get a promotion because I was early entry and the timing was wrong.

Wife: Otherwise you would have been a general?

Me: Yes I would have. I would have been the first Pfc to jump all the way to the top. Or, I would have been an E-4.

 

The Army Enlistment Job

The advice I got came from a college friend’s dad, and my dad:

 

One Dad: Whatever you do, don’t volunteer for anything.

My Marine Corps Dad: At least you’re not in the Navy.

With those wise words, I was off on my big adventure.

 

I wasn’t going to the The Meuse-Argonne Offensive.

 

The 600,000 man strong U.S. 1st Army planned to attack northward with nine divisions in the line and five in reserve, supported by 2,700 pieces of artillery, 189 tanks, and 821 aircraft, along a fifteen to twenty mile wide corridor bounded by the impassable Meuse River on the east and the dense Argonne Forest and the Aire River on the west.

 

I wasn’t going to Omaha Beach.

 

Nearly 160,000 Allied troops landed on D-Day, made up of major forces from the United States, the United Kingdom, Canada, and 12 other Allied nations.

By the end of June, the Allies had landed more than 850,000 troops, 570,000 tons of supplies, and nearly 150,000 vehicles across the beaches of Normandy.

 

I wasn’t going to the Frozen Chosin in Korea.

 

The Battle of Chosin, or “Changjin” as it’s called in Korea, a two-week-long bloodbath pitting 30,000 US, ROK, and British troops against 120,000 Chinese soldiers, was a defining moment of the Korean War.

 

I wasn’t going to Khe Sanh.

 

As part of a program codenamed Operation Scotland, Westmoreland reinforced the Marine garrison at Khe Sanh—bringing the total number of troops to around 6,000—stockpiled ammunition and refurbished the airstrip at the base, all in preparation for a possible attack.

 

I Was Going To Fort Ord

 

I showed up with hair, and an outfit from the day: long bell bottom brown cords, a hounds tooth corduroy jean jacket, and cool boots.

I looked like a nineteen year old seventies guy in 1974. Like this:

 

 

Two months later like this:

 

I got off the bus at Fort Ord with a twisted knee from drunk wrestling in a side yard the week before I left. (Hey Charlie A)

I told the sergeant I got hurt stepping off the plane from Portland and he made an appointment for me at the base hospital.

I knew all about Army hospitals having been hatched at Letterman Army Hospital in San Francisco’s Presidio.

We showed up on a Friday night and spent the weekend in the Receiving Depot.

I remember thinking, ‘the Army doesn’t work weekends?’

On the first day, two guys in a MASH-era ambulance showed up to take me to the hospital. I sat in the back.

 

Guy1: Do you want to see the old base?

Me: Okay.

Guy2: Do you mind if we smoke?

Me: No.

 

The passenger pulled out a fat joint and fired it up and passed it around.

I was more than a little disoriented when they dropped me at the front door.

 

Guy1: We’ll be back in an hour. That’s how long these things usually take.

Me: Okay.

Guy2: Be careful in there.

Me: What?

 

I checked in and followed directions to the waiting area.

It was full of guys who’d recently had knee surgery.

 

Me: How did it go in surgery.

Guys: It went well except they had an virus in there and we’ve all got frozen knee joints.

 

From frozen knee joints, plus the joint in the ambulance, things took a turn.

When the clerk called my name to see the doctor I said there must be a mistake.

 

Me: I came in for an aspirin.

Clerk: We have you in for a knee exam.

Me: No knee problems, just a headache. Can I get an aspirin?

Clerk: Yes.

I got my aspirin and got out of there, waiting forty-five minutes near the outside door for my ride.

They came, asked me how it went. I told them about the frozen knees. They already knew.

 

Me: Thanks for the heads up. Those guys with the knees looked bad.

Guy 1: We’ve got a rule in the Army: Never get married on active duty, and avoid the hospital.

Me: I’m glad I’m not crippled for life. Thank you.

Guy 2: You’re welcome. Want to see the old fort one more time?

 

I got out of the ambulance in a semi-daze, which worked out because the whole Army environment was enough to send anyone into shock.

Now everything felt normal.

 

PS: 

Joining the Army is life changing for some, life ending for others. I got neither because I knew how to hold my own.

One day you’re getting pumped up, the next day the same person tears you down.

At first the drill sergeant said I was going to be the best of the Army’s best and assigned me the role of Platoon Guide.

Three weeks later I was the most pathetic soldier the Army ever wasted a uniform on.

 

PSS:

To be the best of the best I needed to extend for extra years added to the two I’d already agreed to.

And I was supposed to say everything and everyone was present and accounted for when they weren’t.

Following the earlier advice from the dads, I did neither, thinking, ‘Find another loser, not me.’

When you’ve got challenges in front of you, remember to hold your own and things will work out.

Maybe take a drive around an old fort and think about it.