Another Place Another Time

Another Place Another Time

Book One

Jake and Whispers

Episode Four

Basic Training normally takes eight weeks. I spent 16 weeks in Basic Training. I wasn’t sick; in fact, I never missed a day of training. I wasn’t stupid; my test scores easily qualified me for OCS (Officer Candidate School). Even though the possibility of being an officer held no appeal for me, my test scores mandated that I listen to the OCS recruiting talk, not once, but many times.

I wasn’t a disciplinary problem, at least not in the conventional sense of the word. In fact, in four years in the Army I didn’t receive so much as a single Article 15, which is the most minor official disciplinary action.

Despite that, I completed an extra eight weeks of basic training to “receive further military training.” In fact, I was “recycled.” Finally, at the end of sixteen weeks, the First Sergeant summonsed me.

I entered the orderly room, marched smartly to his desk, came to attention, and began to report in military fashion.

The First Sergeant waved his hand and said, “At ease, Jacobson. Listen up. In the past sixteen weeks, you’ve completed two full cycles of Basic Training, and you have failed to graduate with either of them. That’s a record, Jacobson, but not one you should be proud of. During the sixteen weeks that you’ve been part of this command, you have not created a single disciplinary problem…you’ve created every one of them. We’ve tried every way that we know to bring you in line and nothing has worked. So, we’re giving up.”

“Do you mean I can go home, First Sergeant?”

“No, Jacobson, that isn’t what I mean at all. You are done with Basic Training, or maybe it would be more accurate to say, Basic Training is done with you. You’re going to move over to the Harmony Church area this afternoon and begin Advanced Infantry Training. When you finish there, if you ever do, you’ll be going straight to Vietnam, and Jacobson, you’ll probably die there.”

He looked at me for a minute, shook his head, and handed me a large brown envelope. “Here are your records and your orders. Pack your gear, call a base taxi, and give a copy of your orders to the driver. He will take you to your new training company. That’s all, Jacobson.”

*********

One hour later, I reported to my new training company, Company C, 85th Advanced Infantry Training Battalion. I arrived with my military-issue, duffel bag, filled with my U.S. Army issue clothing and a few approved personal items. I also had the large envelope that contained my 201 Military Personnel File that had grown to the rough size of the personnel file of a twenty-year combat veteran.

My new First Sergeant looked at me and then at my file. He knew there was a story there, though I had an idea it wasn’t one that he wanted to hear. He didn’t ask about the file. Instead, he said, “Private Jacobson, you are the first to arrive. Do you think you’re special?”

“No, First Sergeant.”

“Jacobson, if you think you are special this would be a good time to get over that idea.”

“Yes, First Sergeant.”

“Okay, Jacobson, you get the afternoon off. You also get your choice of bunks. Corporal Hankins will take you to the barracks. First formation will be at 0530 hours tomorrow. That’s all.”

Corporal Hankins took me to the barracks where I picked a lower bunk three away from the entrance door. He told me what time the mess hall opened, and he left. I unpacked my gear, made my bunk, and lay down to read Siddhartha, a book by Hermann Hesse that I’d found at the PX. I hadn’t been reading long when I heard someone enter the barracks and call out, “Jacobson, are you here?”

“Come on in, I’m here.”

A man appeared at the foot of my bunk. I looked over-the-top of the book and saw that he was a Captain. In sixteen weeks of Basic Training, I’d never spoken to my Company Commander. Now, fifteen minutes into Advanced Infantry Training, the Company Commander had come to see me. I jumped out of the bunk and began to come to attention, thinking I was supposed to say something, something that failed to come to mind.

He stopped me with an upraised hand, “That’s not necessary, Leonard. This isn’t official business.” He sat down on my footlocker, and I sat on the edge of the bunk.

He glanced at the book and commented, “Good book. Have you read it before?”

“No, Sir. I just found it at the PX.”

With a puzzled look on his face he said, “At the PX?”

“Yes, Sir. The clerk said he had no idea how it got there.”

The Captain laughed, “I can believe that,” he said, then added, “You’ll like it. I’m sure of it. Let me know what you think of it when you’re done.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Leonard, I’m Captain Kennedy, Richard Kennedy, and for this afternoon you can call me, Richard, if you like.”

“If it’s all right with you, Captain, I’d just as soon not form any habits that will cause me grief down the road.”

He laughed, “I understand. Well, I’m going to call you Leonard, anyway, and you call me whatever feels right for you. Get your cap; I’m going to take you on a little trip. You’ll be back in plenty of time for supper.”

“That’s fine by me, Sir. Just give me a minute to secure the area.”