My Sorrowful Army Introduction - Nez

 

On June 30, 1964, I boarded a plane for the very first time. It was a Western Airlines Boeing 707. We flew from Seattle to San Francisco. That was the day I joined the U.S. Army. I was headed to Fort Ord, California for Basic Training. They put a bunch of west coast recruits on busses to Fort Ord, which was between the Salinas Valley and Monterrey. (Fort Ord no longer exists.)

The hour long bus ride quickly took us to Fort Ord. On arrival we were ordered off the bus and into formation. After roll-call we were assigned to our units and barracks and locker numbers and given five minutes to go there and put our stuff in the locker and report back to the formation. The last “recruit” back was given a very loud reprimand. (Thank goodness it wasn’t me.)

We were issued our “flying twenty” dollars which was used for our buzzcuts, boot polish, and padlocks for our locker and footlocker. We were then issued uniforms (two sets of fatigues, two pair of socks and shiny black combat boots, and bedding. We took everything to our barracks and stowed them temporarily in our footlockers and again reported back to the formation either shirtless or in a t-shirt. We did almost everything in formation.

We were “marched” to the infirmary for our inoculations. If you were allergic to eggs, you were taken out of line and into the infirmary separately. Those of us not allergic to eggs stayed in line and through four army medics (two on each side) with what looked like “space” pistols. We were told to “Stop and Do Not Move” and the first two medics immediately ‘shot’ us on each upper arm, and again “Stop and Do Not Move” as the next pair of medics repeated the action. We were given four shots for what we never knew (maybe even experimental medications?). And were never given shot records.

We were “marched” around for thirty minutes to “let the shots take effect.” And to familiarize us with the company area, our home for the next ten weeks. Next we were “marched” to the mess hall, where we stood in formation while our company commander, made a welcoming speech and introduced our training cadre, our “drill sergeants”. Finally, then we had our first mess hall meal and the first “sit down” since getting off the bus. It wasn’t “mama’s home cooking.”

We were awaken at five a.m. the next morning, by a large metal spoon pounding the bottom of a pan by Sgt. Flores, our drill sergeant. He called us to attention in our skivvies in front of our footlockers. Then before we did anything else we had to make our beds as we were shown and repeatedly practiced the previous night, the military way and very tight. All beds had to  look uniform and then we could shower, shave, brush our teeth and get dressed in combat fatigues and be out in formation in thirty minutes.

Our barracks was 2^nd Platoon, Company C and we barely made formation in thirty minutes. We were at attention while our company commander reviewed our platoon. He was not impressed.  We had been at Fort Ord for fewer than twenty-four hours, with fewer than five hours of sleep and we were already being “dressed down” by the ‘man’. Our 1st  fifteen minute breakfast was scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and milk, water or black coffee. That was our most decent breakfast. SOS became the norm.

I had to memorize my Army serial number. I had to memorize my M1 rifle’s serial number and how to dis-assemble and re-assemble it blindfolded. Our drill instructor, Sgt. Flores, taught us the ‘Army’ way of doing everything especially marching. He marched us until we were a precision drill team, and at double-time (running) then he taught us rifle drills until we did them in our sleep. He did everything we did while he sang marching ditties for cadence and did it all running backwards and didn’t break a sweat. We spent a lot of time with Sgt. Flores. He worked us hard, but was really good-natured and fair, always smiling, laughing and telling us stories.

I remember he told us in that WWII he was a teen in the Philippines which was under occupation by the Japanese. He was one of many Phlipino guerillas who killed hundreds of Japanese soldiers with knives and machetes while they slept in their barracks. He loved General McArthur and at seventeen he joined the American army and later became an American citizen. And we would be his last assignment before he retired.

Some three weeks into our training Fort Ord had a Spinal Meningitis outbreak and the whole fort was locked down and quarantined. We kept training, except there was no more double-timing and ten minute breaks every hour. We spent more time at the rifle range for more separation. No one could leave post, and civilians weren’t allowed on post. Worst of all our ‘free’ weekends were spent “on post”.

Our barracks windows were open at all times. Our beds had to be stripped every morning and mattresses turned every day. Trainees were dying from the disease. Men that we had become used to seeing daily disappeared. We slept in bunkbeds and one night my upper bunkmate was removed by medics at about two a.m. and we never saw him again. Others slept with a blanket over their heads to filter the air they breathed. It was pretty scary.

Finally, during week seven the quarantine was lifted and most activities returned to ‘normal’. Except the sick trainees never came back. We were told that our basic training was being cut short, to eight weeks instead of ten. We would wrap things up with a night crawl under concertina wire and live ammo shots above the wire, and run our PT tests the next week. We would have graduation exercises and leave that Friday.

The remainder of that week we prepared for our PT test which included just four events plus the mile run. We ran our final PT test in full combat gear with rifle and backpack in our shiny black combat boots. I ran the mile in less than seven and a half minutes. I was an athlete and I scored well in everything.

I was really glad that no more than six is our barracks had gotten meningitis. We didn’t know if any died. The Army arranged for each of us to fly back home for two weeks and gave us tickets and orders for our next assignment. I went to Fort Devens, Mass. for cryptographer school in September 1964.