notice on the front of the TV, just above the on-off button. l did everything l was to do, but before l could stick the notice l was grabbed from behind by the elderly couple, one on each side, in firm control of both my arms. They quickly
dragged me back to their still-opened front door, across the landing and let me go from the top of the stairs. l did manage to go back up the stairs and bang on
their locked door (l had to try it). The next guy to be sent there was accompanied by a Prince George's County Sheriff's Deputy.
The first payday at C.l.C. made it possible to buy more materials for another few paintings and l did knock out about that many within the next month. A little later, l learned about another sales/service position that gave my income a considerable boost. lt was Home Optical. They offered complete optical services
in the customer's home. First, we picked the customer up from home and drove them to their optometrist's office for an exam and the resulting prescription. We
will help them choose their frames. Then we will send your prescription and choice of frames to our occulist who will grind the lenses and put them in their frames. Then we'll deliver them to you and fit them to your ears and nose.
In the first 3 months out of the Army, things went fairly well. Ron was able to use my help re-posessing cars about ten times a month, l re-posessed a gang
of stuff for C.l.C. and they supplied me with the new 59 Plymouth on schedule
as well as supplying a lot of good training in the art of conducting smooth, suc-
cessful re-posessions. ln the fourth month l had progressed some in that art and
felt comfortable applying what l'd been taught. By then,Home Optical was doing
well too, considering how little time l was able to invest in it once l got rolling in
re-posession. And Painting:Near the end, l realised that time to work the phone
for Home Optical most often came from time that could have been used to paint. l really liked doing everything that l was doing, but if l could, l would just
paint. By the middle of the fourth month out-of-Army l had completed and sold
three more paintings,all non-objective, all 3'x4', all at the same coffee house, in
the same week, all purchased by the same person and at the great bargain price
of $575.
Also in the middle of that same month (June '79) Herman and his fiance,
Tatiana were married. All of the house-mates served as ushers. Tatiana grew
up in Chapel Hill, N.C. where her dad was Pastor of the Episcopal Church.
Right, total downtown church wedding. lt remains the most beautiful wedding
l have witnessed. l took the '59 Plymouth carrying myself and three other
ushers. The following Monday at our regular morning conference l gave Bob
my check that represented the cash l had collected on Friday and used over the the weekend. He refused thecheck and sent me out to cash it and bring him the cash. When l returnedwith the cash, he handed me a notice of dismissal and a check for what C.l.C.owed me at that point.
owed me at that point
Friday, December 25, 2015
Employed 9 Part 2
The reader may have noticed that only eight paintings were noted while nine were counted. the painting l neglected was the 3'x3' square. lt was from a photo of many photos taken of the moonless, clear night sky over the Nevada desert, not far from Midas. lt was among two rolls of pix that Dulce and l shot with her
new Nikon of different parts of the sky. l had an 8"x10" print made of it, then cropped it to an 8"x8", then painted it's image (somewhat expanded) onto the 3'x3' canvas. lt had been my favorite of all the pix we shot that nite. And since
Dulce shot the pix, l named it's painted counterpart "Spacey Dulce". Of that batch of nine paintings, l liked it so much l decided to keep it for my own, and only sold it when l left D.C. because it would have been very difficult to get it across the country in a car loaded with five guys and their stuff.
D.C. is a great town for culture. All of the monuments, memorials, museums and art galleries are free of admission charges, even the White House tours.
Dick Dewitt (my landlord in Alaska) taught me to make frames and stretch canvas over them, to mix paints to achieve specific colors and to use brushes
and palate knives to apply the paint, but l got no instruction about what to paint
(subject) or how (technique). For ideas and inspiration and just pure joy,l often
visited the National Gallery of Art. lt is a huge complex complex displaying
hundreds of paintings of of all genres. l don't think l added much to my ideas for subjects, but l did pick up some knowledge relative to technique. Not so much as to how l could do it, but from seeing onthe actual paintings, the result of the masters' grasp and execution of it, increased my appreciation of their work as
well as my enthusiasm to paint.
lf it hadn't taken so long to sell those eight paintings, l might have had some money in pocket when the last of the eight was sold. No materials, no paintings
no sales. Good thing my rent is covered, but being employed,immediately
became necessary. Our house-mate Ron, who had reached the end of his Army service some weeks earlier than l had, took a job with GMAC (General Motors
Acceptance Corp.) as a field rep. He mostly re-posessed the cars of folks behind on their payments. Quite often, when none of his co-workers was able to help
with a re-posession, l was able to help, and also make a few bucks. But when l talked to Ron about the possibility of me working for GMAC, he said that they had no openings, but he referred me to his friend Bob Nagly, who was a supervisor at Commerce lnvestment Company, a consumer finance company
owned by Union Bank.
Bob and l hit it off rightaway.He was very happy to give his stamp of approval to a new veteran who, thanks to Walter Baring, had left the Army honorably only
a few months earlier. When he learned that the language school he was very much impressed and l'm all "Oh yeah, bring a Russian linguist for the NSA was
a great, if clandestine way to serve". Bob had been on active duty in the Army
lnfantry and afterward, the D.C. National Guard, to which he still belonged. l
completed the application as we talked.When l accepted his offer($100./wk,a
new plymouth company car and a few other benefits)he apologized for having
to provide me with an older car (57 Plymouth) but a new 59 Plymouth would
replace it within a week.
C.l.C. did not finance cars. But boats? You bet. Anything from a dinghy to an
ocean-going yacht. Yes,too to motorcycles,scooters,kitchen and laundry appliances, TVs and more Tvs. AM/FM radio-record player consoles were very
popular then too, as l recall.
My very first day at work for C.l.C. was notable. An elderly couple had fallen behind on their TV payments. Specific instructions for handling the visit was to knock on the door, introduce myself as an agent of C.C.C., then go directly to
the TV and stick the "Property of Commerce lnvestement Company
new Nikon of different parts of the sky. l had an 8"x10" print made of it, then cropped it to an 8"x8", then painted it's image (somewhat expanded) onto the 3'x3' canvas. lt had been my favorite of all the pix we shot that nite. And since
Dulce shot the pix, l named it's painted counterpart "Spacey Dulce". Of that batch of nine paintings, l liked it so much l decided to keep it for my own, and only sold it when l left D.C. because it would have been very difficult to get it across the country in a car loaded with five guys and their stuff.
D.C. is a great town for culture. All of the monuments, memorials, museums and art galleries are free of admission charges, even the White House tours.
Dick Dewitt (my landlord in Alaska) taught me to make frames and stretch canvas over them, to mix paints to achieve specific colors and to use brushes
and palate knives to apply the paint, but l got no instruction about what to paint
(subject) or how (technique). For ideas and inspiration and just pure joy,l often
visited the National Gallery of Art. lt is a huge complex complex displaying
hundreds of paintings of of all genres. l don't think l added much to my ideas for subjects, but l did pick up some knowledge relative to technique. Not so much as to how l could do it, but from seeing onthe actual paintings, the result of the masters' grasp and execution of it, increased my appreciation of their work as
well as my enthusiasm to paint.
lf it hadn't taken so long to sell those eight paintings, l might have had some money in pocket when the last of the eight was sold. No materials, no paintings
no sales. Good thing my rent is covered, but being employed,immediately
became necessary. Our house-mate Ron, who had reached the end of his Army service some weeks earlier than l had, took a job with GMAC (General Motors
Acceptance Corp.) as a field rep. He mostly re-posessed the cars of folks behind on their payments. Quite often, when none of his co-workers was able to help
with a re-posession, l was able to help, and also make a few bucks. But when l talked to Ron about the possibility of me working for GMAC, he said that they had no openings, but he referred me to his friend Bob Nagly, who was a supervisor at Commerce lnvestment Company, a consumer finance company
owned by Union Bank.
Bob and l hit it off rightaway.He was very happy to give his stamp of approval to a new veteran who, thanks to Walter Baring, had left the Army honorably only
a few months earlier. When he learned that the language school he was very much impressed and l'm all "Oh yeah, bring a Russian linguist for the NSA was
a great, if clandestine way to serve". Bob had been on active duty in the Army
lnfantry and afterward, the D.C. National Guard, to which he still belonged. l
completed the application as we talked.When l accepted his offer($100./wk,a
new plymouth company car and a few other benefits)he apologized for having
to provide me with an older car (57 Plymouth) but a new 59 Plymouth would
replace it within a week.
C.l.C. did not finance cars. But boats? You bet. Anything from a dinghy to an
ocean-going yacht. Yes,too to motorcycles,scooters,kitchen and laundry appliances, TVs and more Tvs. AM/FM radio-record player consoles were very
popular then too, as l recall.
My very first day at work for C.l.C. was notable. An elderly couple had fallen behind on their TV payments. Specific instructions for handling the visit was to knock on the door, introduce myself as an agent of C.C.C., then go directly to
the TV and stick the "Property of Commerce lnvestement Company
Sunday, December 13, 2015
l reported to HQ Company at the stroke of 9 AM, as ordered. SGT Vaughn, with-
out so much as a "hello" to me, told Jamey to drive me to Mustering Out. Jamey didn't have much to say to me either except to make sure l knew l had
screwed up.
My regular release day was Feb. 5. My name had failed to appear on the bulletin board on Feb 2, when it should have. The meeting with Rep. Baring was in the early PM the same day. My orders did not require me to wait at Mustering Out until my ETS, but required that l be released on the same day that l had arrived there.So, at about 1:30 PM on Feb.3,1959, The Army and l
officially parted company. For good or ill.
With the good of that day, came some not-so-good: When my house mates
heard about my visit with Rep. Baring, an impromptu party came together despite it's being Monday. Everyone had ideas of things l might do while
processing out that might help me be remembered. Goldstein offered to
trade cars with me for the day. Being seen driving that big beautiful Caddy
might give somebody the idea that my ship had come in (overnite) Maybe
the Army had stood in the way of my success and things changed for me the moment l left it. A lot more stupid ideas were advanced (some very funny).
All easily rejected. Except the Caddy.Not that it was likely that anyone would
even so much as notice who was driving it, but l enjoyed driving it and l
believed it might get me laid; it worked for Goldstein. Pretty funny story, l'll
try to get back to it.
Almost as soon as l got on the Baltimore-Washington Expressway l was passed by a Greyhound Bus. The next glance at my mirrors saw them full of flashing red lights. l had just over $600. cash on me at the time,most of it
mustering out money. The cop told me to follow him to a magistrate's house
a few miles down the road. l was fined $750. (And, l swear l was BELOW the
speed limit) He took the $600 l had and set me up to pay the balance over
the next three months.
Well, l wasn't ready to have such an arguably celebratable day go south.
When l returned home, l let everybody know how much l enjoyed flashing
that big, beautiful boat, as l saw the 6th Cav and then all of Fort Meade
disappear from the rear mirrors. l said nothing to anyone about the speeding ticket, that night or even to now as l write about it. We all had a great nite.
l thought about the speeding ticket for a long time. At one point l thought
that someone in HQ Company had given a description of me and of Goldstein's
Caddy to a Highway Patrolman friend who could do the dirty work.
At mustering out, l was given a pile of papers including the sought-after
champion: form DD214.It describes the soldier's history in service and
certifies the length and honorability of that service. Because l enlisted before
l was of draft age, l was told that l would need to visit the draft board within
a few days after my release from active duty and register for the draft.Having
served more than 28 and 1/2 months active duty l would be required to be a reserve soldier but in the inactive reserve, not the active reserve.All the forms
come in a sealed manila envelope with orders to deliver it, as is, to the draft board.
About two days out, l visit the draft board. What a hoot: l told the lady "serving" me, that until mustering out, l had no idea l might be draftable in
the future. l wanted to know what my chances of actually being drafted actually were, considering that l had honorably served 35 9/10 months.Going
into the Army, l was told that 28 1/2 months of active service would totally
fulfill one's military obligation. "l was hoping that l wouldn't have to come
back. Ever. She had opened the jacket when l gave it to her but had placed it such that l was unable to see the forms. On hearing what l had hoped for, she
moved the pile of forms to where l could clearly see them. She picked up each form (six or seven in all) and held them so l could easily read the text.
On every page, the letters P I appear in red ink eight or nine inches high.
These pages are 8 1/2 X l l. "Pl, that's not my initials,LP is what you want".
"We weren't trying for your initials. "PI" is the initials of "Political Influence"
and that means that we'll be drafting women and children before we get back
to you".
How can an intended insult bring the recipient of it such sheer joy ?Immediately! On the down side though, it did occur to me that she,being obviously out of patience with me (let's say angry)she might very well remember me and the next time they need soldiers she could "mistakenly" send me her very first draft notice
About two years later, (mid 1961) l actually received notice that my reserve unit was soon to be activated. Were it not for the fact that my living situation
did not allow for re-location, l could have had to return to duty, then. We'll
re-visit that situation when our story reaches mid 61.
Whatever the future might bring l was very much going to enjoy life as a
civillian. The first week out, it was enough, heavenly really, to lie in bed for an hour after waking, then some breakfast while watching some of Dave
Garroway's Today Show. Then, put some paint on the stretched canvas
prepared earlier. l hoped to knock out a half-dozen or so paintings before
the materials l had were exhausted. Arrangements were made to display
paintings in some of the business establishments (coffee houses, cocktail
lounges, dinner houses---a hell of a selling job in it'self) in the Virginia, DC
Maryland area. A 30% commission was paid the businesses.
That first batch was good: The materials were sufficient to complete the
3'x4' that l had stretched first, five more 3'x4's and two 3'x5's. Those nine
paintings sold within 70 days(one wondered)and brought me $2,520 in 1959 dollars after commissions and other expenses.
.
out so much as a "hello" to me, told Jamey to drive me to Mustering Out. Jamey didn't have much to say to me either except to make sure l knew l had
screwed up.
My regular release day was Feb. 5. My name had failed to appear on the bulletin board on Feb 2, when it should have. The meeting with Rep. Baring was in the early PM the same day. My orders did not require me to wait at Mustering Out until my ETS, but required that l be released on the same day that l had arrived there.So, at about 1:30 PM on Feb.3,1959, The Army and l
officially parted company. For good or ill.
With the good of that day, came some not-so-good: When my house mates
heard about my visit with Rep. Baring, an impromptu party came together despite it's being Monday. Everyone had ideas of things l might do while
processing out that might help me be remembered. Goldstein offered to
trade cars with me for the day. Being seen driving that big beautiful Caddy
might give somebody the idea that my ship had come in (overnite) Maybe
the Army had stood in the way of my success and things changed for me the moment l left it. A lot more stupid ideas were advanced (some very funny).
All easily rejected. Except the Caddy.Not that it was likely that anyone would
even so much as notice who was driving it, but l enjoyed driving it and l
believed it might get me laid; it worked for Goldstein. Pretty funny story, l'll
try to get back to it.
Almost as soon as l got on the Baltimore-Washington Expressway l was passed by a Greyhound Bus. The next glance at my mirrors saw them full of flashing red lights. l had just over $600. cash on me at the time,most of it
mustering out money. The cop told me to follow him to a magistrate's house
a few miles down the road. l was fined $750. (And, l swear l was BELOW the
speed limit) He took the $600 l had and set me up to pay the balance over
the next three months.
Well, l wasn't ready to have such an arguably celebratable day go south.
When l returned home, l let everybody know how much l enjoyed flashing
that big, beautiful boat, as l saw the 6th Cav and then all of Fort Meade
disappear from the rear mirrors. l said nothing to anyone about the speeding ticket, that night or even to now as l write about it. We all had a great nite.
l thought about the speeding ticket for a long time. At one point l thought
that someone in HQ Company had given a description of me and of Goldstein's
Caddy to a Highway Patrolman friend who could do the dirty work.
At mustering out, l was given a pile of papers including the sought-after
champion: form DD214.It describes the soldier's history in service and
certifies the length and honorability of that service. Because l enlisted before
l was of draft age, l was told that l would need to visit the draft board within
a few days after my release from active duty and register for the draft.Having
served more than 28 and 1/2 months active duty l would be required to be a reserve soldier but in the inactive reserve, not the active reserve.All the forms
come in a sealed manila envelope with orders to deliver it, as is, to the draft board.
About two days out, l visit the draft board. What a hoot: l told the lady "serving" me, that until mustering out, l had no idea l might be draftable in
the future. l wanted to know what my chances of actually being drafted actually were, considering that l had honorably served 35 9/10 months.Going
into the Army, l was told that 28 1/2 months of active service would totally
fulfill one's military obligation. "l was hoping that l wouldn't have to come
back. Ever. She had opened the jacket when l gave it to her but had placed it such that l was unable to see the forms. On hearing what l had hoped for, she
moved the pile of forms to where l could clearly see them. She picked up each form (six or seven in all) and held them so l could easily read the text.
On every page, the letters P I appear in red ink eight or nine inches high.
These pages are 8 1/2 X l l. "Pl, that's not my initials,LP is what you want".
"We weren't trying for your initials. "PI" is the initials of "Political Influence"
and that means that we'll be drafting women and children before we get back
to you".
How can an intended insult bring the recipient of it such sheer joy ?Immediately! On the down side though, it did occur to me that she,being obviously out of patience with me (let's say angry)she might very well remember me and the next time they need soldiers she could "mistakenly" send me her very first draft notice
About two years later, (mid 1961) l actually received notice that my reserve unit was soon to be activated. Were it not for the fact that my living situation
did not allow for re-location, l could have had to return to duty, then. We'll
re-visit that situation when our story reaches mid 61.
Whatever the future might bring l was very much going to enjoy life as a
civillian. The first week out, it was enough, heavenly really, to lie in bed for an hour after waking, then some breakfast while watching some of Dave
Garroway's Today Show. Then, put some paint on the stretched canvas
prepared earlier. l hoped to knock out a half-dozen or so paintings before
the materials l had were exhausted. Arrangements were made to display
paintings in some of the business establishments (coffee houses, cocktail
lounges, dinner houses---a hell of a selling job in it'self) in the Virginia, DC
Maryland area. A 30% commission was paid the businesses.
That first batch was good: The materials were sufficient to complete the
3'x4' that l had stretched first, five more 3'x4's and two 3'x5's. Those nine
paintings sold within 70 days(one wondered)and brought me $2,520 in 1959 dollars after commissions and other expenses.
.
Monday, December 7, 2015
Employed 8 Part 6
"Captain Myer, how could you have known that little Opel belonged to Herman Shultz, how do you know him?
"Well, we met at the golf course at Fort Meade, uhm about ,well almost a year
ago. A few days before Thanksgiving 57. And the car: My dad was part of the occupation of Germany after The War (WWII). When l reached driving age, my
dad, passed his three-year-old Opel on to me and got himself a new one. They were very reliable and fuel efficient AND though they're made in Germany, they-re made BY General Motors. Essentially an american car built to the standards required by German engineering. So, once Herman let me know he was looking for something light and economical to replace his 52
Buick, l probably had more to do with his purchase than the Salesman did."
With the hope that my visitors would be impressed, l showed them into the house thru the basement's outside entrance at the side of the house. lt was somewhat smaller than the front entrance, but made of the same materials
in the same design. The front entrance with stoop of seven steps carried one
from ground level, up four feet to the first floor, while the side entrance
carried arrivals to four feet below ground level, to the basement floor. Silver-
hued framework holding bevel-edged glass gave the rntries a very finished look. The basement, having as many square feet as each of the other floors,
seemed huge owing to having many less walls than the floors above. Even
with the regulation, full-size pool table,the table-tennis court and the over-sized chairs l had brought from upstairs, not to mention various chairs and tables(one expandable old dining table l got at St. Vincent dePaul for about
five bux). We still had a lot of open floor space but we had done such a good job of putting it all together (every one of us had pitched in) the place had the look of something out of an issue of House Beautiful. Like a dang bunch
of artists.
As my two visitors (the billet inspection team) got their first look at the base-
ment, Lt Goodale blurted "wow". "Really" said Capt.Myer, (without irony). l
thought "OK, two points!".
After that little outburst, they seemed to tighten up just a bit. They looked into every room in the house and they were even admitted to the garage on
their request. The whole place passsed without demerit or so much as a single suggestion for improvement. l excused myself for a moment to find Herman.
he was nowhere in the house. As l returned to the group, just before l entered the room, that they were then inspecting, l heard the Lt. say "l'd sure like to
live in a house like this". Since there was, at that time, a possibility that Roy
might soon be leaving us at the end of the current month, l was tempted to
tentatively off er the Lt that possibillity. but thought better of it. Besides, is iteven legal for the Exec. of the company in which l am the no-stripe soldier to
share a domicile with me?
l walked the officers out to their staff car, apologized for Herman's absence
and thanked the Captain for taking the time to see for himself what the condition of our home truly was. l'm pretty sure they didn't think l was being sarcastic.
"Well, Private you'll get a written statement as to the house's suitability, but
for now, let's just say you passed"
Thank You, Captain, come back any time. Hopefully, your visit will be graced by Herman's presence.
"Excuse me Private, do any of you, living here, know how to work that pool table", asked Lt Goodale, with a big smile.
"Oh, one or two of us can do it pretty good, especially if wagering is happening".
As they left, l'm thinking "Wow, me and the top command structure of
Headquarters Company are about to be buddies. Wait 'til Herman hears about this. Such a situation could make my early-out happen sooner. For sure! l decided to go into the Company's office the nest day so l could spend a little
time schmoozing with my old/new buddies. At least get started on it,right?
Have l mentioned before, how l seem to get so far-removed from my surrounding reality; so lost in my own fantasization of that reality that what's real is not real to me.
So, l'm in HQ Company office, hangin' with the Capt.' Lt. and Sgt Vaughn.
(More accurately,just sorta dancing between their desks, spewing my blather)
At about 11:15 AM, two military policemen walk into the office and ask for me.
Every one in the room seemed to have their backs to me and the MPs as the three of us go out the door.
The Charges: Forging of documents to be used to secure early release from active duty.
After that there was a lot of waiting. My offence was not offencive enough to
require me to stay in the brig until the Courts Martial was scheduled. l did
wait several months for it, but most time, day or night l spent at home
Time rolls by and, day after day; no news.Finally, my Estimated Termination
of Service date is three days away. But, my name doesn't appear that day on the Mustering Out Notice as it should. l had hoped that my ETS would be
reached before the Courts Martial was ready and figured they would have to
let me go Honorably.
Not happening. they plan to keep me for as long as it takes .
l requested permission to visit my Congressman, at the time, Nevada's only
representative in the House, the Honorable Walter S. Baring. A a kid l had
put up campaign posters for him at election times. He and my dad were good friends. As a prominent businessman in our town, my dad was on a first-name
basis with most of our elected officials
l spent about an hour. l talked first to the Congressman's Aid. Then l repeated the whole story of my Army experience for the Aid and the Congresasman and then, after we were joined by an Army General (introduced as the Congressional liaison to the Army) l told my story the third time. The Aid sai that l had told the same story all three times, and though l didn't quite under-
stand the logic, that convinced everyone that l had told the truth. And l
deserved to be honorably, tomorrow morning.
Before l left for home, the Aid told me that he would call me when my
Company Commander agreed with their decision. l had been home about a half hour when the Aid called to say its a done deal the next morning at 9.
c
.
"Well, we met at the golf course at Fort Meade, uhm about ,well almost a year
ago. A few days before Thanksgiving 57. And the car: My dad was part of the occupation of Germany after The War (WWII). When l reached driving age, my
dad, passed his three-year-old Opel on to me and got himself a new one. They were very reliable and fuel efficient AND though they're made in Germany, they-re made BY General Motors. Essentially an american car built to the standards required by German engineering. So, once Herman let me know he was looking for something light and economical to replace his 52
Buick, l probably had more to do with his purchase than the Salesman did."
With the hope that my visitors would be impressed, l showed them into the house thru the basement's outside entrance at the side of the house. lt was somewhat smaller than the front entrance, but made of the same materials
in the same design. The front entrance with stoop of seven steps carried one
from ground level, up four feet to the first floor, while the side entrance
carried arrivals to four feet below ground level, to the basement floor. Silver-
hued framework holding bevel-edged glass gave the rntries a very finished look. The basement, having as many square feet as each of the other floors,
seemed huge owing to having many less walls than the floors above. Even
with the regulation, full-size pool table,the table-tennis court and the over-sized chairs l had brought from upstairs, not to mention various chairs and tables(one expandable old dining table l got at St. Vincent dePaul for about
five bux). We still had a lot of open floor space but we had done such a good job of putting it all together (every one of us had pitched in) the place had the look of something out of an issue of House Beautiful. Like a dang bunch
of artists.
As my two visitors (the billet inspection team) got their first look at the base-
ment, Lt Goodale blurted "wow". "Really" said Capt.Myer, (without irony). l
thought "OK, two points!".
After that little outburst, they seemed to tighten up just a bit. They looked into every room in the house and they were even admitted to the garage on
their request. The whole place passsed without demerit or so much as a single suggestion for improvement. l excused myself for a moment to find Herman.
he was nowhere in the house. As l returned to the group, just before l entered the room, that they were then inspecting, l heard the Lt. say "l'd sure like to
live in a house like this". Since there was, at that time, a possibility that Roy
might soon be leaving us at the end of the current month, l was tempted to
tentatively off er the Lt that possibillity. but thought better of it. Besides, is iteven legal for the Exec. of the company in which l am the no-stripe soldier to
share a domicile with me?
l walked the officers out to their staff car, apologized for Herman's absence
and thanked the Captain for taking the time to see for himself what the condition of our home truly was. l'm pretty sure they didn't think l was being sarcastic.
"Well, Private you'll get a written statement as to the house's suitability, but
for now, let's just say you passed"
Thank You, Captain, come back any time. Hopefully, your visit will be graced by Herman's presence.
"Excuse me Private, do any of you, living here, know how to work that pool table", asked Lt Goodale, with a big smile.
"Oh, one or two of us can do it pretty good, especially if wagering is happening".
As they left, l'm thinking "Wow, me and the top command structure of
Headquarters Company are about to be buddies. Wait 'til Herman hears about this. Such a situation could make my early-out happen sooner. For sure! l decided to go into the Company's office the nest day so l could spend a little
time schmoozing with my old/new buddies. At least get started on it,right?
Have l mentioned before, how l seem to get so far-removed from my surrounding reality; so lost in my own fantasization of that reality that what's real is not real to me.
So, l'm in HQ Company office, hangin' with the Capt.' Lt. and Sgt Vaughn.
(More accurately,just sorta dancing between their desks, spewing my blather)
At about 11:15 AM, two military policemen walk into the office and ask for me.
Every one in the room seemed to have their backs to me and the MPs as the three of us go out the door.
The Charges: Forging of documents to be used to secure early release from active duty.
After that there was a lot of waiting. My offence was not offencive enough to
require me to stay in the brig until the Courts Martial was scheduled. l did
wait several months for it, but most time, day or night l spent at home
Time rolls by and, day after day; no news.Finally, my Estimated Termination
of Service date is three days away. But, my name doesn't appear that day on the Mustering Out Notice as it should. l had hoped that my ETS would be
reached before the Courts Martial was ready and figured they would have to
let me go Honorably.
Not happening. they plan to keep me for as long as it takes .
l requested permission to visit my Congressman, at the time, Nevada's only
representative in the House, the Honorable Walter S. Baring. A a kid l had
put up campaign posters for him at election times. He and my dad were good friends. As a prominent businessman in our town, my dad was on a first-name
basis with most of our elected officials
l spent about an hour. l talked first to the Congressman's Aid. Then l repeated the whole story of my Army experience for the Aid and the Congresasman and then, after we were joined by an Army General (introduced as the Congressional liaison to the Army) l told my story the third time. The Aid sai that l had told the same story all three times, and though l didn't quite under-
stand the logic, that convinced everyone that l had told the truth. And l
deserved to be honorably, tomorrow morning.
Before l left for home, the Aid told me that he would call me when my
Company Commander agreed with their decision. l had been home about a half hour when the Aid called to say its a done deal the next morning at 9.
c
.
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
Employed 8 Part 5
At this point, it wouldn't surprise me to learn that some readers have me figured for a narcissistic sociopath. By the time l finish this page, l expect
more to follow. l hope nobody stops reading and l would offer the opinion that
NS is a treatable condition. And, events covered in these current episodes are
over fifty-five years old.
l picked up the forms from the Captain's office and then reported to work at S3. Sgt. Vaughn was, not surprisingly, very supportive of my early-out plans.
Why wouldn't he like it? Since l had intentionally become a pretty consistent
eff-upp, he liked me! He would help me "pull it off" as he said in any way he could. Hey, if that ain't asking me to suggest something. . . One way l thought he might be able to help would be to report me 'presently on duty"
when l'm out there looking for the "Early-Out" job. That would probably help
speed the outcome.
"Yeah, l can do that. But don't hang me up on this. l want daily up-dates, yes
you can phone them in but l want to see you, in person, once a week".
"lt's not going to take a whole week,Sarge. l already have a couple of prospects considering me. l should have results foryou in a few days."
"OK me bye, do your best".
"Thanks, Sarge" (l think l'm beginning to like the Sarge.)
That week l made personal calls at companies that l thought could have
reason to hire an almost-new veteran who needed to leave the Army just a little bit early. But no one l've met wants to get involved with some government program involved in their businesses anymore than they already are. l too have more government in my life than is needed and with no takers
l'm thinking to hire myself. So the application is all me: but with different names. My own name, of course as the early-outer. A fictitious name for the company doing the hiring. l thought Anne Arundle Heating Oils sounded good
and hadn't already been chosen. Obviously a course of action was employed
here that exceeded the limits of the law. Right, intentional law-breaking.
lllegal, unlawfull and wrong. But l have my goal, my plan and l jntend to
prevail.
Pretty big talk for a guy that somehow got his head buried deep in his ass.
and ultimately blew the early out. Looking back at that time from now, it's
easy to see that l wasn't dedicated to doing a passable job of taking an early out.Some details: l must have had very little respect for the good sense of
those l set out to decieve; l rented a small PO box for the prospective
employer's address. Too small, too cheap to be a real business's mailing
address. Even a small one. Also, without a business license for the company
l made up l couldn't rent a box in that name. So the box was in my name and
l just show it (on the early-out application) as the mailing address of the company that supposedly agreed to hire me
l never liked living in the barracks and after l completed my last training assignment, l always rented a room, a cabin or a house convenient to the location of my assignment. l learned early-on that it is necessary to arrange
for the maintenance of the assigned space in the barracks, when living off
post.There was always a soldier among those iving in the barracks, willing
to keep an extra set of bed, lockers and shined shoes and boots ready for
inspection in exchange for a few bucks a week. Usually it worked fine.
Almost nobody among those who commanded me ever knew that l had a real residence off post somewhere and almost never used my space on post.
Just a couple of days after l had submitted the early-out form Captain Meyer
was going over my early-out form and realized he needed some more info
from me. ln the course of trying to locate me that day, the Captain learned of my off post residence. They got my home phone from the soldier who maintained my barracks display. On the phone Lt. Goodale said that the Capt.
just had a few questions re the early out forms. Could l come in today?
l sure could, and did. But when l saw the Lt., he said the Capt. would be
with us right away and the proceded to ask questions about my off-post home.Soon we were joined by the Capt., who also seemed mostly interested
in 6207 43rd. And then about whether it might be sub-standard. (Nobody said
anything about whether or not l should be allowed to continue living there.
At the first lull in their questions,l said "Sirs, my home really is a very nice house, in a very nice neighborhood.l'd be very happy to drive you there right
now, if you would like to inspect it."
"Thank you, Private. We would like to see your house, but we can just follow you in a staff car. Just give us the address in case we loose each other in traffic.
Where l got the idea that the Hudson l'd been using was a 54, l don't know.
Lt. Goodale, whose dad "had bought Hudsons since they started makin' 'em"
said it was a '51. Both he and the Capt. were than standing in the large side-
yard at the house on 43rd st. Beside the Hudson and the staff car, only
Herman's car was in the yard at that time of day.He usually started work about 5 AM, worked about 5 or 6 hours so he was often home in the early afternoon. Before approaching the house, the Capt and Lt went straight for
the Hudson as though it was a restored classic. (7 years old) and they thoroughly inspected it.The car had been well-cared-for and had turned a few heads during my use of it. Then they turned their attention to Herman's car.
lt's a GM car, built in Germany (Whose model name l forget. The Capt. gets a look at the license plate and says "This is Herm Shultz's car"
more to follow. l hope nobody stops reading and l would offer the opinion that
NS is a treatable condition. And, events covered in these current episodes are
over fifty-five years old.
l picked up the forms from the Captain's office and then reported to work at S3. Sgt. Vaughn was, not surprisingly, very supportive of my early-out plans.
Why wouldn't he like it? Since l had intentionally become a pretty consistent
eff-upp, he liked me! He would help me "pull it off" as he said in any way he could. Hey, if that ain't asking me to suggest something. . . One way l thought he might be able to help would be to report me 'presently on duty"
when l'm out there looking for the "Early-Out" job. That would probably help
speed the outcome.
"Yeah, l can do that. But don't hang me up on this. l want daily up-dates, yes
you can phone them in but l want to see you, in person, once a week".
"lt's not going to take a whole week,Sarge. l already have a couple of prospects considering me. l should have results foryou in a few days."
"OK me bye, do your best".
"Thanks, Sarge" (l think l'm beginning to like the Sarge.)
That week l made personal calls at companies that l thought could have
reason to hire an almost-new veteran who needed to leave the Army just a little bit early. But no one l've met wants to get involved with some government program involved in their businesses anymore than they already are. l too have more government in my life than is needed and with no takers
l'm thinking to hire myself. So the application is all me: but with different names. My own name, of course as the early-outer. A fictitious name for the company doing the hiring. l thought Anne Arundle Heating Oils sounded good
and hadn't already been chosen. Obviously a course of action was employed
here that exceeded the limits of the law. Right, intentional law-breaking.
lllegal, unlawfull and wrong. But l have my goal, my plan and l jntend to
prevail.
Pretty big talk for a guy that somehow got his head buried deep in his ass.
and ultimately blew the early out. Looking back at that time from now, it's
easy to see that l wasn't dedicated to doing a passable job of taking an early out.Some details: l must have had very little respect for the good sense of
those l set out to decieve; l rented a small PO box for the prospective
employer's address. Too small, too cheap to be a real business's mailing
address. Even a small one. Also, without a business license for the company
l made up l couldn't rent a box in that name. So the box was in my name and
l just show it (on the early-out application) as the mailing address of the company that supposedly agreed to hire me
l never liked living in the barracks and after l completed my last training assignment, l always rented a room, a cabin or a house convenient to the location of my assignment. l learned early-on that it is necessary to arrange
for the maintenance of the assigned space in the barracks, when living off
post.There was always a soldier among those iving in the barracks, willing
to keep an extra set of bed, lockers and shined shoes and boots ready for
inspection in exchange for a few bucks a week. Usually it worked fine.
Almost nobody among those who commanded me ever knew that l had a real residence off post somewhere and almost never used my space on post.
Just a couple of days after l had submitted the early-out form Captain Meyer
was going over my early-out form and realized he needed some more info
from me. ln the course of trying to locate me that day, the Captain learned of my off post residence. They got my home phone from the soldier who maintained my barracks display. On the phone Lt. Goodale said that the Capt.
just had a few questions re the early out forms. Could l come in today?
l sure could, and did. But when l saw the Lt., he said the Capt. would be
with us right away and the proceded to ask questions about my off-post home.Soon we were joined by the Capt., who also seemed mostly interested
in 6207 43rd. And then about whether it might be sub-standard. (Nobody said
anything about whether or not l should be allowed to continue living there.
At the first lull in their questions,l said "Sirs, my home really is a very nice house, in a very nice neighborhood.l'd be very happy to drive you there right
now, if you would like to inspect it."
"Thank you, Private. We would like to see your house, but we can just follow you in a staff car. Just give us the address in case we loose each other in traffic.
Where l got the idea that the Hudson l'd been using was a 54, l don't know.
Lt. Goodale, whose dad "had bought Hudsons since they started makin' 'em"
said it was a '51. Both he and the Capt. were than standing in the large side-
yard at the house on 43rd st. Beside the Hudson and the staff car, only
Herman's car was in the yard at that time of day.He usually started work about 5 AM, worked about 5 or 6 hours so he was often home in the early afternoon. Before approaching the house, the Capt and Lt went straight for
the Hudson as though it was a restored classic. (7 years old) and they thoroughly inspected it.The car had been well-cared-for and had turned a few heads during my use of it. Then they turned their attention to Herman's car.
lt's a GM car, built in Germany (Whose model name l forget. The Capt. gets a look at the license plate and says "This is Herm Shultz's car"
Monday, November 16, 2015
Employed 8 part 4
A reader asked about the phrase "cut a fat hog in the ass". It comes from parts of the country where hunting wild boars is common. After the beast is dispatched, there will be a lot of cutting, much of it involving the posterior.
l imagine that a great deal of effort would be spent carcassizing the hog, the ass of which would almost certainly be cut into several rump roasts. People from wild hog country, like Sgt Battle, can use the hog's ass as metaphor for
whatever difficult task they have deftly completed. Here, it's like saying "We
did good, we did REAL good.
It can't really be said that l actually drove the tank. I did sit in one of the two
driver positions and steered the tank for about two miles on a smooth, gently
curving dirt road. A crew of five or six soldiers is required to safely and completely move the tank down the road. At the end of my two-mile steering
job we came to the entrance of the Track Vehicle Training Area (TVTA), a
squarish piece of ground, two miles on a side comprised of a topography so
craggy and bomb-pocketed for most of it's area, that only track vehicles find
it passable.
For what turned out to be an hour and fifteen minutes (while l rode in the seat
in the top of the turret, the tank-commander's seat) certainly the best seat for
an observer. The crew put the tank thru all of the listed exercises built into the TVTA. Much of the time the ride was so wild and the speed so high (Time
elapsed is part of scoring) that, a few times l thought to jump off. Ha! (Just
the thing a tit-less WAC might do,or at least be expected to do. To be honest,
it was very exciting, but not really frightening. No matter how fast the curve is taken or how high the jump (off the compacted dirt ramps) or how deep the
constructed "bomb pockets" it was obvious at the start that the crew knew
exactly what it was doing and was not about to do it wrongly. lt was necessary to hang on tight but there was no chance of the crew allowing any
loss of control
Jamey returned to pick me up as Sgt Battle and the crew fielded the few questions l had. l thanked them all, personally, for such a great ride and said
l'd look forward to being invited back. Then, Jamey and l were off to Richmond
to pick up the movies for the coming week. l needed some paper and some other drafting supplies which we got at Jamey's favorite stationer. He also
took us to acouple of stores from which we needed nothing then, just so l could know where they were, should l need to fill in for him at some point.
Returning to the S3 office at Camp Hill, l found a short pile of work orders in
my in-box which l finished before retreat was sounded. (workday's end)
My time at Camp Hill was,far and away the best time l had in the Army. There
was enough work in the office that l knew l was making a contribution but not so much that l ever had to work late. l had enough free time that l was able to thoroughly explore it and the country surrounding it,thanks to the '54
Hudson. l was so comfortable there that l made only one trip home to Riverdale during the month of maneuvers.
That place in Riverdale, that my fellow tenants and l leased, was one of the nicest homes in which l lived. The home in which l presently abide, and have
for twenty years, is my all-time favorite. The place on 43rd street in
Riverdale is much grander and is probably worth much more, but it ain't in
California's tri-county wine country. And l don't like the idea of having my main home in a place that might suddenly be covered with deep snow, such
as it was , in Riverdale, many times during the winter of '58/'59 and probably
during every winter since then.
The one time that l went home while on maneuvers, l was only there for four
hours before returning to Camp Hill. l spent the whole weekend at home
after maneuvers, probably trying to soak up some of what l had missed, l guess. l absorbed some great vibes: (All of my room mates home) Great food
thanks to Herman Shultz. Even though it was my first and only Welcome Home
Party, it was great. Should have been in Guiness's.
When l got to my office at HQ Co. S3,at Fort Meade for the first time, ready to do great things. But, over the course of that first day l came to understand that my job, "Battalion Engineer" was a position with next to no workload whatever. the time was early July,'58, l'm seven months away from my
Estimated Termination of Service and l'm in a job without a present, let alone
a future. lt only has waiting. Within a few days, though, my new plan arose:
l had decided to become one of those people You've seen them; they wander
around the office having conversations with any that will listen, they'll spend
time making color doodles and other minor works of art, or bring a book on self improvement to work, refer to it and discuss it with others. Call in sick,
or with personal issues that require time off. These are traits l've always
thought objectionable and l thought that acting in such a way might motivate
Sgt. Vaughn to send me back to 6th Cav Personnel for a re-shuffle. Of course,
with so little real work to do, he might welcome my new persona and then,
where would l be?
That week, l came in late every day, ignored my in-box 'til late in the day,
did all the stuff mentioned above and at weeks end l'd become his bud! He
really liked me. He had somehow learned (probably from Jamey) to whom
l had mentioned that, as a kid , i'd been called "Lanny". So Sgt. Vaughn
started calling me "Lanny Me By". OK, back to the drawing board(as we
draftsmen often say). That weekend l built a 3'X4' frame, streched canvas
over it and began to paint my first oil painting. When l'm building something,
my thinker works real good, whether the thinking is related to the build or is
about something unrelated. Before my stretched canvas was ready to paint,
l had a new idea to shorten the time remaining until my discharge. Some weeks previously l had heard Roy and Ray talking about a government
program that allows soldiers an early discharge to accept seasonal work on
an emergency basis. First thing Monday l stopped by the Captain's office
and picked up two sets of forms for the Early-out Program.
l imagine that a great deal of effort would be spent carcassizing the hog, the ass of which would almost certainly be cut into several rump roasts. People from wild hog country, like Sgt Battle, can use the hog's ass as metaphor for
whatever difficult task they have deftly completed. Here, it's like saying "We
did good, we did REAL good.
It can't really be said that l actually drove the tank. I did sit in one of the two
driver positions and steered the tank for about two miles on a smooth, gently
curving dirt road. A crew of five or six soldiers is required to safely and completely move the tank down the road. At the end of my two-mile steering
job we came to the entrance of the Track Vehicle Training Area (TVTA), a
squarish piece of ground, two miles on a side comprised of a topography so
craggy and bomb-pocketed for most of it's area, that only track vehicles find
it passable.
For what turned out to be an hour and fifteen minutes (while l rode in the seat
in the top of the turret, the tank-commander's seat) certainly the best seat for
an observer. The crew put the tank thru all of the listed exercises built into the TVTA. Much of the time the ride was so wild and the speed so high (Time
elapsed is part of scoring) that, a few times l thought to jump off. Ha! (Just
the thing a tit-less WAC might do,or at least be expected to do. To be honest,
it was very exciting, but not really frightening. No matter how fast the curve is taken or how high the jump (off the compacted dirt ramps) or how deep the
constructed "bomb pockets" it was obvious at the start that the crew knew
exactly what it was doing and was not about to do it wrongly. lt was necessary to hang on tight but there was no chance of the crew allowing any
loss of control
Jamey returned to pick me up as Sgt Battle and the crew fielded the few questions l had. l thanked them all, personally, for such a great ride and said
l'd look forward to being invited back. Then, Jamey and l were off to Richmond
to pick up the movies for the coming week. l needed some paper and some other drafting supplies which we got at Jamey's favorite stationer. He also
took us to acouple of stores from which we needed nothing then, just so l could know where they were, should l need to fill in for him at some point.
Returning to the S3 office at Camp Hill, l found a short pile of work orders in
my in-box which l finished before retreat was sounded. (workday's end)
My time at Camp Hill was,far and away the best time l had in the Army. There
was enough work in the office that l knew l was making a contribution but not so much that l ever had to work late. l had enough free time that l was able to thoroughly explore it and the country surrounding it,thanks to the '54
Hudson. l was so comfortable there that l made only one trip home to Riverdale during the month of maneuvers.
That place in Riverdale, that my fellow tenants and l leased, was one of the nicest homes in which l lived. The home in which l presently abide, and have
for twenty years, is my all-time favorite. The place on 43rd street in
Riverdale is much grander and is probably worth much more, but it ain't in
California's tri-county wine country. And l don't like the idea of having my main home in a place that might suddenly be covered with deep snow, such
as it was , in Riverdale, many times during the winter of '58/'59 and probably
during every winter since then.
The one time that l went home while on maneuvers, l was only there for four
hours before returning to Camp Hill. l spent the whole weekend at home
after maneuvers, probably trying to soak up some of what l had missed, l guess. l absorbed some great vibes: (All of my room mates home) Great food
thanks to Herman Shultz. Even though it was my first and only Welcome Home
Party, it was great. Should have been in Guiness's.
When l got to my office at HQ Co. S3,at Fort Meade for the first time, ready to do great things. But, over the course of that first day l came to understand that my job, "Battalion Engineer" was a position with next to no workload whatever. the time was early July,'58, l'm seven months away from my
Estimated Termination of Service and l'm in a job without a present, let alone
a future. lt only has waiting. Within a few days, though, my new plan arose:
l had decided to become one of those people You've seen them; they wander
around the office having conversations with any that will listen, they'll spend
time making color doodles and other minor works of art, or bring a book on self improvement to work, refer to it and discuss it with others. Call in sick,
or with personal issues that require time off. These are traits l've always
thought objectionable and l thought that acting in such a way might motivate
Sgt. Vaughn to send me back to 6th Cav Personnel for a re-shuffle. Of course,
with so little real work to do, he might welcome my new persona and then,
where would l be?
That week, l came in late every day, ignored my in-box 'til late in the day,
did all the stuff mentioned above and at weeks end l'd become his bud! He
really liked me. He had somehow learned (probably from Jamey) to whom
l had mentioned that, as a kid , i'd been called "Lanny". So Sgt. Vaughn
started calling me "Lanny Me By". OK, back to the drawing board(as we
draftsmen often say). That weekend l built a 3'X4' frame, streched canvas
over it and began to paint my first oil painting. When l'm building something,
my thinker works real good, whether the thinking is related to the build or is
about something unrelated. Before my stretched canvas was ready to paint,
l had a new idea to shorten the time remaining until my discharge. Some weeks previously l had heard Roy and Ray talking about a government
program that allows soldiers an early discharge to accept seasonal work on
an emergency basis. First thing Monday l stopped by the Captain's office
and picked up two sets of forms for the Early-out Program.
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
Employed 8 part 3
l made my first trip to Camp Hill on the Sunday of our first week there, so that l could get familiar with the place before the battalion rolled in on Monday and
so l could explore it and the surrounding area on my own. For the first couple
of hours, l did. But about 9AM, Capt. Meyer, Sgt. Vaughn and SPC 3 Williams
arrived, one by one. As they moved their office stuff into the building that
would be the S3 office at Camp Hill, l wondered as l helped them to lug some of the boxes into the office, why the Captain hadn't told me to show up on Sunday as well. And why was Lt. Goodale not there?
Just then, the dulcet tone of the exhaust from Lt. Goodale's '59 Porsche 911
grabbed our attention. l later learned that as the lieutenant greeted Capt. Meyer, he asked "You decided to have the Private come in today after all?"
"No, he came on his own" said the Capt., apparently pleased. lt was SPC-3
Williams, (first name Jamey) who had overheard the Capt. and Lt. mention me
and he told me about it as we later, in the pick-up truck he used regularly, drove us around on the Camp as well as much of the surrounding country-side, mostly for my benefit. This being Jamey's third year at Camp Hill formaneuvers, he well knew his way around the general area, on or off post.
We approach a large clearing in the woods where four tractor-trailer rigs are
being relieved of their loads: Each tractor pulls a long, low-boy trailer with two
combat tanks aboard. Four will be parked We stop and dis-mount the pick-up
and go for the un-loaded tanks. Jamey introduces me to his friend, Sgt. Major
Bill Battle, who was in command of four of the tanks present. He was a big guy. Not very tall and not fat, but very muscular. He asked me what my job was. When l told him l was the draftsman, he looked amused and chuckled a
little. He asked if l'd like to drive one of the tanks. l said yes and he laughed a little more, and then said he'd stop by (the office?) in a few days and give
me a driving lesson. He was still chuckling as he mounted his tank and drove off, leading his three charges, headed for the motor pool.
As Jamey and l continued our tour l asked him why he thought Sgt. Battle
seemed so amused by me. He said the Sgt had a great sense of humor and is
one of those who always seem to be smiling or laughing. You could say that he is naturally light-hearted. Add to that, the fact that by now, he and ptetty
much everyone in headquarters company is familiar with the story connected
to you and your being with us now. l wondered if what he said was true and
asked him to tell me what he knows. "Ok, You were last assigned to work at
NSA. You have been in the Army more than two years, yet you wear no stripes. You were a Russian linguist, now you are our draftsman.
Could it be that you are one of those who are, for whatever reason, determined to fullfill your "military obligation" without the risk of finding yourself in the midst of combat?"
"Well, that's pretty much the title of my story. It figures: Parked as close as
the 6th Cav is to NSA, you gotta see situations like mine with some regularity
especially after three years. How many "titless wacs" or Monterey Marys have
preceded me?
"Lemee see, when l first got here..."
"When was that?"
"Uh, '56, April '56"
"What was your job, then?"
"Photographer,still is. But there's more to it than that. During maneuvers, l not only take a lot of stills, l also use a lot of 16mm film getting footage of
tanks trucks and soldiers playing war. And Monday, Wednesday' and Friday
we show movies in the amphitheatre: tomorrow. you will accompany me on
a trip to Richmond to review, select and transport three recently-released
feature movies which we'll show (actually a projectionist does that) thru the
week. Realize that nyou are not just along for the ride. Pay attention to all l
do, knowing that you need to fill in for me if l can't get there."
Monday morning Sgt. Vaughn gave me a number of map making assignments.
Actually, l did no map-making, though it was called that. Map preparation is
what it is. One is given a map of the relevant area. Then, following the Captains written instructions, l marked the places where actions would be taken, what those actions would be and when they would take place.
After lunch l rode with Jamey to Richmond as he went to the film distributor
and a couple of other stops. l stuck close and watched Jamey unremittingly
as he and l reviewed parts of the movies of interest and selected the three
that he thought the troops would like.
Jamey was a great buddy. One day l was trying to look busy at my desk when
Jamey came in and asked Sgt. Vaughn if he could borrow me for a bit.
"Hell yes' THE sgt. said, he might as well be doing something usefull for somebody". That, while he surveyed the top of my desk, where l has been using pieces of scrap beaver board left over from an earlier project, to paint
miniature works of art during idle moments. l hasten to note that all of my assigned work was either in progress on schedule or complete. l was hoping
that Sgt. Vaughn and l would get along better.
In the pickup Jamey asked if l was serious about driving Sgt. Battle's tank.
"Sure, but l don't think he was".
"Why do you say that?"
"Oh, just the way he was when we met. Like he thought that l was some kind of silly nut".
"Well l saw him earlier today and he aqsked me if you would really like to learn to drive it. If not, no problem.But if you do want to, he said l could bring you by today since he has a mostly free day today".
Boy! l'm telling you,Sgt. Battle and l cut us a big fat hog in the ass that day.
(his words,actually) But those words fit well with the experience and every
time the memory of that day returns it's always a treat. Just imagine it.
so l could explore it and the surrounding area on my own. For the first couple
of hours, l did. But about 9AM, Capt. Meyer, Sgt. Vaughn and SPC 3 Williams
arrived, one by one. As they moved their office stuff into the building that
would be the S3 office at Camp Hill, l wondered as l helped them to lug some of the boxes into the office, why the Captain hadn't told me to show up on Sunday as well. And why was Lt. Goodale not there?
Just then, the dulcet tone of the exhaust from Lt. Goodale's '59 Porsche 911
grabbed our attention. l later learned that as the lieutenant greeted Capt. Meyer, he asked "You decided to have the Private come in today after all?"
"No, he came on his own" said the Capt., apparently pleased. lt was SPC-3
Williams, (first name Jamey) who had overheard the Capt. and Lt. mention me
and he told me about it as we later, in the pick-up truck he used regularly, drove us around on the Camp as well as much of the surrounding country-side, mostly for my benefit. This being Jamey's third year at Camp Hill formaneuvers, he well knew his way around the general area, on or off post.
We approach a large clearing in the woods where four tractor-trailer rigs are
being relieved of their loads: Each tractor pulls a long, low-boy trailer with two
combat tanks aboard. Four will be parked We stop and dis-mount the pick-up
and go for the un-loaded tanks. Jamey introduces me to his friend, Sgt. Major
Bill Battle, who was in command of four of the tanks present. He was a big guy. Not very tall and not fat, but very muscular. He asked me what my job was. When l told him l was the draftsman, he looked amused and chuckled a
little. He asked if l'd like to drive one of the tanks. l said yes and he laughed a little more, and then said he'd stop by (the office?) in a few days and give
me a driving lesson. He was still chuckling as he mounted his tank and drove off, leading his three charges, headed for the motor pool.
As Jamey and l continued our tour l asked him why he thought Sgt. Battle
seemed so amused by me. He said the Sgt had a great sense of humor and is
one of those who always seem to be smiling or laughing. You could say that he is naturally light-hearted. Add to that, the fact that by now, he and ptetty
much everyone in headquarters company is familiar with the story connected
to you and your being with us now. l wondered if what he said was true and
asked him to tell me what he knows. "Ok, You were last assigned to work at
NSA. You have been in the Army more than two years, yet you wear no stripes. You were a Russian linguist, now you are our draftsman.
Could it be that you are one of those who are, for whatever reason, determined to fullfill your "military obligation" without the risk of finding yourself in the midst of combat?"
"Well, that's pretty much the title of my story. It figures: Parked as close as
the 6th Cav is to NSA, you gotta see situations like mine with some regularity
especially after three years. How many "titless wacs" or Monterey Marys have
preceded me?
"Lemee see, when l first got here..."
"When was that?"
"Uh, '56, April '56"
"What was your job, then?"
"Photographer,still is. But there's more to it than that. During maneuvers, l not only take a lot of stills, l also use a lot of 16mm film getting footage of
tanks trucks and soldiers playing war. And Monday, Wednesday' and Friday
we show movies in the amphitheatre: tomorrow. you will accompany me on
a trip to Richmond to review, select and transport three recently-released
feature movies which we'll show (actually a projectionist does that) thru the
week. Realize that nyou are not just along for the ride. Pay attention to all l
do, knowing that you need to fill in for me if l can't get there."
Monday morning Sgt. Vaughn gave me a number of map making assignments.
Actually, l did no map-making, though it was called that. Map preparation is
what it is. One is given a map of the relevant area. Then, following the Captains written instructions, l marked the places where actions would be taken, what those actions would be and when they would take place.
After lunch l rode with Jamey to Richmond as he went to the film distributor
and a couple of other stops. l stuck close and watched Jamey unremittingly
as he and l reviewed parts of the movies of interest and selected the three
that he thought the troops would like.
Jamey was a great buddy. One day l was trying to look busy at my desk when
Jamey came in and asked Sgt. Vaughn if he could borrow me for a bit.
"Hell yes' THE sgt. said, he might as well be doing something usefull for somebody". That, while he surveyed the top of my desk, where l has been using pieces of scrap beaver board left over from an earlier project, to paint
miniature works of art during idle moments. l hasten to note that all of my assigned work was either in progress on schedule or complete. l was hoping
that Sgt. Vaughn and l would get along better.
In the pickup Jamey asked if l was serious about driving Sgt. Battle's tank.
"Sure, but l don't think he was".
"Why do you say that?"
"Oh, just the way he was when we met. Like he thought that l was some kind of silly nut".
"Well l saw him earlier today and he aqsked me if you would really like to learn to drive it. If not, no problem.But if you do want to, he said l could bring you by today since he has a mostly free day today".
Boy! l'm telling you,Sgt. Battle and l cut us a big fat hog in the ass that day.
(his words,actually) But those words fit well with the experience and every
time the memory of that day returns it's always a treat. Just imagine it.
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Employed 8 part 2
After our failed attempt to introduce ourselves to Natasha, Goldstein, Shultz
and l returned home. lt being a Friday, only Roy was in the house and that was because he was waiting for a call from his uncle Jack. On an earlier call
Jack had asked him if he would come to New York City to help him move. Roy
worked a part time job most Saturdays so he needed to call to see if he could take it off to help. Knowing Roy's car was old and unreliable, Goldstein offered to drive Roy in his recently-purchased '56 Caddy. (Which also proved
a boon to the actual moving of household goods, as well as people, that
weekend.
Since l'd visited NYC a few times by then and had always had a great time, l
volunteered to help with the move. When Jack called back, he was happy about the unexpected volunteers and welcomed us. He gave Goldstein
directions to his house in the Bronx. He thought we would make great time
on the trip, if we left right away. (about 10 PM) We could still get a few hours sleep at Jacks before the move. It didn't actually work out that way: arriving
at about 3 AM (sat'y) we found the place in party mode. About 20 revelers
were still there. Jack and his family had lived there for twenty-some years and was close to his neighbors. He and they would miss each other.
The move was near-complete at about 4 PM Saturday. After that Jack and (his
wife) Donna took us all out for pizza and beer. That nite, Ron, Goldstein and l
crashed on the floor of their new place. When we rose, having made plans to
visit a museum or a gallery, located somewhere on Fifth Avenue (actual details evade me now) We were not sure of the location then, either. So we
just walked from Central Park South on Fifth and just took it all in. Pretty nice
neck of the woods. Nothing like the woods, really except the buildings are tal-
ler than natural, full-grown Redwoods.
l remember that we were in a myrth-full mood, even as the "scattered showers moved in, crossing fifth Avenue about once for every block we moved, each
lasting about a minute or more. We would duck under a front-entrance alcove,
during a shower's presence and that worked well, but at one point an unusually heavy shower drove us up against a front door having no covering
alcove (to what looked like a business office thru the windows)and before the
shower soaked us, we let ourselves in. Before we had taken three steps
toward the man at the desk about twenty feet into the lobby, we noticed the hammer and sickel on the wall above and behind the man at the desk. Right,
we had for the second time in the weekend, put ourselves in two different
offices of Soviet diplomacy; the Embassy in Washington on Friday and the
Soviet Consulate General in New York on Sunday.
Judging by what somr of my teachers in NSA schools, relative to how closely
NSA workers are watched, l figured Harry would be looking for me as soon as Monday. I told Goldstein what l thought and asked that we return to D.C.
post haste. l needed to be at Ft Meade for reveille, Monday. Both Goldstein
and Roy thought l was over-reacting but went along, anyway. They dropped me at the NSA barracks at Ft Meade just before 8 PM Sunday. Two Marines
woke me up five minutes before reveille.
Harry was already there when the Marines and l reached his office. He thanked
them and dismissed them. Then, to me "You really blew it that time, private.
My orders are to order you to report to the Sixth Cavalry Regiment, Fort Meade
Maryland, personnel office, there to be assigned a position that best serves the Regiment's needs, What were you doing at the Soviet Embassy, anyway?
may l; ask?
"We just wanted to welcome the Ambassador's wife and daughterand wish them a great visit".
"Well, let's hope they're having a good one without your best wishes. You need to read your orders. You will have to report in before the end of business
today and get your stuff moved in tomorrow".
l drove straight home, gathered my Army stuff and drove back to the base and
presented myself to 6th Cav personnel. When he had my name, and other personal info, he asked "What's your MOS?"
"965"
"What's that?"
"Voice Intercept Operator, Russian.
"We don't get many requests for that one, what else can you do?
"l'm a pretty good draftsman".
"Hey!, Headquarters company needs a battalion engineer. Says here it's
mostly a drafting job with some map-making and a few other related tasks.
Think you could do that?"
"Sure. When do l start?"
"Put your stuff in your barrack and report to Sargent Vaughn at HQ company,
S-3. he'll show you what to do and will get you started. Good luck".
At HQ, Company l reported to Sgt. Vaughn, who introduced me to the C.O.,
Captain Meyer, the XO, 1st lieutenant Goodale, and SPC 3 Williams, our
driver and audio-visual man. l also met a number of other soldiers from other parts of our Battalion. They were there to help with preparations for the manuevers which would begin in a week. l didn't like the idea of maneuvers, at first. The venue for the event is 70 milrs from Riverdale and though we would have some time off during the month-long exercises, running back and forth, which i'd almost certainly be doing, was going to require spending of money l didn't have.
Most of that week l stressed over it as l filled the Hudson w/ gas, loaded all
of my Army stuff and made the first trip from Riverdale to our setup at Camp A.P. Hill, Virginia in an hour and forty minutes. What is today (Oct. 28, 15)
Fort A.P. Hill was then (Aug.1958) a beautyfull 300 to 400 square miles of
rolling hills, forested by mostly deciduous trees, bushes bearing berries and
many sparkling streams (mostly creeks). Camp Hill had been the beneficiary
of some of the WPA's best works. Started during FDR's administration, the WPA Works Progress Administration Put thousands of people to work building
roads, bridges, buildings and, at Camp Hill, among other things, a natural
bowl-shaped depression was transformed into the finest amphatheatre l've
ever seen.
and l returned home. lt being a Friday, only Roy was in the house and that was because he was waiting for a call from his uncle Jack. On an earlier call
Jack had asked him if he would come to New York City to help him move. Roy
worked a part time job most Saturdays so he needed to call to see if he could take it off to help. Knowing Roy's car was old and unreliable, Goldstein offered to drive Roy in his recently-purchased '56 Caddy. (Which also proved
a boon to the actual moving of household goods, as well as people, that
weekend.
Since l'd visited NYC a few times by then and had always had a great time, l
volunteered to help with the move. When Jack called back, he was happy about the unexpected volunteers and welcomed us. He gave Goldstein
directions to his house in the Bronx. He thought we would make great time
on the trip, if we left right away. (about 10 PM) We could still get a few hours sleep at Jacks before the move. It didn't actually work out that way: arriving
at about 3 AM (sat'y) we found the place in party mode. About 20 revelers
were still there. Jack and his family had lived there for twenty-some years and was close to his neighbors. He and they would miss each other.
The move was near-complete at about 4 PM Saturday. After that Jack and (his
wife) Donna took us all out for pizza and beer. That nite, Ron, Goldstein and l
crashed on the floor of their new place. When we rose, having made plans to
visit a museum or a gallery, located somewhere on Fifth Avenue (actual details evade me now) We were not sure of the location then, either. So we
just walked from Central Park South on Fifth and just took it all in. Pretty nice
neck of the woods. Nothing like the woods, really except the buildings are tal-
ler than natural, full-grown Redwoods.
l remember that we were in a myrth-full mood, even as the "scattered showers moved in, crossing fifth Avenue about once for every block we moved, each
lasting about a minute or more. We would duck under a front-entrance alcove,
during a shower's presence and that worked well, but at one point an unusually heavy shower drove us up against a front door having no covering
alcove (to what looked like a business office thru the windows)and before the
shower soaked us, we let ourselves in. Before we had taken three steps
toward the man at the desk about twenty feet into the lobby, we noticed the hammer and sickel on the wall above and behind the man at the desk. Right,
we had for the second time in the weekend, put ourselves in two different
offices of Soviet diplomacy; the Embassy in Washington on Friday and the
Soviet Consulate General in New York on Sunday.
Judging by what somr of my teachers in NSA schools, relative to how closely
NSA workers are watched, l figured Harry would be looking for me as soon as Monday. I told Goldstein what l thought and asked that we return to D.C.
post haste. l needed to be at Ft Meade for reveille, Monday. Both Goldstein
and Roy thought l was over-reacting but went along, anyway. They dropped me at the NSA barracks at Ft Meade just before 8 PM Sunday. Two Marines
woke me up five minutes before reveille.
Harry was already there when the Marines and l reached his office. He thanked
them and dismissed them. Then, to me "You really blew it that time, private.
My orders are to order you to report to the Sixth Cavalry Regiment, Fort Meade
Maryland, personnel office, there to be assigned a position that best serves the Regiment's needs, What were you doing at the Soviet Embassy, anyway?
may l; ask?
"We just wanted to welcome the Ambassador's wife and daughterand wish them a great visit".
"Well, let's hope they're having a good one without your best wishes. You need to read your orders. You will have to report in before the end of business
today and get your stuff moved in tomorrow".
l drove straight home, gathered my Army stuff and drove back to the base and
presented myself to 6th Cav personnel. When he had my name, and other personal info, he asked "What's your MOS?"
"965"
"What's that?"
"Voice Intercept Operator, Russian.
"We don't get many requests for that one, what else can you do?
"l'm a pretty good draftsman".
"Hey!, Headquarters company needs a battalion engineer. Says here it's
mostly a drafting job with some map-making and a few other related tasks.
Think you could do that?"
"Sure. When do l start?"
"Put your stuff in your barrack and report to Sargent Vaughn at HQ company,
S-3. he'll show you what to do and will get you started. Good luck".
At HQ, Company l reported to Sgt. Vaughn, who introduced me to the C.O.,
Captain Meyer, the XO, 1st lieutenant Goodale, and SPC 3 Williams, our
driver and audio-visual man. l also met a number of other soldiers from other parts of our Battalion. They were there to help with preparations for the manuevers which would begin in a week. l didn't like the idea of maneuvers, at first. The venue for the event is 70 milrs from Riverdale and though we would have some time off during the month-long exercises, running back and forth, which i'd almost certainly be doing, was going to require spending of money l didn't have.
Most of that week l stressed over it as l filled the Hudson w/ gas, loaded all
of my Army stuff and made the first trip from Riverdale to our setup at Camp A.P. Hill, Virginia in an hour and forty minutes. What is today (Oct. 28, 15)
Fort A.P. Hill was then (Aug.1958) a beautyfull 300 to 400 square miles of
rolling hills, forested by mostly deciduous trees, bushes bearing berries and
many sparkling streams (mostly creeks). Camp Hill had been the beneficiary
of some of the WPA's best works. Started during FDR's administration, the WPA Works Progress Administration Put thousands of people to work building
roads, bridges, buildings and, at Camp Hill, among other things, a natural
bowl-shaped depression was transformed into the finest amphatheatre l've
ever seen.
Friday, October 16, 2015
Employed 8 part 1
At this point,l'm about two-thirds of the way thru my three-year enlistment.
l should be heavy into my Army career as a Russian linguist, but l'm really
un-employed, actually job-hunting and not for work in the NSA, but in a combat outfit just like the ones l was trying to avoid.
Realizing that l wasn't going to find what l was looking for at Special Services,
l told the SFC there, that l had decided not to do the audition. He said he
hoped l'd find what l'm looking for. l visited Harry, my NSA supervisor and told him l'd been accepted as a back-up trombonist and was looking forward to playing in a band again. He wished me well.
So a situatuon had been put in place that had Harry thinking that he'd heard the last of my whining and the young SFC going "Too bad, he seemed like a nice guy." l figured l'd stumbled into the ideal dodge; NSA thinks l went to Special Services and Special Services thinks l went back to the NSA. l went
home to 43rd street and got busy on the house. First, the sunroom. A couple of over-stuffed chairs went to the garage. The easel l built the week before
was moved in as well as a utility table found at the Catholic Charities store.,
four side chairs l'd found in the attic, a recliner from the master bedroom, and
a half-dozen house-plants, also from Catholic Charities.
In just a couple of days, l had the place pretty much as l thought it should be
and my house-mates all liked it,too.
One day, in the second week of my enjoying not being on anyone's roll call,
Ray returned to the house at lunch-time to get some reports he'd done the
night before, then forgot to take them to work. He was surprised to find me
home, in the middle of the day, in civvies and he asked me about it. Was l
taking some leave? When l shared some of why l would be busy re-arranging
much of our first floor, in the middle of a weekday, he pretty much lost it.
He called ME, HIS LAND LORD, a effing idiot for starts and then went on to acquaint me with some of the many ways the Army could visit upon me an
enormous amount of hurt when my plan (and my action) became known to them.
Well, it is absence without leave, (AWOL) and one of the first things we learned in Basic Training is that AWOLs will be prosecuted. If everyone goes
AWOL, you got no Army. lf you were AWOL in Basic Training, it could result
in your being jailed for long enough to cause you to start basic training over
in a later class, your troubles will be just beginning. l defended the situation that l set up to remove me from the roll calls. l remember saying that l'd
probably stay lost until my enlistment ends. Ray went away talking to himself
and l got back to work in the sunroom.
After Ray left l was alone in the house and while l worked, much of what had
passed between Ray and l kept bouncing around in my head. He hadn't said anything that l didn't already know, but his excited state had set me to wondering if l had overlooked something that might trip me up. l had to realize that if things went wrong, l could wind up in the brig for a spell or
the Army might choose to discharge me less than honorably. But they have to catch me first. For that to happen, they'll have to look for me. Since Harry thinks he knows where l am and it's not AWOL. It's somewhere in the sixth
cav, waiting for my stand-by trombone to go to work. l suppose it's possible
that he might wonder, at some time, whatever happened to me and maybe, at some time, whatever happened to me and maybe make a call to sixth cav
personnel to find out. But l think he more likely to just forget me.
By the time that most of the housemates got home that evening the sun
room was showing it's new stuff and all hands applauded most of it. There
were a couple of minor changes made that brought it all together for us all.
Goldstein came in a little later and he liked the sunroom ok, but what really turned him on was the easel, sitting in place and loaded for use. When he
had firstseen the easel a week ago, he told me he'd like to be my agent
when l actually had paintings ready for sale. l explained that l intended to
paint, mostly, if not all non-objective and they may be difficult to sell. His
responce reminded me of the training in cold-call magazine subscription
sales that l got from Ben and Ted and l was glad to hear that "my future
agent" already knew that stuff.
After Dinner that evening, a few of us were watching TV, when the news got our attention; The Soviet Ambassador to the US, Evgeney Menchikov and his wife Tatiana and daughter Natasha were in residence at the Soviet Embassy
for a few days before visiting in South America and China.The wife and daughter, l must admit,were pretty attractive ladies. But l thought Goldstein
went a bit far when he proclaimed that he WOULD GO IMMEDIATELY to the
Soviet Embassy to welcome Natasha and, of course her mother to America.
He wanted me to come along to be his interpreter and Herman Shultz, the
handsomest and most erudite gentleman in the house, to host the event.
Herman agreed to do it, in a tux (which he owns) and he advised Goldstein
and l to at least wear a coat and slacks, even better, a suit.
Goldstein and l jump into suits, brush our teeth, shine our shoes and we're
ready. Herman is looking great in his get-up and is waiting for us in his car.
It is less than a half-hour to the Embassy and we blew it all with pointless
jabber. Not that it might have done us any good, but we had no plan,
Parked about a hundred feet from the Embassy's front door we walked into
the lobby. About 20 feet inside the front door was a large desk. A man wear-
ing a uniform like a bell captain might wear, sat at the desk, facing the front door. Long story/short:Two security guards joined the guy at the desk and
gently but certainly caused the three of us to find ourselves on the sidewalk
in front of the Embassy door's exterior,
l should be heavy into my Army career as a Russian linguist, but l'm really
un-employed, actually job-hunting and not for work in the NSA, but in a combat outfit just like the ones l was trying to avoid.
Realizing that l wasn't going to find what l was looking for at Special Services,
l told the SFC there, that l had decided not to do the audition. He said he
hoped l'd find what l'm looking for. l visited Harry, my NSA supervisor and told him l'd been accepted as a back-up trombonist and was looking forward to playing in a band again. He wished me well.
So a situatuon had been put in place that had Harry thinking that he'd heard the last of my whining and the young SFC going "Too bad, he seemed like a nice guy." l figured l'd stumbled into the ideal dodge; NSA thinks l went to Special Services and Special Services thinks l went back to the NSA. l went
home to 43rd street and got busy on the house. First, the sunroom. A couple of over-stuffed chairs went to the garage. The easel l built the week before
was moved in as well as a utility table found at the Catholic Charities store.,
four side chairs l'd found in the attic, a recliner from the master bedroom, and
a half-dozen house-plants, also from Catholic Charities.
In just a couple of days, l had the place pretty much as l thought it should be
and my house-mates all liked it,too.
One day, in the second week of my enjoying not being on anyone's roll call,
Ray returned to the house at lunch-time to get some reports he'd done the
night before, then forgot to take them to work. He was surprised to find me
home, in the middle of the day, in civvies and he asked me about it. Was l
taking some leave? When l shared some of why l would be busy re-arranging
much of our first floor, in the middle of a weekday, he pretty much lost it.
He called ME, HIS LAND LORD, a effing idiot for starts and then went on to acquaint me with some of the many ways the Army could visit upon me an
enormous amount of hurt when my plan (and my action) became known to them.
Well, it is absence without leave, (AWOL) and one of the first things we learned in Basic Training is that AWOLs will be prosecuted. If everyone goes
AWOL, you got no Army. lf you were AWOL in Basic Training, it could result
in your being jailed for long enough to cause you to start basic training over
in a later class, your troubles will be just beginning. l defended the situation that l set up to remove me from the roll calls. l remember saying that l'd
probably stay lost until my enlistment ends. Ray went away talking to himself
and l got back to work in the sunroom.
After Ray left l was alone in the house and while l worked, much of what had
passed between Ray and l kept bouncing around in my head. He hadn't said anything that l didn't already know, but his excited state had set me to wondering if l had overlooked something that might trip me up. l had to realize that if things went wrong, l could wind up in the brig for a spell or
the Army might choose to discharge me less than honorably. But they have to catch me first. For that to happen, they'll have to look for me. Since Harry thinks he knows where l am and it's not AWOL. It's somewhere in the sixth
cav, waiting for my stand-by trombone to go to work. l suppose it's possible
that he might wonder, at some time, whatever happened to me and maybe, at some time, whatever happened to me and maybe make a call to sixth cav
personnel to find out. But l think he more likely to just forget me.
By the time that most of the housemates got home that evening the sun
room was showing it's new stuff and all hands applauded most of it. There
were a couple of minor changes made that brought it all together for us all.
Goldstein came in a little later and he liked the sunroom ok, but what really turned him on was the easel, sitting in place and loaded for use. When he
had firstseen the easel a week ago, he told me he'd like to be my agent
when l actually had paintings ready for sale. l explained that l intended to
paint, mostly, if not all non-objective and they may be difficult to sell. His
responce reminded me of the training in cold-call magazine subscription
sales that l got from Ben and Ted and l was glad to hear that "my future
agent" already knew that stuff.
After Dinner that evening, a few of us were watching TV, when the news got our attention; The Soviet Ambassador to the US, Evgeney Menchikov and his wife Tatiana and daughter Natasha were in residence at the Soviet Embassy
for a few days before visiting in South America and China.The wife and daughter, l must admit,were pretty attractive ladies. But l thought Goldstein
went a bit far when he proclaimed that he WOULD GO IMMEDIATELY to the
Soviet Embassy to welcome Natasha and, of course her mother to America.
He wanted me to come along to be his interpreter and Herman Shultz, the
handsomest and most erudite gentleman in the house, to host the event.
Herman agreed to do it, in a tux (which he owns) and he advised Goldstein
and l to at least wear a coat and slacks, even better, a suit.
Goldstein and l jump into suits, brush our teeth, shine our shoes and we're
ready. Herman is looking great in his get-up and is waiting for us in his car.
It is less than a half-hour to the Embassy and we blew it all with pointless
jabber. Not that it might have done us any good, but we had no plan,
Parked about a hundred feet from the Embassy's front door we walked into
the lobby. About 20 feet inside the front door was a large desk. A man wear-
ing a uniform like a bell captain might wear, sat at the desk, facing the front door. Long story/short:Two security guards joined the guy at the desk and
gently but certainly caused the three of us to find ourselves on the sidewalk
in front of the Embassy door's exterior,
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Employed 7 part 12
About a month into the underline overline "job", l got together with my supervisor, explained my anguish at having spent a year-and-a-quarter in training to do the VIO job, only to be removed after about three months
because l mentioned (to a visitor from NSA) my concern about a few of the
links assigned to me. Understand that we Ops had been told of the visit of these people and had encouraged us to share experiences with them and ask any questions that we might have. The super was sympathetic. He averred
that he would surely be "pissed" if he found himself in the same situation.
l shared some of my work history with him and told him that l was confident
that l could find, somewhere on Ft. Mead, a job that l'd be happy to show up for on all work days. That was the first time Harry (my supervisor) and l had
spoken. He was new at his then-assigned position but had been a supervisor
for a few years. We got along very well thru-out our talk.
Ultimately, Harry and l made a deal: He would excuse me from reporting to
the overline-underline job for one week so l could canvass the post in search
of a job with a little more fun in it. (my characterization, not his) l was so
stoked when l left NSA; l'd been thinking about my years in the school band
and had convinced myself that l could play trombone for the 6th Cav. l first
went to Post Special Services and talked to a young Sargent First Class,
who listened to my recount of the years, first playing clarinet in the sixth
grade and then moving to trombone, "the Prince of Brass" (Jack Elmorton),
in seventh grade and finally,in the last year playing French Horn in the
Orchestra. The young SFC got the idea that l might well be a musician that
the 6th Army could use in rheir band. He scheduled me for an audition for a
day in the next week
l showed up at my supervisor's office as agreed, one week after our initial
meet. l told him of the meeting with the SFC and how he had scheduled me
for an audition and was very optimistic about me being chosen. That,
coupled with my bubbling optimism boweled Harry over. Because the
audition was scheduled late in the next week, my next visit with Harry was scheduled for the week after that. When we parted that time we shook
hands and wished each-other well,much like people who don't expect to
meet again.l knew better. Yes, l played 2nd chair trombone in the school
marching band and orchestra, but l could only do it with the help of my friend
Garn. He was the 1st chair trombonist, a real musician who played many
instruments (piano,drums, country guitar and base. These days jn addition
to making country-Western CDs for his fans and freinds he composes classical
pieces and orchestrates them, using a Midde music computer. ln the sixties
and seventies he and his cw band appeared in all of the cw venues in the
western and southern US. For some years, he flew himself and the three
other members of the band, from gig-to-gig in his own private plane.
Probably,if l had paid closer attention to what Garn exposed me in high school
l might have been able to pass the audition (or, at least TAKE IT, without
being seen as a total idiot.)
Just so you know, l will let you know how l was able to play 2nd chair trombone: When we got our printed music,Garn would play the 2nd chair
part as l listened and noted the position of the slide. even though l'm
musically ignorant, l have an excellent ear, so l just needed to listen to Garn
play the piece and get my slide start positions, then run thru the thing 8 or 10 times and l'd be ready for an audience.
times and l'd
because l mentioned (to a visitor from NSA) my concern about a few of the
links assigned to me. Understand that we Ops had been told of the visit of these people and had encouraged us to share experiences with them and ask any questions that we might have. The super was sympathetic. He averred
that he would surely be "pissed" if he found himself in the same situation.
l shared some of my work history with him and told him that l was confident
that l could find, somewhere on Ft. Mead, a job that l'd be happy to show up for on all work days. That was the first time Harry (my supervisor) and l had
spoken. He was new at his then-assigned position but had been a supervisor
for a few years. We got along very well thru-out our talk.
Ultimately, Harry and l made a deal: He would excuse me from reporting to
the overline-underline job for one week so l could canvass the post in search
of a job with a little more fun in it. (my characterization, not his) l was so
stoked when l left NSA; l'd been thinking about my years in the school band
and had convinced myself that l could play trombone for the 6th Cav. l first
went to Post Special Services and talked to a young Sargent First Class,
who listened to my recount of the years, first playing clarinet in the sixth
grade and then moving to trombone, "the Prince of Brass" (Jack Elmorton),
in seventh grade and finally,in the last year playing French Horn in the
Orchestra. The young SFC got the idea that l might well be a musician that
the 6th Army could use in rheir band. He scheduled me for an audition for a
day in the next week
l showed up at my supervisor's office as agreed, one week after our initial
meet. l told him of the meeting with the SFC and how he had scheduled me
for an audition and was very optimistic about me being chosen. That,
coupled with my bubbling optimism boweled Harry over. Because the
audition was scheduled late in the next week, my next visit with Harry was scheduled for the week after that. When we parted that time we shook
hands and wished each-other well,much like people who don't expect to
meet again.l knew better. Yes, l played 2nd chair trombone in the school
marching band and orchestra, but l could only do it with the help of my friend
Garn. He was the 1st chair trombonist, a real musician who played many
instruments (piano,drums, country guitar and base. These days jn addition
to making country-Western CDs for his fans and freinds he composes classical
pieces and orchestrates them, using a Midde music computer. ln the sixties
and seventies he and his cw band appeared in all of the cw venues in the
western and southern US. For some years, he flew himself and the three
other members of the band, from gig-to-gig in his own private plane.
Probably,if l had paid closer attention to what Garn exposed me in high school
l might have been able to pass the audition (or, at least TAKE IT, without
being seen as a total idiot.)
Just so you know, l will let you know how l was able to play 2nd chair trombone: When we got our printed music,Garn would play the 2nd chair
part as l listened and noted the position of the slide. even though l'm
musically ignorant, l have an excellent ear, so l just needed to listen to Garn
play the piece and get my slide start positions, then run thru the thing 8 or 10 times and l'd be ready for an audience.
times and l'd
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