As soon as I received my orders from the First Sergeant at the Reception Station, I went over to the 194th Armor Brigade where I was being assigned. The Brigade Sergeant Major asked me what I knew about tanks. I told him that I could recognize them 10 times out of 10, but I had never in my life been in one. He laughed and called a SSG (Staff Sergeant) (E-6) to come into the orderly room. He introduced us and told him in two weeks he wanted me trained up on the M48A3 and the M60A1 main battle tanks, how to drive, how to load the main gun and the machine guns, and the duty and responsibilities of each of the tank crewmen, the driver, the loader, the gunner and the tank commander. After two weeks of sunup to sundown training, we reported back to the Sergeant Major. He asked me some questions and I answered them all correctly. After that, he said that the only spot he had opened for me was with D Troop, 10th Cav., the Old Buffalo Soldiers.
D Troop, 10th Cav. was basically a scout company, pressed into duty to support the Armor School with tanks and personnel. The tanks were the M551 Sheridan Light Tank. It was called a 'light' tank because the skin was made of aluminium. There was some armor around the turret. This tank was able to parachute into combat and it could also swim rivers. The main gun was a 152mm main gun/launcher. It not only fired conventional ammo but it was able to launch a MGM-51 Shillelagh guided anti-tank missile.
I moved up fast in the ranks at D Troop, finally becoming a tank commander. I was the 'top gunner' out of the Troop. One day I was approached by a Sergeant First Class and he asked me how good I was with a rifle. I told him that I had fired as Expert Marksman with the M-14 rifle, the .45 Cal. pistol, and I had also qualified with the M-3 Machine Gun (Grease Gun). He came by the next day and picked me up and took me out the the rifle range. He had a M-14 Sniper rifle and he let me fire about 50 rounds downrange. I hit each of the targets pointed out to me to engage. He left and went to talk with an officer standing in the back watching me shoot. When he came back, he asked me if I wanted to be an Army Sniper. I thought for a minute and told him that I had no problem being in a 'fire fight' where everyone was shooting at each other, but that in a clear conscious I would have a problem sneaking up on someone, who did not have an idea I was anywhere near, and then shooting them. They returned me back to the unit orderly room and I never saw them again.
Soon after this, I was transferred to K Troop, 13th Cav. which was just then being organized as a part of the 194th Armor Brigade. When I signed into the new company, there was only four people in it. The Troop Commander, the First Sergeant, the Training NCO, and myself. Before any new men could sign in, the First Sergeant went to Brigade, came back with a sorry look on his face. He called me in and said that he had just been hit up to supply one NCO E-6 or above to go to a new class the Armor School had come up with. I was the only one other than the training NCO who filled the qualifications. He hated it because he was loosing me for about 12 weeks, the length of the school. It was called the Master Gunner Course. I was in the initial class 10 students. The mission of the Master Gunner was to become an expert in all aspects of Tank Gunnery. We were to work directly with the Battalion Commanders in the field of Tank Gunnery. Out class, being the first one, was with the new M1A1 Abrams Main Battle Tank, replacing the old M60A3. The M1A1 was a definite improvement over the M60A3. The main gun was a 120mm smooth bore cannon. This gun was a copy of the British Main Battle Tank. I believe it was call the Chieftain Tank. After the course, I went back to my unit wondering what was now going to happen. Before we had even the first tank assigned to our Troop, I was alerted for overseas movement. I was being assigned as an M1A1 Master Gunner to Camp Casey, Korea.
Well, it's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life. Till the next time my friends . . . .
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Friday, November 16, 2012
Fort Knox, first stateside duty appointment.
I was just beginning a new four year enlistment and was sent to Fort Knox for initial in processing and waiting for my MOS assignment. I was assigned initially to B Company at the Reception Station. I did not have to go back through basic again, but I did need to receive my initial clothing issue and to re-qualify with the M-14 rifle and the .45 Cal. pistol. While waiting in line to be measured for clothing, the drill instructors would come around and hassle the new 'cruts'. One of them, a real short 'buck' Sergeant, decided he was going to get on my case because I was older that most of the guys coming through. He was laughing and telling his friends how he was going to run me into the ground. I had been a SP/5 E-5, the same pay grade as he was when I got out the first time. I did loose one grade because of the two year separation in service. So, he was following me down the line, cussing up a blue storm, and when we got to the end of the line, the NCOIC (Non Commissioned Officer in Charge) of the Quartermasters stopped me and gave me my E-4 ranks to go on my uniforms. Should have seen the look of the DI, he couldn't believe it. His whole attitude changed, he came around to my side and asked what the E-4 stripes was all about. I explained to him I had four years of prior service, I was not going back through basic, and I was assigned to the Reception Station waiting on orders.
The command Sergeant Major was an older man who had been my First Sergeant on my prior assignment to Okinawa, Japan. He had me doing odd jobs around the Reception Station area. Re-wiring and old building, painting and for a few weeks being first assistant to the Mess Sergeant. This is where I learned a lot of baking and cooking.
One day, at the Reception Station they had family day. All the mothers and fathers and girl friends of the recruits came for visits. The Sergeant Major wanted to set the reception up in the picnic area behind B Company. My job was to make everyone feel at home, make sure there was coffee, ice tea, donuts, finger foods, etc. The company clerk of Company B was a man by the name of Rape. So, here I was, making sure everything was okay with all the families there. The First Sergeant came out of the Orderly Room, came over to where I was and asked me if I had seen the clerk anywhere. I told him that I had not seen him since early that morning. So, the First Sergeant in his loud, command voice, in the middle of the reception called for his clerk, "RAPE. . . RAPE." Needless to say, it got so quite you could hear a pin drop, his face turned red as a beet and he turned around and went back into the Orderly Room. I explained to the families there what had happened, an the everyone had a big laugh at the First Sergeant's expense.
Not long after this incident, I was called to the orderly room and the First Sergeant said that my MOS reclassification had come back. They were going to make me an 11B, a basic infantryman, which meant that I would be going to Fort Benning, Georgia for further training. I did not want to be in the Infantry so I decided on my own that I would rather be an 11E, which is an Armor Crewman. Being an Armor Crewman was taught at the home of Armor, right there at Fort Knox. So I went to see my friend, the Sergeant Major, who told me he had a friend at the Pentagon he would call. Two days later, I received my orders, 11E with a refresher course and then assignment to the 194th Armor Brigade there at Knox. I had been traveling between Pleasure Ridge Park in Louisville to Fort Knox daily. When I got my orders assigning me to Knox, we sold our trailer and moved into enlisted quarters on post. This was Gaffey Heights, close to the gold repository. Not long after this move, our son, Michael, was born at Ireland Army Hospital at Fort Knox.
The command Sergeant Major was an older man who had been my First Sergeant on my prior assignment to Okinawa, Japan. He had me doing odd jobs around the Reception Station area. Re-wiring and old building, painting and for a few weeks being first assistant to the Mess Sergeant. This is where I learned a lot of baking and cooking.
One day, at the Reception Station they had family day. All the mothers and fathers and girl friends of the recruits came for visits. The Sergeant Major wanted to set the reception up in the picnic area behind B Company. My job was to make everyone feel at home, make sure there was coffee, ice tea, donuts, finger foods, etc. The company clerk of Company B was a man by the name of Rape. So, here I was, making sure everything was okay with all the families there. The First Sergeant came out of the Orderly Room, came over to where I was and asked me if I had seen the clerk anywhere. I told him that I had not seen him since early that morning. So, the First Sergeant in his loud, command voice, in the middle of the reception called for his clerk, "RAPE. . . RAPE." Needless to say, it got so quite you could hear a pin drop, his face turned red as a beet and he turned around and went back into the Orderly Room. I explained to the families there what had happened, an the everyone had a big laugh at the First Sergeant's expense.
Not long after this incident, I was called to the orderly room and the First Sergeant said that my MOS reclassification had come back. They were going to make me an 11B, a basic infantryman, which meant that I would be going to Fort Benning, Georgia for further training. I did not want to be in the Infantry so I decided on my own that I would rather be an 11E, which is an Armor Crewman. Being an Armor Crewman was taught at the home of Armor, right there at Fort Knox. So I went to see my friend, the Sergeant Major, who told me he had a friend at the Pentagon he would call. Two days later, I received my orders, 11E with a refresher course and then assignment to the 194th Armor Brigade there at Knox. I had been traveling between Pleasure Ridge Park in Louisville to Fort Knox daily. When I got my orders assigning me to Knox, we sold our trailer and moved into enlisted quarters on post. This was Gaffey Heights, close to the gold repository. Not long after this move, our son, Michael, was born at Ireland Army Hospital at Fort Knox.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Married life . . .
It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life, hello to all of my friends out there in Blogland. From my last blog, I was running around different places all over Southeast Asia. I was based out of the 51st Special Operations Unit on Okinawa. Like I said, it was a little Unit called Torii Station out of Yomatan, which was close to Kadena Air Base. After two years of this, I was nearing my ETS (Estimate Termination of Service) date. And I was looking forward to getting out. Here is the reason why . . .
I had over the two years on Okinawa carried on a correspondence with Mila back in the Philippines and had got to know her pretty well. In fact, I proposed marriage to here through the mail system. She had accepted my proposal. I had over two years put in paperwork to marry her, but my paperwork kept getting lost. I had put it in three different time and all was lost. I was told later that the reason it was 'lost' was that I had a Top Secret Crypto clearance. If I got married to a 'foreign national', I would lose my clearance and would not be able to work my job, either of them. That was why I was wanting out. Love concurs all.
I try to get out of having to go back to CONUS (Continental United States) to get out and tried to ETS in Hawaii. They disapproved this and said that I must go back to Travis Air force Base in Oakland, California. It had been three years since I had seen my family back in Indiana. So I got out, flew to Indianapolis where my family was glad to see me back home. It was nice to get some home cooked meals that I grew up with. On the third day home, I was up early, writing a letter to Mila telling her of my plans. When my mom came it the room she asked me who I was writing to and I told her. She sat down and we had a little talk. She asked me how long it took the mail to get to her and I explained that normally it would take all of 14 days or longer to arrive. Mon then said if you really care about her, forget the letter, get you a plane ticket and fly back to the Philippines and get her. I tore up the letter, got me a ticket for the next day and flew back.
Mila was sure surprised to see my back there. When I rang the bell at the gate to their compound, the maid came out, she was surprised to see me, forgot to open the gate and ran back into the house, leaving me outside. When she told Mila I was outside, she could not believe it. After running to the American Embassy and everyplace in between, we were married and her father bought us plane tickets back to the states as a gift. We spent a couple of days in Tokyo, Japan on our way home. A little side note: Mila and I have been married for 44 wonderful years.
We stayed with my parents for a couple of months till we both found jobs and also an apartment in Madison, Indiana. I was working long hours at the Grote Manufacturing Company and Mila got a teaching job with Pope John XXIII Grade School, both being in Madison. After a year of this, we moved to Bloomington, Indiana where I took the GI bill and attended my freshman year at Indiana University. We had bought a trailer and was living out on Vernal Pike. After my freshman year, we decided that I needed to go back into the Army. Back to the induction center at Indianapolis. Raised my right hand again for four more years. But, being my security clearance had been pulled I could not go back to my former job with the Army Security Agency. I did not have to go through basic training so they were sending me to Fort Knox, Kentucky to await my orders and notification of my next assignment.
We moved our trailer down to Pleasure Ridge Park, half way between Louisville and Fort Knox. The park was very close to Ky 31W Highway, known as Dixie Highway, or due to the many accidents that happened there, Dixie Die Way.
In my next blog, I will tell you about our kids and about my experiences at Ft. Knox, Kentucky.
I had over the two years on Okinawa carried on a correspondence with Mila back in the Philippines and had got to know her pretty well. In fact, I proposed marriage to here through the mail system. She had accepted my proposal. I had over two years put in paperwork to marry her, but my paperwork kept getting lost. I had put it in three different time and all was lost. I was told later that the reason it was 'lost' was that I had a Top Secret Crypto clearance. If I got married to a 'foreign national', I would lose my clearance and would not be able to work my job, either of them. That was why I was wanting out. Love concurs all.
I try to get out of having to go back to CONUS (Continental United States) to get out and tried to ETS in Hawaii. They disapproved this and said that I must go back to Travis Air force Base in Oakland, California. It had been three years since I had seen my family back in Indiana. So I got out, flew to Indianapolis where my family was glad to see me back home. It was nice to get some home cooked meals that I grew up with. On the third day home, I was up early, writing a letter to Mila telling her of my plans. When my mom came it the room she asked me who I was writing to and I told her. She sat down and we had a little talk. She asked me how long it took the mail to get to her and I explained that normally it would take all of 14 days or longer to arrive. Mon then said if you really care about her, forget the letter, get you a plane ticket and fly back to the Philippines and get her. I tore up the letter, got me a ticket for the next day and flew back.
Mila was sure surprised to see my back there. When I rang the bell at the gate to their compound, the maid came out, she was surprised to see me, forgot to open the gate and ran back into the house, leaving me outside. When she told Mila I was outside, she could not believe it. After running to the American Embassy and everyplace in between, we were married and her father bought us plane tickets back to the states as a gift. We spent a couple of days in Tokyo, Japan on our way home. A little side note: Mila and I have been married for 44 wonderful years.
We stayed with my parents for a couple of months till we both found jobs and also an apartment in Madison, Indiana. I was working long hours at the Grote Manufacturing Company and Mila got a teaching job with Pope John XXIII Grade School, both being in Madison. After a year of this, we moved to Bloomington, Indiana where I took the GI bill and attended my freshman year at Indiana University. We had bought a trailer and was living out on Vernal Pike. After my freshman year, we decided that I needed to go back into the Army. Back to the induction center at Indianapolis. Raised my right hand again for four more years. But, being my security clearance had been pulled I could not go back to my former job with the Army Security Agency. I did not have to go through basic training so they were sending me to Fort Knox, Kentucky to await my orders and notification of my next assignment.
We moved our trailer down to Pleasure Ridge Park, half way between Louisville and Fort Knox. The park was very close to Ky 31W Highway, known as Dixie Highway, or due to the many accidents that happened there, Dixie Die Way.
In my next blog, I will tell you about our kids and about my experiences at Ft. Knox, Kentucky.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Okinawa . . . the Rock.
My second tour of duty was with the 53rd Special Operations Unit, Torii Station, Okinawa. We called this Island - The Rock. It is a part of the Ryukyu Island chain that belongs to Japan. This volcanic island is only about 70 miles long and about 30 miles wide. There a quite a few nice beaches on the island but you have to worry about coral. It is ruff on feet and on shoes. The meaning of the word, 'Okinawa' is 'Sea Rope', which is what the Japanese thought it would look like from above. It was a good thing that I was doing a lot of travelling at this time or I would have gone crazy on the 'Rock'. I did do some work while I was there in our Operations Building. Another building surrounded with government fence topped with razor wire and with no windows to look out at the sky.
I remember one evening fixing to go to work and the platoon sergeant told us to put on our steel pots and ponchos because we were being hit by a typhoon. Our Operations Building is only about 35 - 40 feet above sea level, we had to walk down a sidewalk parallel with the beach to get to work. There was a government fence along this sidewalk separating Torii Station from the public on the other side. Along this fence was a public grade school for little kids. I remember that we used to pass apples and oranges from the mess hall over the fence to watch the kids fight for the food. I noticed that one little girl did not ever get any of the apples or oranges because she was so small. After we had passed over the fruits and everyone was fighting for them, I motioned her over to the fence and passed her a candy bar through to her. After that day, when she saw us coming, she would light up when she saw me. I always had a candy bar or chewing gum for her.
On the day the typhoon was beating down on us, there was no kids in sight. In fact, we had to walk bent way over to keep the wind from blowing us away. Once we were in the Op Center, we were told to relieve the trick working there and let them go while they could. Well, eight hours later, no relief was in site for us, we opened the outside door and the wind was still blowing strong.
Finally after about 16 or 17 hours on the job, out relief showed up and we went out to a strange new world outside. Between the side walk back to the barracks and the beach was a great big, ocean going ship, beached, completely out of the water. Even though we were only 35 feet above sea level, we were quite a way from the actual ocean.
On one of my down times between flying around and actually working at the Op Center, some guys from our trick rented a boat and went deep sea fishing. I was laying up on the top of the deck while everyone was below deck fishing. I fell asleep. When I woke up two hours later, I was sun burned, almost a lobster red. I put in for the evening on the home island of the man who owned the ship. We built a bonfire on the beach but I could not enjoy it because of the sun burn. I was still red but the soreness had worn off by the time I had to report back for duty. I sure did not need an Article 15 for being sun burnt.
It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life. Enjoy it while you can.
Until the next time my friends, God speed.
I remember one evening fixing to go to work and the platoon sergeant told us to put on our steel pots and ponchos because we were being hit by a typhoon. Our Operations Building is only about 35 - 40 feet above sea level, we had to walk down a sidewalk parallel with the beach to get to work. There was a government fence along this sidewalk separating Torii Station from the public on the other side. Along this fence was a public grade school for little kids. I remember that we used to pass apples and oranges from the mess hall over the fence to watch the kids fight for the food. I noticed that one little girl did not ever get any of the apples or oranges because she was so small. After we had passed over the fruits and everyone was fighting for them, I motioned her over to the fence and passed her a candy bar through to her. After that day, when she saw us coming, she would light up when she saw me. I always had a candy bar or chewing gum for her.
On the day the typhoon was beating down on us, there was no kids in sight. In fact, we had to walk bent way over to keep the wind from blowing us away. Once we were in the Op Center, we were told to relieve the trick working there and let them go while they could. Well, eight hours later, no relief was in site for us, we opened the outside door and the wind was still blowing strong.
Finally after about 16 or 17 hours on the job, out relief showed up and we went out to a strange new world outside. Between the side walk back to the barracks and the beach was a great big, ocean going ship, beached, completely out of the water. Even though we were only 35 feet above sea level, we were quite a way from the actual ocean.
On one of my down times between flying around and actually working at the Op Center, some guys from our trick rented a boat and went deep sea fishing. I was laying up on the top of the deck while everyone was below deck fishing. I fell asleep. When I woke up two hours later, I was sun burned, almost a lobster red. I put in for the evening on the home island of the man who owned the ship. We built a bonfire on the beach but I could not enjoy it because of the sun burn. I was still red but the soreness had worn off by the time I had to report back for duty. I sure did not need an Article 15 for being sun burnt.
It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life. Enjoy it while you can.
Until the next time my friends, God speed.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Well, it's a new dawn, it's a new day and it's a new life.
After being in-country for about one year of a two year tour, rumors were flying left and right like no body's business. The Rumor that later proved to be true was that those of us in an overage MOS (Military Occupation Specialty) 05K (Non-Morse Intercept Operator) were getting our overseas assignment to Clark Air Base cut from twenty four months down to eighteen. We were to cross train our jobs over to guys of the Air force Security Squadron. They said we had six weeks to cross train out replacements but the guy who was replacing me was a quick study and he was handling an eight hour shift on his own with only a question now and then after two weeks. Maybe the Army would come to its self and end up sending me to Vietnam after all.
This proved to be a very busy time for me. One of my friends at that time was a guy named Ron. He was from Texas, was talk and lanky, and spoke with a funny accent. I later found out this was called an East Texas Twang. Ron was taking college courses the University of Maryland at that time. The University of Maryland had contracted through the University of the Philippines in Quezon City to send one of their professors up to teach the class on Clark. Ron invited me to go to class on Thursday evening and then he was going to treat me to a stake dinner afterward. After class, Ron and I was talking with the professor and was invited down to tour the campus on Saturday morning. Ron and I agreed to meet her Saturday morning at the Campus. We got on a bus and went to Manila Friday evening.
When I stay in Manila then I stayed in the Manila Hilton. If this hotel was good enough to be General Douglas MacArthur's Headquarters during the war, it was good enough for me.
We met the professor Saturday morning. After we visited a few of the building, we were at the Gym/Swimming Pool when a runner came up and informed the professor she was needed at a meeting with the Dean of the School. She introduced us to one of her students standing near by and told her of the problem. Her student promised to show us around. Ron was doing most of the talking and I noticed she was carrying a large amount of books. So, being the gentleman my father and mother brought me up to be, I volunteered to carry her books for her. After she had taken us around the campus, she invited us over to her parents house to meet her family. Right off the bat, I could tell her mother thought we were nothing but GIs looking for a good time. Her father, on the other hand, really like us. He was a real estate broker for a retired judge. Her name was Milagros Rubio Legarda. Later on in time, she would change her name to Milagros Legarda West. I visited with this fine family a few more times during what little time I had left before being re-assigned.
I was told that the Army Security Agency (ASA) had a shortage of my MOS on Okinawa, and that was where I was going when my orders came through. My replacement was already working my position, personnel did not know when the orders would come through, so I was waiting. I could not always get a pass to visit with the Legarda family as much as I would have liked to as I was growing attached to them. So, my time was spent on base at a small cafe which had very good coffee. On the third or fourth day at the cafe I was approached by two men.
These men were in three piece suits, expensive, had buzz hair cuts. They came over and sat down at me table without saying a word. They then told me that they had been checking me out for the last month and a half and asked me if I would work with them. I told them I was awaiting orders for Okinawa, and then was told they would take care of that. They would let me sign in to my reporting unit on Okinawa, give me suits like they had on, and that I would be taken off all duty rosters. I became very suspicious and asked them what I was going to be doing for them. They then explained that they wanted me to become a courier for the Department of Defense. I would be given a free, get out of jail ID card, and I would be doing some traveling.
I then proceeded to sign in on Okinawa. They contacted me through the orderly room. I then to the flight line at Kadena Air Force Base where they handcuffed a briefcase to my wrist and put me on a small jet. Then I began to travel. Some of the places they sent me was: Tokyo, Bangkok, Sydney, Manila, Paris and a few other places that I still can not talk about.
After being in-country for about one year of a two year tour, rumors were flying left and right like no body's business. The Rumor that later proved to be true was that those of us in an overage MOS (Military Occupation Specialty) 05K (Non-Morse Intercept Operator) were getting our overseas assignment to Clark Air Base cut from twenty four months down to eighteen. We were to cross train our jobs over to guys of the Air force Security Squadron. They said we had six weeks to cross train out replacements but the guy who was replacing me was a quick study and he was handling an eight hour shift on his own with only a question now and then after two weeks. Maybe the Army would come to its self and end up sending me to Vietnam after all.
This proved to be a very busy time for me. One of my friends at that time was a guy named Ron. He was from Texas, was talk and lanky, and spoke with a funny accent. I later found out this was called an East Texas Twang. Ron was taking college courses the University of Maryland at that time. The University of Maryland had contracted through the University of the Philippines in Quezon City to send one of their professors up to teach the class on Clark. Ron invited me to go to class on Thursday evening and then he was going to treat me to a stake dinner afterward. After class, Ron and I was talking with the professor and was invited down to tour the campus on Saturday morning. Ron and I agreed to meet her Saturday morning at the Campus. We got on a bus and went to Manila Friday evening.
When I stay in Manila then I stayed in the Manila Hilton. If this hotel was good enough to be General Douglas MacArthur's Headquarters during the war, it was good enough for me.
We met the professor Saturday morning. After we visited a few of the building, we were at the Gym/Swimming Pool when a runner came up and informed the professor she was needed at a meeting with the Dean of the School. She introduced us to one of her students standing near by and told her of the problem. Her student promised to show us around. Ron was doing most of the talking and I noticed she was carrying a large amount of books. So, being the gentleman my father and mother brought me up to be, I volunteered to carry her books for her. After she had taken us around the campus, she invited us over to her parents house to meet her family. Right off the bat, I could tell her mother thought we were nothing but GIs looking for a good time. Her father, on the other hand, really like us. He was a real estate broker for a retired judge. Her name was Milagros Rubio Legarda. Later on in time, she would change her name to Milagros Legarda West. I visited with this fine family a few more times during what little time I had left before being re-assigned.
I was told that the Army Security Agency (ASA) had a shortage of my MOS on Okinawa, and that was where I was going when my orders came through. My replacement was already working my position, personnel did not know when the orders would come through, so I was waiting. I could not always get a pass to visit with the Legarda family as much as I would have liked to as I was growing attached to them. So, my time was spent on base at a small cafe which had very good coffee. On the third or fourth day at the cafe I was approached by two men.
These men were in three piece suits, expensive, had buzz hair cuts. They came over and sat down at me table without saying a word. They then told me that they had been checking me out for the last month and a half and asked me if I would work with them. I told them I was awaiting orders for Okinawa, and then was told they would take care of that. They would let me sign in to my reporting unit on Okinawa, give me suits like they had on, and that I would be taken off all duty rosters. I became very suspicious and asked them what I was going to be doing for them. They then explained that they wanted me to become a courier for the Department of Defense. I would be given a free, get out of jail ID card, and I would be doing some traveling.
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Fire Engine Red. . .
Upon arrival at Clark Air Base, as part of the in-processing of NUGs (New Guys), we were put on an Army bus and taken around Clark Base and in a few of the places we had to get out and go into a room for an in briefing. This is the base hospital. . the is the base Library. . .this is the base movie theater. . When we arrived at the base fire house, we were put into a classroom and explained the basic ways to extinguish fires. The main fire engine was left over from WWII. We were told that even though it was old, it still got the job done. Not only was it for fires on base, but they had a partnership with the fire company off base in Angeles City. The truck would go through the main gate and go the aid of the local fire department. We were told that a brand new fire engine was on its way to Clark from stateside, (Land of the Big Base Exchange, as it was called.) The fire chief was an American and the fire fighters were foreign nationals.
After about six months in country, the new, bright red fire engine arrived from stateside. It had only been in country for only 4 days when it was put to the test. There was a big fire off base and it left to help. It was never seen again, in one piece, that is. After it did not come back to base after the fire was out, the Air Police went to the fire house to investigate. This is the rest of the story as Paul Harvey would say.
At about 1000 hours local time, a big two house fire was reported off base. Unknown to everyone, ten local thieves with falsified documentation came on base and went to the fire house. Once there, they pulled guns and tied up everyone there. they then put on the clothes of the firemen, and when the alarm was sounded, jumped into the new truck, put on the flashing lights and siren and proceeded to the Main Gate. Unknown to the APs at the gate, they, in all innocence waved the truck through. It was not taken to the fire, but to some unknown location and dismantled. They used the bright red fenders and side panels for decorations on the local Jeepneys. We would see a jeepney with bright red and say, "There goes part of the new fire engine."
After about six months in country, the new, bright red fire engine arrived from stateside. It had only been in country for only 4 days when it was put to the test. There was a big fire off base and it left to help. It was never seen again, in one piece, that is. After it did not come back to base after the fire was out, the Air Police went to the fire house to investigate. This is the rest of the story as Paul Harvey would say.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
I'm ALIVE!!!!! My. . .name. . . is. . .Dan
I want to tell you all that I have agonized over how I wanted to present this story that happened to me while I was stationed at Clark Air Base in the Philippines. Only a few of my very close family and friends know of this story. This does not include the Army shrinks who I saw soon after this happened. This is the first time that I have written about it.
Let me start off by telling you that I met Dan in early 1966. But before I tell you all about Dan and myself, let me set up the background for how I met him.. . . .
As I said earlier when I filled out my 'dream sheet' before leaving AIT at Fort Devens, I had put down for my three choices 1) Vietnam, 2) Vietnam and 3) Vietnam. That is why I ended up in the Philippines. I must give the U.S. Government and the U.S. Army credit, they put me in the same operation theater, South-East Asia.
After serving in the Philippines for a while, I got to the point where I put in for an inter-theater transfer to Vietnam. It was turned down on three consecutive occasions. So, what could I do to be more involved with the war going on in Vietnam? I was visiting the wounded vets returning to the hospital at Clark for medical treatments. This, I felt, was still not enough. So as I was visiting the cafeteria at Base Ops one day, looking out on the flight line, it became clear to me what I had to do. I got straight up from my coffee and went into Base Ops and volunteered for Midi Vac duty. What we would do would be to supervise and help unload planes bringing back the war wounded. After about two days I learned about medivacs coming out of Vietnam.
In time of war, you don't know how much of a target is presented to the enemy (Charlie) by painting a big Red Cross on a plane. It's like saying, "You can't shoot at me because I have a Red Cross on this plane". It just makes an aiming point for Charlie. Most of the time, we would get the planes in from Tan Son Nhut Air Base or Da Nang Air Base. You could look at the planes coming in and tell if it had taken off from a "Hot LZ" (Landing Zone). Hot, meaning that the plane was taking incoming mortar or small arms fire as it was taking off. If the plane had peaces missing or bullet holes in in, it was considered a "Hot" This basis made the inside of the cargo hold of the plane completely different.
When a plane is normally bringing back wounded, without a 'hot LZ", the first to be loaded into the plane is the dead. Those in body bags. They would be stacked toward the front of the plane in a neat and orderly fashion. Next in would go the stretcher cases, those on stretchers, the last on would be the ambulatory or walking wounded. A "Hot" plane, the body bags were put on in a hurry, scattered about because of the need to get off the ground and out of range of mortars and gunfire as quick as possible. The stretchers and the ambulatory would be all mixed up.
A typical unloading would be that the arriving plane would lower the ramp, the ambulatory would walk of with any assistance they would need, be taken to the doctors, nurses and medics set up on the flight line to care for them. The ones who did not need immediate care were helped into ambulances and sent to the hospital. Then we would walk up the ramp and take the stretcher cases and bring them out to the medical line set up there. Then we would pair up, and remove the body bags. They were placed in ambulances and taken to the morgue at the base hospital for identification.
The day that I met Dan, the plane had come in from Da Nang and it had been 'hot' at take off. When the ramp came down, everything inside had been thoroughly mixed up. We had to go up and help all of the ambulatory and stretchers get separated. After that part was done, then came the nightmare. The body bags were scattered all over the place. Some of the bags were not even zipped up. There were extra arms and legs laying around. We would place the arms or legs on the closest body bag to it.
Like I said, we did this in twos, one for the foot of the bag, the other to the head. We had gone down about three or four layers and came to this one bag. I was at the head, the bag was not closed, and an arm was hanging out of the bag. As I was reaching to place the hand and arm back into the bag and close it, my friend who was at the foot, said something to me. I didn't understand what he said, so I stopped, looked up at him and asked him what he had said. As I was looking up from the body bag, to my friend, this hand latched onto my wrist with a vice like grip. I was in complete shock. I thought I was going completely nuts. Talking about a nightmare in the daytime. No words describe the filling I was going through. My first instinct was to open the bag and get the arm back inside. When I opened the bag completely off the head, there was blood everywhere, but the eyes were looking directly at me. His lips were moving but I could not believe what my eyes and ears were telling me. I leaned over and I could barely make out what he was saying, "I;m alive. . . my . . .name . . is . . Dan . . ." Then he passed out. I started screaming, "Medic. Medic, Medic. . .we have a live one here. . .please help him....
I had to go with him and the doctors because they could not get his grip on my wrist off until they had given him some muscle relaxant. Even with that, they had to pry the fingers loose. Needless to say, I was in complete shock. I was a nervous wreck, just waiting for a place to come down.
Two days later I went to the base hospital and see what had happened to Dan. I was told by the nurse that they did not have a Dan there with the wounded, but they had three 'John Does" that were there and no one knew their names. She took me to them, after the first two, I was ready to quit, but when I saw the last one, I told the nurse, "This is Dan" but, I don't know what his last name was or which branch of the service he was in. Dan was still in a coma, but I still went to see him every day. About a week later, they listed him as Daniel Jackson, USMC. After another week of visiting Dan everyday, I went in one afternoon and his bed was empty. I ask the nurse about it and she said he still had not come out of the coma, but the doctors had decided that he would get better treatment at Walter Reed Hospital, so they hod placed him on a plane with a couple of doctors and nurses and sent him to Andrews in Washington, DC. I never did find out about what ever happened to Dan,
To this very day, and everyday without fail, I think about Dan.
Well my friends, it's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life. . . .
Til next posting....God speed!
Let me start off by telling you that I met Dan in early 1966. But before I tell you all about Dan and myself, let me set up the background for how I met him.. . . .
As I said earlier when I filled out my 'dream sheet' before leaving AIT at Fort Devens, I had put down for my three choices 1) Vietnam, 2) Vietnam and 3) Vietnam. That is why I ended up in the Philippines. I must give the U.S. Government and the U.S. Army credit, they put me in the same operation theater, South-East Asia.
After serving in the Philippines for a while, I got to the point where I put in for an inter-theater transfer to Vietnam. It was turned down on three consecutive occasions. So, what could I do to be more involved with the war going on in Vietnam? I was visiting the wounded vets returning to the hospital at Clark for medical treatments. This, I felt, was still not enough. So as I was visiting the cafeteria at Base Ops one day, looking out on the flight line, it became clear to me what I had to do. I got straight up from my coffee and went into Base Ops and volunteered for Midi Vac duty. What we would do would be to supervise and help unload planes bringing back the war wounded. After about two days I learned about medivacs coming out of Vietnam.
In time of war, you don't know how much of a target is presented to the enemy (Charlie) by painting a big Red Cross on a plane. It's like saying, "You can't shoot at me because I have a Red Cross on this plane". It just makes an aiming point for Charlie. Most of the time, we would get the planes in from Tan Son Nhut Air Base or Da Nang Air Base. You could look at the planes coming in and tell if it had taken off from a "Hot LZ" (Landing Zone). Hot, meaning that the plane was taking incoming mortar or small arms fire as it was taking off. If the plane had peaces missing or bullet holes in in, it was considered a "Hot" This basis made the inside of the cargo hold of the plane completely different.
When a plane is normally bringing back wounded, without a 'hot LZ", the first to be loaded into the plane is the dead. Those in body bags. They would be stacked toward the front of the plane in a neat and orderly fashion. Next in would go the stretcher cases, those on stretchers, the last on would be the ambulatory or walking wounded. A "Hot" plane, the body bags were put on in a hurry, scattered about because of the need to get off the ground and out of range of mortars and gunfire as quick as possible. The stretchers and the ambulatory would be all mixed up.
A typical unloading would be that the arriving plane would lower the ramp, the ambulatory would walk of with any assistance they would need, be taken to the doctors, nurses and medics set up on the flight line to care for them. The ones who did not need immediate care were helped into ambulances and sent to the hospital. Then we would walk up the ramp and take the stretcher cases and bring them out to the medical line set up there. Then we would pair up, and remove the body bags. They were placed in ambulances and taken to the morgue at the base hospital for identification.
The day that I met Dan, the plane had come in from Da Nang and it had been 'hot' at take off. When the ramp came down, everything inside had been thoroughly mixed up. We had to go up and help all of the ambulatory and stretchers get separated. After that part was done, then came the nightmare. The body bags were scattered all over the place. Some of the bags were not even zipped up. There were extra arms and legs laying around. We would place the arms or legs on the closest body bag to it.
Like I said, we did this in twos, one for the foot of the bag, the other to the head. We had gone down about three or four layers and came to this one bag. I was at the head, the bag was not closed, and an arm was hanging out of the bag. As I was reaching to place the hand and arm back into the bag and close it, my friend who was at the foot, said something to me. I didn't understand what he said, so I stopped, looked up at him and asked him what he had said. As I was looking up from the body bag, to my friend, this hand latched onto my wrist with a vice like grip. I was in complete shock. I thought I was going completely nuts. Talking about a nightmare in the daytime. No words describe the filling I was going through. My first instinct was to open the bag and get the arm back inside. When I opened the bag completely off the head, there was blood everywhere, but the eyes were looking directly at me. His lips were moving but I could not believe what my eyes and ears were telling me. I leaned over and I could barely make out what he was saying, "I;m alive. . . my . . .name . . is . . Dan . . ." Then he passed out. I started screaming, "Medic. Medic, Medic. . .we have a live one here. . .please help him....
I had to go with him and the doctors because they could not get his grip on my wrist off until they had given him some muscle relaxant. Even with that, they had to pry the fingers loose. Needless to say, I was in complete shock. I was a nervous wreck, just waiting for a place to come down.
Two days later I went to the base hospital and see what had happened to Dan. I was told by the nurse that they did not have a Dan there with the wounded, but they had three 'John Does" that were there and no one knew their names. She took me to them, after the first two, I was ready to quit, but when I saw the last one, I told the nurse, "This is Dan" but, I don't know what his last name was or which branch of the service he was in. Dan was still in a coma, but I still went to see him every day. About a week later, they listed him as Daniel Jackson, USMC. After another week of visiting Dan everyday, I went in one afternoon and his bed was empty. I ask the nurse about it and she said he still had not come out of the coma, but the doctors had decided that he would get better treatment at Walter Reed Hospital, so they hod placed him on a plane with a couple of doctors and nurses and sent him to Andrews in Washington, DC. I never did find out about what ever happened to Dan,
To this very day, and everyday without fail, I think about Dan.
Well my friends, it's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life. . . .
Til next posting....God speed!
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