The Beginning

My career actually started in 1948 when I saw John Ford’s cavalry classic Fort Apache. Near the end of the movie, a reporter makes a statement about a deceased officer being forgotten.  Viewed through a window in which appears the reflection of a cavalry column passing by, John Wayne (Lieutenant Colonel York) responds with “You’re wrong there. They haven’t been forgotten because they haven’t died.  They’re living, right out there, Collingwood and the rest. They’ll keep on living as long as the regiment lives…their faces may change, their names, but they’re there.  They’re the regiment, the regular Army—now and fifty years from now”.

  The impact on this 10 year-old was profound.  From that moment, I knew I was going to be a professional soldier—a cavalryman if possible.  Two friends and I formed a “Fort Apache Club.”  We made a guidon and ran around the neighborhood in column.  We even built a fort with walls and a clubhouse inside.

What follows is intended to be an outline of my 22 years on active duty interspersed with anecdotes and links to pictures that made some of the many fond memories of my Army career.  For some reason the bonds I felt with the Army were much stronger than those with my family of origin—I can’t really explain that, they just were.  The Army was as much my family as were my wife and children.

I joined E Company, 162nd Infantry Regiment, 41st Infantry Division of the Army National Guard in Eugene, Oregon on November 1st, 1954.  I was 16 years old, but lied about my age — and my father facilitated the duplicity.  In February 1955, I transferred to the Heavy Mortar Company, 186th Infantry Regiment, 41st Infantry Division in Coos Bay, Oregon.  We went to summer camp at Camp Murray (Fort Lewis) Washington in June 1955.  I really loved the whole experience, particularly the firing the 4.2″ mortars and other weapons.

A couple of weeks after our return to Coos Bay, four of my friends approached me at our next National Guard meeting saying they were “going RA” (Regular Army) and did I want to go?  They were going to enlist for the 3rd Armored Division scheduled to “Gyroscope” to Germany.  It sounded great to me and I immediately agreed.  Although I had just completed my junior year of high school, joining the Army sounded much more fun than going through my senior year of high school.  After selling my car and closing up all my loose ends, the recruiter called us and said Oregon’s quota for the 3rd Armored Division was full so he’d either tear up our enlistment papers or we could enlist Armor, unassigned.  What the hell, Armor was the descendent of the Cavalry.   We did and eventually ended up in Alaska.

My only regret was having to tell my first love, Cleo, that I had joined the Army.  Cleo had been in Portland, visiting a relative.  Upon learning that I’d enlisted, her mother called her home.  I had earlier given Cleo the crest of the 186th Infantry Regiment, which she wore as sort of a fraternity pin.  When I saw her next I said, “I see you’re still wearing my crest, well I’m going to get a new one.”  She knew immediately what I meant and began to cry.  I don’t think I ever felt worse in my life.

I took my basic training with Easy Company, 63rd Infantry Regiment, 6th Infantry Division at Fort Ord, California.  I found out soon enough that it was called Easy because that was the phonetic word for E, not meant to be descriptive of the unit.  Because of my National Guard service, I was sent through a local leadership course and made a squad leader as an acting corporal.  There wasn’t any extra pay, but at least I got to supervise work details instead of pushing a mop.  I really loved the new experiences.

Three events stand out in my memories of basic.  The first occurred before we were even issued uniforms at the first morning formation.  Role was called and one of the guys either wasn’t paying attention or was still asleep as he didn’t answer when his name was first called.  As a result, he had to stand at attention and continue shouting out his name while the rest of us went to breakfast.  His name was Ellis, and I’ll never forget it.  The second was the feeling that I had during bayonet drill.  I always got the feeling I actually wanted to kill someone.  Finally, I had an ingrown toenail surgically repaired and had to wear a big bandage without a boot on my left foot.  When the time came for the infiltration course (requiring crawling under barbed wire with live machine gun fire overhead), they wouldn’t let me go through it—even though I begged them.  I always felt I’d been deprived of proving my mettle.