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"
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)