Vent Hill Farms
unfinished
http://www.jimraab.blogspot.com/
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
9 of 12 Vietnam Saigon
My first stop after the airport was Saigon and I was not sure what to think. The hotel was interesting with a paddle fan on the ceiling and little lizards running around on the walls. It reminded me of some old movie like Casablanca. The whole thing was rather bazaar and I was told I would be staying at the hotel for a week or so and to make myself at home. I was also warned about the beer, bars and broads and to stay out of trouble.
After getting some much needed rest from my long journey I finally left the hotel the next day and ventured out with the wild life. My first daylight glimpse of downtown Saigon was dirt roads lined with merchants and two bazillion motor scooters operated by women going every which way up and down the road. The girls were dressed in silk gowns that were full length and down to their feet. They road their motor scooters with both legs on one side and in a trivial manor as to suggest the absence of a destination. The only driving rule was the bigger vehicles had the rite of way. The traffic pattern was truly the definition of kayos.
There was no sign of a war going on here. The mail occupants were from several different countries English, French, Australian and Korean to name a few and the assortment of uniforms made it obvious that Saigon was some kind of a Military tourist attraction. Behind the street venders there were bars, bars and more bars. I walked around and canvassed a few blocks in each direction and that was enough excitement for my first day out. Jim Raab
http://www.jimraab.blogspot.com/
After getting some much needed rest from my long journey I finally left the hotel the next day and ventured out with the wild life. My first daylight glimpse of downtown Saigon was dirt roads lined with merchants and two bazillion motor scooters operated by women going every which way up and down the road. The girls were dressed in silk gowns that were full length and down to their feet. They road their motor scooters with both legs on one side and in a trivial manor as to suggest the absence of a destination. The only driving rule was the bigger vehicles had the rite of way. The traffic pattern was truly the definition of kayos.
There was no sign of a war going on here. The mail occupants were from several different countries English, French, Australian and Korean to name a few and the assortment of uniforms made it obvious that Saigon was some kind of a Military tourist attraction. Behind the street venders there were bars, bars and more bars. I walked around and canvassed a few blocks in each direction and that was enough excitement for my first day out. Jim Raab
http://www.jimraab.blogspot.com/
8 of 12 Vietnam in Transit
After my 30 days of leave I made it out to California. This was the shipping point for the less fortunate solders bound for Vietnam. I got cold feet and went absent without leave AWOL for a few weeks. I did not want to go to Vietnam. I was in no hurry to get there. I thought I could get away with a little time to make my big decision. I had been AWAL before without consequences and how organized could this transit company be? Well to my surprise I received another article 15 and was busted down to privet E3. Oh well my promotion to specialist did not last very long. Any how I was confined to my quarters after the quart marshal was completed and told that once I get on that airplane I am considered a combat soldier and if I was to disappear it would be considered dissertation. The penalty for dissertation was to spend the rest of my life in the stockade and I would do better to be captured by the Vietcong. To make matters worse they did not give me my records this time. The demotion was official and there was nothing I do about it. We refueled in Hawaii during the dark of night and never left the airplane. I think the rest of the flight was 18 hours and the absence of conversation was obvious. The flight ended with my first glimpse of Vietnam and it looked like moon-pocks from the airplane because there were craters everywhere. Jim Raab
http://www.jimraab.blogspot.com/
http://www.jimraab.blogspot.com/
7 of 12 Devens Revisited
Once I made it home I was able to enjoy my two month vacation everyone was excited about Billy and we visited all our family members. My life changed considerably and instead of living for today I had the responsibility of tomorrow. My son had forced me to grow up and deal with life in a new way. My wife decided to stay with her parents and I went back to Devins alone. You must know by now that I took advantage of having my records with me. I preformed my usual hocus pocus alakazam and presto the orders for my 60 days of leave disappeared.
I thought I new everything about Fort Devens and here was in a whole new separately guarded interior complex. I was granted a Secret Clearance and a badge so I could enter the complex. There were no motor vehicles and this area was strictly foot traffic. They took away all my advantages and everyone was enjoying most of the privileges I had worked so hard for during my last stay. There was morning formation but everything else was laid back and tolerable. I didn't get to fake anything.
School was interesting and I was enjoying hands on education. Learning was something I enjoyed and found it difficult to extract knowledge from a book. But working with the equipment and figuring out how it worked was a specialty of mine. It was like playing with a puzzle and my favorite pastime.
The first thing I got to play with was the fax machine. It was the size of two large refrigerators. The government had a monopoly on new electronic equipment and this was cutting edge technology at that time. The military and the FBI were the only ones that new of its existence. This machine was crude at best but could send your finger prints over a phone line by converting sound into corresponding high voltage. This thing literally burned through the paper with a high voltage spark. A higher voltage meant a bigger spark and produced darker paper.
My hardest task was to adjust the spark high enough to see the light area of information and not to high as to set the paper on fire. These images were literally hot off the press and some of them came out of the machine on fire. This fax machine was generating 50 kilovolts and could send you flying across the room with a potentially lethal dose of electrons. I guess it made sense to start off on the fax machine. No sense learning about the rest of the equipment and then getting electrocuted.
The next thing was the black box flight recorder. This was not complicated and was like an 8 track cassette player. The housing was more complicated than the innards. I had the electronics experience to know all about the recorder. It had several tracks hooked up to the avionics equipment and 1 track for the audio. It also had a low power transmitter and battery power that activated on impact. This was of course to vacillate in finding the device after a crash. The case consisted of 4 layers and each was separated by a silicon substance. The whole package was wrapped in titanium.
My clearance was elevated to Top Secret and I was now working one floor below. The higher the clearance level went the further underground I went. I am trying not to use sophisticated electronics terms but some explanations make it unavoidable. This was a time of transition from vacuum tubes to transistors. The transistor had not replaced all the tube functions yet and the equipment commonly contained both types of electronics. The technology was changing faster than the equipment could be assembled. Equipment was becoming obsolete before production began.
I am not talking modification here I mean totally new technology. Suffice it to say I was learning about computers that were still the size of a large room and the memory storage was tape drives and they were refrigerator sized. I learned about several different types of transmitters and equipment I was learning about the video real to real recorder. This thing was waist high and barley fit in an 8 by 8 room. Doppler radar was something new and I going to get the basics on that equipment I can not explain the rest of the equipment without word like electromagnetic wave propagation. Let's just say primitive spy equipment.
I was elevated to a Top Secret Cryptographic clearance and working further underground still. The primary goal of this class was coding methods. My class also covered radio direction finding. Finding out where the enemy was and breaking the code was essential to the war effort. Then there were some more sophisticated pieces of spy equipment introduced. Radio frequency recorder was my next challenge. This thing was bigger than 3 of the video real to real recorder and the input was an antenna. It could record the whole AM FM and several other bands. The output was sent to AM FM and other radios so it took a room full of people all day to search through all the information on one tape.
My education was finally completed after a brief explanation of some experimental electronic equipment. Upon completion I was awarded a 33D20 MOS and promoted to the rank of E4. The same day my orders came in for Vietnam. I could write ten pages about the second I looked at those orders. I will spare myself the need to relive that moment and skip to the 30 days leave I was granted. Those 30 days were spent in horror and anguish. The war was no longer popular during my schooling and had not been since 1978. Before 78 warning my army uniform guaranteed hitching ride anywhere. After 78 the last thing you wanted to do was wear your uniform off base. People would sooner run you over than give you a ride. I did not ask to be involved and was getting screwed every which way. Jim Raab
http://www.jimraab.blogspot.com/
I thought I new everything about Fort Devens and here was in a whole new separately guarded interior complex. I was granted a Secret Clearance and a badge so I could enter the complex. There were no motor vehicles and this area was strictly foot traffic. They took away all my advantages and everyone was enjoying most of the privileges I had worked so hard for during my last stay. There was morning formation but everything else was laid back and tolerable. I didn't get to fake anything.
School was interesting and I was enjoying hands on education. Learning was something I enjoyed and found it difficult to extract knowledge from a book. But working with the equipment and figuring out how it worked was a specialty of mine. It was like playing with a puzzle and my favorite pastime.
The first thing I got to play with was the fax machine. It was the size of two large refrigerators. The government had a monopoly on new electronic equipment and this was cutting edge technology at that time. The military and the FBI were the only ones that new of its existence. This machine was crude at best but could send your finger prints over a phone line by converting sound into corresponding high voltage. This thing literally burned through the paper with a high voltage spark. A higher voltage meant a bigger spark and produced darker paper.
My hardest task was to adjust the spark high enough to see the light area of information and not to high as to set the paper on fire. These images were literally hot off the press and some of them came out of the machine on fire. This fax machine was generating 50 kilovolts and could send you flying across the room with a potentially lethal dose of electrons. I guess it made sense to start off on the fax machine. No sense learning about the rest of the equipment and then getting electrocuted.
The next thing was the black box flight recorder. This was not complicated and was like an 8 track cassette player. The housing was more complicated than the innards. I had the electronics experience to know all about the recorder. It had several tracks hooked up to the avionics equipment and 1 track for the audio. It also had a low power transmitter and battery power that activated on impact. This was of course to vacillate in finding the device after a crash. The case consisted of 4 layers and each was separated by a silicon substance. The whole package was wrapped in titanium.
My clearance was elevated to Top Secret and I was now working one floor below. The higher the clearance level went the further underground I went. I am trying not to use sophisticated electronics terms but some explanations make it unavoidable. This was a time of transition from vacuum tubes to transistors. The transistor had not replaced all the tube functions yet and the equipment commonly contained both types of electronics. The technology was changing faster than the equipment could be assembled. Equipment was becoming obsolete before production began.
I am not talking modification here I mean totally new technology. Suffice it to say I was learning about computers that were still the size of a large room and the memory storage was tape drives and they were refrigerator sized. I learned about several different types of transmitters and equipment I was learning about the video real to real recorder. This thing was waist high and barley fit in an 8 by 8 room. Doppler radar was something new and I going to get the basics on that equipment I can not explain the rest of the equipment without word like electromagnetic wave propagation. Let's just say primitive spy equipment.
I was elevated to a Top Secret Cryptographic clearance and working further underground still. The primary goal of this class was coding methods. My class also covered radio direction finding. Finding out where the enemy was and breaking the code was essential to the war effort. Then there were some more sophisticated pieces of spy equipment introduced. Radio frequency recorder was my next challenge. This thing was bigger than 3 of the video real to real recorder and the input was an antenna. It could record the whole AM FM and several other bands. The output was sent to AM FM and other radios so it took a room full of people all day to search through all the information on one tape.
My education was finally completed after a brief explanation of some experimental electronic equipment. Upon completion I was awarded a 33D20 MOS and promoted to the rank of E4. The same day my orders came in for Vietnam. I could write ten pages about the second I looked at those orders. I will spare myself the need to relive that moment and skip to the 30 days leave I was granted. Those 30 days were spent in horror and anguish. The war was no longer popular during my schooling and had not been since 1978. Before 78 warning my army uniform guaranteed hitching ride anywhere. After 78 the last thing you wanted to do was wear your uniform off base. People would sooner run you over than give you a ride. I did not ask to be involved and was getting screwed every which way. Jim Raab
http://www.jimraab.blogspot.com/
6 of 12 Going Back East
I said goodbye to all my California friends and as it started so shall it end. I placed a notice in the PX and gave away most of my junk. I packed every thing I could into the Ford wagon and headed east. I was given 60 days of leave. And by now that did not come as a surprise me. Apparently they had no record of me taking any leave at all and were feeling quite generous. I started out nice and slow, expecting to do some sightseeing along the way. Things were quite different however than they were on my trip west. The wagon was packed too the limit and Billy was a hands full of responsibility and required some travailing techniques.
We, my wife, son, and I that is didn't make it out of California when the station wagon started complaining. The inside was full and there was a 4 foot high pile of stuff tethered to the roof. The load was carefully stacked in layers to make the long journey home. No doubt the weight of the load was somewhat more than the limits of the wagons intended use. The first thing that went wrong was a flat tire and that was quite time consuming as I had to unload the back of the wagon to get to the jack and the spare tire. The wagon was so low to the ground that it was difficult to get the jack under the wagon. Then the wagon was so heavy the jack could barley lift the wagon up high enough to get the spare tire on. I had to let some of the air out of the spare to get it to fit on at all. That meant that I had to drive slowly until I got to a gas station to fill it up again.
According to a weather reports the up and coming mountain range had a forecast for lots of snow. I did not want to stop and chance being weathered in for who know how long or where. Sure enough it was snowing once I got up into the mountains. I think I drove for 12 hours and my first stop was Salt Lake City, Utah.
I didn't see much of Salt Lake City as I was only there to sleep and off early next morning. This trip back across the country was not living up to my expectations. I drove again for another 12 hours and made it to Cheyenne, Wyoming. As I recall there was a mountain range there too. Just like the mountain before it was snowing. After a good night of rest I was ready to go and off to a good start. In no time at all I was in nowhere land. There were miles and miles of nothing but tumble weeds, then finally a gas station and none too soon. when I was all fueled up and ready to go the wagon was not. This would prove to be the beginning of the end for this Ford
The wagon would not start and this place out in nowhere land was of no help. I pulled out the starter and tried to fix it but that was not to be. I went to the road and luckily got someone to stop and give me a push start. I was on my way again but with a lot less confidence and not wanting to turn off the motor unless I had to. In fact I drove late into the night. I was scared tired and finally could not go any further. Some of the red warning lights were lit on the dashboard and I not coherent enough to deal with it. I realy don't remember where we ended up but we found shelter from the storm and spent the night in another hotel.
Hotel Hell that is. For out in never never land the place was loud and noisy. their must have been a party going on and lots of drinking. The room was dank and nasty. I was too tired to find another place to go and went with the flow.
The next day was smooth sailing and it was as it should be pleasant. The food stops were interesting and everyone was so nice. We stopped along the way and took some pictures. If the whole trip was like this day it would have been a vacation in itself. I did push my luck and extended the driving late into the night.
I had made it to Des Moines, Iowa that knight and I was going to sleep no mater what. Next afternoon I woke up late and started tinkering with the wagon. It was low on oil and the radiator needed some water. I walked to a nearby gas station and picked up assorted fluids and fixed what I could. I really wouldn't know until I got a push start if everything was OK. I was parked on a hill and pushed the wagon myself jumped in popped the clutch and off I went. With no red warning lights on the dash I stopped for gas and continued my journey home. About an hour later all hell broke loose. The motor was making some very unpleasant noises and smoke was poring out from under the hood.
Oh where oh where could my fan belt be. And there is no one around to be helping me. I used a pair of my wife's nylon stockings to improvise for the belt and put some windshield fluid in the radiator. Another push start and very reluctantly it finally started. At the next gas station I wanted to get a fan belt but they didn't have one for my wagon. The overheating had done some serious damage to the motor and my 130 horse power motor was not doing very well. I fueled up and filled several containers with water. I was now limited to 20 minuets of driving before I would have to pull over and add water. At this point the drive was nerve racking to say the least. Once again I was exhausted and could not go another mile. And Holy Toledo, Ohio that's where I am. After 4 or 5 days of driving under lass than desirable conditions I am not looking forward to tomorrow and just want to get some sleep.
I didn't wake up until 5 pm and was in no hurry to get going. On the other hand I wanted this nightmare to be over. I was still amusing myself about the holy Toledo thing and how lucky I was to have made it that far.
The rest of the journey through Ohio was not too eventful. I was able to fuel up and add oil with the motor running. I refilled my assorted containers with water and stopped frequently to add water to the radiator. Now Pennsylvania was quite a different story. The hills of Pennsylvania, bull shit these are mountains all lined up one after the other and the scariest roads I have ever been on. I am coming down the first mountain with both feet on the brake and this is not the pedal that should go to the metal but it did. I down shifted used the hand brake and changed my under ware when I finally came to a stop. The rear brake cylinder was leaking fluid and I had to crush the brake line to stop the leak. Now I have only the front brakes and I am holding on to the seat of my pants. It can't get any worse that this, wrong when I turn on the headlights the motor starts to stall out. The battery is dead and the alternator is not strong enough to run everything. I pulled over and disconnected one of the headlamps.
Pennsylvania is dark. I mean scary dark. There is no question in my mind; if this wagon stalls out I am going to be the new front bumper for some 18 wheeler and that is what this state is all about Trucks, 18 wheelers everywhere. Ok I am negating steep mountain passes. I barely have enough power to clime the steep embankments and the pedal is to the metal. The tractor trailers are up my ass and the wind from them blowing by rocks my wagon. Then at the top of the mountain it's like two feet on the brake, only one headlight on and can't see shit. Then through no fault of my own on the way down the mountain I am flying past the same tractor trailer that has and will soon be up my ass. It wasn't until daybreak that I noticed the thick white smoke trail I was leaving behind. The transmission started slipping and I made it to a gas station in time but they did not appreciate my business. I did however get gas oil water and transmission fluid. I had to go down the road to fill the transmission and that's not easy with the motor running
By the time I made it home I had crimped the rear brake line to stop the fluid from leaking out of the rear breaks and only the front brakes were working. I was using a nylon stocking as a fan belt. The battery was dead and because the starter motor was shot and in the back of the wagon I could not turn the motor off without getting a questionable push start. I had to disconnect one of the head lights because I wasn't getting enough power from the alternator to keep the motor and lights going at the same time. I had to stop constantly and add water because the motor was overheating.
The transmission was dumping transmission fluid through the modulator valve into the intake manifold causing me to leave a trail of thick white smoke. The motor was knocking, pinging, backfiring and making more noise than a jet engine. Well we almost made it home. I was about a mile short and that my friend wasn't too bad with all things considered. We called home and were rescued by my sister in law and her friend. We transferred the belongings into the two cars. I removed the California license plate and once again a Ford would live up to its name. Found On Road Dead.
That is the way it was back then and I left several cars abandoned hear and there when I thought it would cost too much to fix. I bought several cars for a hundred bucks and left them wherever they died. This was no exception to the rule. Jim Raab
http://www.jimraab.blogspot.com/
We, my wife, son, and I that is didn't make it out of California when the station wagon started complaining. The inside was full and there was a 4 foot high pile of stuff tethered to the roof. The load was carefully stacked in layers to make the long journey home. No doubt the weight of the load was somewhat more than the limits of the wagons intended use. The first thing that went wrong was a flat tire and that was quite time consuming as I had to unload the back of the wagon to get to the jack and the spare tire. The wagon was so low to the ground that it was difficult to get the jack under the wagon. Then the wagon was so heavy the jack could barley lift the wagon up high enough to get the spare tire on. I had to let some of the air out of the spare to get it to fit on at all. That meant that I had to drive slowly until I got to a gas station to fill it up again.
According to a weather reports the up and coming mountain range had a forecast for lots of snow. I did not want to stop and chance being weathered in for who know how long or where. Sure enough it was snowing once I got up into the mountains. I think I drove for 12 hours and my first stop was Salt Lake City, Utah.
I didn't see much of Salt Lake City as I was only there to sleep and off early next morning. This trip back across the country was not living up to my expectations. I drove again for another 12 hours and made it to Cheyenne, Wyoming. As I recall there was a mountain range there too. Just like the mountain before it was snowing. After a good night of rest I was ready to go and off to a good start. In no time at all I was in nowhere land. There were miles and miles of nothing but tumble weeds, then finally a gas station and none too soon. when I was all fueled up and ready to go the wagon was not. This would prove to be the beginning of the end for this Ford
The wagon would not start and this place out in nowhere land was of no help. I pulled out the starter and tried to fix it but that was not to be. I went to the road and luckily got someone to stop and give me a push start. I was on my way again but with a lot less confidence and not wanting to turn off the motor unless I had to. In fact I drove late into the night. I was scared tired and finally could not go any further. Some of the red warning lights were lit on the dashboard and I not coherent enough to deal with it. I realy don't remember where we ended up but we found shelter from the storm and spent the night in another hotel.
Hotel Hell that is. For out in never never land the place was loud and noisy. their must have been a party going on and lots of drinking. The room was dank and nasty. I was too tired to find another place to go and went with the flow.
The next day was smooth sailing and it was as it should be pleasant. The food stops were interesting and everyone was so nice. We stopped along the way and took some pictures. If the whole trip was like this day it would have been a vacation in itself. I did push my luck and extended the driving late into the night.
I had made it to Des Moines, Iowa that knight and I was going to sleep no mater what. Next afternoon I woke up late and started tinkering with the wagon. It was low on oil and the radiator needed some water. I walked to a nearby gas station and picked up assorted fluids and fixed what I could. I really wouldn't know until I got a push start if everything was OK. I was parked on a hill and pushed the wagon myself jumped in popped the clutch and off I went. With no red warning lights on the dash I stopped for gas and continued my journey home. About an hour later all hell broke loose. The motor was making some very unpleasant noises and smoke was poring out from under the hood.
Oh where oh where could my fan belt be. And there is no one around to be helping me. I used a pair of my wife's nylon stockings to improvise for the belt and put some windshield fluid in the radiator. Another push start and very reluctantly it finally started. At the next gas station I wanted to get a fan belt but they didn't have one for my wagon. The overheating had done some serious damage to the motor and my 130 horse power motor was not doing very well. I fueled up and filled several containers with water. I was now limited to 20 minuets of driving before I would have to pull over and add water. At this point the drive was nerve racking to say the least. Once again I was exhausted and could not go another mile. And Holy Toledo, Ohio that's where I am. After 4 or 5 days of driving under lass than desirable conditions I am not looking forward to tomorrow and just want to get some sleep.
I didn't wake up until 5 pm and was in no hurry to get going. On the other hand I wanted this nightmare to be over. I was still amusing myself about the holy Toledo thing and how lucky I was to have made it that far.
The rest of the journey through Ohio was not too eventful. I was able to fuel up and add oil with the motor running. I refilled my assorted containers with water and stopped frequently to add water to the radiator. Now Pennsylvania was quite a different story. The hills of Pennsylvania, bull shit these are mountains all lined up one after the other and the scariest roads I have ever been on. I am coming down the first mountain with both feet on the brake and this is not the pedal that should go to the metal but it did. I down shifted used the hand brake and changed my under ware when I finally came to a stop. The rear brake cylinder was leaking fluid and I had to crush the brake line to stop the leak. Now I have only the front brakes and I am holding on to the seat of my pants. It can't get any worse that this, wrong when I turn on the headlights the motor starts to stall out. The battery is dead and the alternator is not strong enough to run everything. I pulled over and disconnected one of the headlamps.
Pennsylvania is dark. I mean scary dark. There is no question in my mind; if this wagon stalls out I am going to be the new front bumper for some 18 wheeler and that is what this state is all about Trucks, 18 wheelers everywhere. Ok I am negating steep mountain passes. I barely have enough power to clime the steep embankments and the pedal is to the metal. The tractor trailers are up my ass and the wind from them blowing by rocks my wagon. Then at the top of the mountain it's like two feet on the brake, only one headlight on and can't see shit. Then through no fault of my own on the way down the mountain I am flying past the same tractor trailer that has and will soon be up my ass. It wasn't until daybreak that I noticed the thick white smoke trail I was leaving behind. The transmission started slipping and I made it to a gas station in time but they did not appreciate my business. I did however get gas oil water and transmission fluid. I had to go down the road to fill the transmission and that's not easy with the motor running
By the time I made it home I had crimped the rear brake line to stop the fluid from leaking out of the rear breaks and only the front brakes were working. I was using a nylon stocking as a fan belt. The battery was dead and because the starter motor was shot and in the back of the wagon I could not turn the motor off without getting a questionable push start. I had to disconnect one of the head lights because I wasn't getting enough power from the alternator to keep the motor and lights going at the same time. I had to stop constantly and add water because the motor was overheating.
The transmission was dumping transmission fluid through the modulator valve into the intake manifold causing me to leave a trail of thick white smoke. The motor was knocking, pinging, backfiring and making more noise than a jet engine. Well we almost made it home. I was about a mile short and that my friend wasn't too bad with all things considered. We called home and were rescued by my sister in law and her friend. We transferred the belongings into the two cars. I removed the California license plate and once again a Ford would live up to its name. Found On Road Dead.
That is the way it was back then and I left several cars abandoned hear and there when I thought it would cost too much to fix. I bought several cars for a hundred bucks and left them wherever they died. This was no exception to the rule. Jim Raab
http://www.jimraab.blogspot.com/
Thursday, March 12, 2009
5 of 12 Two Rock Ranch
Now it is a month later and I am back in the Army. I enjoyed another thirty days of leave and am looking forward to getting out of the way. Now I am not sure how this works but the army gave me my records to bring with me to the next duty station so they might not get lost. Well of course I took the liberty of using steam to open the folder and see what was inside. After all I had 30 days to work on this process. I decided to modify a few things just to see what would happen. First there was the matter of the 30 days leave I took after basic training. Well there was a separate order that simply stated my name and that I was granted the leave and when I took it.
Now orders are printed on a normal 8 ½ x 11 inch plain piece of paper. Every thing that pertains to, happens to or changes for a military service person is documented by an order. That is to say that nothing changes until the order is given. The exception is death. All orders are printed with 6 copies. 1 copy goes to personnel, 1 to finance, 1 to the company clerk, 1 to the Commanding Officer and 2 are archived in different storage facilities for review and reference. One is some place in Maryland and the other is someplace in Kentucky. I know that the orders for Fort Devens were archived shortly after they became inactive. At the finance and personnel office inactive files were stashed in file cabinets in the basement of those buildings and there were enough file cabinets down there in storage to arrange as a shelter from all but a direct hit from a nuclear attack. their is a 201 file which is a 2 page folder that contains a brief summery of your records at a glance.
As I was saying I decided to remove the order for the 30 days of leave and the reference to that leave which was on the 201 folder. Of course I took away the order for the article 15 and its demotion back to E2. I also removed the reference to that demotion which was on the 201 folder. The dirty deed was done while I was in Jersey and there was no turning back now So I'll just have to see what happens.
I drove my Ford station wagon out to California and the ride was always interesting and at time the sights were breathtaking. My wife came with me and we took our time. You might say it was the vacation of a lifetime. I was not big on traveling and Boston was as far away from home as I had been. My westerly limit was the Delaware water gap and I was looking forward to my new adventure. We spent about 20 days on the road and I enjoyed every one of them. I went from not interested in traveling to wanting to see the country I was defending the freedom of. I knew now that a week or a month would tell me little about any state. I would need at least a year to see the turn of the seasons and check out a few locations. With a new 50 year mission in mind I continued across this beautiful country of ours with mountains of curiosity.
The first order of business in California was to find a nice apartment close the base. I went to the military base and asked around. I looked at few apartments and my choice was the one closest to the base. I bought a few essentials and waited a few weeks for someone to be shipping out. There was a posting board in the PX for just that reason. I bought everything I needed and I had plenty of choices. The price was not only good but some of the stuff was given to me for free.
The base looked non military from a distance with just some signs about government property that is until you pass the farm house and see the gates. At that point it's all military with double fences, barbed wire and MPs at the gate. It looked more like a prison actually.
Back at home I arranged for some free cable using some of my basic electronic skills and three weeks later I hooked myself up to some free laundry machine usage. I never could sit still and while waiting for the laundry to dry I took an impression of the keyway so I could continue my efforts on the second trip with a blank key. The laundry room was open 24 7 and with my newly fashioned key in hand I borrowed enough change to do my laundry and gave it back. I didn't get paid much back then and I had to improvise.
I worked my MOS repairing radios for 3 months. As a solider I was performing some mundane work with radios. Preventive maintenance was about it. I followed a simple procedure and the thing was quite boring and required an hour or two of the 8 hour shift. I would amuse myself buy detuning the radios and get them to receive other than intended bands and thereby have the ability to pick up some music or things of interest to me. This whole business required fewer skills than I acquired in my high school shop class. As time went on I was becoming more and more accustomed to wasting the tax payer's money and regretful that I was not benefiting buy it all.
Well blow me down. Just when I am depressed about this entire waist of money and not getting any I get this really big pay check. It seems that finance was only paying me for the rank of E2 and with no documentation of my article 15 they decided to give me some back pay. Of course I am just as scared as I am happy. Somehow I didn't expect that my antics would payoff. Well I have been wearing the three stripes on my uniform since I got there and what the hell now I am going for broke. I totally forgot about the whole paperwork thing and now I was shaking my head and can not tell you what I was feeling. The emotions were swirling around and changing rapidly. One thing I did know was that there was no way out now and if push came to shove I would have to plea the 5th amendment if that applied to the military. I started this bold rebellious route thought the military with one stripe and the prospect of dying in Vietnam. I had nothing to lose and enjoyed playing the game. Now the stakes were much higher. I was married, had a son, and was further away from home. I was now aware of the possibility of being sentenced to the stockade and yet unlike Vietnam the odds were better for staying alive.
My son Billy was born in California as an army brat just when I got the bonus check. They pay you more money if you are married and even more if you have other dependents. My son was born on December 31 and for one day I clamed him as a dependent for the entire year.
I was indeed a proud father and totally besides myself. Oh joy to the world. I took pictures and sent them to all the family members. I had already furnished his room with all kinds of goodies, toys and clothing. I just could not wait to get him home.
Now just when you think things couldn't get any better, they didn't. My new boss sergeant Johnson was a lifer of the worst kind. He lived up to his name and was just that, a dick. This guy wore starched fatigues with a crease down the leg that could cut you like a knife. His boots were spit shined like glass and even the boot laces were shinny. With his, basic training only fuzz left hair cut, he walked around like he was one of those guard duty soldiers at Arlington Cemetery. Well the first time he comes into the shop, I took one look at him and I burst out into laughter. At first the other guys tried to contain themselves but you know how that is. They had there hands over there mouths and tried there best. Like it or not this was my new boss. He was my exact opposite in every military way and worst of all had the upper hand.
Suddenly and mysteriously after my 3rd month I was assigned to the supply room and was handing out towels and sheets. Not all service personnel were military men. My new boss was a civilian. Things improved considerable and I was learning about racing cars, boats and motorcycles. This supply guy and I instantly became good friends and he lived 5 minuets away from the base. He had an entire machine shop in his garage and after work he taught me how to weld with an acetylene torch and with an electric welder. I learned how to use most of the machines used in today's automotive machine shops. This guy's specialty was racing cars and he sported around in a few of them. He liked to start from scratch and build them from the frame up.
3 months working in supply and I was transferred back to Devins. That made sense, I had the top scores in my military electronics classes and there were no openings for me in my present MOS so it's back to school for me. Jim Raab
http://jimraab.blogspot.com/
Now orders are printed on a normal 8 ½ x 11 inch plain piece of paper. Every thing that pertains to, happens to or changes for a military service person is documented by an order. That is to say that nothing changes until the order is given. The exception is death. All orders are printed with 6 copies. 1 copy goes to personnel, 1 to finance, 1 to the company clerk, 1 to the Commanding Officer and 2 are archived in different storage facilities for review and reference. One is some place in Maryland and the other is someplace in Kentucky. I know that the orders for Fort Devens were archived shortly after they became inactive. At the finance and personnel office inactive files were stashed in file cabinets in the basement of those buildings and there were enough file cabinets down there in storage to arrange as a shelter from all but a direct hit from a nuclear attack. their is a 201 file which is a 2 page folder that contains a brief summery of your records at a glance.
As I was saying I decided to remove the order for the 30 days of leave and the reference to that leave which was on the 201 folder. Of course I took away the order for the article 15 and its demotion back to E2. I also removed the reference to that demotion which was on the 201 folder. The dirty deed was done while I was in Jersey and there was no turning back now So I'll just have to see what happens.
I drove my Ford station wagon out to California and the ride was always interesting and at time the sights were breathtaking. My wife came with me and we took our time. You might say it was the vacation of a lifetime. I was not big on traveling and Boston was as far away from home as I had been. My westerly limit was the Delaware water gap and I was looking forward to my new adventure. We spent about 20 days on the road and I enjoyed every one of them. I went from not interested in traveling to wanting to see the country I was defending the freedom of. I knew now that a week or a month would tell me little about any state. I would need at least a year to see the turn of the seasons and check out a few locations. With a new 50 year mission in mind I continued across this beautiful country of ours with mountains of curiosity.
The first order of business in California was to find a nice apartment close the base. I went to the military base and asked around. I looked at few apartments and my choice was the one closest to the base. I bought a few essentials and waited a few weeks for someone to be shipping out. There was a posting board in the PX for just that reason. I bought everything I needed and I had plenty of choices. The price was not only good but some of the stuff was given to me for free.
The base looked non military from a distance with just some signs about government property that is until you pass the farm house and see the gates. At that point it's all military with double fences, barbed wire and MPs at the gate. It looked more like a prison actually.
Back at home I arranged for some free cable using some of my basic electronic skills and three weeks later I hooked myself up to some free laundry machine usage. I never could sit still and while waiting for the laundry to dry I took an impression of the keyway so I could continue my efforts on the second trip with a blank key. The laundry room was open 24 7 and with my newly fashioned key in hand I borrowed enough change to do my laundry and gave it back. I didn't get paid much back then and I had to improvise.
I worked my MOS repairing radios for 3 months. As a solider I was performing some mundane work with radios. Preventive maintenance was about it. I followed a simple procedure and the thing was quite boring and required an hour or two of the 8 hour shift. I would amuse myself buy detuning the radios and get them to receive other than intended bands and thereby have the ability to pick up some music or things of interest to me. This whole business required fewer skills than I acquired in my high school shop class. As time went on I was becoming more and more accustomed to wasting the tax payer's money and regretful that I was not benefiting buy it all.
Well blow me down. Just when I am depressed about this entire waist of money and not getting any I get this really big pay check. It seems that finance was only paying me for the rank of E2 and with no documentation of my article 15 they decided to give me some back pay. Of course I am just as scared as I am happy. Somehow I didn't expect that my antics would payoff. Well I have been wearing the three stripes on my uniform since I got there and what the hell now I am going for broke. I totally forgot about the whole paperwork thing and now I was shaking my head and can not tell you what I was feeling. The emotions were swirling around and changing rapidly. One thing I did know was that there was no way out now and if push came to shove I would have to plea the 5th amendment if that applied to the military. I started this bold rebellious route thought the military with one stripe and the prospect of dying in Vietnam. I had nothing to lose and enjoyed playing the game. Now the stakes were much higher. I was married, had a son, and was further away from home. I was now aware of the possibility of being sentenced to the stockade and yet unlike Vietnam the odds were better for staying alive.
My son Billy was born in California as an army brat just when I got the bonus check. They pay you more money if you are married and even more if you have other dependents. My son was born on December 31 and for one day I clamed him as a dependent for the entire year.
I was indeed a proud father and totally besides myself. Oh joy to the world. I took pictures and sent them to all the family members. I had already furnished his room with all kinds of goodies, toys and clothing. I just could not wait to get him home.
Now just when you think things couldn't get any better, they didn't. My new boss sergeant Johnson was a lifer of the worst kind. He lived up to his name and was just that, a dick. This guy wore starched fatigues with a crease down the leg that could cut you like a knife. His boots were spit shined like glass and even the boot laces were shinny. With his, basic training only fuzz left hair cut, he walked around like he was one of those guard duty soldiers at Arlington Cemetery. Well the first time he comes into the shop, I took one look at him and I burst out into laughter. At first the other guys tried to contain themselves but you know how that is. They had there hands over there mouths and tried there best. Like it or not this was my new boss. He was my exact opposite in every military way and worst of all had the upper hand.
Suddenly and mysteriously after my 3rd month I was assigned to the supply room and was handing out towels and sheets. Not all service personnel were military men. My new boss was a civilian. Things improved considerable and I was learning about racing cars, boats and motorcycles. This supply guy and I instantly became good friends and he lived 5 minuets away from the base. He had an entire machine shop in his garage and after work he taught me how to weld with an acetylene torch and with an electric welder. I learned how to use most of the machines used in today's automotive machine shops. This guy's specialty was racing cars and he sported around in a few of them. He liked to start from scratch and build them from the frame up.
3 months working in supply and I was transferred back to Devins. That made sense, I had the top scores in my military electronics classes and there were no openings for me in my present MOS so it's back to school for me. Jim Raab
http://jimraab.blogspot.com/
4 of 12 Devens Army Student
Eventually it was time to move on and I was willingly transferred to company E. I would have to break in a few new informants and get the new show on the road. That didn’t take long and by now I had more information about the military system than most lifers. A lifer is a career soldier. They need to be told what to do and can not make it in the real world. They would wait in line for hours to get something straightened out and I had no problem taking care of these inconvenient matters myself. That “hurry up and wait” mentality never sat well with me.
The Army is trying the same old shit here at company E. Wake up at 5:00 am, formation and roll call at 6 am, exercises for a half an hour, 20 minuets for chow and then marching to school in formation. You know left right left marching and mumbling some crappy jingo to keep in step. What a drag it is being a conformist. First day of this and already I am being harassed because I am wearing my sun glasses. You know I am being “Mr. Cool”. Next day I am wearing Government Issue prescription sun glasses and carrying the prescription in my pocket. Sergeant Majors fault for asking me if I had a prescription for them. It was nice of him to tell me how that luxury works.
I got my shit together and in no time at all I am off the roll call list, driving to school in my POV and making lots of new friends. I was always careful not to divulge my secrets or how I was getting things done. I always tried to keep a low profile and attract as little attention as possible.
I had become well adapted to the riggers of army life. My specialty was bartering. I had a knack for trading my services for the services of another. No money changed hands, no paperwork was involved and everyone had something to gain. But the way paperwork was a big deal in the army as it had to be approved, inspected by 3 departments and 6 copies had to be circulated. Just the word paperwork made some of these guys cringe.
Officers that could be coerced were hard to fine but not impossible. Normally they had way too much to lose to get involved with my antics. Their was however an exception to that rule. Through the personnel files I could find officers that were drafted. If the army needed doctors, lawyers, dentists, or other educated personnel, well they just drafted them. It shouldn’t take to much imagination to understand why these guys were unhappy campers. Some were losing their clientele, business and patients. Not to mention a great deal of money. The army wasn’t paying much at that time. And worst of all they were not immune to a Vietnam tour and were sweating it out just like me.
My electronic and auto mechanic skills were coming in handy. I used a combination of talents to parlay my endeavors. The motor pool liked my ability to get them the tools they needed from supply, the supply sergeant liked having his car tuned up buy me at the motor pool. A disgruntled JAG officer liked having his tape player installed in his car. In the dental office there were only two enlisted men. They worked in an obscure little building behind the dental office. These two guys were making plaster molds and doing some of the dental bridge work. They lived a good life and enjoyed many of the privileges of their officer coworkers. These guys were the weak link and inadvertently allowed my infiltration into the dental office supplies I wanted.
By the 6th week of school I had connections in JAG, supply, finance, personnel, motor pool and the dental office. What more could I ask for? How about teachers pet? This staff sergeant was like no other. Due to retiring after this class he was nice as can be. That is very unusual for a lifer. I was a tutor to other students improving their grades and making the sergeant look good. I aced the correspondence course and had all the answers. The other students were my servants and flocked to me for their tutoring on Wednesday nights. The tests were always on Thursday so that worked out well.
By the 7th week I was in charge of my destiny for the remaining 4 plus months. I had appointments for Monday Wednesday and Friday for the rest of my electronics training as a 33B20. That meant four day weekends and Wednesdays to recuperate.
I took the liberty of getting myself issued a second supply of everything. I kept a phony arrangement of all my supplies in the barracks for inspection. This was a requirement for my disappearing act. Never worn spit shined boots, a perfectly arranged wall locker, a foot locker with polished brass hinges and for the cot, which I never used, I had the blankets held tight with bungee cords underneath for that perfect inspection look. They would check the job by flipping a coin on the blanket and if it did not bounce they would tear the cot apart and yell at everyone.
I always had some excuse why I was not around for inspections. I had my friends in the barracks change my phony appointment slips regularly. One phony appointment slip was displayed on my cot as part of my phony arrangement. I never did experience a GI inspection. The General is not out and about every day. A few guys were unhappy about my non participation in the barracks cleaning details but after all I wasn’t there to contribute to the mess. Anyhow I treated them and any other assorted complainers to a variety of favors and gifts to keep every thing running smoothly.
This was not all fun and games. Occasionally some of my combatants needed to be taught a lesson or needed a reason to need my services. I could arrange for your pay voucher to disappear and you would not get paid until next month. Of course I am willing to loan you some money. Or I could have you waiting in lines fore the next month trying to get your records straightened out.
I still ask myself “can this be real?” I am amazed as to how bold I had become in so short a time. The army was encouraging me to be the best I could be and the rewards were plentiful. The women’s complex, the swim club, tennis courts, the golf coarse, toboggan hill, the USO club and the correspondence schools all on Fort Devins Military Base for my creative enjoyment.
The women's complex as I called it was a restricted area. All its amenities were off limits for mortal men. The only way in there was by being escorted by one of its inhabitants. Most of the base personnel did not know of its existence. I met my first ticket into the complex at the PX. That is the military Wall Mart type of store. I offered to help with a large box that she was struggling with. The box contained a vacuum cleaner with some assembly required. I offered to be of further assistance and at that the kingdom of luxurious accommodations lay before me.
This woman was not particularly attractive but through her I made some prize acquaints. The woman's complex was military civilian homes for the wives of the men who were off in the jungles of Vietnam. We enjoyed the indoor pool, spas and assorted luxury accommodations. The down side for these women is that the year was 1968 and we were at the peak of the war. BBC was broadcasting the odds for a safe return from Vietnam and the news was all about the war. I served my country well and was willing to help in any way I could. I entertained the women and took their minds away from their terrible situation.
My time for this task was usually limited to Wednesdays. As large as the base was I always felt it cramped my style. I had the girls from town to contend with and sometimes that meant I had to sneak them on and off the base. The USO club benefited from my endeavors and the attendance at the club improved considerably. The girls loved the attention, and a good time was had by all. I was only to glad to be of assistance.
Some of my friends lived in the Carolina, Florida and California. There was no way for them to go home for the weekend and they were being deprived of that luxury. I made some "appointments" for them and supplied them with a 5 or 6 day weekend so they could go home. I enjoyed helping out my friends.
My reputation spun out of control. I had no idea that I was known throughout the base. I was an inspiration to most, hope to many, envied by a few and an embarrassment to the Company Commanders. Unable to control me the Company Commander planted a rat in my barracks. He was there to spy on me and set me up for the kill.
This was my last 3 weeks at Fort Devins and I was being harassed. As luck would have it I had the company clerk in my pocket. I knew long ago that he would be a valuable asset. I always kept his interests in mind. I always needed to know what was going on. There is no one more informed than the company clerk. This is the first time I am in formation over the last 2 months. The rat reported my absence from the roll call roster and the plan was to put me back on the roster the next morning. The idea being, that in my absence, they could expose me in front the whole company, make an example of what could happen to a nonconformist, and be done with me once and for all.
If not for the company clerk I would be one sorry assed soldier. So eager and confident was the Commanding Officer, to have his day of victory that he started his retaliation speech right off. The wording and punch line required a silence after my name was announced at the roll call. He did not mention my name in his retaliation speech and announced that I would be revealed in a moment of silence. So humiliated was the Company Commander when I reported "here" that he just walked away immediately after the roll call and had not a words to say.
I had only 2 weeks left and I was out of the Company and on leave. The Commanding Officer was determined to make an example of me before I left. The rat was unable to furnish information to that end but he did foil a pair of 5 day weekends I set up for my 2 friends in Florida. I am usually nonviolent but I took a disliking to this rat. I just learned that my buddy was in trouble when the rat came up the stares. In a moment of face to face anger I cold cocked this mother as he came up the stairway and sent him off to the hospital where he stayed till I was gone. 3 days before I left Fort Devins I was court marshaled, received an article 15 and lost one pay grade from E3 back to E2. Seems like just yesterday I came to Fort Devens. My how time flies when you are having fun. My education is completed and I am officially a 33B20. I will be receiving orders soon and be embarking on a new military experience.
I found it difficult to say goodbye to all my friends. At this point I find it necessary to clear up a few things. Living, spending the night with, sleeping with, escorting, entertaining and being of service to the women, in no way includes the old in and out with. As hard as it was and with all that was at my finger tips, I was married and resisted the offers of pleasures. It was thought the fear of God and that I would actually be spending an eternity in the fires of hell that held me back.
Orders finally came and it was off to California for me. Two Rock Ranch was the name of the Army base and that sounded good to me. I had worn out my commanders welcome here and yet there were plenty of fond memories to reflect on. Jim Raab
http://jimraab.blogspot.com/
The Army is trying the same old shit here at company E. Wake up at 5:00 am, formation and roll call at 6 am, exercises for a half an hour, 20 minuets for chow and then marching to school in formation. You know left right left marching and mumbling some crappy jingo to keep in step. What a drag it is being a conformist. First day of this and already I am being harassed because I am wearing my sun glasses. You know I am being “Mr. Cool”. Next day I am wearing Government Issue prescription sun glasses and carrying the prescription in my pocket. Sergeant Majors fault for asking me if I had a prescription for them. It was nice of him to tell me how that luxury works.
I got my shit together and in no time at all I am off the roll call list, driving to school in my POV and making lots of new friends. I was always careful not to divulge my secrets or how I was getting things done. I always tried to keep a low profile and attract as little attention as possible.
I had become well adapted to the riggers of army life. My specialty was bartering. I had a knack for trading my services for the services of another. No money changed hands, no paperwork was involved and everyone had something to gain. But the way paperwork was a big deal in the army as it had to be approved, inspected by 3 departments and 6 copies had to be circulated. Just the word paperwork made some of these guys cringe.
Officers that could be coerced were hard to fine but not impossible. Normally they had way too much to lose to get involved with my antics. Their was however an exception to that rule. Through the personnel files I could find officers that were drafted. If the army needed doctors, lawyers, dentists, or other educated personnel, well they just drafted them. It shouldn’t take to much imagination to understand why these guys were unhappy campers. Some were losing their clientele, business and patients. Not to mention a great deal of money. The army wasn’t paying much at that time. And worst of all they were not immune to a Vietnam tour and were sweating it out just like me.
My electronic and auto mechanic skills were coming in handy. I used a combination of talents to parlay my endeavors. The motor pool liked my ability to get them the tools they needed from supply, the supply sergeant liked having his car tuned up buy me at the motor pool. A disgruntled JAG officer liked having his tape player installed in his car. In the dental office there were only two enlisted men. They worked in an obscure little building behind the dental office. These two guys were making plaster molds and doing some of the dental bridge work. They lived a good life and enjoyed many of the privileges of their officer coworkers. These guys were the weak link and inadvertently allowed my infiltration into the dental office supplies I wanted.
By the 6th week of school I had connections in JAG, supply, finance, personnel, motor pool and the dental office. What more could I ask for? How about teachers pet? This staff sergeant was like no other. Due to retiring after this class he was nice as can be. That is very unusual for a lifer. I was a tutor to other students improving their grades and making the sergeant look good. I aced the correspondence course and had all the answers. The other students were my servants and flocked to me for their tutoring on Wednesday nights. The tests were always on Thursday so that worked out well.
By the 7th week I was in charge of my destiny for the remaining 4 plus months. I had appointments for Monday Wednesday and Friday for the rest of my electronics training as a 33B20. That meant four day weekends and Wednesdays to recuperate.
I took the liberty of getting myself issued a second supply of everything. I kept a phony arrangement of all my supplies in the barracks for inspection. This was a requirement for my disappearing act. Never worn spit shined boots, a perfectly arranged wall locker, a foot locker with polished brass hinges and for the cot, which I never used, I had the blankets held tight with bungee cords underneath for that perfect inspection look. They would check the job by flipping a coin on the blanket and if it did not bounce they would tear the cot apart and yell at everyone.
I always had some excuse why I was not around for inspections. I had my friends in the barracks change my phony appointment slips regularly. One phony appointment slip was displayed on my cot as part of my phony arrangement. I never did experience a GI inspection. The General is not out and about every day. A few guys were unhappy about my non participation in the barracks cleaning details but after all I wasn’t there to contribute to the mess. Anyhow I treated them and any other assorted complainers to a variety of favors and gifts to keep every thing running smoothly.
This was not all fun and games. Occasionally some of my combatants needed to be taught a lesson or needed a reason to need my services. I could arrange for your pay voucher to disappear and you would not get paid until next month. Of course I am willing to loan you some money. Or I could have you waiting in lines fore the next month trying to get your records straightened out.
I still ask myself “can this be real?” I am amazed as to how bold I had become in so short a time. The army was encouraging me to be the best I could be and the rewards were plentiful. The women’s complex, the swim club, tennis courts, the golf coarse, toboggan hill, the USO club and the correspondence schools all on Fort Devins Military Base for my creative enjoyment.
The women's complex as I called it was a restricted area. All its amenities were off limits for mortal men. The only way in there was by being escorted by one of its inhabitants. Most of the base personnel did not know of its existence. I met my first ticket into the complex at the PX. That is the military Wall Mart type of store. I offered to help with a large box that she was struggling with. The box contained a vacuum cleaner with some assembly required. I offered to be of further assistance and at that the kingdom of luxurious accommodations lay before me.
This woman was not particularly attractive but through her I made some prize acquaints. The woman's complex was military civilian homes for the wives of the men who were off in the jungles of Vietnam. We enjoyed the indoor pool, spas and assorted luxury accommodations. The down side for these women is that the year was 1968 and we were at the peak of the war. BBC was broadcasting the odds for a safe return from Vietnam and the news was all about the war. I served my country well and was willing to help in any way I could. I entertained the women and took their minds away from their terrible situation.
My time for this task was usually limited to Wednesdays. As large as the base was I always felt it cramped my style. I had the girls from town to contend with and sometimes that meant I had to sneak them on and off the base. The USO club benefited from my endeavors and the attendance at the club improved considerably. The girls loved the attention, and a good time was had by all. I was only to glad to be of assistance.
Some of my friends lived in the Carolina, Florida and California. There was no way for them to go home for the weekend and they were being deprived of that luxury. I made some "appointments" for them and supplied them with a 5 or 6 day weekend so they could go home. I enjoyed helping out my friends.
My reputation spun out of control. I had no idea that I was known throughout the base. I was an inspiration to most, hope to many, envied by a few and an embarrassment to the Company Commanders. Unable to control me the Company Commander planted a rat in my barracks. He was there to spy on me and set me up for the kill.
This was my last 3 weeks at Fort Devins and I was being harassed. As luck would have it I had the company clerk in my pocket. I knew long ago that he would be a valuable asset. I always kept his interests in mind. I always needed to know what was going on. There is no one more informed than the company clerk. This is the first time I am in formation over the last 2 months. The rat reported my absence from the roll call roster and the plan was to put me back on the roster the next morning. The idea being, that in my absence, they could expose me in front the whole company, make an example of what could happen to a nonconformist, and be done with me once and for all.
If not for the company clerk I would be one sorry assed soldier. So eager and confident was the Commanding Officer, to have his day of victory that he started his retaliation speech right off. The wording and punch line required a silence after my name was announced at the roll call. He did not mention my name in his retaliation speech and announced that I would be revealed in a moment of silence. So humiliated was the Company Commander when I reported "here" that he just walked away immediately after the roll call and had not a words to say.
I had only 2 weeks left and I was out of the Company and on leave. The Commanding Officer was determined to make an example of me before I left. The rat was unable to furnish information to that end but he did foil a pair of 5 day weekends I set up for my 2 friends in Florida. I am usually nonviolent but I took a disliking to this rat. I just learned that my buddy was in trouble when the rat came up the stares. In a moment of face to face anger I cold cocked this mother as he came up the stairway and sent him off to the hospital where he stayed till I was gone. 3 days before I left Fort Devins I was court marshaled, received an article 15 and lost one pay grade from E3 back to E2. Seems like just yesterday I came to Fort Devens. My how time flies when you are having fun. My education is completed and I am officially a 33B20. I will be receiving orders soon and be embarking on a new military experience.
I found it difficult to say goodbye to all my friends. At this point I find it necessary to clear up a few things. Living, spending the night with, sleeping with, escorting, entertaining and being of service to the women, in no way includes the old in and out with. As hard as it was and with all that was at my finger tips, I was married and resisted the offers of pleasures. It was thought the fear of God and that I would actually be spending an eternity in the fires of hell that held me back.
Orders finally came and it was off to California for me. Two Rock Ranch was the name of the Army base and that sounded good to me. I had worn out my commanders welcome here and yet there were plenty of fond memories to reflect on. Jim Raab
http://jimraab.blogspot.com/
3 of 12 Fort Devens At-Ease
Army Code “Lead Follow or Get Out of the Way”
Now at Devins it's a month later and I am back playing Army man. I enjoyed my thirty days of leave and am looking forward to getting back out of the way. Turns out I am in a holding company. This is just a place to hold you until they can figure out where and when you are supposed to be going and process the appropriate paperwork. Bingo! Jackpot! It does not look like anyone knows who is in charge here. The left hand is not communicating with the right. The place is in total chaos and the turn over of soldiers is fast and furious.
We are labeled as Casuals in the military paperwork but there is nothing casual about the amount of work the army is trying to squeeze out of these guys. Normally this is a most unpleasant place to be and they among other things assume you will want to move right along. The harsh treatment for the “normal” included KP kitchen duty. That is 24 hours of kitchen clean up. I caught that one time. OK! That’s enough for me.
So bad is this place company D that one solder killed himself during my stay there. After his 24 hours shift of KP and only two hours of sleep the sergeant came into the barracks and told him to report to the mess hall for KP. He found out that he was not going to school as he was promised by his recruiter some days before and was very depressed. Anyhow this company performed all the unpleasantries of the entire base. This was the first time I realized that my ass was on the line and I was not immune to the possibility of ending up in the jungle warfare of Vietnam. This place was however a safe heaven for me. The way I seen it the longer I stayed there the less likely I would end up in Vietnam.
I was learning to play the game well and rule one was don’t hang around or someone will find something for you to do. Their was roll call at the early morning at formation and job assignments after that. Some assignments were daily, some were weekly and some were for the week ends. I immediately used some of my basic training skills to make various appointments to get out of the way until I could secure a second residence or place to hide. In the mean time I improvised by making a temporary escape route. The lockers were set-up down the middle of the barracks like a giant room divider. I took the back off of two wall lockers in the middle of the row and lined them up back to back. Although they appeared to be in use and locked with padlocks I had taken out the locking mechanism. Now I could slip away in the blink of an eye by stepping through one locker and out the other side.
By the 4th week I erased my name from the duty roster, which turned out to be a list on the wall of our operations building. The turnover of troops was so fast that their system of keeping track came down to a list on white board with a grease pencil. That wasn’t to difficult to take care of and then I could disappear right after roll call. The problem however was that each week they checked the roll call list and my name would reappear on the duty roster. By the 7th week my name disappeared from the roll call roster all together. I went to the personal department and asked the kid for Corporal Raab's file and suddenly according to the information from the personnel office I had been shipped off to school. Basically they removed my name off the roll call list for me.
I found that I could not only escape appointed details but also fake them. If I needed to have some paper work get lost, I just had to figure out where it was. On my own volition I invented and assigned myself to the personnel office for detail. They never heard of such a thing but obliged me none the less. I told them I was supposed to sweep up and empty the trash because there was some kind of inspection coming up. That’s how I got too check out my personnel records from time to time and keep them on the right track. That is how I knew I was going to be a 33B20 electronic technician.
Some of the guys were not so lucky and were getting other than expected or promised assignments. The recruiters would promise these guys whatever they wanted. This was where they would find out they got screwed. Here they would come to learn that they would be going to school for Morse Code literacy for 4 weeks and then to Vietnam or 8 weeks for infantry radio operator and then get to run around in the jungle with a CB radio instead of an m16 rifle. You have to be pretty fast to block the bullets with that thing and breaking off the antenna and trying to stab your combatant was a far fetch even for my imagination.
My school started every 3 months and ran for 6 months. There were always 2 classes going on at the same time. I would have started school on my 4th week according to the education schedule but oh well some paperwork failure at personnel and I will just have to hang around here for another 3 months.
The climate was very different in my new not to distant land of Fort Devens. At home it snowed occasionally during the winter and the snow would vanish in a few days. When it snowed here there was snow on the ground until the end of winter and it was always cold.
POV’s (privately owned vehicles) were not allowed on the base if you were below the rank of E4 but I got myself an admittance sticker for the windshield and had no problem with the MPs (military police) at the gate. I found an inconspicuous place to keep my car and was going home most weekends. I stayed home for a week now and then but I was worried about getting caught and could not enjoy it. After all this was good living and the only things I had to do was show up on payday and keep abreast of other events that would bring to question my whereabouts.
One weekend I was returning to Fort Devins from home around 3am. I generally used interstate 95 as my route back and forth for the weekends. There wasn’t any cruise control back then so I improvised with a paint roller handle positioned from the bottom of the dashboard down to the gas peddle. At that time of night there was no traffic and the speed limit was dictated by the limit of my ford falcon. By coincidence the interstate number and the miles per hour were the same 95. On this particular trip the driver side rear brake was dragging and heating up. I could hear the noise of metal grinding but kept on going.
That is of course until the explosion. The car lifted up, there was a bright flash, my heart stopped and I was sure I was dead. I ended up still in the car under a bridge and on the shoulder of the road and with relatively speaking only minor damage. The rim was glowing red hot and caused the tire to explode. The remains of the tire were burning and the rear axel fluid was leaking out and fueling the fire. This is all happening along side the gas tank and I am thinking I don’t want to be here. My second thought was that the bridge was going to blow up along with my car.
I was disoriented and took off promptly with no particular destination in mind.
I didn’t make it very far when I heard the second explosion. I don’t know what I was thinking but I went back to the remains. On the way back the first things I saw were the spare tire, tire iron and my rear license plate. Then there were more parts here there and every where. The smoke was thick and smelled nasty. The smoke slowed down what little traffic there was so I was kind enough to remove the door and trunk lid from the roadway. There were a few other large pieces of metal and I removed them as well. I did not want to think of myself as a litter bug. There was nothing to save so I used the tire iron to remove the front license plate and promptly exited the seen.
I had never been without a car after my 16th birthday and I considered my vehicle an extension of my legs. My car was part of me not just some object. I knew I had to go home and get some new legs. Well even if I tried to get back to Devens I would be late and in trouble. I crossed over the road way and stayed far enough off the shoulder as to be out of sight. I imagined there might be some objection to abandoning my burning car on the side of the road. I lost my car and I wasn’t about to pay for towing too.
I made it about a mile down the road when two cop cars with there lights flashing raced down the other side of the freeway. Shortly there after the fire trucks and ambulance went screaming by. I decided to hide and get off the freeway. I figured they would be coming back this way. There was a road that ran parallel to 95 and I walked that for a while. At first light I made it back to 95 and hitched a ride towards home. My first ride took me all the way to New York City. I took the bus from there and was home for lunch. I borrowed $400 from my sister and bought another Ford. This one was a station wagon.
I headed back to Devins around 10 pm which was early for me but I would not be able to get this car on base without the sticker. I would have to find someplace to park and do some walking. I wasn’t sure how much trouble I was in and needed to get some rest before my demise. Sure enough that morning I was ordered into the first sergeant office after roll call. I told him about my car breaking down on the way and he said “What the hell do I care about your car? Were you tethered to it with an umbilical cord?”. And to that end I was reminded what KP was all about.
I helped a few guys out now and then and always kept a few close contacts to keep abreast of any formation details and up and coming events. My new alias was Jerz Jim and that was fine with me. I brought the boys out to Boston one or two weekends and crashed some wild parties at the Boston Hilton. There were plenty of colleges and I dropped a few buddies off here and there on the way. I even took a car load in my new old Ford station wagon up to Vermont for some weekend skiing trips.
I bartered some favors with the supply sergeant and signed out some skiing equipment. There was other army gear that improved the trip. I didn’t know that an army supply room could be so well stocked. By the second month I shared an apartment off base so during the week I was 30 minuets away. When necessary I was able to account for the time lapses in my communication network (on base friendly informants) and travel time with my assorted appointments. The weekends were free and clear unless you were reassigned from the Company Commander’s duty roster to be there for some guard duty or some other such nonsense. I was 3 hours away in Jersey for most of the weekends to visit the wife.
Now a bit about skiing, it may look easy on television but I assure you it is not easy. I suited up got on the ski lift and enjoyed e pleasant ride up the mountain. Now at the top of the mountain there is quite a gathering of people, lots of conversation and o what a spectacular view. The catch is there is only one way down and off you go. That did not bother me because there were lots of 10 and 12 year old kids right there in front me and they were doing just fine.
Now the lay out was obvious and simple. By staying to your left and keeping the lift in sight and you will be on the beginners’ course. If you go to your right the slope becomes steeper and that’s for advanced skiers. I am trying to go left with my shoulders and the skis are going right and taking me with them. The harder I try to go left the further I am taken to the right. I didn’t take long to get my self into some very steep trouble.
For my next trick I tried to stop by jamming the poles into the snow, they stopped and promptly ripped out of my hands leaving me with only the wrist straps. I found that with enough distance I could lean to one side or the other and barely avoid the trees. It wasn’t that easy to avoid other skiers because they were moving targets. I tried screaming to warn them but over they went one after the other. At some point I was going too fast to have any control at all. I managed to squat down, well more like in the fetal position but I did not slow down at all. I tried to understand how I could seem so smart and end up so stupid as to be in this predicament.
Suddenly I was in the blizzard of 68. Not a well know blizzard in fact it was my own private blizzard. The winds were calm and it was me doing the 60mph and I was cutting through the snow rather than gliding on top of it. This was churning up the powdery snow and throwing it up in my face. This change in snow texture was me leaving the ski resort and going where no man had gone before. This light fluffy snow was half way up to my knees. I literally could not see anything and I was numb with fear.
My skis came to an abrupt stop on someone’s plowed, salted and otherwise snowless driveway. I tumbled into some bushes on the far side of the driveway once again escaped injury without so much as a scratch. Two hours later I made it back to the ski lodge and to this day I have never touched skis again.
3 more months of company D was a long time to kill and I found out that I could take a correspondence course for my up and coming 33B20 MOS electronics school. I did that and aced the correspondence course. I still have that nice looking certificate and a few more. I also took the correspondence courses for 33C, D and E20 MOSes. I was pretty much king of company D and think it’s only a coincidence that the D stood for disappear or do details.
At this point I had an affinity for tracking down Vietnam returnees and finding out everything I could from them. I wanted to know where they were stationed, what they did and anything I could about there tours. I left no stone unturned and relentlessly perused information about Vietnam as if my life depended on it. Jim Raab
http://jimraab.blogspot.com/
Now at Devins it's a month later and I am back playing Army man. I enjoyed my thirty days of leave and am looking forward to getting back out of the way. Turns out I am in a holding company. This is just a place to hold you until they can figure out where and when you are supposed to be going and process the appropriate paperwork. Bingo! Jackpot! It does not look like anyone knows who is in charge here. The left hand is not communicating with the right. The place is in total chaos and the turn over of soldiers is fast and furious.
We are labeled as Casuals in the military paperwork but there is nothing casual about the amount of work the army is trying to squeeze out of these guys. Normally this is a most unpleasant place to be and they among other things assume you will want to move right along. The harsh treatment for the “normal” included KP kitchen duty. That is 24 hours of kitchen clean up. I caught that one time. OK! That’s enough for me.
So bad is this place company D that one solder killed himself during my stay there. After his 24 hours shift of KP and only two hours of sleep the sergeant came into the barracks and told him to report to the mess hall for KP. He found out that he was not going to school as he was promised by his recruiter some days before and was very depressed. Anyhow this company performed all the unpleasantries of the entire base. This was the first time I realized that my ass was on the line and I was not immune to the possibility of ending up in the jungle warfare of Vietnam. This place was however a safe heaven for me. The way I seen it the longer I stayed there the less likely I would end up in Vietnam.
I was learning to play the game well and rule one was don’t hang around or someone will find something for you to do. Their was roll call at the early morning at formation and job assignments after that. Some assignments were daily, some were weekly and some were for the week ends. I immediately used some of my basic training skills to make various appointments to get out of the way until I could secure a second residence or place to hide. In the mean time I improvised by making a temporary escape route. The lockers were set-up down the middle of the barracks like a giant room divider. I took the back off of two wall lockers in the middle of the row and lined them up back to back. Although they appeared to be in use and locked with padlocks I had taken out the locking mechanism. Now I could slip away in the blink of an eye by stepping through one locker and out the other side.
By the 4th week I erased my name from the duty roster, which turned out to be a list on the wall of our operations building. The turnover of troops was so fast that their system of keeping track came down to a list on white board with a grease pencil. That wasn’t to difficult to take care of and then I could disappear right after roll call. The problem however was that each week they checked the roll call list and my name would reappear on the duty roster. By the 7th week my name disappeared from the roll call roster all together. I went to the personal department and asked the kid for Corporal Raab's file and suddenly according to the information from the personnel office I had been shipped off to school. Basically they removed my name off the roll call list for me.
I found that I could not only escape appointed details but also fake them. If I needed to have some paper work get lost, I just had to figure out where it was. On my own volition I invented and assigned myself to the personnel office for detail. They never heard of such a thing but obliged me none the less. I told them I was supposed to sweep up and empty the trash because there was some kind of inspection coming up. That’s how I got too check out my personnel records from time to time and keep them on the right track. That is how I knew I was going to be a 33B20 electronic technician.
Some of the guys were not so lucky and were getting other than expected or promised assignments. The recruiters would promise these guys whatever they wanted. This was where they would find out they got screwed. Here they would come to learn that they would be going to school for Morse Code literacy for 4 weeks and then to Vietnam or 8 weeks for infantry radio operator and then get to run around in the jungle with a CB radio instead of an m16 rifle. You have to be pretty fast to block the bullets with that thing and breaking off the antenna and trying to stab your combatant was a far fetch even for my imagination.
My school started every 3 months and ran for 6 months. There were always 2 classes going on at the same time. I would have started school on my 4th week according to the education schedule but oh well some paperwork failure at personnel and I will just have to hang around here for another 3 months.
The climate was very different in my new not to distant land of Fort Devens. At home it snowed occasionally during the winter and the snow would vanish in a few days. When it snowed here there was snow on the ground until the end of winter and it was always cold.
POV’s (privately owned vehicles) were not allowed on the base if you were below the rank of E4 but I got myself an admittance sticker for the windshield and had no problem with the MPs (military police) at the gate. I found an inconspicuous place to keep my car and was going home most weekends. I stayed home for a week now and then but I was worried about getting caught and could not enjoy it. After all this was good living and the only things I had to do was show up on payday and keep abreast of other events that would bring to question my whereabouts.
One weekend I was returning to Fort Devins from home around 3am. I generally used interstate 95 as my route back and forth for the weekends. There wasn’t any cruise control back then so I improvised with a paint roller handle positioned from the bottom of the dashboard down to the gas peddle. At that time of night there was no traffic and the speed limit was dictated by the limit of my ford falcon. By coincidence the interstate number and the miles per hour were the same 95. On this particular trip the driver side rear brake was dragging and heating up. I could hear the noise of metal grinding but kept on going.
That is of course until the explosion. The car lifted up, there was a bright flash, my heart stopped and I was sure I was dead. I ended up still in the car under a bridge and on the shoulder of the road and with relatively speaking only minor damage. The rim was glowing red hot and caused the tire to explode. The remains of the tire were burning and the rear axel fluid was leaking out and fueling the fire. This is all happening along side the gas tank and I am thinking I don’t want to be here. My second thought was that the bridge was going to blow up along with my car.
I was disoriented and took off promptly with no particular destination in mind.
I didn’t make it very far when I heard the second explosion. I don’t know what I was thinking but I went back to the remains. On the way back the first things I saw were the spare tire, tire iron and my rear license plate. Then there were more parts here there and every where. The smoke was thick and smelled nasty. The smoke slowed down what little traffic there was so I was kind enough to remove the door and trunk lid from the roadway. There were a few other large pieces of metal and I removed them as well. I did not want to think of myself as a litter bug. There was nothing to save so I used the tire iron to remove the front license plate and promptly exited the seen.
I had never been without a car after my 16th birthday and I considered my vehicle an extension of my legs. My car was part of me not just some object. I knew I had to go home and get some new legs. Well even if I tried to get back to Devens I would be late and in trouble. I crossed over the road way and stayed far enough off the shoulder as to be out of sight. I imagined there might be some objection to abandoning my burning car on the side of the road. I lost my car and I wasn’t about to pay for towing too.
I made it about a mile down the road when two cop cars with there lights flashing raced down the other side of the freeway. Shortly there after the fire trucks and ambulance went screaming by. I decided to hide and get off the freeway. I figured they would be coming back this way. There was a road that ran parallel to 95 and I walked that for a while. At first light I made it back to 95 and hitched a ride towards home. My first ride took me all the way to New York City. I took the bus from there and was home for lunch. I borrowed $400 from my sister and bought another Ford. This one was a station wagon.
I headed back to Devins around 10 pm which was early for me but I would not be able to get this car on base without the sticker. I would have to find someplace to park and do some walking. I wasn’t sure how much trouble I was in and needed to get some rest before my demise. Sure enough that morning I was ordered into the first sergeant office after roll call. I told him about my car breaking down on the way and he said “What the hell do I care about your car? Were you tethered to it with an umbilical cord?”. And to that end I was reminded what KP was all about.
I helped a few guys out now and then and always kept a few close contacts to keep abreast of any formation details and up and coming events. My new alias was Jerz Jim and that was fine with me. I brought the boys out to Boston one or two weekends and crashed some wild parties at the Boston Hilton. There were plenty of colleges and I dropped a few buddies off here and there on the way. I even took a car load in my new old Ford station wagon up to Vermont for some weekend skiing trips.
I bartered some favors with the supply sergeant and signed out some skiing equipment. There was other army gear that improved the trip. I didn’t know that an army supply room could be so well stocked. By the second month I shared an apartment off base so during the week I was 30 minuets away. When necessary I was able to account for the time lapses in my communication network (on base friendly informants) and travel time with my assorted appointments. The weekends were free and clear unless you were reassigned from the Company Commander’s duty roster to be there for some guard duty or some other such nonsense. I was 3 hours away in Jersey for most of the weekends to visit the wife.
Now a bit about skiing, it may look easy on television but I assure you it is not easy. I suited up got on the ski lift and enjoyed e pleasant ride up the mountain. Now at the top of the mountain there is quite a gathering of people, lots of conversation and o what a spectacular view. The catch is there is only one way down and off you go. That did not bother me because there were lots of 10 and 12 year old kids right there in front me and they were doing just fine.
Now the lay out was obvious and simple. By staying to your left and keeping the lift in sight and you will be on the beginners’ course. If you go to your right the slope becomes steeper and that’s for advanced skiers. I am trying to go left with my shoulders and the skis are going right and taking me with them. The harder I try to go left the further I am taken to the right. I didn’t take long to get my self into some very steep trouble.
For my next trick I tried to stop by jamming the poles into the snow, they stopped and promptly ripped out of my hands leaving me with only the wrist straps. I found that with enough distance I could lean to one side or the other and barely avoid the trees. It wasn’t that easy to avoid other skiers because they were moving targets. I tried screaming to warn them but over they went one after the other. At some point I was going too fast to have any control at all. I managed to squat down, well more like in the fetal position but I did not slow down at all. I tried to understand how I could seem so smart and end up so stupid as to be in this predicament.
Suddenly I was in the blizzard of 68. Not a well know blizzard in fact it was my own private blizzard. The winds were calm and it was me doing the 60mph and I was cutting through the snow rather than gliding on top of it. This was churning up the powdery snow and throwing it up in my face. This change in snow texture was me leaving the ski resort and going where no man had gone before. This light fluffy snow was half way up to my knees. I literally could not see anything and I was numb with fear.
My skis came to an abrupt stop on someone’s plowed, salted and otherwise snowless driveway. I tumbled into some bushes on the far side of the driveway once again escaped injury without so much as a scratch. Two hours later I made it back to the ski lodge and to this day I have never touched skis again.
3 more months of company D was a long time to kill and I found out that I could take a correspondence course for my up and coming 33B20 MOS electronics school. I did that and aced the correspondence course. I still have that nice looking certificate and a few more. I also took the correspondence courses for 33C, D and E20 MOSes. I was pretty much king of company D and think it’s only a coincidence that the D stood for disappear or do details.
At this point I had an affinity for tracking down Vietnam returnees and finding out everything I could from them. I wanted to know where they were stationed, what they did and anything I could about there tours. I left no stone unturned and relentlessly perused information about Vietnam as if my life depended on it. Jim Raab
http://jimraab.blogspot.com/
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