So, I lost a little pay, that wasn’t a big consequence. Most things were working in my favor. During in-processing to the battalion, I was lucky enough to encounter a Department of the Army (DA) civilian working the Education Center. He took a lot of time getting to know me and going over my education so far in my short life. Under his counsel, I was soon signed up to take the five College Level Equivalent Program (CLEP) general exams over a two-week period during my lunch. Like most exams I took in the army, I had no preparation for the exams and only had my high school education eight years earlier as my baseline. Somehow, I managed to pass all five exams and I began my journey toward my college education.
While that was a positive note in my adapting to the army, I also managed to trip myself up, literally. I’d mentioned earlier that SFC Wood was a running fanatic and he held true to his word. In just a couple weeks, exposure to his Physical Training regimen had managed to get ole Donald in fairly decent shape. One thing I had noticed was that there were only two people in the unit (SGT Carmichael and SFC Wood) who would call cadence during the runs. I inquired it I could join the ranks of cadence callers and I was eagerly accepted. I joined the rotation calling cadence mostly for my own benefit as if I was calling cadence, I didn’t have to run in the ranks. This went well until roughly weeks later when I managed to step on a ragged pavement edge and severely sprained my left ankle. One moment I’m calling the cadence (One, Two, Three Foouuuurrrrrr as I fell) the next I’m on the ground in agony. I was quickly bundled into a jeep and taken to the dispensary who quickly drove me to the base hospital, for X-Rays and a short leg cast and crutches.
My injury was causing me all kinds of issues. First, I lived on the second floor of the barracks. Up and down stairs on crutches is hard to learn and a good deal of exercise. I was now getting my upper body in shape without even trying. I quickly learned that I could go down stairs in a couple large hops. Going up the stairs, that was still a challenge. My second problem was work. I was assigned to the generator shop in the battalion motor pool and I couldn’t actually work on anything because the toes of my injured left foot were exposed. I spent a couple days in the generator shop office organizing the manuals and inserting pages from change updates in them. But pretty soon, I was just sitting there and SGT Jaramillo (the shop foreman) was looking for something for me to do. Providence was with me as there was a new maintenance management program being tested in the Battalion Motor Office (BMO) run by Sergeant Carmichael. I was asked if I wanted the job (It was June in TX and I was in a Quonset hut without air-conditioning) so of course I said yes to being a temporary clerk in an air-conditioned office.
Other down sides of this injury were weekend meals. During the week, meals were in the Battalion Dining Facility next to the barracks. Every other weekend though it was closed and the nearest dining facility was about a half mile away. I was usually hungry enough that Breakfast and Dinner were worth the effort. Unless I managed a ride (I didn’t have many friends with wheels who didn’t find other places to be a lunch time) I usually skipped lunch on the alternate weekends. After two weeks, the swelling had subsided enough that the cast had to be replaced which was a relief. The new cast was much more comfortable and that made life better in general. This was also good because I had inherited other problems.
When I first moved into the barracks, I was in a room at the end of the building and I had a pair of decent roommates. We pretty much left each other alone as they were Morse code intercept guys and I was a mechanic and we had little in common. Just before my injury, the 1st Sergeant decided that he wanted to move me to another room because he had some unsavory types and a new member of the unit in the same rooms and he felt I’d be a good influence on the new guy. I could have told him this was a lost cause as I’d already seen that this guy wasn’t a pillar of virtue and was likely a candidate for disciplinary action. It wasn’t but about a week after my injury that I returned to the room to find a cloud of pot smoke greet me as I was going to my locker for a pack of cigarettes for one of my buddies. We made a hasty exit and I informed the Company Commander who was in the day room downstairs playing pool what we had encountered. This pretty much confirmed what the 1st Sergeant had been concerned about and put me between a rock and a hard place. As I was still rooming with these jerks while they were being chaptered out of the service, and the obviously had not love for me. Things remained tense for several weeks until I returned to Indiana on leave to move my family to Texas.
After three months on active duty I’d accrued a week of leave and enough money to rent an apartment in Killeen, TX. With the help of a buddy I was able to find and rent the apartment at 1210 D Charisse Street, and then take a bus to Indiana. I got the cast off my foot the day before I left and it was one of the greatest feelings ever. The trip back home was busy. My Grandmother had died and my niece had inherited the farm and there was family tension about the way things had been settled. My uncle was upset at my not returning for the funeral and my mother upset because I hadn’t inherited anything. My paternal Grandmother had funded our move with money she’d hoped I’d use for college one day. I di promise here that when I could, I would go to college. I’d rented a 14-foot U-Haul and a tow bar to pull my car while the wife drove hers. The truck was packed until it cubed out with no space remaining. Both cars were also full. I ran into a major stumbling block when I tried to connect the tow bar to the front bumper of my car. It seems that is wasn’t designed to be towed with a tow bar. I had to think fast as I had no real time in the schedule and I ended up removing the front bumper and cutting slots into the back edges top and bottom each side to accommodate the tow bar brackets. It took about four hours but it worked.
The drive to Texas was endless and with the late start we only just managed to make Sikeston Missouri before we had to stop. We got a decent start about 8AM the next morning and it still took us until 2 AM the next day to finally arrive in Killeen. We pretty much passed out on the floor of the apartment. Later that morning we got up, unloaded and returned the truck and by evening we had a general setup of the apartment. The only real problem was that my Ford Fairmont’s front tires didn’t fare well and needed to be replaced after a 900-mile tow. Nearly broke, we managed to find a used tire shop near the base and bought two replacement tires for $30.
The next problem was my housing allowance. I had been a geographic bachelor meaning that the army had acknowledged I had a family and was entitled to a housing allowance even though I was living in the barracks. I wasn’t receiving the allowance and I had twice submitted the required documentation to get it started, to no avail. Shortly after my arrival, was the end of month payday and again. No housing allowance was paid. So now I was three months in arrears on the allowance and I had a rent payment due with no way to pay it. My sergeants (SGT Jaramillo and SGT Carmichael) took me to see the Battalion Sergeant Major (SGM) to see if he could get me some relief. Our Sergeant Major called the 102nd Finance Sergeant Major and they had a short discussion which ended with our SGM telling my sergeants to take me to finance to get paid. At first, the finance office didn’t want to accommodate me. I showed up and was told to fill out a pay inquiry (Same process as the last two times) and they would get it to me on my next paycheck. SGT Jaramillo took over and informed the clerk he needed to talk with his supervisor. A Staff Sergeant (SSG) had been watching us from his desk and soon came over to tell us the same thing. SGT Jaramillo asked the SSG if the NCO in the back office we could see was his SGM and the SSG replied it was. It was then suggested that the SSG go consult his SGM before he did something he was going to regret. The SSG wasn’t happy, but he noted SGT Jaramillo’s confident manner and decided to indulge us. His meeting with his SGM was short and it was done standing at Parade Rest while the SGM counseled him. A few minutes later he returned to the desk, and told me to go see the cashier. Five minutes later I walked out with over a thousand dollars and the SSG smiled, but it looked like it hurt him to smile. I rewarded my sergeants with a well-deserved steak lunch.
My rapid ascent in the enlisted ranks slowed after I made PFC only because there were limits to the number of Specialist – E4 (SP4) that could be promoted early in any unit. Only twenty percent of the SP4 positions in the until could be promoted with less than 24 months’ time in grade. This meant that among other things, I had to wait until someone who had been promoted early passed the period they’d skipped getting promoted early to free an allocation for early promotion. I was again fortunate that this only required me to wait two months for the allocation and a total of four months after my promotion to PFC. This meant that on December 11th I got an early army Christmas present and was promoted to SP4. In the eight months from April to December I’d managed to rise through the ranks that normally took two years. I was pretty pleased with that result. This was also the end of easy promotions as to be promoted to Sergeant I would have to face the dreaded promotion board and if I passed the board, then wait to see if I had the minimum promotion point accrued to allow promotion to SGT. But that wouldn’t happen during my tenure at Fort Hood.
I’d mentioned moving into the BMO and working for SGT Carmichael. I figure this requires some additional explanation. What was being tested was managing the vehicle maintenance operations in this battalion motor pool in the same manner as the next level of maintenance (3rd Shop) where we had to send vehicles that required repairs above our level. I was designated the Maintenance Control Clerk. When vehicles were submitted for repair they received a Technical Inspection (TI) from an inspection team and then the inspection report (DA Form 2407) was submitted to me the Maintenance Control Clerk (MCC). My job was to:
• Create a packet for the repair job for the vehicle
• Route the packet to the appropriate section (Shop, Parts, etc.)
• Keep a running log of the repair status (In Shop, awaiting parts, awaiting final inspection etc.)
• Close out the packet when repairs were complete.
I took to this job like a fish to water. SGT Carmichael had been doing this and his assigned job and he had been getting overwhelmed. He was glad to have some temporary assistance while my ankle healed and I couldn’t go back to the shops. I’d been doing this job for about a month when SFC Wood took me into a private office to talk with me. Every time I’d seen this before, it had usually ended with some sort of disciplinary action for the soldier he’d counseled so I was very concerned. My concern quickly turned to elation as all he wanted was to ask if I’d like to keep the job as a permanent assignment since I’d been doing it so well. Yay for me! I couldn’t say yes fast enough and this revelation made SCG Carmichael happy as well.
As my tenure continued in the BMO, I continued to be assigned more responsibilities. There was a daily deadline status board in the Battalion Motor Officer’s Office (1LT Comer) that covered the south wall. A Deadline vehicle was a vehicle that wasn’t mission ready. All deadline vehicles were given serious scrutiny and were part of a daily review at 3PM. After the review, the deadline status report was sent to the Battalion Commander. When I started as MCC, this was done by SGT Carmichael, but like many tasks, they were moved to me to allow the SGT time for other higher profile tasks. Updating the board wasn’t hard, but it did get me visibility to the Battalion Commander (Lieutenant Colonel) which was kinda nice. (I was a bit freaked out the 1st time he called me directly for a deadline status update of a critical vehicle.) Things were working so well, that I was given more work when the vehicle dispatcher was fired from his position for ineptitude.
Working as a dispatcher isn’t a hard job. You manage the log books for every vehicle and you would give a usage authorization to a driver to have the vehicle out of the motor pool (A Dispatch) for a designated period of time. This job meant ensuring that prior to receiving a dispatch, the user completed the required Preventative Maintenance Checks and Services (PMCS) per the vehicle manual before issuing the dispatch. You had to log when a vehicle was dispatched, to whom and for how long. If any vehicles didn’t return before the dispatch expired this also required action (Usually a quick phone call to extend the dispatch or remind someone to bring the vehicle back to the motor pool) and in almost all cases the vehicle was returned to the motor pool at the end of the day. I split this duty with PFC Mary Middleton who like me was a rising star in the BMO.
My favorite memory of working dispatcher was on one of the days when I’d opened the motor pool (Middleton and I alternated days opening the office at 6AM). A 2nd Lieutenant from Charlie Company had come to dispatch his Commercial Utility Cargo Vehicle (CUCV) for the day (It was a Chevy Blazer) and he came and signed out the keys and log book. The process was simple, get the keys and log book, then complete the PMCS according to table 3-1 in the manual. If you find no faults, enter the date on the top line of the DA Form 2404 and then come back to get the dispatch authorization from me. This lieutenant was lazy and didn’t seem to be aware that I could or would watch him while he performed his PMCS. All he did was unlock the vehicle, and walk around it once, he didn’t check anything per the manual. Part of my job was to ensure that these vehicles were being inspected correctly and I had the full backing of the Battalion Motor Officer (BMO) to enforce his policies. The lieutenant came back up to the window and handed me his 2404 and asked for his dispatch. I replied that I would be glad to as soon as he actually performed his PMCS inspection. He indignantly told me that he had done so and I replied to him with this question: “What is the 12th step in your Table 3-1 PMCS checks? (It was insert the key into the ignition) His reply was to give me a direct order to issue him a dispatch. Most PFC’s would have caved in to this demand, but I just smiled and replied to him that I was following orders from the BMO himself and if he didn’t like the way I was doing my job, LT Comer was in his office and he could speak to him about it. This infuriated him (part of my plan) and he went storming off around the building, entered (and slammed) the front door and went down the hall to LT Comer’s office. He got about three words out of his mouth before I heard LT Comer command: “Attention!” LT Comer was a 1LT (P) meaning he was already tagged for promotion and he outranked this 2LT platoon leader. He spent about five minutes explaining to this “butter bar” (Slang for a 2LT due to the gold bar insignia) exactly how the motor pool operated, then he told him to “Get out of my office!” A few moments later a much meeker 2LT asked for his 2404 back and completed his PMCS as he’d been asked to do by me earlier. Then I dispatched the vehicle with no further incident. Some days you enjoy Karma.
I met Chaplain (1LT) Roger Manley in the West Fort Hood Gym one Saturday in the spring of 1984. At first I didn’t know he was a chaplain and I was surprised to learn that he was one, as he looked like a professional body builder. We struck up a conversation and I learned that he competed on an amateur level and was in fact our Battalion Chaplain. We became friendly and I didn’t think a lot more about it until after my family arrived in July. My wife Anna wanted to attend church and I told her about Chaplain Manley. She was intrigued so we went to chapel at West Fort Hood. We quickly learned that we enjoyed activities at the chapel and we rarely missed a Sunday service. One thing that the chapel did every Sunday the service was have cookies and drinks on the lawn in the shade next to the chapel. My wife noted sadly that the cookies were all store bought and in her opinion (Correctly) that they were inferior to what she could make. The next Saturday afternoon, we baked a large batch of chocolate chip cookies and filled a large green plastic salad bowl that had a lid. The next morning, as we came up to the Chapel she set the bowl on the table outside that he Chaplain’s Assistant had already setup. After the service, there was much ado about the big bowl of cookies, but no one was admitting to bringing them (My wife Anna was being shy about it) We were generally the last to leave as we would often talk to Manley and others and it was pretty easy to sneak the empty bowl away when we left.
We continued this green bowl sleight of hand for several weeks and no one was the wiser. We’d made several different cookie recipes and they were all received well. But her chocolate chips were the best received. Then one Sunday Chaplain Manley gave a sermon and the topic was “The Green Bowl”. Anna nearly melted into the pew as she listened to this sermon about this mysterious bowl of homemade cookies and how they had affected not only him but the entire congregation. We had some single soldiers who started attending just because it was like getting cookies from home. After the sermon, and while we were enjoying our after church snacks Anna admitted she was the cookie elf. I think this moment sort of cemented the friendship with Chaplain Manley and my family. Soon, it wasn’t unusual for Chaplain Manley to stop by our apartment to see how the cookies were made and I was even invited over to his house. (It was generally unusual for officers and enlisted to meet socially but there was a lot of latitude when the officer was a chaplain. My first visit to the Manley’s was to check out his car. He’d mentioned that he’d had his car serviced and it now ran fine but really lacked any power. (It was a Ford Escort.) Since I was a mechanic, I offered to check it out and he invited the family over for lunch. The car was an interesting puzzle as he’d just had an oil change and a tune up. I began investigating and eventually I decided to see if all cylinders were firing. I removed the #2 spark plug wire and nothing changed. Then I removed #3 and the same result. I quickly asked if the spark plugs and or wired had been changed (The plugs had been) then I swapped the distributer connections for #2 and #3 and VIOLA! It was running on 4 cylinders now instead of two where they’d reversed the plug wires somehow.
One of the most interesting events in this in our relationship with the Manley’s was Chaplain Manley’s promotion party. This was a formal event (Class A Dress Uniform) and part of Army Officer culture. But there was nothing to prevent him from inviting anyone he chose to attend and Anna and I were invited. While it was unusual for a lower enlisted soldier (Below the rank of sergeant) to attend such an event and I was the only enlisted soldier there, no one seemed to notice. For the first time in my career I was socializing with Officers and it went over very well. Anna was equally well received and it was a very enjoyable evening.
We left Fort Hood in May of 1985 when I was transferred to Fort Richardson, Alaska. I had received my levy notice (notice of overseas assignment) on Valentine’s Day. Since we’d barely lived at in Killeen for nine months and I was going to drag Anna to the frozen frontier, I figured I’d better buy her some gifts to soften the blow, and heck, it was Valentine’s Day. So with five gifts in hand, I headed home and gave her the news. Like myself, she was excited and terrified. We did what research we could on my new duty station. I got a welcome packet that had some information but in 1985 there was no Internet and long distance communication was still mostly for the well to do, so we were in an information vacuum. Adding to the tension was a lack of dependent travel orders. There was a requirement for junior enlisted personnel (I was now a SP4) to have on-base housing available before concurrent dependent travel (My family moving with me) could be approved. Finally, on the May 15th I again stopped by the dependent travel section where I’d been coming at least once a week to check up on the dependent travel. I got lucky and since they’d gotten no reply from Fort Richardson and it was Noon, she called Fort Richardson housing on a WATS line. Shortly thereafter I had in my hands a highly irregular set of dependent travel orders based on a telephonic phone log and I headed to transportation to get my household goods picked up. Normally, this is a two to three-week process, and I managed to get arrangement setup for Friday the 24th. Two miracles in a row. During this same period at one of our last Sundays at the West Fort Hood Chapel, Chaplain Manley gave Anna a “Soldier of God” Citation for her work with the chapel family and the home backed cookies that they would soon miss.
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