Military Man

Some years ago I was playing pool with a friend at The American Legion. He asked, "Were you ever in the military?" Then not long after I got some promotional literature from the same organization asking me to join if I could verify that I'd been in the military for only one day!

I was in the army for one day, one day only, and that was ENOUGH!

Actually my military career began in college, at Tennessee Polytechnic Institute – later renamed TN Tech University. In 1958 every freshman and sophomore was required to take ROTC, (pronounced "rot'c" which stood for Reserve Officer's Training Corps.) or, he took physical education. The T.P.I. "Corps of Cadets" was a Signal Corps Regiment, Battalion or Group or something: I never learned just which exactly!

Being legally blind in one eye I suspected that I would never be accepted in the military. And none of the guys I knew were in physical education, so we all took ROTC whether we were serious about killing people or not. I haven't had to kill anyone yet, but if I ever do I know the ROTC training I had will serve me well.

Every music major was automatically placed in the ROTC Band. The commander was in cahoots with the band director, and most of us would rather have been in the band than being screamed at by company commanders and platoon leaders: seniors and juniors who were inordinately intent about being in step and "dressing up that line." We band guys knew how to march and stay in line.

The Freshman year was OK: We learned small weapons' maintenance, positioning of a mortar and sighting in the target, but most of all we learned posturing! It was 1958, and there were many upperclassmen who took their R.O.T.C. "Rank" seriously. They had also seen every movie ever produced which showed just how rough it was getting through the military training program. Therefore they tried to emulate the toughest of the Drill Instructors that Hollywood had conjured up. The worst of the lot were the officers in the Pershing Rifles, TPI's award winning drill team.

So on Thursdays, “Drill Day,” between 3:00PM and 5:00PM the "Officers" would attempt to make life a living hell for the underclassmen! During our Sophomore year the R.O.T.C. Band had decided as a group not to attend the Military Ball. To the officers of the Pershing Rifles, this was an unbelievable affront! After all, the proceeds from the Military Ball went directly to the Pershing Rifles! How could we sniveling, trouble makers dare challenge the omnipotent Pershing Rifles?

An inspection of the ROTC Band was demanded and granted by the military faculty. We had been promised that the inspection would be particularly rigorous. The Officers were solemn and strict and dispensed demerits to all concerned. Demerits had to be "worked off" prior to next Thursdays drill: One demerit meant one hour cleaning rifles, sweeping or some other onerous task.

We in the R.O.T.C. Band knew that if you went to the armory to work off a demerit on Friday or Monday or Tuesday the Sergeant Major in charge would make you clean some M1 Rifles, etc. But if you went in a group on Wednesday afternoon about 3:00 there was nothing to do.

So we worked off our demerits late on Wednesday afternoon by one guy pulling down the window shades and the next guy raising the window shades. It took about ten minutes. The Sergeant Major knew all of us and got a great laugh out of our demerit problem.
****************************************************************
Moving ahead four years:
The USA was fervently providing "assistance" to the Republic of Vietnam in 1963. We had had advisers there since the late fifties, but by 1963 we were getting our guys killed! I received my notice to report for my physical exam in the spring of 1963.

Stripped to our underwear with our valuables in a drawstring bag we sat or stood in line to pee in a bottle, and have our hearing, vision and reflexes tested. Being legally blind in one eye, I knew that I was not a candidate for induction. However the "shave-tail" doctors who were administering the tests wouldn't listen and couldn't verify my damaged cornea and optic nerve. Then to top it all off they stamped my papers "Inductee" instead of "Pre-inductee" as they should have been stamped: I was on my way to Fort Polk Louisiana the very next day!

I finally got some older doctor to listen to me and he signed me in for the night to be examined by a "Downtown Doctor" the following day. That evening I and the real inductees were in the United States Army! The evening meal was beans and potatoes: two kinds of beans and two kinds of potatoes. An army travels on its stomach, you know. After supper we were required to police the area. That's Army Talk for pick up trash which in this case was cigarette butts. There didn't seem to be anything to gain from fighting the order, so we went about policing the area.

We were encouraged to hit the sack early. It seemed appropriate since there was absolutely nothing else to do. I was aroused in the middle of the night by someone rummaging through my locker. When I sat up in bed the perpetrator vanished and the bunk of black boy two bunks over was bouncing. I arose and found that my single dollar was still in my wallet. I then spoke a vow to whoever was interested about all manners of physical consequences that would befall anyone who attempted to repeat the deed.

The next morning I was examined by a "real doctor" who spotted the malady. As it turned out he had trained the eye, ear, nose and throat specialist who had played a big part in my personal miracle of not losing my right eye! I returned to Macon County and to band directing without being required to serve another day.