I had just arrived, by train, in Fort Dix after saying goodbye to my crying Mom and my proud as punch Father in Pennsylvania Station, New York City later known as The Big Apple, The Capital of Temptation.
Every kid going through the Penn Station gate knew that their lives had taken a turn into the unknown but we all knew that we had a new family. The Army was our new family. And through all of the fucking wisecracks, none memorable, we knew that our family was run by our new lords and masters with whom we could not argue, ignore or dispute a decision.
Our freedom of thought and action was history.
Standing bare-ass naked, tugging on our schlongs, doing what was called 'short arm inspection' all to prove that we didn't have a 'dose' of gonorrhea. That first short arm inspection turned out to be repetitively common. As long as that 'thing' didn't drip we were safe. At 91 1/2 it drips, not from gonorrhea but from a diuretic.
There ain't anything like a free thinker in the Army. I don't think that any of us realized that our days of independent thought were as dead as an old man's sex life. (Sadly, at 91 1/2 I know all about that.)
No menus. High carb foods with mashed potatoes were a staple, the cornerstones of lunch and dinner. Fried potatoes at breakfast. Doing KP, peeling spuds, mopping floors and scrubbing enormous pots and pans were chores to come. All a long way from a 5 star hotel.
The Regular Army guys, pre Pearl Harbor enlistees, mostly looked like shit with both huge guts and huge appetites. Nutrition meant eating everything that wasn't nailed down which always seemed to include mashed potatoes at lunch and dinner. The regular Army guys also seemed to have a ferocious appetite to fight, big guts and all.
While the first day was truly memorable, spending the first night sleeping in a cavern like barracks with a bunch of guys that you didn't know from Adam's fucking odd ox was wildly different. Being 'homesick' never entered my stream of consciousness.
There was a certain electricity in the atmosphere with the thoughts of an unknown future. It really dominated my thinking, starting with the First Sergeant screaming 'drop your co..s and grab your socks' at 6:00 AM. That screaming, fucking voice eliminated any need for an alarm clock.
One day, some 40 years later, having lunch with a Swiss banker at the Richemont Hotel in Geneva, Switzerland I became distracted by the tall, willowy, blond beauties have lunch with their swarthy, Mideastern keepers and that first day at Fort Dix came into my mind.
Going from being a buck private making $50 a month to sitting at the Richemont having lunch in the middle of all that opulence seemed bizarre. And it was.
The Army taught me that living in the here and now, living in the unknown, was exciting and mostly great.Staying and eating at the Richemont was exciting and fun. It too was the ultimate in living in the unknown.
~
1 comment:
Too many potatoes and swarthy Eastern keepers. Two things willowy blondes should steer clear of :)
always fun to view these adventures through the eyes of someone with a sense of humor. Thanks, Bernie!
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