I'M IN THE ARMY NOW

PART 3

(the end of a-not-fit-to-be-a-soldier-saga)

 After Vietnam I had a year left and was sent to Fort Knox, Kentucky.

  One of the first things I did was go to Louisville and buy a car.

I bought a beautiful 1970 blue Volkswagen Karmann Ghia. I paid cash with the money I had saved overseas.

Since I was an E5 now, I was supposed to have a private room, but that was given away to a cook who outranked me. I lived once more in the barracks with soldiers that spent their nights drinking or gambling around my bunk. I was miserable.

 Fort Knox was, at that time, the place where they trained the Army Armor tanks.

 

 In the middle of the night when night firing would occur, I found myself along with several others, suddenly springing from my bed and racing for the bunker, even though I never did that in Vietnam. Strange, I thought. 

I was losing sleep from the men driving me crazy with their gambling and my racing for bunkers in the middle of the night. I began sleeping in my car off base. One night I drove to Elizabethtown, Kentucky, to sleep in the Severn Valley Baptist Church parking lot. I started attending and eventually joined. I became active in Sunday School, sang in the choir and gave a devotion or two on occasion. People invited me home for lunch. I felt very much at home except for my schedule.

 I'd sleep in the car on the church parking lot. 

 In the morning, I'd rush back to base for a quick shower and morning roll call formations.

 My days were then spent in the darkroom cranking out hundreds of photos of unknown generals and military buildings. This went on for several weeks.

Life at the photo lab was not pleasant. We were not allowed to experiment or develop our own film when things were slow.  On top of that, the Master Sargent in charge of the photo lab was paranoid. He was afraid someone would find us idle and he would be blamed. He made unexpected visits, constantly staying on our case demanding we always looked busy. If we weren't developing in the lab then we should be cleaning photo trays, sweeping, mopping or emptying trash. I had been through this before. I needed to find a way around this difficult situation. I began arriving early,always being busy sweeping or buffing floors when the Master Sargent arrived. He took notice. I never had trouble from that man again. That problem solved, I needed to make the morning formations for inspection and roll call more pleasant. I hated this part of Army life as well as the many all night guard duties we were expected to perform.

My nights were also becoming less enjoyable sleeping in the car and I needed a solution. I had begun to make friends at my new church. I mentioned my problem to a choir member. He suggested I talk to his aunt. She was elderly and alone and would possibly rent a room to me, even though she never had done that before. He brought me over to meet her one Sunday afternoon. We got along well and she decided to let me rent her basement.

 Mrs. Hall was just what I needed.

She loved to make hooked rugs and sew quilts.

 Her daughter did china painting. We were a match made in heaven. 

The next day, I told my company Sargent that I was renting a room in Elizabethtown and would be moving out of the barracks. He informed me that this was not allowed unless I lived with a family member. Without thinking, I lied and told him she was my grandmother and gave him the address and phone number. The Sargent immediately called her and asked if she were a family member. She said, yes, she was my grandmother. I loved her even more. He never asked any more questions and I moved that weekend. Now, since Elizabethtown was about 15 or so miles away, it was considered long distance so all of the guard duty fell to those who lived on base.

 I never had morning roll call formations or all night guard duty again.

Bye Bye roll call formations.

It was a wonderful situation. I would go to work in the mornings, drive home and watch TV with Mrs. Hall. Soon she began cooking for me as well. That dear woman was really like a grandmother. On weekends I would spend time traveling in the area or spend Saturdays with her daughter and son-in-law, barbecuing in their back yard. 

 The family also loved to square dance. Soon I fell in love with square dancing too. I traveled and danced with them around Kentucky and Indiana.

 Soon Mrs. Hall began showing me how to hook rugs. When she learned I loved to paint we made plans to paint a quilt. I found some fabric paint and painted red roses on a white sheet. She and I quilted it. We made another one for my mama, blue flowers of course, Susie's favorite color.

 I learned she used to weave and I became fascinated with weaving and looms.  Her son traveled the state and said he would keep his eye out for any that might be for sale. One day, he said I might find one outside of Frankfort at an estate sale he heard about. We went way back in the woods, down a narrow one lane path, over a creek, to a farmstead. An elderly couple were giving up their home and moving away. There was a loom among the items for auction. The man said his sister stopped using it 50 years ago and that it had been his grandmothers. That loom was over 100 years old. I bought it for $13,00, my opening bid. No one else was interested. That's right, $13.00. The son helped us bring it to Mrs. Hall's basement and I began to learn to weave. She had been taught how to warp the loom from her 90 year old aunt, years ago and taught me. I once shared a picture of it with an antique shop in Louisville and they said I must have paid a fortune for it, that they were hard to come by. I smiled.

I still have that two harness loom.  My son Marty used it for a jungle gym when he was little. For several years I wove rag rugs and place mats.

One fall my mama came to visit so I could drive her around to see the brilliant foliage. I took two weeks off and Mrs. Hall led us around interesting places in the area before Mama and I drove in my Karmann Ghia all the way to Washington, D.C. Cruising through mountain roads in a sports car with your mama is one for the books. We had a blast. Mama had never seen D.C. She had gone there when I was a baby to see Daddy off overseas in WWII but had to immediately return on the next train because I was deathly ill and was being flown to Shreveport. She had never left the train station. I owed her this trip. We saw everything we could in the space of a few days. 

We argued over whether a certain autumn tree was red or yellow. On our return trip, we spotted the tree again at night. I stopped, stood on top of the car and pulled a limb off. We were both right. The tree had both colors.

What a laugh on these naive southerners.

Meanwhile, back to the army.

I was sick of working in the dark lab all day developing boring prints. About four months after arriving, I found an opportunity for change. Across base at the main headquarters building the man taking photos of new people arriving on base was being discharged. I had been delivering chemicals to him once a week. It was a job for a private, but I asked for the job anyway. Since no one else was available, they gave me the job. I moved across base and away from the Master Sargent, never to return to that lab again.

 Now the catch was this. I did not have to take pictures of the new arrivals. We had a machine like those photo booths where you sit inside for four pictures. 

All I had to do was press the button and change the chemicals once a week.

 I had fun with this job. I began teasing children when I took their pictures and told them about the little guy that had to sit in that booth all day developing everyone's pictures. I would let him out at noon, I said, and, yes he went home at night. I had learned how long it took for the machine to develop the film and would knock on the side when I knew it was ready to discharge the photos. I'd ask Harry to hurry up and demanded he send the picture out right now...then it would come out to all of their surprise and I would thank the little man inside the machine. Parents loved my work.

 At noon I would sit in the main lounge and eat with the officers while we watched soap operas.

 A Colonel and I became friends at these lunch meetings. At five I would drive home to Elizabethtown and a warm meal, like a civilian.  My routine of square dancing, painting, quilting and going to work fraternizing with the officers continued. 

 Once, around Easter, Mrs. Hall and I decided we would make neckties to sell on the weekends. I painted the designs on the material, she sewed them together, then we rented space at a flea market and sold our ties.

Good old 1970's wide ties with bright designs. 

 We did fairly well. I wore a different tie every Sunday from then on.

Two months before the end of my duty, I decided to apply for an early out so I could return to college. I told the company Sargent, who did not like me, and he said I had missed the deadline for early outs and could not apply. I knew he was wrong. I thanked him and went directly to my friend, the Colonel, in the main office. He said I still had time and he could speed up the paperwork. I was processed out by the end of the day, went back to the barracks and told the Sargent, who was furious. I left the service that very next day without ever going back or saying my goodbyes to the people in the lab. My days in the Army were over. I stayed with Mrs. Hall for a few more weeks then returned to Alexandria and Louisiana College to finished my degree. I kept up with Mrs. Hall until her death a few years later.

Thus ends the not so ordinary life of one soldier, the ending of a not-fit-to-be-a-soldier saga. A man who found a way to make himself happy in bad situations. A man that survived the horrors of Vietnam without long residual effects.

The first thing I did was grow my hair!

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