Nothing exciting or even very interesting to tell. When someone learns that I was in the service and asks "Did you kill anybody?" I change the subject after saying, "Gee, I hope not!" Then, if pressed, will relate some buddy's or family member's interesting tale. As the old Chinese curse goes, "May you always live in interesting times."
My four years active duty (there's another kind?) let me cross off that little patriotic chore that should be required for full citizenship. Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower had the right idea with universal conscription or volunteer service sometime between the ages of puberty and forty. If the armed services won't fit, then you put in your time where best and most needed...except for basic training; no way to avoid those eight to ten weeks.
Oops! Fell of the soapbox.
Time was 1969. Went straight into the first training class available after I graduated WVU with five years school, four years ROTC, and a commission in the Army and eleven months of marriage. Since my first choice of branch was Armor, I strolled onto a parade ground in AOB (Armor Officer Basic Class #14).
The purpose of that course was to be sure we all had mastered the important stuff to being an officer. That would include when, who and how to salute, where the "O" club was, and a bit about the equipment we would be expected to have mastered. We learned how to do almost everything!
Such as "Gentlemen!" (That's the way we were addressed. I think that was because the act of congress had bestowed upon us a commission also declared we were "gentlemen".) "If you ever have to fire your personal weapon in a combat situation, you probably have screwed up because you are being distracted from your leadership role by the act."
The most valuable insight that I used a great deal in the next four years was to approach a difficult problem that I needed to attend to by prefacing the command I was about to give with, "Now Sergeant (name), we want to (the command)." Then step back and let the men do what ever they were trained to do. Of course I had to check on them from time to time and heap praise where deserved. In the highly unlikely event that things weren't going as planned, I knew that I had assigned the wrong man the wrong task.
The where? Ah, stationed at Ft Knox, KY; Ft Riley, KS; Camp Casey, ROK; Ft Jackson, SC. The last was to "get a company command." A training company, either Basic or Advanced Individual Training (AIT). Really?
Although I had had an interesting and thoroughly enjoyable time, with a fairly rapid advance to captain rank and the pay was adequate (the best that I would have for quite a long time, in fact), I didn't think that I would be suited for a peace-time career in the service. So I bailed.
I've never regretted serving (well, my right arm is still numb from elbow to wrist, but it functions as well as ever). Likewise, I have wondered what course my life might taken had I remained in uniform. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat! I can say that I wouldn't be the same person that I fortunately am today.
And yes, yes, there were TDY assignments, attachments, and duty that required civilian clothes on occasion. I did carry a loaded sidearm...once with the most remote possibility that I might have to use it defensively, should I find myself in an interesting situation.
So I know that I simply was fortunate. Certainly more fortunate than that many of my friends who's names are now carved on a glossy black granite wall, many with marks of great bravery, dedication, and willing sacrifice that follow. None of them got up that morning thinking that it was a good day to die. But they found themselves in situations that demanded their lives. One was a pacifist and conscientious objector. He was awarded the MOH, posthumously.
Many more who served and survived carry grievous scars, often their obvious wounds are easier to heal than those unseen that will never heal.
To me, that's what this is all about.
