Welcome to 5th WOC.

It didn't take long for us to grab our gear and "Head Up The Hill". Our every thought had been focused on the exact moment we would be called to start flight training and when the word came, we were outta there in a heart beat.

As the bus passed the PX with the Huey, topped the hill, and headed toward the 5th WOC, we got our first full glance at the Ft. Wolters Main Heliport. It was literally covered with Hiller OH 23D model  helicopters. From the back of the bus there were comments coming left and right and they ranged from "Holy Shit" to "Jeeeeesus Christ, get a load of THAT".

Some of the Hillers were hovering for take off, some actually taking off and heading to the training fields north of the main heliport and others were sitting on the ramp, preparing to hover for departure. It was quite a site and even though I had been to the main heliport that was owned by Petroleum Helicopters in Lafayette, Louisiana, one that was described as the largest fleet of privately owned helicopters in the world, nothing compared to the sight that was in front of us.

While we were still riveted to the sight of so many helicopters maneuvering around the main heliport, we began to pass some of the other Warrant Officer Candidate Company barracks. One of the guys said:"Oh shit, look at that. These barracks are nine days older than dirt. This place has to be as old as Ft Polk".

With that, many of us were eyeballing the older buildings and the troops standing there. We noticed that they weren't wearing standard military uniforms in that their hats were colored, not the usual Army OD Green wear that was standard issue.

A moment after that we came to a more modern building that was painted white and surrounded by an impeccably maintained yard. This was some kind of an auditorium where we would meet several times in the future and it was very nice, not the pre war facility that we were more accustomed to at Ft. Polk. We turned right and almost immediately stopped at the intrance to the parking lot of the 5th WOC where a super senior awaited our arrival.

Oddly enough, there really wasn't the kind of yelling and screaming that we were accustomed to. There was  however, a very firm and loud voice ordering us to get into formation, which we immediately did. Just to the right of our formation that was standing at attention in the parking lot, I noticed a brand new Lincoln that appeared to have just come from the new car show room floor. Next to that there were a couple of officers and one older black Top Sgt, who ran the company.

We went through a role call and were given our barracks assignments. Alphabetically, Butler was one of the first few names called and I discovered I was assigned to Flight Alpha 1. I heard Jimmy Dunnavant's name and was somewhat comfortable with the fact that I would already know somebody in my Flight.

Before we were sent to our new quarters to unload our gear and get settled in, we were instructed on the proper method of talking. That's right, the proper method of talking. Whenever we opened our mouth the first word out HAD to be SIR. When we were finished with the first SIR, we had to identify ourselves and give the reason for opening our mouth and then end that by repeating SIR.

"SIR, CANDIDATE BUTLER, REQUEST PERMISSION TO SPEAK, SIR".

At the end of any and all communciations we would sign off with "SIR". That let everybody know who we were addressing, who we were, what we wanted and then, in the proper manner of an aviator, we would finish by saying "SIR" to let the person to whom we were speaking know that we were finished.

This was the first of a series of analogous speech that would train us to speak properly and maintain a pilot's mind of communications by radio. In a sense, it was analogous to "Long Binh Tower, this is Thunderhorse Triple 3, request permission to land, over".

Now, being fully capable of speech, we were led to our barracks. I was fortunate because Flight A 1 was the closest barracks to the Commanding Officer's Office, the parking lot and the mess hall. I was pleased to find myself on the first floor as I wouldn't be hauling the tote bag or anything else, up and down a stairway.

I entered the door marked A 1 and walked all the way down the aisle until I found the cubical that had a short piece of yellow tape on it and marked "Butler and Morris". I didn't have a clue who Morris was but I was soon to find out that Mike Morris from California was to be my cubical mate and one of the more squared away Candidates in our Flight. He and I became close friends and, as a coincidence, both of us almost lost our lives in Vietnam on the same day in November of 1970.

Soon after that, I met Fred Thompson and James Miles. James was a prior service guy and one who, with all of his experience in the Army, became a mentor to all of us. Once the barracks were full, and as we were putting the final touches on our personal lockers, we heard someone yell out:  "ATTENNN HUT".

That was the moment we met Chief Warrant Officer Machen, our tactical officer, who from then on, was referred to as our "Tac Officer". Being at a rigid position of attention and not daring to "eyeball" anyone, I kept my eyes straight forward and waited while the sound of his footsteps continued to get closer and closer to my cubical.

He was giving his speech as he made his way from one end of the barracks to the other. He told us that the last room on the right was HIS ROOM and under no circumstances was anybody allowed in it.

When he passed us, I noticed that he had several rows of ribbons on his chest, a set of aviator wings and some highly polished shoes. I also noticed that he was somewhat over weight. Most of the pilots I had seen over the past few days I had been on post, were fit as a fiddle and did not appear to be anyone you would want to pick a fight with.

Not long after that first meeting I overheard a conversation he was having with someone where he was discussing the sale of his stock. I also discovered that he was the owner of the brand new Lincoln which was parked next to the CO's office. Further to that, I found out that he was leaving Ft Wolters almost immediately and would either be transferring to another unit or completely leaving the Army. I had a strange sense about that but I couldn't quite put my hand on what was wrong.

In any event, we got squared away and were called to formation and informed that we would march to the mess hall for lunch and we would do it in a sharp, military fashion. I don't remember if Machen called us to formation or not but I do remember that once we were in the mess hall, he was there giving instructions on the proper way to eat a "Square Meal". This did NOT  have anything at all to do with a "Balanced Diet" as a square meal was one where your fork or spoon was only allowed perfectly formed vertical and horizontal movements. I can remember thinking that I would be spilling food all over my uniform and catching hell for that.

Having survived the first half day as a candidate with Flight A1 at the 5th WOC, I wondered what the rest of the day would bring. As I recall, we were taken to a class room near the barracks and loaded down with study materials. I knew that ground school was going to begin immediately and I was thrilled that we were going to take the first step that would take us to the main heliport. I did however, find it a little strange that we hadn't been given our colored hats or any idea of what our schedules were to look like.

Despite that, at the most un-Godly hour of the morning and on my first full day in 5th WOC, we were awakened to the barking of someone yelling: "Off yer ass and on yer feet, outta the rack and into the street", or something close to that. We jumped up, readied ourselves in a heart beat and made formation for role call.

We were given our brown hats and told that this was the first day of the rest of our lives as, after the daily dozen excersizes we were to do every day from that day forward, we would be going to the mess hall for breakfast and then to the first full day of classes. 

We made it to and from the mess hall and, without any inspection at all, were given a little time to have a few things explained to us such as the proper way to lay out our lockers. Machen did that part of it but seemed to be in quite a hurry to get us out the door and off to ground school. It was a wonder because, unbeknown to us, it was the last time we would ever see him or his Lincoln.

At the end of our first partial day of class, we reported back to A1 only to find the older First Seargent waiting for us. He didn't explain anything regarding Machen or what was going on. He told us to get our shit in order and that he would return when we least expected it.

With everything in order, according to us, we laid our fatigue ridden bodies down and attempted to take a nap. As the First Shirt said, he returned when we least expected it. Finding us asleep, he went berserk and began to tell a story of a unit in Korea that was asleep when the North Koreans or Chinese decided to slip into their area and that many men were killed as a result of sleeping on duty.

Since most of the day was already gone, we made it to the mess hall and returned to the barracks to get our stuff squared away. Little did we know what was awaiting us there. It was Machen's replacement.

At this point, I will leave you with that and call it a night as the first day that Machen's replacement showed up, was a day that I remembered for the rest of my life. Stand by, more coming.