Square Peg in a Round Hole
It's interesting when flashbacks occur, I miss my adventures from my earlier years and suspect that my relationships with my employers was more of a love hate relationship. Perhaps that's why employers avoid the older folks. We all have strengths and weaknesses and have to find work arounds to make progress in life. I tend to be reserved not shy, I suspect that I was considered a go-to guy when things went south especially if there was no one else willing to do the job. I often stood my ground on principal, I had seen enough of comrades that suffered consequences when they buckled to pressure; however, I also fell on my sword to take one for the team when a situation was dire and needed a resolution, a.k.a. get er done. So with that said, I'll share some stories that helped build my image as a legend in my own mind. Wink, wink.
The Early Days:
When I enlisted int the Army in October 1976 I omitted my prior service in the Navy as my "Re-Enlistment Code" was RE-4 from August 1974. I had visited with a recruiter and was informed the RE-4 made me ineligible to enlist/reenlist in the armed forces. I was advised the only way to upgrade the Re-Enlistment Code was to request a congressional hearing and present evidence that I warranted (not deserved) the upgrade. Working minimum wage jobs in California I didn't see that happening, so a month or so later I went to a different recruiter and didn't mention my prior service. The omission was a big deal and I knew it, if you've ever seen the movie "Jarhead" that came out in 2005 then you'd know as the character called Alan Troy wanted to reenlist but couldn't due to falsifying his enlistment papers. The enlistment was complicated as my driving record was sooooo bad I required a "Morality Waiver" to join the Army. I had to get recommendations from I believe three outstanding citizens and the recruiter had to do interviews. Upon completing basic training I received a printout of my personnel record and saw the "DAC" (Defense Agency Check) from 1973. There's only one reason for a DAC, enlistment in the Armed Forces. I went to my drill sergeant (DI) and asked; "If I confessed a crime would you have to turn me in?" The DI said yes.. I thanked him for his time and did an about face. He was startled and said whoa.. Come here. Was it before or after you enter the Army? I told him it was before, so he told me to go ahead and let him know the problem. I mentioned the DAC and Navy time, my DI advised me that once I get to my first assignment to bust my ass for 90 days then turn myself in. I learned later that my basic company commander had given me a letter of commendation that may have helped keep me in the Army later.
I breezed through the 76W Petroleum Supply Specialist (a.k.a. petroleum oils and lubricants (POL)) course and was invited to stay on as an instructor; however, I was guaranteed Ft. Lewis as a first assignment.
When I arrived at Ft. Lewis then home of the 9th Infantry Division, I remember sitting in front of the reassignment company on the bus and saying to myself in a little prayer... "Please give me an aviation company, please give me an aviation company." The last thing I wanted was to end up in a line company refueling tanks and/or duce-and-a-halves or other trucks pulling cannons. My guardian angel came through and I was assigned to the 243rd Assault Support Helicopter (ASH) Company. After 90 days of impressing my commander with my skills I turned myself in. I was still a buck private E-1 and remember seeing paperwork my advancement to private E-2 was delayed due to the pending legal action. Eventually I was sent to see an Army psychiatrist, I remember sitting in a room with I think a specialist E-4 filling out a form asking questions. We discussed life and such for about 45 minutes then I was thanked for my time. No doctor was seen, just a flunky filling out the form. A week or so later my commander saw me and asked; "What the hell did you tell the doctor?" I shrugged my shoulders not sure what to say.. My commander read the recommendation provided.. "Unable to adopt to social norms recommend immediate discharge." My commander said; "Don't worry, I'll take care of it." So he did his thing and I was allowed to stay on active duty.
While at Ft. Lewis I had several adventures. I would be issued a five-ton cargo truck with a tank and pump unit that had two 600 gallon pods and a pump unit with reels, a PRC-77 (prick 77) radio, five or six bean bag lights, a glide angle indicator and sent to the middle of nowhere to assist the CH-47 pilots with their non-standard training. After dark I'd stand in the middle of a meadow with trees all around a safe distance away and let the pilots make approaches on me. I'd set up the bean bag lights in an inverted "Y" so the pilots could get used to making night landings. I set up the glide angle indicator that was a rectangular box about 18" X 24" that had a narrow slit at the front with red, yellow and green glass cover that would let the pilot see from a mile or two if they were too low or just right and a high intensity bulb to power it. Oh, I had to bring a 2.5KW generator to power the glide angle indicator. It wasn't unusual to get back to the barracks after midnight because I had to refuel the CH-47 once they landed at the airfield to avoid condensation.
I was eventually made an Acting Jack Corporal hard stripe E-4 as a Private First Class (PFC) E-3 and placed in charge of our refueling section, Pete a Specialist E-4 wasn't interested in a leadership position. I was tasked with creating a "Forward Area Arming and Refueling Point (FAARP.)" I worked with my warrant and we scrounged the base locating the needed components. The 243rd ASH often transported our next-door neighbors the 2nd of the 75th Airborne Rangers, we weren't popular with the rangers as our unit crest resembled a full bird eagle, so they often saluted me. On one exercise the rangers were dropped on us sans a safety briefing, the POL section was about 1/2 mile out from the main camp as we had a 5,000 gallon tanker and Army regs required we be separated from the main body. When the rangers came in firing their blanks my guys were tackling them screaming cease fire, we didn't need fires caused by blanks.
While at Ft. Lewis we had two events where we traveled and I forget which came first. One was an emergency exercise where we set up camp in Seattle to prepare in case Washington was hit by an earthquake, I was driving a gutless M49C with 1,200 gallons of fuel pulling a trailer. I struggled to keep up with the convoy and Seattle PD and Washington state troopers were waving for me to go faster going through hilly Seattle. The other was a natural disaster where heavy rains flooded Washington about 1977, I had a Washington state police escort in the five-ton cargo 6X6 hauling 1,200 gallons of fuel to refuel CH-47 lifting people who were stranded due to bridges washed out and dropping bales of hay to cows stranded because of high water.
While at Ft. Lewis I took the Flight Aptitude Skills Test (FAST) for warrant officer flight school, at the time the Army only allowed soldiers to test ONE time. Fail the FAST and you were ineligible to apply for warrant officer flight school ever again. The passing score was 300 and I scored a 312. I completed the application and took my flight physical and took my packet to S-1 personnel for processing.. Oh, you can't apply for flight school you're on orders for Germany you have to wait until you're 5/8ths of the way through your tour then you can apply.
Germany:
I arrived at Frankfurt Germany in 1978 and was assigned to the 3rd Armored Division 503rd Combat Aviation Battalion (CAB) at Hanau Army Airfield Fligerhorst Kasern. My first assignment was to Company A 503rd CAB; however, 1st Sergeant Putnam wasn't interested in a POL guy as the company didn't have refueling capabilities. So I was moved to Headquarters and Headquarters Company (HHC) 503rd CAB, it appeared that my assignment to 243rd ASH had set a pattern for the remainder of my time as a POL guy linked to aviation. I wasn't the fair haired favorite so often was assigned to the crappy details.
One morning after coming back from the field from REFORGER (Return of Forces to Germany) 1978 I was assigned to take four platoon members to clean up and put away equipment while my E-6 and his favorite E-4 went to breakfast. The guys were moaning and groaning and wanted to break for chow. I was the senior enlisted, less than happy and getting tired of the crap. I had a grounding reel in my hand used to establish a ground between the truck and the ground, it weighed about four pounds. I slammed it down and told the guys to chill, supposedly the reel hit someone's foot. The next thing I knew I was seeing stars, it appears one of the privates picked up the reel and smacked me in the back of my head lancing open my skull. I responded and tackled the troop, we fought. The guys pulled me off; however, the blood had covered one eye and I thought I was blinded so broke free and tackled the troop again. I was pulled off a second time. My head still reeling, I managed to act calm and collected so the guys let me go and I tackled the troop a third time. I finally calmed down and was sent to have my skull stitched closed I think it took about five stitches. The incident became a racial incident as the troop was black. I was on the shit list again. Later that night I needed a drink, our little town of Erlensee had been declared off-limits during REFORGER 1978 I asked around and no one knew if the town was still off-limits so I went. When I exited a bar the MPs were there, I didn't think nothing of it and started to walk past the MPs. No-Go, I was cuffed and stuffed in the back of a Dodge van sans anything to sit on, I managed to get my cuffs under my butt and between my legs so I was more comfortable. The female MP told the driver; "He has his cuffs in front of him." he next thing I know I'm rolling forward as the van stops and the driver exits the vehicle. Once the cuffs were behind me again, I spent the rest of the trip to the brig on my stomach on the floor of the van. The duty non-commissioned officer (NCO) was called to pick me up, no bail; however, everything was duly noted. I received an Article-15 for the bad choice, I lost some pay and I think 30 days of extra duty. Extra duty was spent painting rocks and using a swing blade to mow about 1/2 an acre of tall grass after the duty day ended.
After a month of awkwardness the troops and me were assigned to base operations at the airfield to establish a hot refueling point similar to the FAARP I set up at Ft. Lewis. We operated from 7:00 AM to 10:00 PM, I was responsible for scheduling troops to work the hot/cold refueling for NATO aircraft, opening the airfield, doing foreign object damage (FOD) control, ensuring the two 5,000 gallon tankers had fuel and we never ran out of fuel to name a few. I got every slacker there was from the other line companies that no one else wanted. It was supposed to be 90-day to six-month rotational duty as it was a very crappy J.O.B. or tour of duty. A year later I was put in for sergeant E-5 by the second senior NCO assigned to base-operations. 1st sergeant Putnam was now sergeant major (SGM) Putnam and in charge of the 503rd CAB. SGM Putnam denied my promotion packet due to my history with the 503rd, I think the packet was submitted a second time with the same results. For the third attempt I found a Military Intelligence company at a another kasern that flew Mohawks and acquired a letter of acceptance. I prepared my transfer packet along with the letter of acceptance and told my senior NCO to inform SGM Putnam he had two choices;
SGM Putnam signed my promotion packet. Did I mention I was a specialist E-4 wearing acting jack E-5 stripes? In-other-words (IOW) the rank without the pay. When I went to the promotion board I was sweating bullets, SGM Putnam was front and center of the other four senior NCOs. As the questions were presented I answered appropriately. After 30 or so minutes of answering the board's questions and I was getting ready to leave, SGM Putnam asked; "What's the matter Millard didn't you want to make E-5?" I was horror struck and SGM Putnam could see my facial reaction, he said.. "Calm down you did fine." I guess he was impressed with my answers, but based on our interactions? I thought I was toast. Eventually my cutoff score for 76W20 dropped and I was promoted to sergeant E-5, I felt silly as I had to take off my acting jack hard stripes, put on my specialist E-4 rank so they could take them off and apply the E-5 rank again.
Another year had passed with no relief, I contended with many issues one such thing was they wanted to install a 5,000 gallon bladder that required a liner and berm to hold the fuel in case it failed. The berm would take thousands of sandbags filled and stacked to surround a bladder that was about two feet high, ten feet wide and 20 feet long when filled. I asked; "Who would fill the sandbags?" Someone said prisoners from the brig. I asked; "Who is going to guard them?" The response was "You." As in me. "Will I be issued a M-16 or side arm? What of my other duties? Is someone else going to take care of business?" Thankfully the idea was dropped. Another idea was to repaint base operations, the air traffic controllers were too busy so it fell on the POL guys and gal (yeah they sent me a woman to work with five guys in an airfield line shack sans heat that used a diesel stove for heat.) I advised my E-7 senior NCO that using the brown dye from the local hardware store turned purple when it dried. He called BS and bought the brown dye that was mixed with five-gallon pails of white paint. The painting began and about 6:00 PM as we were 1/2 way done the E-7 shows up and sees the brown dyed paint turning purple. OMG! I can't have that! So he went and bought more pails of white paint and another color of dye. We had to repaint the 1/2 already completed plus the rest of the areas. It was a long night.
In 1980 after suffering one year six months at a tour of duty that was supposed to be rotational after six-months my E-7 tells me that we have to empty a line shack filled with old boxes of aircraft lubricant has to be emptied "TODAY." I explained to my E-7 we didn't have a truck to haul the boxes of oil that were leaking but I'd take care of it the first thing the next day. My E-7 stayed persistent saying that TODAY was the day! I explained to my E-7 the broken boxes were leaking, the guys' clothes would be ruined and there may be issues with chemical burns. I explained the boxes have been there for years, another day wasn't going to hurt. My E-7 demanded the boxes be moved.. Well, that was the straw that broke the camel's back.. I slammed down my clip board and stated; "THAT'S IT, I QUIT! YOU CAN DO IT YOURSELF!" Then walked out of base ops.
A few days later my major that I respected, he was a grunt in Vietnam and figured out how to escape lying in rice paddies as helicopters brought supplies in and out. It was about dusk and he said; "I spoke with the E-7, he was wrong. I think it's time you came back to work." I explained to my major the duty was meant to be temporary and at 18 months I was well past my six-month rotation and said I wasn't planning on returning and continued on my way. For those not familiar with military rank, there's company and field grade officers. A major is an O-4 and considered a field grade officer so their orders hold more weight.
I think it was the next day I was playing softball, I was on first base and the next batter did a line drive to second base. I was out so figured I'd run down the base line to save the double play. The second baseman leaned out to throw the ball to first baseman, he was about knee high so I decided to hurdle him to avoid contact. His shoulder caught my right shin and I went down. I didn't feel nothing so started to stand up, my right leg was bent between my knee and ankle. I plopped down recognizing things didn't look right. A medic at the game came out, determined my right leg was broken and an ambulance was called. I was transported to Hanau to the local hospital. The on-duty doctor said I suffered a fracture and needed to go to Frankfurt to the 97th Field Hospital. A German ambulance showed up and hauled me away, the driver got lost and in his and the nurse's broken English asked me where was the hospital? I had no idea, so the driver asked for directions a few times and got us there.
The staff at 97th Field Hospital advised a steel plate, it took a month or so for the operation to be completed. Because of the severity of the wound, I would be placed on a medivac flight back to the states because in 1980 the Federal Republic of Germany was a hot area and unsuitable for someone that would have limited duty for six or more months. One of the E-6s at HHC 503rd was responsible for packing my goods and sending them state-side. When he brought the transfer papers he was laughing his ass off. I asked him what was so funny? He never said.. But I suspect that my major put me in for a court martial and my guardian angel saved me the only way he could.
Planet Ord:
When I arrived at Presideo of San Franscisco the doctor looked at my x-rays and said; "Beautiful job. But why did you do it?" He explained that for my type of fracture of the tibia and fibula the steel plate wasn't strong enough; whereas, it was known to break, the leg heals crooked and then have to start all over. I asked; "Well I'm guessing it's too late now?" He said yeah, we'll have to let it run its course and see what happens. In reflection, I take the fateful moment as another indicator that my guardian angel worked OT to bail me out of the situation in Germany. After 30 days of convalescent leave, I was assigned to Headquarters and Headquarters Troop (HHT) Second Squadron (Air) 10th Cavalry 7th Infantry Division Ft. Ord, CA.
For six months I hobbled around doing various jobs assigned to me. I remember when I first arrived the S-4 E-7 sergeant was impressed and DEMANDED the 1st sergeant let me work S-4. The E-8 1st sergeant was a career soldier from an era when no one told the 1st sergeant what to do, so I went to base ops to work the airfield. A month or so later I went to the 1st sergeant and asked to be assigned to S-4 due to my leg. Top, a.k.a. 1st sergeant, accommodated my request. I eventually moved to the orderly room as training NCO, I scheduled training for the 220 or so troops assigned to HHT 2/10 Cavalry, prepared the commander's weekly T-4 briefing for the battalion commander and other miscellaneous duties. I was eventually sent to a two-week Nuclear, Biological and Chemical (NBC) school. I told my commander upon returning; "Don't you ever make me NBC NCO on the battlefield." In 1981 the Army used the two lowest ranking privates as the biological and chemical detection kit when there wasn't a biological/chemical detecting machine available. One day the inspector general's (IG) office was conducting an inspection, I wasn't informed of the inspection as my cohort was the NBC NCO and I was the Training NCO. My cohort comes in and says; "Mike, I need you for a few minutes." I accompanied him to the area where the IG was and was briefed that I was the "Decontamination NCO" and asked to demonstrate the procedures for decontamination. I sort of stuttered for a few minutes but followed my instincts, the IG was happy. I missed one item.
As training NCO and refueling sergeant I got to do some fun stuff. We had deployed to Ft. Irwin then called the Desert Warfare Center to train .50 caliber door gunners. I tried my damnedest to fire the .50 cal machine gun from the UH-1 or CH-47 but it was no-go. Our training had to be done in the morning because it was too hot to fly in the afternoon as the air was too thin to offer lift for the rotary wing aircraft. On the way to Irwin I rode in a truck convoy where we stayed a night in Bakersfield at a National Guard Armory. It's about 396 miles; however, when you're running convoy speeds of 45 MPH it takes a minute. While we were there the area was heavy with sidewinder rattlesnakes so every morning you could see their unique markings in the sand where they crawled. When the training was over, I was offered a ride in a UH-1. Turns out the officer was going to do NOE (nap of the earth) training so we flew at about 40' off the deck at about 120 MPH, gawd what a RUSH! They wouldn't let me open the side door.. But still what a ride!
Other trips included a night training exercise, I had to refuel the aircraft when it returned so the pilot let me ride along. The pilots needed so many night flying hours so the officers flew to different locations along the California coast, they'd land, have dinner then return.
About six months into my broken leg, I visited Silas B Hayes field hospital at Ft. Ord. The doc said it was time to remove the cast, he looked at my x-rays and had some problems with some build up at the fracture site; however, told me to use my crutches and take it easy. I washed my truck and did some errands, got back to the barracks to be told by the duty NCO the doc called. My leg was still broken and he wanted to see me Monday morning. The doc ended up taking the steel plate out, breaking the leg surgically, taking a bone graph from my right hip and putting me in a cast for another six months.
One day I was walking down to the battalion HQ, I had a walking cast so got along fairly well. The SGM leaned his head out his window and said; "Get in here!" The SGM had been watching me for months hobble around, when I reported to him he demanded; "What the hell is wrong with your foot?!" I lifted my pants leg and showed him my cast; "My leg is broken SGM." He smiled and said something to the effect of; "Carry on, I thought you had a blister or some bullshit." The cavalry doesn't take well to malingering. I got the impression he was impressed with my "Can Do" attitude when he figured out my leg was broken. Like many combat units when we saluted officers it was "Can Do Air Cav."
When the cast finally came off after a year in a cast I received zero physical therapy; however, was expected to be ready to pass a physical fitness test (PT) in six months or less. I worked the leg daily and in October 1981 attended the NCO Academy at Ft. Ord Class 82-01. I managed to pass the NCO Academy and shortly thereafter appeared before the E-6 board. I had some reservations about my ability to stay on active duty so told my re-enlistment NCO I wanted any advanced individual training (AIT) six months long or more. POL and combat arms was fun; however, as a career on the outside options were limited. My re-enlistment NCO found me an electronics school at Ft. Bliss, TX for the Nike-Hercules missile system. I departed Ft. Ord about May 1982 for Ft. Bliss, when I arrived at Ft. Bliss I was advised I couldn't take the AIT. What had happened was my picket fence for PULEES (I forget the acronym but it has to do with pulmonary, upper body, lower body, eyes, and ears) went from 11111 to 11311. I had a permanent limitation of no more than two miles in combat boots due to boot line fractures lining up with my fracture site.
Ft. Bliss, TX:
Because I had re-enlisted for the Nike-Hercules school the Army was bound by contract to find me a suitable replacement. As an E-5 sergeant with four years time-in-grade I had grown accustomed to RHIP (rank has its privileges) so the temporary duty at the transit barracks. We did the crappy jobs no one else wanted, i.e. sweeping streets, raking leaves, etc. About three weeks had passed, I checked in with the base's career counselor on his progress to find me a new school, he mentioned a school about three months out. I asked and in the mean time what would I do? He mentioned the transit barracks. Um no, please look again. I waited a day or two and went back again, still nothing, I had tired of the daily BS tasks and transit barracks, I advised the career NCO that I'd like a discharge based on breach of contract. The career NCO said he understood and would process the paperwork. Later that day on a Friday the career NCO summoned me, he found a six-month electronics school at Ft. Gordon, GA that started the following Monday... So away I went to Ft. Gordon, GA to Digital Subscriber Terminal Equipment Repairman ((DSTE)not politically correct) school.
Ft. Gordon:
On the way to Gordon I stopped in New Orleans a few days after Madi Gras had ended, I toured Bourbon Street and made the mistake of drinking a Hurricane mixed drink. The trip from Bliss to Gordon is 1,554 miles requiring about 21 hours of drive time, considering I departed Bliss late Friday and was due at Gordon Monday there wasn't much time for dilly-dallying around.
Ft. Gordon is outside of Augusta, GA, it's the Army's signal corps school. The DSTE was built in 1959 by General Dynamics as a fixed station and mobile communications mainframe. In 1982 I had a tad over five years in the Army and had spent those years in combat arms units so my philosophy was play hard/work hard. I wasn't a very good student, the eight-hour days discussing transistor-to-transistor logic (TTL) and tracing the IBYWIFCOR signal that was the DSTE's power on-reset signal was monotonous. I didn't test well and BOLOed one test on the card punch that I had to make up. I spent many nights out until at least closing time at the bars in Augusta drinking and playing pool. Sometimes I'd cross the border into South Carolina where there was a bar that closed at 5:00 AM. We had PT three times a week at 6:00 AM. After PT we went to breakfast and marched to class across a football field. One morning there was a bad storm lightning, thunder and rain coming down in buckets. I asked where's the cattle trucks? No cattle trucks, we're marching. Are you nuts? We crossed the football field and neared some power lines, a bolt of lightning struck a transformer. End of the march, every man for himself!
I managed to pass the DSTE course and received some negative comments from the instructors about sleeping in class.. Gee ya thunk so?
Just before I left Gordon the cutoff points for E-6 staff sergeant 76W were low enough I was eligible for E-6. I excitedly went to S-1 to inquire about when I'd get the promotion. The S-1 clerk said he didn't have time to process the promotion and since I just graduated the 34F school 76W was no longer my primary MOS (military occupational specialty.) Now I suspect a bribe of $20 or so would have gotten me my E-6. My promotion to E-6 wouldn't come until September 1984.
My brother was getting out of a state penitentiary in California so I offered him a Greyhound Bus ticket to Georgia. I asked he bring a sleeping bag and some money to eat on. He showed up broke and lost everything when he stopped in Arizona and hung out with a gal for a day or two.
My next assignment was Germany, I planned to drive to California via Mount Rushmore and Yellowstone. I had to cut the trip short because I bought my brother a sleeping bag, clothes and had to feed him.
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Munich Germany:
I got to Munich just in time for Octoberfest 1982. Some of the communications guys that handled crypto and modems convinced me to tag along. First time I was on the train to the Octoberfest grounds. Germans drink beer in liter mugs the beer is strong. After maybe three beers I'm toast so leave the guys and head back towards our barracks. I get on a train and three young ladies push me off the train and towards another train. Turns out I was going the wrong direction. I manage to get off at the right stop; however, the wrong exit. I walked for hours trying to figure out where I was. I finally found a cab and was taken to close to the barracks. At last!
The enlisted barracks in Munich was three-bedroom apartments, we each got a bedroom and shared the common areas, i.e. front-room, bathroom and bathroom.
The DSTE fixed station communication was being replaced by the Standard Remote Terminal (SRT) so my time as a DSTE repairman was to be short lived; however, I had a day to shine. Our high-speed printer was printing garbled text. I created a deck of punched cards with one letter in each column to figure out what was happening. The high-speed printer has packs of hammers, each pack controlled eight columns. Every time the first hammer of a pack fired the last hammer fired. Three of us spent hours trying to identify why. I suggested we swap the high-speed printer from a nearby DSTE center already closed where the high-speed printer wasn't being used and being prepared for salvage. The powers that be were reluctant until an "Expert" evaluated the situation. The expert was a civilian contractor several hours away. In the meantime Carlos and me were driving to and from Bad Tolz to shuttle communication traffic out-routed due to the down printer. The expert finally showed up, I demonstrated my one character per card per column to demonstrate the problem. We explained everything we'd done thus far. The expert was clueless, but concurred we should bring the printer in and swap it. HQ wanted a written report to justify the "expert's" time. Carlos the senior tech refused as the expert didn't contribute, he just showed up. I ended up doing a fluff report to keep everyone happy.
Not long afterward the DSTE in Munich was deactivated and the SRT took over communication duties. The SRT was maintained by civilian contractors so I was out of a J.O.B. I spent the next couple of months being the NBC NCO.
One day a message came down from HQ, they needed someone to go to Milwaukee, WI for a SRT class as the Army was putting the SRT in mobile vans and needed green suit techs. The new system was called T-SRT or AN/TSC-109. There were two other senior 34F DSTE techs at the company; however, both were married and not interested in leaving Germany. I had to sign a waiver as I didn't have enough time in country to count for a full tour. The SRT school was nine weeks or 360 hours long. I was allowed to draw 90% of the per diem as there were no bases in Milwaukee to issue travel pay. I think the Army gave me about $4,000 to cover hotels and food.
Milwaukee:
We got to Milwaukee just before the Jazz Fest, hotels were full. There were five single Army 34F DSTE techs and five married Air Force DSTE techs. The Air Force guys were geographical bachelors so were whoo-hoo from day one. Four of us Army guys were imported from Germany so had some jet lag. When we arrived the Army guys chose the Holiday Inn in Downtown Milwaukee. I asked the clerk if he could handle the five of us for nine weeks. He said no, the hotel was overbooked for Jazz Fest. I asked if there was a manager on-duty he said no, but there will be one in tomorrow. We said goodnight and called it a day. The next day I found the manager told him the situation and he said if we didn't mind moving rooms a little he could accommodate us. We worked out a deal I think for $30 a night as that allowed us max per-diem.
I used $1,000 and purchased a CB-750 Honda, I had the carbs tuned and a four in to one exhaust. Bought some travel gear and rode the bike most days to class. The class retouched on TTL and the SRT system developed in 1973 by Astronautics Corp of America that was decades ahead of the DSTE. The SRT used magnetic tape drives, a storage module disc drive and optical scan unit that could read typed documents that used 12 pitch OCR-A font. The printer was a dot matrix instead of drum.
We met some interesting people hung out downtown Milwaukee and hit the discos now and then.
Once we completed the class two of us were assigned to Ft,. Huachuca, AZ and the rest to other bases. I rode the Honda to Sacramento, CA to see family then Ft. Huachuca. I made the mistake of stopping in Las Vegas, NV and losing too much money. One night crossing the desert on my motorcycle on the way to Vegas I could see something in the road ahead of me. I slowed down as all I could see was some shadows in the road. Turns out there was a bus broke down and a lady was in the middle of the road. She was hysterical and wanted me to call her mom when I got to Vegas. Something about being late and not wanting her mom to worry. I made the call when I got into Vegas.
Ft. Huachuca, AZ a.k.a Ft. Wegotya:
Ft. Huachuca sits about 80 miles southeast of Tucson, AZ, it's known as the home of the Buffalo soldiers from the 1880s or so. It sits on a mountain about 5,380' you're given one month to get acclimated to the climate and able to pass a PT test. It's home to the military intelligence school and the 11th Signal Brigade.
The T-SRTs were built at Sacramento Army Depot, one of the first systems was deployed to Operation Brim Frost in Alaska, two of the more senior techs deployed with the system. I was told about sitting on the tarmac in Alaska for four hours to allow the temp inside the plane to transition slowly to avoid condensation and a shock to the T-SRT. We were in communication with the team, they were playing hell as the system worked in a loop; however, wouldn't communicate with the distant end. Turned out Sacramento Army Depot mixed up the transmit and receive lines. Once they switched the incoming and outgoing lines on the T-SRT things improved.
In November 1982 we were deployed to Comayagua Honduras to support Colonel Ollie North's Iran/Contra Affair. Colin and I were deployed after the lead team. I struggled with the mindset of communication officers/NCOs, without techs to fix what's broken there are no communications. The problem with the T-SRT was it was a fixed station communication system put into transportable vans. Pick it up and move it 20' and nothing worked. Colin and I started doing 12-hour shifts but that didn't work as I was exhausted from trying to sleep days in 100-degree heat in the Honduran jungle in a GP medium tent. We decided to split the tasks, Colin took the narrative van and I took the data van. We soon had things up and running.
I was sent back to Huachuca to get my affairs in order as I was scheduled for a six-month deployment. By January 1984 I was back in country. I established a network from Honduras to Panama to Texas to Arizona to return "TMDE" (test measurement diagnostic equipment) to Huachuca for calibration. Identified all TMDE and labeled them for dates to be returned for calibration. I was eventually placed in charge of the techs that took care of environmental conditioning equipment, diesel generators, teletype and crypto plus my own system. Because of my electronics training I was tasked to assist the National Security Administration (NSA) they had a radio of some sort, I went inside their skiff and checked the AC wiring to make sure they had power, checked the fuse, checked a few switches and the power button. I asked if they had schematics? Yes they had them, no I couldn't see them as they were classified. I helped the Quartermaster Corp with their data van that must have been as old as the DSTE. I got their machines back up. Over the duration of my tour I was often called out to repair the Air Forces weather circuit, that was mostly walking the three miles of WD-1 and repairing the wire where cows had chewed the wire in half. It was scary at times because it was often after dark, I was alone and in elephant grass up to my waist I'm not a fan of spiders or snakes and there were plenty of them in Honduras. The Marines had a UGC-74 I was called in to fix it one day. The Marines were on Tiger Island near the Nicaraguan border. I heard rumors they would take fast attack boats near the border to entice the enemy then ambush the enemy when they crossed the border into Honduras.
One day after I arrived for my second tour there was a UH-60 Blackhawk sitting on the landing pad. Having worked aviation for six years I approached the crew chief and asked him where they were headed. He said they had to fly a sortie to Tiger Island but should be back to Palmerola Air Base (where I worked) in about three hours. I asked if I could hitch a ride? The crew chief asked for case of soda, so I ran to the PX found SSG. Lapsley and asked for permission as all my equipment was up. SSG Lapsley said sure, so Specialist Carter ask if he could go to? Lapsley said sure. So we jump on board the UH-60 for a tour of Honduras. I took some photos; however, they've been lost over the years. When we arrived at Tiger Island a major jumped onboard from our unit. "You boys out for a ride?" YES SIR! The major didn't say nothing; however, when we got back to Palmerola I was summoned by my commander. "You will never leave this compound without my permission." I tried to explain that SSG Lapsley had said okay.. But that was a moot point.
The 11th Signal Brigade Forward had arrived in Honduras in November 1983, about April 1984 the 82nd Airborne a.k.a. the Puking Dragon showed up to be the force Dejour and provide security for the CIA, DEA, the Air Force, 11th Signal Brigade and LTC (lieutenant colonel) Fluke was the Joint Task Force commander. We had already spent about five months in country and transitioned from tents to sea huts. We had some old wire frame beds with cotton mattresses but used mosquito netting and out sleeping bags for bedding. Some of the wiseasses with the 82nd complained, my philosophy was KMA. We built the sea huts and earned the beds with five months in country. LTC Fluke didn't like the less than disciplined rag tag communications guys that had signs pointing to the various locations like in M.A.S.H. and the un-uniform uniform. So he gave us 30 days to get either boonie hats the standard ball cap. If we didn't have a hat in 30 days? We had to wear steel pots. LTC Fluke also thought that if you drank more than a six pack of beer a week you had a drinking problem so he limited beer purchases at the PX. About 10 of us started a beer pool, if you were a member beer was .25 cents, non-member .50 cents. At the end of my tour I left with more than my buy in.
One day a teletype van went down, we couldn't communicate with the distant end. I had some crypto techs look at the problem, the van used the KW-7 encryption device that required a wiring diagram to set the encryption key. The operator had shredded the encryption key before verifying he had wired it right. The distant end refused to go to an alternate ray-day so the van would be down until the next morning when the encryption key was changed. Lt. Ryan asked me to put a maintenance guy in the van to watch it just in case.... Oh no sir, your operators have eight-hour shifts, my maintenance guys are on call 24/7 so the operators can watch the van until tomorrow. If not? You're free to lock it up and secure it; however, no sir I won't put a maintenance guy to watch the van. The LT got huffy and ordered me to comply, I said let's go talk to the commander. The LT was getting hot and said he'd ship me back to the US, by this time I had about 4.5 months in country so I asked? "Do I have time to pack?" The LT was getting loud and tapped his finger on my chest to emphasize his point.. I said; "Oh no sir, we don't want to go there." I could call the taps an assault and strike the officer. So the LT stormed off and his operators watched the van until the next day.
I was glad when I was relieved in June 1984 to return to Huachuca. I was asked to put myself in for a medal, I wrote myself up for a Joint Services Award which was one step over or under the Meritorious Service Medal that many got when they retired after 20 years. I was Fluked.. LTC Fluke downgraded it to an Army Achievement Medal.
Being in garrison is tedious, we had three formations a day for accountability, the daily grind got old. The T-SRT was scheduled for a dog & pony show at the University of Arizona in Phoenix. I pleaded with the communications NCO who was in-charge of operators to let me tag along, I didn't want to stay just make sure the system worked then ride back with the tow-truck. My request was denied. Wallace Ricks, PMP told me the lead operator called him and asked for help as they knew I would be pissed to learn the system wouldn't even power up. Wallace Ricks, PMP advised them to unplug and plug in all the circuit boards on the CPU. The CPU had about 12 circuit boards that were about 12" X 12". The CPU was the size of desk with a CRT monitor, keyboard and workspace. The fix worked so the crew was able to show the system.
Someone was impressed with my typing skills so I was nominated to be part of the Joint Chief's of Staff Communications Team. What they didn't know was as long as I was looking at the keyboard I was a wizz typist; however, transcribing data was an entirely different story. I was sent to class to learn to repair the UGC-74 a suitcase sized teletype with EMI (electro-magnetic interference) enclosure and the KG-84 encryption device about the size of a bread box. Richard Simmons and I were sent to Ft. Detrick, MD to support an exercise where we fired missiles from a base in California at Kwajalein Island a giant bullseye in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. With the UGC-74, KG-84 and phone coupler modem we established communications. The idea was to capture signals from Russian trawlers near the island to see what data was being sent and the type of equipment used. As mentioned my transcribing abilities are limited. So there were some tense moments when I was tasked to transcribe and retransmit using the UGC-74. But I did receive a letter of commendation, so all was good.
I heard rumors that Colin (my senior a Specialist Six) was working on having my sergeant stripes switched to specialist five. I would have struggled with that as basically it is a demotion. I was a sergeant E-5 with four or so years time-in-grade and had attended the NCO academy so I wasn't your typical specialist five. In September 1984 the Army dropped the cut off score for 34F from 999 to 926, there were two of us promoted to specialist six. The next month the cutoff points for 34F was dropped to 555. I suspect the first drop was a moment of recognition for two 34F to give them a month time-in-grade seniority. About the time I was promoted the 521st Signal Company was looking for a load planner to load Air Force cargo planes hauling our equipment to and from Honduras and other locations. There was a toss-up between Wallace Ricks, PMP and myself. Since I had a month time-in-grade on Wallace Ricks, PMP I was given the choice. I chose to stay with DS (direct support) maintenance and let Wallace Ricks, PMP do the load planning. I was more or less the platoon sergeant for DS Maintenance, I made sure the hangar queens used for spare parts were not totally stripped and repaired in a timely manner. The Army was working on a time management project so on a daily basis I had to fill out forms using a pencil and the electronic blocks that accounted for each member of DS Maintenance's time, i.e. formation, commute, repair, paperwork, meetings, PT, etc. At the end of the day by 18:00 I had to deliver the reports to the designated collection point.
In early 1985 I was deployed to Ft. Bliss, TX for Border Star '85. We were supporting the DEA in its raids across the Mexican border dealing with cartels. It was called a training exercise. We were living in tents and dealing with the dirt and sand. One day we were sitting around the NCO tent talking trash about deployments. I had already spent seven months in Honduras more than any other 34F. I was having a beer and talking smack.. "I have more time in country than any other tech, every swinging Richard (I didn't use Richard) will go before I go back" I had no more finished my sentence than the charge of quarters messenger stuck his head in the tent and said; "Specialist Millard the 1st sergeant wants you to call." I found a landline and called top.. "Millard we have a problem." He went on to explain that Winters just came back from an unaccompanied tour in Korea where he was separated from his wife and daughter. I asked about the E-7 now the platoon sergeant (remember RHIP?) Top said no, he can't go, he's the platoon sergeant. I pointed out to Top I went to Border Star as platoon sergeant the new E-7 was just assigned. Top wasn't having it. I asked about Colin, Top said he just got back.. I said from Sacramento Army Depot where his parents lived. Colin and I were originally from Sacramento. So after about 15 minutes I get the hint Top wanted me to volunteer.. So when I said; "Fine, I'll go." Top yells at me and said' "Don't be a martyr Millard!" I hung up didn't bother to ask why is an E-8 calling an E-6 with a problem that required a command decision.. I grabbed my gear and found a CUCV (3/4 ton Chevy pickup), stopped by the base laundry that was closed to get my uniforms (no-go), they wouldn't let me drive the 317 miles back to Huachuca alone so Peck rode with me. Peck was a burr under my saddle so it was adding insult to injury.
When I got back to Huachuca I called the Bliss base laundry and they were nice enough to mail my uniforms. Top was in a hurry for me to relieve the E-6 in Honduras, I had to buck the chain of command and talk to the brigade commander to request two additional days as I lived off-base and had to put stuff in storage as well as move out. The brigade commander fulfilled my request. I flew out of Phoenix via Texas to Tegucigalpa Honduras. It was funny seeing my helmet in the airport x-ray machine in my carry on. When I got to Tegucigalpa I was met by a specialist four in a MUTT open top jeep type conveyance. He had a boom box in the back seat we rode the 55 or so miles from Tegucigalpa to Comayagua listening cassettes with Abba, the Doors and a host of other tunes as we followed the two-lane road through the jungle in Honduras..
As an E-6 with about nine years of service my RHIP (rank has its privileges) was in overdrive. I advised the chain-of-command I was the T-SRT tech and here under protest as an E-6 don't ask me for squat. As an E-6 with about nine years of service my RHIP (rank has its privileges) was in overdrive. I advised the chain-of-command I was the T-SRT tech and here under protest as an E-6 don't ask me for squat.
One day they had a detail to rebuild our bomb shelter, all the senior NCOs disappeared and I was the senior NCO. We ran out of bags, I sent a runner to find the supply or 1st sergeant. They were nowhere to be found so I made the command decision to release the detail. No sense in 10 people hanging out doing nothing because there were no supplies. The senior NCO tried to chew my butt later.. But I wasn't having it. One morning I was woke up by a dog howling in pain, a young lady came to my sea-hut and demanded I help the dog. I put on my pants and boots, I found a dog in a puddle of water next to an electrical pole.. His legs stiff from electrocution. I'm not going in there. Someone get a rope and wooden pole. The dog was D.E.A.D. We found out that a perimeter light had shorted against a guide wire, the dog probably saved someone's life. I suspect the dog was standing in the puddle of water and hiked his leg, if you've ever peed on a 12 VDC electric fence multiply that by 18 as the guide wire had 220 VAC.
One day they had a detail to rebuild our bomb shelter, all the senior NCOs disappeared and I was the senior NCO. We ran out of bags, I sent a runner to find the supply or 1st sergeant. They were nowhere to be found so I made the command decision to release the detail. No sense in 10 people hanging out doing nothing because there were no supplies. The senior NCO tried to chew my butt later.. But I wasn't having it.
I was sent back to Huachuca with about 60 days before my discharge. I was tossing coins like no tomorrow trying to decide whether or not to stay or go. I applied with the CIA and they flew me out to Langley, VA to take some test. I had applied for telecommunications tech. But the CIA's definition of telecommunications was different from the Army. The CIA was looking for radio operators familiar with antenna set up. I had worked with satellite dishes and some light radio stuff, but not at the level they were looking for. I called 34F branch and asked how we were on E-7s? We were 125% overstrength on 34F E-7s. The Army is an up or out organization. I went to 34F AIT in 1982 so had about three years of experience, to go to electronics warrant school I think you needed five years of electronics so I was at least two years out to apply. With my P3 lower extremities I was concerned I'd be passed over for E-7 if the opportunity ever arose. Wallace Ricks, PMP knew I had applied to flight warrant; however, I needed a waiver as I wore glasses so didn't have 20/20 vision. Wallace Ricks, PMP also pointed out I could request an extension to stay at Ft. Huachuca as for the two years I was stationed there, I was only at Huachuca for 11 months.
I wasn't aware of the Army's plans to laterally promote all specialist fives/sixes to sergeant/staff sergeant. I consider myself the last specialist six to be discharged from the Army on 9/25/1985 as on 10/01/1985 the promotion was performed. The Army also rolled a bunch of communication tech MOSes into one, i.e. DSTE, teletype, crypto, satellite, etc.
I have to be honest, when people now say; "Thank you for your service." I'm at a loss for words. I consider my time on active duty an adventure that few will ever experience. The mentality is much different than the mindset of Americans in the 1970s and 1980s. The military wasn't very popular.
I took as job with Astronautics Corp of America to work on fixed station SRTs I was an expatriate 1985-1991. My first assignment was South Korea, I met up with Wallace Ricks, PMP again when he was stationed in Waegon.. But that's another story..
Well, hope ya all enjoyed the short story. Hopefully LinkedIn lets it post.
TGIF! Be safe..