US Army Chapter 2
CAMP GORDON, GEORGIA
Chapter 2
My Honey and I went through Georgia in June 1951 on our way to Florida on our honeymoon. We melted. It was so hot driving in our old blue 1946 Dodge four-door sedan with Fluid Drive. US Route 1 was torn up with hot dust and hot detours for the building of Interstate 95. We decided there and then we would never go to Florida again if we had to drive through Georgia. Never make a "never go to Georgia" statement, for you may do your basic training there.
I arrived at Camp Gordon on the first Friday in September-and we were taken to our Company and assigned bunks. Across the company street from our barracks was the most prize-winning mess hall at Camp Gordon. The Mess Sergeant was a winner in keeping the best-run, cleanest-looking inside, and out mess hall, and the best food in the Army. I was grateful for that food too. (It wasn't home cooking though.) He had all the walks lined with flowers and white painted stones, all the same size. He kept white paint on hand and someone was painting all the time. He had few demands for KP from us since he had a full staff of cooks and didn't want us messing around HIS kingdom or messing with HIS rocks and flowers. The Mess Sergeant even had little curtains on the windows. That’s class.
I got caught for KP duty one day, and it was hard work. I had to ride in the back of a pastry delivery truck handing out pies and cakes to the mess halls. It was cool in the truck and shaded from that hot, humid Georgia sun. It smelled good all day long. Not bad KP duty. I even considered it good duty for the next 23 and ½ months.
Our drill instructors were all sergeants and Korean veterans with an urgency about our paying attention to all instruction since it might save our lives. They were great instructors for the Signal Corps short course in self-defense, but it was not enough training for an offensive soldier fighting in Korea. Our Company DI was a winner and looked the part of a tough S.O.B., but in fact he was a very caring, hard working soldier? I got to know him quite well, along with our barracks instructor. We were told not to ask questions of our barracks instructor about Korea. He was working out mental problems as best as he could.
I volunteered to clean the company machine guns and rifles after they were fired on the range, in the supply room after dinner. That duty got me off everything else and I got to BS with the cadre. They tried to keep me for duty in the supply room when my training was finished, but my priority assignment (MOS) kept that from happening. Thank you, God. My three years in high school cadets and the Virginia State Guard paid off in basic training.
We had a 50-minute lesson with a 10-minute "Smoke If You Got’m" schedule. I loved anything dealing with small to big guns, hand grenades, and my real favorite, land mines. My close ties with the DI gave me the opportunity to help with the setting up of booby traps for our company to get safely through the next day. That was fun. I had a perfect grade in basic training and I worked hard to learn all I could about killing Koreans and living through the next 23 months. I was counting down the days from the first day, and they were moving much to slow.
I must admit I was shocked by some of the inductees’ inability to do the simplest personal care. Some had never seen a toothbrush or a razor, and some didn't know how to shine shoes or wash socks. A shower a day was unknown by those from the mountain hollers. Polished brass, clean floors, and wash windows were a mystery. What an education that was for me to see such a cross-section of men.
I have forgotten all names except for Schroder. He had the lower bunk next to mine and was a muleskinner from Wyoming. He was about 5 foot 7 inches and weighed 225 pounds without an ounce of fat. Built like a barrel. His neck was so large and arms so thick and short that the Army had to tailor all his clothing. His legs were short and thick, about the size of the smaller men’s waist. He was a walking muscle. He was a simple young man who never talked unless he was asked a question, and was so homesick for his Wyoming Mountains and mules that he cried. That made him a scapegoat for jokesters. We had to walk everywhere, since in basic training the Army didn’t provide us with transportation. My boots were not a good fit for my flat feet, so my feet would swell up to the point that I had to keep loosening the laces. Some mornings I could hardly get those boots on and had to walk in the back a little slower than the company. Schroder would keep me company along with some of the smaller men who didn't have the strength to carry their packs and rifles. Schroder would carry their packs and rifles. One day he had four extra rifles and packs for our 10-mile walk to the training ground. He arrived at the meeting site and wasn't even winded. He said it was easier than carrying a mule over a mountain. After we finished that day, Schroder just picked up those rifles and packs, and walked back to the barracks. No one ever said one thing against Schroder again, but all were in awe of him. He was my most unforgettable character.
The Army Mountain Mule Rescue Team stationed in Wyoming checked through the Pentagon to find Schroder. They knew he was drafted and had given him a letter for the induction center to send him directly back to Wyoming. Schroder owned a team of mules that the Army leased along with Schroder for their missions. They found him in Camp Gordon. Orders were cut from the Pentagon to ship him back by the Air Force. Seems he was the only one who could get the mules to move. Guess the mules missed him as much as he missed them? He had worked with the Army, Air Force, and the Forest Service on rescue and fire fighting. Schroder was one happy soldier to be going home to his mules. He left that night for the airport. I missed his mountain humor and good company.
I went on sick call for my flat feet the day we were scheduled for the obstacle course. My feet were bigger than my boots and no way to get them on. It took all day to get arch supports but no new better-fitting boots. I got to ride out to the training areas until I could get the boots back on my swollen feet. Just try to put arch supports into boots too small for flat feet. I was really sorry to miss the obstacle course. I had to buy boots to fit my feet.
I had a terrible toothache and chills the night we were to camp out in tents for three days and have night maneuvers in the Georgia pinewoods. At midnight I talked to the DI and the Company Captain. The Captain looked at me and felt my head and called an ambulance for a quick trip to the hospital.
The dentist was not happy to be gotten out of bed, but when he saw me he got out the x-ray equipment and could find nothing wrong with my teeth. I hurt so bad I just wanted him to pull them all. My head was exploding. He rushed me to the hospital and several doctors examined me, I was given a shot, and put in an unoccupied eight-bed ward. In the morning a nurse came to the door with fresh pajamas, robe, and slippers, and said for me to strip the sheets and blankets and put on fresh hospital garb, and put all laundry in the doorway. Breakfast was delivered to the room and I was told I had an appointment with an E.N.T. at 10:00 AM and I was not to leave the room. An orderly arrived and took me to the E.N.T. in a wheelchair and right into the examining room. The doctor was a German with a very thick accent, one I couldn't understand. He examined me and said I had a severe case of sinus. I never had sinus problems. How could that be possible? He gave me another shot and said to come back after lunch and he would "Thick it, yes?" I never trust a doctor that gives me a question for an answer.
In the afternoon my German doctor stuck a couple of steel rods up my nose to seal off the brain and ran solvents in one nostril and out the other. After a few minutes my teeth stopped aching and my fever went to normal. I felt good and ready to go. My German doctor was in no hurry for me to leave the hospital, and I had to go everywhere in an orderly-pushed wheel chair. All my meals were delivered and sheets and clothing picked up at the door. I was in QUARANTINE until I left the hospital four days later. Can you believe the hospital never got any updates on my condition in four days? I did get rides by wheelchair, and meals delivered to my private eight-bed ward all four days.
On my return to the Company, the troops had gone through the camp out and bayonet course. I had missed all the fun parts of basic training.
The weather was changing to freezing cold mornings. Without trees with leaves around, it was hard to tell seasons from the pine trees. One day we went on a march into the wood, and at the first break we found the water frozen in our hip canteens. By noon it was in the lower 80s. Georgia hadn't let me down. It stayed too hot or too cold or both in the same day and miserable the whole time, but it was better than the brutal winters in Korea. We didn't get weather forecasts or dress options in the real Army.
During the last few weeks of basic, some were beginning to get their next assignments. The goof-offs, and those who gave Schroder a hard time at the first part of basic training got early assignment to the pole lineman's school next door to our company. They were not happy about climbing telephone poles for the next 21 months. Pole linemen made the best targets of all for the Korean snipers. The DI said with a smile that the Captain knew how to make the best assignments. Others were going to radio operator school, and most were happy about that. My assignment to Ft. Monmouth Photographic School outside Redbank, NJ, came, and I was as happy as a person could be in an unwanted situation. Some of the smaller men were going to cook school. They would be cooks on those damn troop trains in Chapter 1, or-if lucky-would be sent to Korea within the year.
Chapter 2
My Honey and I went through Georgia in June 1951 on our way to Florida on our honeymoon. We melted. It was so hot driving in our old blue 1946 Dodge four-door sedan with Fluid Drive. US Route 1 was torn up with hot dust and hot detours for the building of Interstate 95. We decided there and then we would never go to Florida again if we had to drive through Georgia. Never make a "never go to Georgia" statement, for you may do your basic training there.
I arrived at Camp Gordon on the first Friday in September-and we were taken to our Company and assigned bunks. Across the company street from our barracks was the most prize-winning mess hall at Camp Gordon. The Mess Sergeant was a winner in keeping the best-run, cleanest-looking inside, and out mess hall, and the best food in the Army. I was grateful for that food too. (It wasn't home cooking though.) He had all the walks lined with flowers and white painted stones, all the same size. He kept white paint on hand and someone was painting all the time. He had few demands for KP from us since he had a full staff of cooks and didn't want us messing around HIS kingdom or messing with HIS rocks and flowers. The Mess Sergeant even had little curtains on the windows. That’s class.
I got caught for KP duty one day, and it was hard work. I had to ride in the back of a pastry delivery truck handing out pies and cakes to the mess halls. It was cool in the truck and shaded from that hot, humid Georgia sun. It smelled good all day long. Not bad KP duty. I even considered it good duty for the next 23 and ½ months.
Our drill instructors were all sergeants and Korean veterans with an urgency about our paying attention to all instruction since it might save our lives. They were great instructors for the Signal Corps short course in self-defense, but it was not enough training for an offensive soldier fighting in Korea. Our Company DI was a winner and looked the part of a tough S.O.B., but in fact he was a very caring, hard working soldier? I got to know him quite well, along with our barracks instructor. We were told not to ask questions of our barracks instructor about Korea. He was working out mental problems as best as he could.
I volunteered to clean the company machine guns and rifles after they were fired on the range, in the supply room after dinner. That duty got me off everything else and I got to BS with the cadre. They tried to keep me for duty in the supply room when my training was finished, but my priority assignment (MOS) kept that from happening. Thank you, God. My three years in high school cadets and the Virginia State Guard paid off in basic training.
We had a 50-minute lesson with a 10-minute "Smoke If You Got’m" schedule. I loved anything dealing with small to big guns, hand grenades, and my real favorite, land mines. My close ties with the DI gave me the opportunity to help with the setting up of booby traps for our company to get safely through the next day. That was fun. I had a perfect grade in basic training and I worked hard to learn all I could about killing Koreans and living through the next 23 months. I was counting down the days from the first day, and they were moving much to slow.
I must admit I was shocked by some of the inductees’ inability to do the simplest personal care. Some had never seen a toothbrush or a razor, and some didn't know how to shine shoes or wash socks. A shower a day was unknown by those from the mountain hollers. Polished brass, clean floors, and wash windows were a mystery. What an education that was for me to see such a cross-section of men.
I have forgotten all names except for Schroder. He had the lower bunk next to mine and was a muleskinner from Wyoming. He was about 5 foot 7 inches and weighed 225 pounds without an ounce of fat. Built like a barrel. His neck was so large and arms so thick and short that the Army had to tailor all his clothing. His legs were short and thick, about the size of the smaller men’s waist. He was a walking muscle. He was a simple young man who never talked unless he was asked a question, and was so homesick for his Wyoming Mountains and mules that he cried. That made him a scapegoat for jokesters. We had to walk everywhere, since in basic training the Army didn’t provide us with transportation. My boots were not a good fit for my flat feet, so my feet would swell up to the point that I had to keep loosening the laces. Some mornings I could hardly get those boots on and had to walk in the back a little slower than the company. Schroder would keep me company along with some of the smaller men who didn't have the strength to carry their packs and rifles. Schroder would carry their packs and rifles. One day he had four extra rifles and packs for our 10-mile walk to the training ground. He arrived at the meeting site and wasn't even winded. He said it was easier than carrying a mule over a mountain. After we finished that day, Schroder just picked up those rifles and packs, and walked back to the barracks. No one ever said one thing against Schroder again, but all were in awe of him. He was my most unforgettable character.
The Army Mountain Mule Rescue Team stationed in Wyoming checked through the Pentagon to find Schroder. They knew he was drafted and had given him a letter for the induction center to send him directly back to Wyoming. Schroder owned a team of mules that the Army leased along with Schroder for their missions. They found him in Camp Gordon. Orders were cut from the Pentagon to ship him back by the Air Force. Seems he was the only one who could get the mules to move. Guess the mules missed him as much as he missed them? He had worked with the Army, Air Force, and the Forest Service on rescue and fire fighting. Schroder was one happy soldier to be going home to his mules. He left that night for the airport. I missed his mountain humor and good company.
I went on sick call for my flat feet the day we were scheduled for the obstacle course. My feet were bigger than my boots and no way to get them on. It took all day to get arch supports but no new better-fitting boots. I got to ride out to the training areas until I could get the boots back on my swollen feet. Just try to put arch supports into boots too small for flat feet. I was really sorry to miss the obstacle course. I had to buy boots to fit my feet.
I had a terrible toothache and chills the night we were to camp out in tents for three days and have night maneuvers in the Georgia pinewoods. At midnight I talked to the DI and the Company Captain. The Captain looked at me and felt my head and called an ambulance for a quick trip to the hospital.
The dentist was not happy to be gotten out of bed, but when he saw me he got out the x-ray equipment and could find nothing wrong with my teeth. I hurt so bad I just wanted him to pull them all. My head was exploding. He rushed me to the hospital and several doctors examined me, I was given a shot, and put in an unoccupied eight-bed ward. In the morning a nurse came to the door with fresh pajamas, robe, and slippers, and said for me to strip the sheets and blankets and put on fresh hospital garb, and put all laundry in the doorway. Breakfast was delivered to the room and I was told I had an appointment with an E.N.T. at 10:00 AM and I was not to leave the room. An orderly arrived and took me to the E.N.T. in a wheelchair and right into the examining room. The doctor was a German with a very thick accent, one I couldn't understand. He examined me and said I had a severe case of sinus. I never had sinus problems. How could that be possible? He gave me another shot and said to come back after lunch and he would "Thick it, yes?" I never trust a doctor that gives me a question for an answer.
In the afternoon my German doctor stuck a couple of steel rods up my nose to seal off the brain and ran solvents in one nostril and out the other. After a few minutes my teeth stopped aching and my fever went to normal. I felt good and ready to go. My German doctor was in no hurry for me to leave the hospital, and I had to go everywhere in an orderly-pushed wheel chair. All my meals were delivered and sheets and clothing picked up at the door. I was in QUARANTINE until I left the hospital four days later. Can you believe the hospital never got any updates on my condition in four days? I did get rides by wheelchair, and meals delivered to my private eight-bed ward all four days.
On my return to the Company, the troops had gone through the camp out and bayonet course. I had missed all the fun parts of basic training.
The weather was changing to freezing cold mornings. Without trees with leaves around, it was hard to tell seasons from the pine trees. One day we went on a march into the wood, and at the first break we found the water frozen in our hip canteens. By noon it was in the lower 80s. Georgia hadn't let me down. It stayed too hot or too cold or both in the same day and miserable the whole time, but it was better than the brutal winters in Korea. We didn't get weather forecasts or dress options in the real Army.
During the last few weeks of basic, some were beginning to get their next assignments. The goof-offs, and those who gave Schroder a hard time at the first part of basic training got early assignment to the pole lineman's school next door to our company. They were not happy about climbing telephone poles for the next 21 months. Pole linemen made the best targets of all for the Korean snipers. The DI said with a smile that the Captain knew how to make the best assignments. Others were going to radio operator school, and most were happy about that. My assignment to Ft. Monmouth Photographic School outside Redbank, NJ, came, and I was as happy as a person could be in an unwanted situation. Some of the smaller men were going to cook school. They would be cooks on those damn troop trains in Chapter 1, or-if lucky-would be sent to Korea within the year.
posted by JackSML | 11:03 PM
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