Fort Polk..........44 years ago.

The US Army recruiting office in Shreveport, only 122 miles from Leesville and Ft Polk, was a huge facility. Early on the morning of May 2, 1969, I found myself in a large room full of the latest class of draftees. I was surprised that so many of them were hung over because, as a function of having Big Brother's stories of boot camp, I knew exactly what was coming.

I was already into my fifth month of healing from the broken nose episode learned in the bar room brawl and had been training for my departure. As a former track athlete at Byrd High School, I was accustomed to training and I had been running for distance to get my endurance back to where it was in 1967.

I ran into Harvey Maybry, a Byrd graduate, and both of us "buddied up". Harvey was a rock solid kinda kid with good character, physically fit and stronger than his size would lead one to believe. After the brief swearing in ceremony, one where we swore to defind the Constitution, we were officially in the Army and referred to as "recruits". Almost immediately after that, guys said goodbye to their families and we were boarding a Continental Trailways bus to Leesville which was only a 2 hour ride south of Shreveport.

Both Harvey and I knew what was coming and I remember laughing a little about the idiots that showed up hung over. When we were pulling into the bus station in Leesville I noticed an Army Drill Sgt waiting close to the bus parking lanes. As soon as we were stopped and the door opened, he approached the bus and told us to get our bags and board the bus that would take us to the Fort.

I don't recall any yelling and screaming like we saw in the various movies depicting that same kind of situation. It wasn't anything like Full Metal Jacket or Forrest Gump. We were taken to the "Reception Station" and told to get into formation. Some of the kids didn't have a clue what "formation" meant but Harvey and I did and we were the first two that made a line and stood at attention.

First stop was hair cuts. Then, we went through the issuance of uniforms, boots, hat, barracks assignment and then, KP or "Kitchen Patrol". I will never forget reporting to the mess hall and being directed toward a huge pot of SOS. That was a common term in the Army that referred to a gravy and meat combination that was to be used to cover toast and offered as a meal. We called it SOS because we weren't allowed to say Shit on a Shingle.

The NCOIC in the kitchen or Non Commissioned Officer in Charge, had me take the pot of SOS to a large cauldron that had holes in the bottom of it. It was exactly like the strainers that you would use to drain the water out of spagetti as soon as it came out of the pot.

I was directed to pour the SOS in the stainer and then, using a common garden hose, not the USDA approved hoses that the Colossus Midland sold to poultry plants, and then rinse the sauce out of the meat. When I asked why I was doing that, they told me that the meat would be used as spagetti sauce for the evening meal. I remember thinking, after all the time that Cousin Greg and I had spent working in the kitchen at Morris School for Boys, that Brother Leo would have all their asses on some kind of punishment tour. I said nothing.

Later that evening, we were sent to the barracks that were full of bunk beds just like the ones we had at St. Gregorys. Almost immediately, the Sgt in charge told us that lights would be out very soon and we had better "Get your shit squared away".

Maybry and I did exactly that and were in bed, ready to call it a night, as both of us had just experienced a very long day. When the lights went out, we heard a guy crying. I remember looking up at Harvey and saying: "This is gonna be duck soup". I knew that the Drill Instructors would be all over the weaker ones and that everybody who wasn't cratering would slide by during those moments where all the attention was being paid to the ones falling behind.

Bright and early the next moring we were yelled at and rushed through breakfast. We gathered our Tote Bags full of extra uniforms etc, and were taken to Bull Dog Hall, the main classroom for Echo 3-1 which was my basic training unit.

On the way, I heard my name called out: "Hey, Tim". It was Tom Mazur, the older brother of my best friend in grade school at St. Joseph's School. We exchanged greetings and he told me not to worry about Basic Training as he had just graduated and was leaving that moment. We didn't have the opportunity to discuss any details but he again said: "Don't worry, you guys will be at the top of the class". I've never forgotten that. Almost immediately after that, the screaming began.

We were escourted to Bull Dog Hall to begin our "in processing" for training. It included a lot of yelling, one huge apptitude test and some new cuss phrases that I had never heard. While getting the 120 man company orgainized and seated in the auditorium, a few fat guys weren't moving fast enough to suit the Drill Instructors. They were quickly assigned punishments in the form of sit ups and push ups. That's when I learned the following phrases:

"You look like a monkey fuckin' a football". That was the phrase the Drill Instructors gave for guys that couldn't stand up to the push up part of the punishment and was my favorite but "You look like a fuckin' dyin' cockroach" was also commonly used..  That one came when the fat guys couldn't do the sit ups.

Shortly after that, they handed out the apptitude test which was a monster test that was many, many pages long and took quite alot of time to complete. Once it was finished, training really began.

We went outside, were put in "formation" and given instructions on "right face, left face, attention, stand at ease" and a zillion other commands that they expected you to know immediately. A company roster had been printed and they began a role call that seemed to be a ritual that would be repeated a million times.

By the time all that was completed, we began another test but this one was a physical test and had nothing at all within it that required a pencil.

We were given a number that we had to affix to our chests with a string. We were lined up and told that there would be a "run for time". I was glad to see this coming because I had been training for this in anticipation of the many long "double time" runs we were surely going to be asked to do.

As good fortune would have it, I finished at the top of the list. As we crossed the finish line, one of the cadre that was standing next to the Drill Instructor, would write down the numbers as the DI would report. 42, 17, 4, 83................and on an on it went.

I found out quite soon that my finishing postion would place me as the "Company's Guide On Carrier". I didn't even know what a Guide On was. As it turned out, whenever we marched anywhere, the first guy at the head of the company would carry the Company Colors which was a pennant that was attached to a long pole that allowed the flag or pennant to be seen above all else. I thought it was like an award or a trophy of some kind but in fact, it became an extra duty that had me carry just a bit more weight on long runs that already had me loaded down with and M 14 rifle and what seemed like a ton of other stuff.

To make a long story short, my training was probably something that would be exactly like the training anybody could report about. Nothing spectacular happened until I reached the sixth week of an eight week course. I had qualified expert with the M 14 rifle and maintained a zero demerit grade in the barracks and in conduct. With all that behind me and graduation only 14 days away, I was ordered to report to the commanding officer who was a Captain.

He was very nice and professional but I'd never had a one on one conversation with him at that point. As I stood at attention in front of his desk, he put me at ease and began to speak. In short, he gave me my test results, described them as "most excellent" and proceeded to give me my options.

I was quite surprised to hear an option to attend West Point, the real West Point and the Academy from which many of my heroes graduated. Second to that was a qualification to attend flight school. I don't remember the 3rd choice but I told him that I would prefer flight school as I had already been in college and wanted to move into a different environment than the one I'd found at Northwestern.

He made a mark on his note pad and dismissed me from the conversation. I didn't have a very good feeling about the interview but was beside myself to know that I had options. Almost immediately, one of the Drill Instructors came up to me and started chewing my ass out as if I had committed some horrible crime.

"You too good for the Academy, boy. You wanna be some fat cat pilot with your wings all polished so you can get the women? Well, I got news for yo ass, boy. You goin to AIT (Advanced Infantry Training) on North Fort and you gonna hump the bush in Nam".

That came from Drill Seargent Ratford who wasn't even my drill instructor. Mine was Sgt Lopes and I guess he was either busy doing something else and Ratford had been given the news by the Captain and told to pressure me to take the West Point appointment. In any event, Ratford immediately put me on KP and that ended the conversation.

Somehow or another, one week before graduation, I was given a week end leave to Shreveport. I was surprised at this because I'd caught so much hell from "The Rat" and this was the last week end before graduation.

When I made it to Shreveport that Saturday morning, I called my Uncle Woodrow to pay him a visit. I went to his house and after hugging and kissing Aunt Nell, my Daddy's sister, Uncle Woodrow asked me how I liked the Army. I told him that I hadn't been there long enough to form an opinion but I told him that I had qualified to go to West Point or Flight School.

He smiled and asked me about that. I told him the story about the "Rat" and finished with all that by saying that they would force me to go to A.I. T and then to Vietnam as an infantryman. Uncle Woodrow said" Hold that thought".

He grabbed the telephone and dialed a number. I had no clue what he was up to until I heard him say: "Hello Jewel, this is Woodrow, is the General in"? , After a brief moment, he asked her to have the General give him a call and he hung up.

I was somewhat astounded that he knew some General's phone number by heart and that he even knew the General's wife's name. When I asked what was going on, he told me not to worry and to go enjoy myself and come back when graduation ceremonies were complete.

I returned to E 3 1, and readied myself for the ususal bump and grind of training. Early the next morning I was told to immediately report to the CO's office. This had only happened once before and I really didn't have a clue what was going on. As I entered his office and barked the ususal: "Private Butler reporting as ordered, SIR", I was asked "Why in the HELL didn't you tell us you were related to a General?".

I quickly connected the dots and before I knew it Parch jumped and gave me the words to say. "I didn't want any special treatment, SIR". He then told me that I was to report to Headquarters Company which is where the Commanding General was officed. He didn't tell me why and gave no further explanation except to say "DO IT NOW, You are DISMISSED".

I was driven to Head and Head, the term used for headquarters, and told to report to some room number inside the building. I noticed a sign that let me know that the building was also the main office for the Commanding General of Ft. Polk. Still not knowing what was coming down, I remember thinking: "Oh, shit".

Had I known that Brigadier General James J. O'Donnell, the commanding general of the 95Th UA Army Reserve Unit that trained at Ft. Polk during the summers and that he had an office in this same building, I would have been complety comfortable. I didn't know and was nervous as hell as I reported as ordered.

I was quite shocked to find a set of orders with my name on them, and further shocked to see that I was going to flight school immediately. I wasn't even going to attend the graduation ceremony from Basic Training.  Once I returned to the company area I gathered my stuff and was taken to the bus station without so much as a good bye to anyone.

When I got to the bus station I called Momma and asked her to tell Uncle Woodrow and meet me at the bus station in Shreveport. Everybody was there when I arrived and I found out who General O'Donnell was and managed to connect all the dots. My bus didn't leave for a few hours and I managed to get in a great visit with the family before they called my bus and I had to leave.

I didn't know it at the time but the guys that write the orders for soldiers leaving Ft. Polk, were some mighty powerful individuals. I would learn what that meant before my head hit the next pillow. My orders required me to report for duty at Ft. Wolters, Texas before midnight on the same day I left Ft. Polk. As luck would have it, when I arrived at Mineral Wells, Texas and took a cab to Ft. Wolters, I reported in a few minutes past midnight which made me AWOL. Jesus, what a welcoming commitee awaited me, the new student who showed up Absent Without Official Leave.

As I finish this, let me say that it was now a few minutes past midnight and, during the first few moments of July 4th of 1969, it was hot as hell. I was really thirsty and was caught looking at the water cooler. The man in charge was a bear and asked me: "You  eyeballin' that water cooler, Candidate"? You want a drink?" Unfortunately, I answered with: " I would love a drink". He then gave me the first official order I received as a Warrant Officer Candidate.

It seems that my first official order was to make love to the water cooler. I'll have to pass on the details of that and simply say that this concluded the last day of my Basic Training at Fort Polk.

Flight school is next. Stand by.

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