Basic Training, Expert Marksmanship, Indians, West Point or Flight School.

I was in really good shape when I arrived at Ft. Polk in May of 69 but great shape is a relative thing. I could outrun anybody but push ups and sit ups proved to be another thing altogether. It didn't take long for me to get up to speed on those but I was sore the first week or so.

I could make the long, 4 mile long forced marches with a full pack on and wasn't afraid of the order to "double time march" whenever they came. For the most part, I was the head of the class except in a few areas. I was especially good on the rifle range with the M 14 and earned an "expert" badge. My cousin Aubrey Brooks was the top marksman with the Marine Corp and they even named one of their rifle ranges after him. His step father, my Uncle Louis, taught me how to shoot.

One day, while we were on the firing line, an Indian discharged his rifle during a time when no shooting was allowed. The Drill Instructor went nuts, walked over to the trainee and hit him over the head with a big, hand held paddle that was painted red on one side, which meant "no shooting" and white on the other which meant it was okay to shoot. It knocked his helmet off but the Drill Instructor hit him again. He went out like a light. I think his name was something like "Ringing Bell" but I was clear that he was an American Indian and a pretty good guy except he was over weight and had a hard time with the Drill Instructors.

A couple of days later a long, black Cadillac Limo with Oklahoma plates on it, pulled into the Company Area. A very well dressed Indian, wearing a zillion dollar suit, exited the back of the limo and made his way into the Company Area.

Before he even made it to the front door, a couple of trainees carrying Private Bell's personal belongings, made it to the Limo and, with the chauffer, loaded the baggage in the trunk. No words were spoken but Bell waved goodbye to us as he and his father got in the back of the limo and pulled out of the lot. I never saw him again and we were forbidden to discuss it or what had happened. His dad must have been a chief but in any event, he was certainly a man of great wealth.

Not long after that, as we approached graduation, we had discussions about advanced training. Our aptitude scores were reviewed and I was called into the company office to discuss what my next steps would be.

The Captain had me first on the list to talk to. I was a bit concerned about that because I was so accustomed to being "first" on everybody's shit list but being first on his was a bit nerve wracking for me.  Much to my surprise, I discovered that I made the second highest score in our group of over 300 trainees. With that news, he asked me if I would be interested in attending West Point. I told him that I already had a lot of college and I wanted to go to Flight School. That comment was the worst possible answer I could have come up with. A drill instructor came into the room screaming that I would be going to A I T for advanced infantry training and that I would be sent to Vietnam to hump the jungle as a "grunt".  That pretty much took the wind out of my sails and I was dismissed to enjoy a week end pass to Shreveport to think about it.

I left the base the next day and took the 2 hour ride by bus to Shreveport. During that time, my Uncle Woodrow called me and asked if I could come by his house for a quick visit. I agreed and came over Saturday morning. He asked what I thought about the Army and I told him that I was still in basic and hadn't been there long enough to make any decisions BUT I did have some concerns about my grades, the offer to West Point and my refusal with the intent of going to flight school. I gave him the A I T story and when I did, he asked me to hold that thought for a moment.

He picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory. After a moment he said: "Jewel, this is Woodrow, is the General in"? When she told him no, she said: "Would you ask him to give me a call when he arrives?".

That's all the conversation that I heard but when he hung up he told me not to worry about anything and that he wanted me to give him a call later in the week.

When I returned to base, there were orders there for me to report to the commanding officer. When I walked into his office, he stood up and  yelled: "Butler, why in the hell didn't you tell me you were related to a General". Not having a clue what was going on I simply replied with "I didn't want any special treatment, SIR'. Of course, that was a lie and I knew Uncle Woodrow had pulled some mighty powerful strings somewhere.

The next thing I knew, he told me to report to Headquarters the next morning and that I would pick up my orders to report for HELICOPTER flight school. I thought HELICOPTER FLIGHT SCHOOL? ............and wondered what in the hell happened to the fixed wing course.

As it turned out, the Captain was pissed and had my orders set in a way that I would depart one exercise short of the basic training course which was fine with me as it was an overnight field exercise in a tent in the beginning of the month of July, one of the hottest months of the year. It was also 3 days short of graduation.

I wondered how in the hell a guy could graduate from basic without graduating and I figured out that the General was a really fat cat and could make anything happen. As it turned out, they wrote my orders in a way that would insure my arrival time at Ft. Wolters, Texas would be impossible to meet and therefore, I would arrive AWOL or Absent Without Official Leave. Even though I didn't enter the Army until May 8th, I graduated a full week short of the 8 week period and began flight school on July 4, 1969, 4 days ahead of my scheduled graduation date .  

Since the Army had made the travel arrangements, the arrival time was of no concern to me at all. However, when I arrived at Headquarters and reported for duty, it was 5 minutes past midnight and it was hot as hell. When I presented my orders and waited as the NCO in charge read them, I was really thirsty and was looking at the water cooler. All of a sudden this guy was screaming at me about "eyeballing that watercooler". When he asked me if I wanted a drink, I said: "I would love a drink of water". With that, he stood up and said: "OH, you would LOVE some water, well then, you get yourself over there you AWOL piece of crap, and make love to that water cooler."

That's when I discovered that I was a few minutes AWOL and that my first official order at Ft. Wolters was to talk the water cooler into having sex with me. You should have seen it. I did one of my "C'mon, baby, whip me, beat me, make me write hot checks", skits and even the prick that checked me in was laughing. More later as I have to get on with my day. Next story is "Going Up The Hill" or reporting to the 5th WOC, Warrant Officer Training Company.