WHEN SOLDIERS CRIED
A True Story about Vietnam
By David Shea
Published by Brandylane Publishers, Inc. at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 by David Bradley Shea.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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Brandylane Publishers, Inc.
http://www.brandylanepublishers.com
* * * * *
This book is dedicated to the memory of
the late Colonel John S. Walker, III
and the late Master Sergeant Arlan L. “Top” Wheeler
* * * * *
“It’s not the critic who counts. It’s not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled. Credit belongs to the man who was really in the arena, his face marred by dust, sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs to come short and short again. Because there is no effort without error and shortcoming. It is the man who actually strives to do the deeds, who knows the great enthusiasm and knows the great devotion, who spends himself on a worthy cause, who at best, knows in the end the triumph of great achievement. And who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and cruel souls who know neither victory or defeat.”
—Theodore Roosevelt
* * * * *
CONTENTS
Chapter 18: Specialist, 4th Class
Chapter 19: On the Side Looking In
Chapter 25: Andrews Flies High
Chapter 28: Spiders in the Wind
* * * * *
1
On the Beach
The moon ascended like a fluorescent balloon, spreading a silvery swath across the warm Atlantic Ocean–as if its iconic face were smiling down on admirers curled inside the blanket below. For they were at the center of the universe and the night was theirs alone. At least those were the words Kelly was whispering in the ear of the girl he held next to him.
“Hummph! Just like a guy!” said the girl, rising quickly, clutching her top close to her breasts. “You men are all alike. You think with a few sweet words, you can get a girl into bed!”
“Geesh, just like a girl!” he commented, after an awkward pause. “You think all of us guys are the same. I was just hoping you were feeling the way I was. Who said anything about making love?”
As she slid onto the sand, pulling up her jeans and re-snapping her bra, Kelly could see her graceful, tanned curves in the moonlight.
It was July 1967 in Ocean City, Maryland, a beach resort 130 miles southeast of Baltimore. Dimpled sand dunes stretched for miles northward from 101st Street to the Delaware line. A refuge from summertime tourists, the dunes offered a venue for summertime locals to build bonfires and party. While crackling flames danced with ocean breezes, couples cuddled on blankets in shadowed bowls.
“I’ll never understand women,” he remarked, now sitting cross-legged on the blanket. “They never seem to know what they want. One minute they act all hot and bothered. And the next, they act like you’re a dirty old man.”
“Well the same goes for us! Guys just don’t seem to understand what it’s like to be a girl,” she sighed. “Besides, you haven’t even told me you love me. Sometimes I wonder if you even know my name.”
“For Christ’s sake, how can I tell you that? We’ve only known each other four days!” stammered Kelly. “And you know very well that I know your name. You’re Julie Nelson from Yorktown, Virginia. And you go to Old Dominion College in Norfolk.”
She took several seconds to look out toward the glistening sea before turning her head toward him. “Very good,” she said, while nodding with pursed lips.
They met on the beach at 12th Street where Kelly was a lifeguard. Julie was visiting a friend who worked as a waitress at a local restaurant. It was her day off, so they decided to go to the beach. As they stepped onto the sand, she looked up to see Kelly for the first time. He was on his orange stand, looking out over the ocean. Her mouth fell open with a gasp.
“Who is that hunk?” she asked.
“Oh, that’s Sean Kelly. He’s the guard on this beach,” explained her friend. “He comes in the restaurant sometimes, usually with a bunch of other guards. I’ve never seen him with a girl.”
Wearing a dark, brief swimsuit, his tanned and slightly sculpted body made a striking contrast against the morning sky. He wasn’t very muscular, but he had broad shoulders and a sleek torso. A matte of sun-bleached hair flopped over the top of his faded visor. And he had nicely curved buns and great-looking legs, she thought. From the minute Julie saw him, she knew they’d be together.
It didn’t take long for Kelly to notice her passing close to his stand toward the water. Hidden behind dark sunglasses, he watched her every move. She was five feet five inches with a gracefully curved body accented by a pink, two-piece bathing suit. He studied her slender hips and shapely legs and the sun-streaked curls that swayed over her shoulders. While she didn’t have large breasts, they rounded out her top nicely. And when she dove under a wave, his eyes were only on her.
Moments later, she bobbed to the surface tilting her head. Stroking her hair aside and wiping her eyes, she glanced quickly back at him. After that, he only had to offer a friendly smile and say hello to get things started. Since meeting, they had been to dinner and dancing at The Paddock, a chic nightclub with bands that played beach music. On this night, they had been invited to a friend’s party in the dunes.
“Hey, look, why don’t we go for a walk?” he suggested nonchalantly. “It’s too beautiful of a night not to enjoy it while we’re here.”
After a long pause, Julie nodded with a hidden smile.
They headed for the water’s folds that lapped the glittering sand. With each step, he could feel her getting closer. By the time they reached the water’s edge, her arm was brushing his.
“Let’s head down the beach,” he suggested, pointing to the distant lights of the Carousel Hotel.
“Okay,” she replied with a slight nod. “I like feeling the wet sand under my feet and between my toes.”
“Me, too,” he agreed as he stepped to meet the oncoming surge. “Especially when water rushes over and around them. It’s like the surf brings in a new tingle each time.”
They kept the same stride in silence for several yards, when Julie began to slow their pace.
“Have you ever noticed how no two footprints seem to be the same?” she started with heels pressed into the sand. “Each impression is different from all the others, no matter how hard you try to make them look identical.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed after several steps. “But when you turn to look back at where you’ve been, they’ve been washed away by the tide. So, the only steps that really matter are the ones we’re making right now.”
Julie looked up with a broad smile and caught Kelly’s hand with hers, wondering if she dared to speak. Suddenly, her words seemed to come from nowhere.
“And in front of us, there’s nothing but smooth sand, waiting for us to take together.”
Kelly pretended to weave off-balance for a moment before tilting his face into the glow of the moon.
“What?” she queried, pulling him to a stop at the edge of the surf. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, no, you didn’t say anything wrong,” insisted Kelly shaking his head. “It’s just…”
“Please, tell me if I said something wrong!”
Kelly studied her expressions while thinking of the right words to say.
“Well, you know how, when you go to a museum and you see statues of princesses? How the classic lines of their faces look so perfect?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” said Julie with puzzlement. “But what does that mean?”
Kelly inhaled deeply, telling himself they should continue walking without admitting what he was really feeling. But, the sight of Julie quickly overtook him.
“Well, when you turned your head just then, your face became radiant in the glow of the moon,” he said after a slight hesitation. “And, uh, it just caught me...”
Julie lunged forward to turn his neck and kiss him deeply before easing away to answer. “You know something, Mr. Lifeguard?” she said with pursing lips. “You can be a pretty romantic guy when you want to be. I’ve never had anyone talk like that to me before!”
Kelly beamed at the recognition. With more confidence, he bent over to brush her lips with his.
“Well, I guess I’ve got a good name for you, then,” he said softy. “You’re my princess.”
Julie hugged his neck tightly and drew close to speak softly in his ear.
“I hope this night never ends.”
Kelly nodded in appreciation before they started to walk again.
Suddenly, without speaking, she stepped back and lifted off her top, tossing it on dry sand. Next, she slid out of her bra. Soon, her jeans and panties were strewn in the same manner. Captivated, Kelly watched as her naked body moved gracefully from the water’s edge toward deeper water. Suddenly, he felt a wave of passion wash over him like he had never felt before.
“Man, you’re beautiful!” he exclaimed in a near whisper.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” she teased while splashing in the surf. “I’ve watched you rescue other people all day. Now come rescue me!”
Kelly quickly slid out of his shorts and T-shirt, tossing them next to hers. He then marched through the water toward her. Under the moon’s glow, she could see his darkened body with wisps of white around his hips. Shivering in naked excitement, they embraced and then kissed passionately. He could feel the contour of her warm breasts as he pulled her toward him. The scent of her perfume made him eager to draw in deeply through his nose.
“Where did you come from?” he asked, after easing away to stroke the wet hair out of her face. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
Blushing with radiance, Julie lifted her head to kiss his lips softly and then began nibbling on his neck and ears as Kelly began to trace the sides of her body with his fingertips. When he reached her hips, he paused momentarily before moving his hands behind her to gently explore her curves.
Feeling his caress, Julie titled her head with closed eyes to offer an approving “humm.”
“Feel good?” he asked quietly.
“Uh, huh…I love having you touch me.”
Aroused by her answer, Kelly drew his hands forward and lifted her to where she was able to wrap her legs around him. With her holding on, he started to playfully flex his knees, sometimes allowing the sea to wash over his head, causing Julie to chuckle with a girlish glee.
“What are you doing, you fool?” she teased with a laugh. “What if I decide to hold your head down? You wouldn’t be able to get away.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he admitted as he started tilting sideways. “Guess we’d just wash out to sea and I’d be lost in your arms forever.”
“Ooohhh. . . you are so cute!” she said lovingly while hugging his neck. “I just can’t get enough of you!”
Smiling and feeling more confident, Kelly felt his desire swelling with every subtle movement of her body and word she spoke. In a strange way, he felt a sense of déjà vu–as if they had been together before in another place and time. Instinctively, he firmed his grip under her thighs and eased his hips forward.
“Huhhhh!” she gasped, raising her head with her eyes wide open.
“What’s wrong? Are you all right?” he asked somewhat nervously.
Julie lowered her eyes to look directly into his, shaking her head slightly without saying a word.
Sensing her uncertainty, Kelly pretended to be distracted by the restless current that swirled around his ankles by teetering slightly off balance. The next move was hers, he thought to himself. If she wants to go back to shore, he wouldn’t try to stop her.
Then, as if struck by lightening, he realized what the problem was–or so he thought.
“Are…we safe?” he asked nervously.
Several moments passed before she nodded her assurance.
He held his position, wondering what he should do next.
“You have to understand–this is really special for me,” she explained softly. “I’ve never been like this before and I really like you.”
Feeling the same awkwardness he didn’t want to admit, Kelly tried to play it cool, hoping she really knew more than he did.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “If you’re afraid, we don’t have to…”
“Shhhh…,” she whispered with a widening smile. “It’s just the two of us and the night is still young.”
Feeling her legs spreading and hips moving toward him, Kelly inched forward, only this time with less pressure, often withdrawing slightly before stretching deeper. With each advance, he could feel more of her warmth until they were moving as one.
Bobbing together in chest high water with her chin against his shoulder, they were soon in rhythm with the gentle pulsations of the warm, caressing sea. Occasionally, he pressed deeper, making her feel weightless in a sea of ecstasy.
Suddenly, Kelly felt her tightening around him–as if she would never let go. The sensation made him quiver in nervous excitement. He knew he could explode at any moment. Frantically, he curled his toes upward, struggling to maintain control while Julie drifted with wild anticipation. As if asking for lustful mercy, he moaned her name in desperation and pulled her closer. As he pressed deeper, Julie tilted her head, panting passionately. Kelly tried holding their position without moving but soon realized his swelling desire would soon explode.
Suddenly, with a jolting sigh of relief, he erupted, sending surging waves of passion through both of them. Feeling the intensity of his release, Julie jerked her head upward to breathe deeply, imagining their bodies melting into one. With every successive wave, she felt an intoxicating pleasure for what seemed like forever.
Daring not to move, the two lovers remained locked in a lingering embrace until she felt Kelly begin to slip away.
“I love you,” she whispered softly, as her feet found the shifting, wet sand.
Feeling contented, Kelly pressed his chin into her neck and nodded in acceptance.
The early morning sun found them inside the blanket with Kelly curled behind her with his right arm wrapped around her bare waist. He was the first to roll onto his stomach with his chin resting between his palms. He marveled at the arced ocean against the morning sky before turning to see Julie’s head resting on her arms, looking up with soft blue eyes and a warm smile.
“Last night was so special,” she started with a sigh. “I’m sorry I acted a little dumb. It’s just…”
“Shush, it’s okay. I wouldn’t have changed last night for anything.”
She rose cross-legged with the blanket’s corner pulled up to her breasts.
“No, wait!” she insisted. “I’ve watched how you manage the crowd on your beach, how you run in the sand and move through the water. When you dance, your hair moves to the beat of the music. And when you smile, your green eyes seem to a have certain sparkle. You have a zest for living and I like that about you.”
“Ah, you’re just saying that, but thanks,” he said leaning over to kiss her wetted lips.
“Listen to me!” she continued while straightening slightly. “You’re really a great guy and you deserve all that life can offer.”
* * * * *
2
Summertime
Summers in Ocean City were made for postcards. The sand was silky smooth and the Atlantic was always deep blue under a hazy sun. Following the beach was a wooden boardwalk stretching more than two miles and lined with shops, picturesque hotels and restaurants. Many hotels had wide porches with rocking chairs so guests could enjoy balmy ocean breezes and watch the throngs of people stroll by. Off the boardwalk, there were good restaurants, bars and clubs with reasonable prices, even on a lifeguard’s budget.
“Why don’t we get some steamed crabs tonight?” he suggested while driving back to town with Julie curled under his right arm. “Phillip’s has an all-you-can-eat special tonight.”
“That would be great. What time?”
“Say, between 7:00 and 7:30?”
“Okay!” she answered as she slipped out of the car. After pausing a moment, she came around to his window and leaned in for a kiss. “See you later, hon!”
“I can’t wait!” said Kelly with his eyes closed.
As he pulled away, Kelly began to say a silent prayer, “Thank you, Lord. Thank you for bringing me this beautiful girl. Please let this dream last forever.”
At 9:55 A.M., Kelly crossed the boardwalk onto the beach, ready for another day’s work. He had already changed into his swimsuit in the bathroom of a nearby hotel and picked up his lifebuoy stored under a fire escape. Stopping in front of his stand, he planted the buoy in the sand and surveyed the water. The sea was beginning to ripple under a warm, southerly breeze. It would be an easy day, he predicted. Scanning to either side, he could see other guards adjusting their gear or talking with friends. As he drew a deep breath with his face raised to greet the warm sun, he knew he was where he belonged.
By 11:00 A.M., all guards were on top of their stands assuming a commanding view of the shoreline and the distant horizon that curved to a cobalt sea. Meanwhile, throngs of beachgoers were beginning to converge onto the sand. Soon, the crowd would become a sea as well.
Once on his stand, Kelly opened his metal utility box to prepare for the day. A former ammunition box, it was now crammed with the essentials of lifeguarding. In addition to first aid items, there were tanning oils and lotion, lip balm and a portable radio. After finding his favorite radio station, he began to coat his chest and legs with suntan lotion.
By the time he reached his calves, the song “My Girl” by the Temptations came on the radio, bringing a wide smile to his face. It made him think of the tender moments he and Julie had shared only hours before, so much so that he began to sing along while moving his shoulders to the rhythm of the music.
Throughout the day, Kelly rose to warn hapless swimmers getting too close to the jetty in front of him. The jetties were installed decades earlier to control beach erosion. Today, the sea’s rejection showed through missing and split planks. The currents that swirled around their menacing, jagged edges required lifeguards to be powerful swimmers who could pull unsuspecting swimmers from danger. Kelly was one of the elite few assigned to such jetties.
At other times, he rose to relay information about missing and found children using red semaphore flags attached to foot-long sticks. The only means of communication between guards were a series of hand strokes with their flags spelling words, one letter at a time. While sending a message, a guard had to watch his own beach as well as the receiver’s.
In the middle of sending one message, Kelly spotted a head with an unmistakable thrashing. There was no time to second-guess. After leaping off his ten-foot stand, he grabbed his buoy and dashed down the beach. Once thigh deep in water, he dove and began to swim. To be sure he was headed to the right direction he kept his head raised while watching the struggling swimmer. It took several seconds of long, powerful strokes through the surf before Kelly reached the bobbing head and thrashing arms.
“Here, grab hold of this!” Kelly shouted as he shoved his buoy between himself and the swimmer. “I’ll pull you in, once you have a firm grip!”
Instantly, the man lunged and wrapped his arms around the bobbing orange can. With his head above water, he tried to breathe without gasping. It was nearly a minute before he could catch his breath.
“You okay?” shouted Kelly as he treaded water.
“Yeah, I think so!”
“Okay, let’s get you back to shore!”
Kelly began to swim on his back while watching the man clinging to the buoy. He could see the man’s balding head peeking through graying hair and the strain of panic still on his furrowed brow.
“Whew, that was a close one!” said the man as he found footing in shallow water. “I don’t think I would have made it without you. Thanks a lot!”
“No problem, sir. You sure you’re alright?”
“Yeah, I’ll be okay. I’m just going to sit on the beach and rest a while,” he said as he extended his hand to Kelly.
“You’re welcome, sir. That’s what we’re here for.”
On returning to his stand, Kelly looked up to see Gordon, the guard at 13th Street, send a quick semaphore message: “N-I-C-E S-A-V-E.”
“T-H-A-N-K-S.” Kelly waved back.
By 5:00 P.M., the sea of tourists had dwindled to a few handfuls dotted up and down the beach. While some still splashed in the water, the guards’ work was done. It showed in Kelly’s darkened tan and bleached hair, dusted with tiny salt crystals. As he turned to see the sun setting over the hotels along the boardwalk, he closed his eyes. It was a view he wanted to keep for the rest of his life. But it was time for a hot shower at the lifeguard barracks and dinner with Julie. There would always be tomorrow.
The lifeguard barracks was a former Coast Guard station on the boardwalk at 1st Street. Standing two stories, its Victorian style and clapboard siding offered a nautical landmark among the clutter of T-shirt and souvenir shops that faced the boardwalk. On lazy summer nights many of the guards would sit out front, pitching their heroics to any fair-haired girl that happened to stroll by. And many of them did. It was a ritual as old as mankind itself: boy chases girl as long as she finds a way for him to notice her.
Entering the barracks, Kelly walked past a small crowd of tanned bodies huddled under the streaming heads of the shower. Most were headed to dinner at a local restaurant or a home-cooked meal with a girlfriend. Across from the showers were a bank of wooden mailboxes and the office of the beach patrol.
“Hey, what’s this?” Kelly asked as he pulled a large white envelope from his mail slot.
“Holy shit, it’s from the Selective Service!” claimed Spencer, a chiseled-looking guard who had come from behind. “I was drafted four years ago. That’s the kind of envelope they sent my notice in!”
Kelly stood frozen a full minute before saying anything.
“No way, man, I’m still in school. This has to be something else!” he insisted while tearing into the envelope.
After reading a few moments, Kelly turned to stare through the doorway. He could feel his stomach dropping to his tanned feet.
“Greetings. By order of the Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces of the…you are hereby inducted…,” were the only words he could whisper to himself.
“Didn’t you take a pre-induction physical?” asked Spencer.
“Yeah, but I didn’t think much about it because I’m still in college,” Kelly tried to explain.
“That was the first sign. Didn’t you know that?”
“I guess I thought it wasn’t real,” said Kelly.
“Hey, Kelly’s been drafted!” Spencer shouted into the shower room.
“Holy shit!” sounded a chorus of dripping patrons.
“This has to be a mistake; I’m going to get out of it!” Kelly declared. “What about my beach and my car? I’m on the varsity swimming team at school and I just met a girl I really like!”
From the showers, Kelly could hear the noisy commotion of a few already caught up in the news.
“Hey, Kelly, if you ever get a chance to get to Hawaii, look us up,” shouted Stevens, better known as “Bear.” “Marks and I are transferring to the University of Hawaii this fall. I’m not sure where we’ll be living but you can find us in the directory.”
Kelly had guarded next to Bear earlier in the summer. He didn’t know much about Marks except that he’d had an epilepsy attack while on duty.
“Yeah, sure!” Kelly answered defiantly. “But I’m not going. This is a mistake!”
“Come on, Kelly. This calls for some heavy-duty body surfing to get your mind off this crap,” offered Roarbach, now patting him on the shoulder. Roarbach was another guard who had been in the service several years earlier. “I’ll buy you a beer afterward.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got a date tonight,” answered Kelly. “So, I’ll have to take a rain check on the beer. But, a little body surfing before dinner sounds good. Let’s go.”
As the summer warmth merged with the sea, body surfing was not just recreation for the guards; it was also a form of paying homage to Mother Nature herself. In the early summer evenings, the waves seemed to roll in with perfect curls. Nothing could compare to a good riding wave, while the setting sun splashed magenta, gold and purple across the water in front of them. Squinting into the streaked colors of the curling water before him, Kelly imagined he saw faces that seemed to say, while the future is unknown, they would always be there.
* * * * *
3
Induction
All young men over the age of eighteen had an obligation to register for the draft and serve six years in the military. Whether or not they actually served depended on their draft status. Many received deferments because they were in school or had families. Others, employed in crucial services, were exempt because they were needed at home. Those from wealthy families or with political connections were often given deferments for sundry reasons. Or, if they did serve, they were allowed to jump ahead of waiting lists to join the National Guard or Reserves, both of which had no requirement for service outside the United States.
When Kelly turned eighteen, his father, an Air Force officer, was stationed in Germany. Since his family had transferred every three years from the time he was born, it was difficult for him to claim a permanent address. So when he registered, he had to use his grandparents’ address in Redmond, Washington. But now he was living with his family in Hampton, Virginia and had never lived in Redmond.
To try and convince the Redmond draft board it made a mistake, Kelly made lengthy phone calls, wrote letters and visited the office of the congressman for Redmond’s district in Washington, D.C.
“Uh…let’s see,” started Mrs. Fairchild, an assistant to the congressman. “Your letter says you’ve been inducted but you should have a deferment. Is that right?”
“Yes ma’am. I’m still in college.”
“And where’s that?”
“Uh, well in Virginia,” he answered cautiously.
“Why are you’re going to school there? Couldn’t you qualify for a school in Washington?”
“No, it’s not that,” he tried to explain. “We don’t live in Washington. My father is in the Air Force and stationed in Hampton.”
Mrs. Fairchild looked over the top of her horn-rimmed glasses to study the expression on Kelly’s face before continuing with her questions.
“Huh? You mean your family doesn’t live in Redmond?”
“Well, yeah…uh, my grandparents do–on Avondale Road.”
“What about your parents? Do they live in Redmond?”
“Well, no, not really,” he had to admit. “When I turned eighteen, we…”
“Then tell me, have either you or your parents ever voted for Congressman Jenkins?” she asked pointedly.
“I’m not sure…we were living overseas and…”
“Young man, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid we’re unable to help you,” she interrupted. “Congressman Jenkins has a policy of only assisting his constituents. Why don’t you try your congressman in Virginia?”
“But, I…”
“Again, I am sorry. Kathleen will show you to the door.”
According to Redmond’s draft board, Kelly no longer qualified for a deferment because he lost course credits when he changed schools. Had he registered with Hampton’s board, he would have qualified for a deferment because he was still in school; but draft registrations could not be transferred. And, according to Redmond, he was already included in the board’s quota.
Each board had to induct its share, or quota, of young men from its district for service in the armed forces. The quotas were assigned monthly and based on how many men were needed. That Kelly wasn’t living in Redmond, but on its rolls, made him an easy target since no one serving on the board knew him or his family. Despite Kelly’s efforts, their decision was final.
Kelly’s date for induction was set for September 10, 1967 when 37,500 young men were drafted in a single month, one of the largest since World War II. For convenience, he was allowed to report to the draft board in Hampton. Since he had no reason to work for college tuition, Kelly spent his last few weeks visiting friends and spending time with Julie. Their last days together were spent in a small cottage at Virginia Beach where they played, talked and explored the boundaries of their love.
“I can’t believe I have to leave in two days,” he sighed, while sitting with his arm around her on a porch swing overlooking the ocean.
“I know,” she answered with watery eyes and a bowed head. “I’ll be counting the days until you return. I love you so much, I always will.”
On a crisp September morning, Kelly woke to the tongue of his collie, Ricki. As he looked out his bedroom window, the early haze was already being chased away by the morning sun. Figuring he’d be traveling long hours, he slipped on a pair of cotton slacks, laced in a blue belt with a yellow stripe and tucked in a polo shirt. On his feet were Bass Weejuns and no socks. On any other occasion, he would appear to be headed for a college class.
With a few snacks his mother had packed in a paper bag, he loaded into the family car for the trip downtown. His youngest sister and a cousin, Ryan from Seattle, were also along. A second, middle sister was away at school. Growing up, Ryan had been the brother Kelly never had. As young men, they had mutual respect for each other despite their many scuffles while growing up. But now, Ryan was in college with a deferment and Kelly was heading into the unknown.
By 9:00 A.M., twenty young men and their families had gathered pensively outside the ruddy brick building that served as the Hampton draft board’s offices. A Greyhound bus was parked in front, its engine rumbling at low speed. Tears began to well in the eyes of mothers as they tried to hide their silent fears. Fathers, many of whom had also served in the military, hugged their sons and reminded them to write often. Those with new wives seemed locked in an eerie bewilderment.
A middle-aged woman soon emerged from the building to announce the new draftees were being taken to an induction center in Richmond, about an hour and a half away. Once there, they would be given a physical exam, processed and then transported to an Army post for basic training.
“I want to thank you all for what you are doing,” said the woman in a somber monotone. “Thank you for serving your country. And, your country thanks you. God bless you and good luck.” With that said, the bus driver revved the bus engine, spewing a cloud of sooty smoke at its rear, signaling it was time to go.
Kelly turned toward his father, fighting back the mist he could feel forming in his eyes, to shake hands. “See you later, Dad.”
“Be careful, son,” said his father, trying keep his own eyes dry.
“Hey, Ryan, we’ll have to go water skiing when I get back,” said Kelly half bravely as he reached to shake hands. Ryan could only nod with his head slightly bowed.
He hugged his sister before turning toward his mother. As he did, she lunged forward and threw her arms around his neck.
“Oh, Sean, please don’t let anything happen to you,” she blurted with tearing eyes. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you!”
“I won’t, Mom,” he promised somberly. “Don’t worry, I can make it.” She nodded silently as he eased himself away and stepped onto the bus.
Little was said among the country’s newest draftees on their way to Richmond. After their arrival, they climbed a flight of stairs to the second floor and were directed to a large room where they joined a group of others standing restlessly. There were young men from all areas of Virginia. They came from family farms, coal mines and furniture plants. There were college graduates, high school dropouts and convicted felons remanded to the service in lieu of jail. About a third were black, the rest were white. Like Kelly, many were too young to vote or buy a drink legally.
“You men on the end form a line and move down the hall to the second room on the left,” ordered a sergeant in a brown Army uniform. As ordered, Kelly and eleven others made their way to the small room.
“Now, form two lines, one along each side,” ordered an Army medic as he entered the room while swinging his hand from left to right. Half-frightened, the recruits quickly found their places.
“Alright, now turn around and remove your clothes down to your shorts,” ordered the medic. Behind him, a doctor in a white coat with a small silver dish on a band around his forehead entered the room, pushing a swivel stool on rollers.
“Now drop your shorts, bend over and spread your cheeks!” ordered the medic. “The doctor wants to examine you.”
Kelly and the one to his right did as they were told. But out of the corner of his left eye, he could see the man next to him with his fingers in his mouth. Kelly struggled not to laugh.
“Not your lips, you stupid son of a bitch!” yelled the medic to the room at large. “The doctor wants to look at your asshole!” The room broke out in muffled laughter.
After the seated doctor sidled his chair down both lines, they were ordered to dress and move single file through a series of testing stations where they gave blood and urine samples, had their vital signs checked, and were examined for physical impairments. At each stop, Kelly overheard complaints of various ailments from the men on either side. Usually, the examiners nodded and told the man to move along, saying, “There’ll be a more extensive exam when you get to basic training.”
There were also a dozen forms and questionnaires to complete. The topics ranged from citizenship to police records, family background and medical history. Since most of the forms were designed for both males and females, some questions didn’t apply to Kelly.
By mid-afternoon, all testing and forms had been completed and the recruits were led to a large room with vintage school desks and a small podium at the front. They were beginning to make idle conversation when a stocky sergeant walked up to the podium. With a jerking motion, he turned on a microphone, which came to life with a loud screech.
“Is there a Jones, a Willie Jones here?” he started while scanning the room.
A brief moment of silence passed before there was a cautious answer from a far corner. “Yeee…yes, suh, I’s here.”
“You Willie Jones?” asked the sergeant, looking over the top of his glasses.
After several uneasy seconds, the recruit raised his voice to answer.
“Yes, suh, that’s mah name.”
“Jones? It says here on your medical history that you’ve had menstruation. Is that true?”
Kelly could feel the air trying to escape his lungs as he tried to hold back laughter.
“Yes, suh, that’s raaht.”
“Uh, huh. And how often have you had it?” questioned the sergeant.
“Oh, my momma said I had it several times when I was younger,” he answered with a bobbing head.
By now, the entire room had erupted into long overdue laughter. Some began to hoot and call out four-letter words preceded by the word “dumb.”
Giving the recruits a chance to play along, the sergeant asked with a wide grin, “Uh, huh! And when did your momma tell you you last had it?”
“Ohhhh, I can’t exactly say when. But I’s rememberin’ it bein’ real bad!”
The laughter became so loud, the sergeant had to order the room to quiet down before he spoke again.
“Let me tell you something, Jones, menstruation is when your pussy bleeds! And you ain’t got one! Your ass is drafted whether you like it or not!”
After a spate of more laughter, the room quickly filled with a somber silence. It was a reality they all faced.
There was a brief swearing-in ceremony where the recruits took an oath to defend the United States before each man was designated the rank of Private, E-1. They were then directed down the flight of stairs to a bus that would take them to the train station on West Broad Street. From there, they would travel to Ft. Jackson in Columbia, South Carolina for basic training.
At the station, Kelly passed the time wandering the cavernous halls and waiting room. He tried to nap on the oversized benches but couldn’t keep his eyes from staring at the domed ceiling. It all seemed like a bad dream–one that he hoped would soon end.
* * * * *
4
Training
After an arduous eight-hour journey, Kelly was all too happy to put his feet on solid ground–even though it was 2:00 A.M. The train had originated in New York and stopped in major cities along the way to pick up new recruits. In all, over three hundred men were destined for Ft. Jackson. Once off the train, they boarded buses that carried them to a reception center where they were ordered to empty their pockets. Knives, zip guns, cards and condoms were among dozens of items confiscated by the military police. Blood samples were taken before the new recruits were marched to the barbershop.
While sergeants in brown campaign hats stood witnesses, each recruit was led to one of eight chairs. The barbers knew only one hairstyle–shaving from front to back. As electric shavers buzzed, the sergeants prowled between chairs, menacing the recruits with insulting language and wicked laughs. Those with long, wavy hair that had been meticulously preened only minutes earlier were especially singled out. To the sergeants’ delight, one out of four broke into tears as his shorn hair fell to the plastic cape around his shoulders. The more anguish shown, the more the sergeants would laugh and jeer.
When it was his turn, Kelly didn’t look down as his sun-streaked hair was peeled from his head in less than eight strokes. It wasn’t pleasant and his scalp tingled in the crisp morning air. But he refused to let it show. He just stared straight ahead without looking in any of the dozen mirrors surrounding the room.
Next, they were led to a large warehouse where each was issued a new pair of black leather boots, olive drab fatigues, dress greens and khakis. Each item was stuffed into a stiff, olive drab duffel bag as they moved in assembly line fashion. After all gear had been issued, they were ordered to change clothes. While most threw their civilian clothes away, Kelly pushed his deep into his duffel bag. From there, they filed through a clinic for vaccinations, two shots in each arm.
They were then marched to a giant cafeteria or “mess hall” for Army “chow.” To Kelly, breakfast tasted okay and the price was right. However, he found the menu limited and second helpings were not allowed.
On half-full stomachs, they were led to a series of rooms and given written tests to measure knowledge, aptitudes, skills and language. Those who scored well were given additional tests for officer candidate and flight schools. During one of the breaks, a sergeant administering the tests walked over to Kelly, unexpectedly.
“You did pretty well on the tests, soldier,” he started. “Would you like to go to Officer Candidate School? You’re qualified to get in.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think so,” answered Kelly casually.
“Why not?” asked the sergeant. “Don’t you know it’s better to be an officer than an enlisted man? There are more privileges and higher pay.”
“I know, but I don’t want to spend any more time in the Army than I have to,” explained Kelly, now with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets.
“Are you willing to risk going to Nam?”
Kelly stood stoically, watching the sergeant’s eyes and the movement of his hands before answering. It was the first time anyone had made a statement about going to Vietnam. On the train, others joked about it. But to Kelly, going to Vietnam was too remote–the infantry and going to war was not his thing.
“I don’t know, I guess that’s the risk I’ll have to take,” he declared somewhat nervously. “I think I scored well enough to qualify for something other than being in the infantry. Hopefully, the Army will place me in a position where I can use my skills.”
“Don’t be too sure, soldier. A lot of guys are headed to Nam, regardless of how well they scored,” replied the sergeant before walking away.
After all testing had been completed, many recruits enlisted for specialty fields and additional years of service rather than face the risk of going into the infantry. Those with a serial number starting with “US” were draftees who were required to serve a minimum of two years active service and four years of inactive reserve. Those who enlisted for specialty positions had to serve more active time in exchange for a guaranteed position. Their designations were changed to “RA” for Regular Army. The amount of additional time depended on the field selected.
“What about our final physical?” carped one of the draftees loudly.
“Oh yeah, that’s right,” replied one of the sergeants. “We forgot to give you a final physical. You men move to the field across the street.”
As the recruits filled the lot, several sergeants circulated among the rows.
“Now,” said one of the sergeants in front, “y’all raise your left arms over your head.”
In unison, most of the recruits obeyed. “I said your left arm, you asshole!” bellowed the sergeant to a man in front.
“Okay, now raise your right arms.” This time, there was no misunderstanding.
“Good. Now everyone lift your left leg as high as you can. Your left leg, stupid!” shouted the sergeant to another.
“Good! Now lift your right leg,” he ordered.
“Great! Y’all passed!”
Those who were holding out for a final way out of the Army seemed stunned as they stood among those laughing.
Lugging full duffel bags, they were then herded onto large transport trucks with canvas tops parked in a caravan. Each truck had a large rear flap that dangled from an arched metal support at the top. Once the men were bunched inside on wooden benches, the flap was secured. Unless the flap was pulled to the side, it was impossible to see out.
After being tossed around in nearly total darkness for what seemed like an eternity, they lurched sideways when the truck came to an abrupt stop. Several minutes passed before the sounds of someone untying the flap could be heard. As it was being raised, a colossal figure came into view standing just behind the rear gate. Kelly shared a startled loss of breath with those too scared to move.
Standing a good six feet three inches and weighing at least 250 pounds of solid muscle was a black drill sergeant with a brown, slightly crumpled campaign hat who reminded Kelly of a mean bulldog. Scanning the faces of the new recruits, his lips curled into a sneer and his steely eyes squinted with disgust.
“My name is Sgt. Smith. But ’round here they call me ‘Ranger.’ I’m going to be your drill instructor,” he began with a snarl. “Now, I’m givin’ y’all ten seconds to clear outta this truck and fall into formation to my right.”
Ten seconds was five more than needed as the recruits emptied the truck with their duffel bags. Forming four lines, ten men deep, they were too nervous to notice the wooden barracks lining the wide driveway. Instead, they watched Ranger lumber to the front of the formation.
“This here’s Tank Hill. It’s your new home,” started Ranger while scanning each face in the formation. “For the next eight weeks, we’re gonna train you to be soldiers. Anyone got a problem with that?”
As Ranger seemed to expect, not one muscle twitched among the recruits.
“Contrary to what you may have heard, we’re not going to teach you to drink or smoke or even swear,” he continued. “You’re going to have to learn that on your own!” Even with slight laughter, few faces showed any sign of relief. “Any quer’stions?”
Only shaking heads could be seen down each row.
“Good. Now take your gear and file up to the second floor of that barracks behind you,” he said, pointing behind the formation. “I’ll be up there shortly.”
Kelly and the others scrambled up the stairs to the second floor. Inside was a large room with aging green linoleum and ten bunk beds, five to a side. Along the walls were wooden footlockers between gray, upright metal lockers. A lavatory with four showerheads was at the end of the room near the head of the stairway. Double-hung windows were spaced along the walls and a fire escape was at the opposite end from the lavatory.
Waiting for instructions, the recruits huddled nervously in the center of the room. Their voices fell quiet as the sound of Ranger’s spit-shined boots could be heard clomping up the stairs.
“Spread ’round the room in front of a bunk by twos,” he ordered while waving his right arm back and forth.
Once all the bunks were accounted for, Ranger walked down the sides, stopping within a foot of each recruit to read the crisp nametags sewn over their shirt pockets.
“Soo? What kind of name is that?” he asked, stopping before a dark-haired recruit. “What are you, a Jap or a Chink?”
“I’m Sansei,” answered the recruit with a stiffening spine.
“You’re what?”
“My parents are Japanese, but I was born in America. So I’m American citizen,” he insisted in broken English.
Ranger stepped back for a minute with his eyes scanning from the floor to Soo’s forehead. “Hmmm, looks like you need to eat more! How much do you weigh?”
“About 130 pounds, sir.”
“Don’t call me ‘sir’! I’m not an officer. I work for a living,” Ranger demanded, as he looked around the room.
“Yes, sir,” responded the group in unison.
“Goddamit! I just finished telling y’all I’m not an officer!” he said with a raised voice. “Now once again, what’s my name?”
“Drill Sergeant!” went the chorus.
A slight smile crept over Ranger’s face before he continued his orientation.
“Good! Now, these barracks make up the 4th Platoon of Company D of the 1st Training Battalion. This floor is for the first and second squads. The men on my right will be the first squad and the men on my left, the second. The third and fourth squads are downstairs. Three other platoons are housed in barracks down the drive toward company headquarters, called the ‘orderly room,’ which is diagonally across from the mess hall.”
In addition to Ranger, there were three other drill instructors, or DI’s, each assigned to a platoon. Each DI had two assistants, usually corporals. In charge were a commanding officer named Capt. Whelk and a master sergeant everyone called “Top,” a name that carried respect by officers and enlisted men alike. Each platoon was also assigned a platoon guide who was selected by the DI’s to be the senior recruit.
“Are there any quer’stions?”
“No, Drill Sergeant,” they answered in unison.
“Good,” said Ranger with a quick smile. “Now, y’all store your gear and get ready for chow at 1800 hours, that’s 6 P.M. civilian time. After chow, I want each of you to write your parents and let them know you’re alright. My assistant, Corporal Petrini, will pick up mail at 2100 hours or 9 P.M. After that, I want you to clean up these messy barracks.”
Each recruit nodded before Ranger turned to head down the stairs.
As he pulled his new fatigues from the duffel bag, Kelly began to realize he was still able to think and be himself, despite the conditions. He was proud for not breaking down when others did. It was a pride he’d never felt before. “If I don’t screw up and I do what I’m told, maybe I can make this after all,” he said, silently trying to coach himself.
After arranging his clothes, Kelly reached the bottom of the duffel bag to find his slacks, belt, polo shirt and Weejuns. Instead of removing them, he left them at the bottom, folded the bag and then placed it on the floor of his locker.
At 1800 hours, the men of the 4th Platoon were in formation and ready to march to the mess hall. Chow consisted of Swiss steak with gravy, boiled potatoes, beans, milk and bread. They were served cafeteria style on square, tin trays that were sectioned so each server could drop food in a certain spot. No talking was allowed once they sat down to eat at wooden tables squeezed into a small dining room.
“If you have enough time to talk, you’ve finished your meal!” bellowed a sergeant passing between the tables.
After chow and letters home, the men began the task of cleaning the barracks. Though no one could see anything close to being a mess, they all pitched in to help. A few even showed enthusiasm. One man, on hands and knees, used his own toothbrush to polish the brass floor drains in the lavatory.
At midnight, lights were ordered out. For security, a fire watch was established with volunteers selecting one-hour shifts throughout the night. Armed with a retractable shovel, the man on watch was positioned at the top of the stairs. His purpose was to protect those sleeping from nighttime disasters as well as pranks from neighboring training companies. With more than enough volunteers, Kelly climbed into his upper bunk for what he hoped would be a good night’s sleep. It seemed like he’d been in bed only an hour when the lights came on abruptly.
“Get the fuck outta bed, you miserable assholes!” yelled Barnes, an assistant DI. “You’re all going for a run!”
Thunderous sounds could be heard as twenty men hit the floor all at once. Groping, still half asleep, Kelly found his watch on the shelf of his locker. He had to rub his eyes a second time before he believed what he saw. “Holy shit, it’s 4 A.M.!” he mumbled in disbelief.
Spilling out of the barracks, Kelly joined the stampede headed toward a dirt field across the road from the barracks. With a handful of DI’s in the center, they were ordered to begin running clockwise in a large circle. As they started in unison, their boots hitting the parched ground made them sound like a herd of cattle. Kelly found that running wasn’t difficult, even though his stiff boots were ten pounds heavier than bare feet. Still, it was easier than running in sand.
By the end of his first lap, the track became crowded with those collapsing, many crying like babies. “I want my momma!” one wailed, dropping to his knees.
“You miserable fuck! Get the hell up and run like a man!” a DI shouted only inches away from the recruit’s ear while yanking him by the back of his collar. “Your mother can’t save you now! Only me, you sorry son of a bitch, and I want your ass running!”
With each lap, more kept falling out. Some began vomiting off to the side, barely visible through the heavy clouds of dust. Others were either kneeling or lying facedown on the ground. Had not so many been in the way, Kelly could have made the laps even faster. But he soon found that a steady pace was all the DI’s seemed to want. No one was yelling for him to run any faster. By the time the run was stopped, Kelly was one of only a handful still on their feet.
The following weeks were filled with intense physical exercise and learning the basics of warfare. Each day began with an early morning run before breakfast. Afterwards, there were obstacle courses that required crawling, running, pull-ups and balancing. With bayonets raised, they were taught how to skewer enemy soldiers and how to fight hand-to-hand when ammunition ran out.
There were also hour-long marches to rifle ranges for target practice. With his keen eyes and quick reflexes, Kelly qualified as “Expert,” the highest rating. The return marches were usually turned into “double-time” runs that included having to scale notorious “Drag Ass Hill,” which sloped fifty yards up to the road near the barracks.
Along with learning combat skills, they were introduced to the realities of being a soldier. They stood in rooms filled with tear gas, tossed hand grenades and crawled under live machine gun fire at night. They took turns at KP (kitchen patrol) and walked guard duty around buildings on the post. There were Saturday morning inspections and exhausting drills in parade marching.
At the end of each day, they stood in loose formation for mail call, which became a lifeline for Kelly. Nearly every day, he received a letter from Julie. His heart would dance to the scent of her perfumed envelopes. One whiff took him back to their times at the beach. Often, he slept with her letters under his pillow so he could smell the scent of her perfume throughout the night.
Like other recruits, Kelly found it easy to make friends. Despite their diverse backgrounds and races, they grew to depend on one another. With names like Jones, Sarfina, O’Mally and Kryzinski, they came from the cornfields of Illinois, the slums of New York and even U.S. territories. His lower bunkmate, from Puerto Rico, understood so little English that Kelly had to fill out his weekly laundry slip.
For many, the Army was the best thing that ever happened to them. They had never slept between clean sheets, eaten three meals a day or had clean clothes. And, even though there was a lot of kidding, the chow was usually well cooked and nutritionally balanced.
All recruits were expected to accept the rigors of training. Those who refused or became behavioral problems were singled out by the DIs and verbally abused or punished. In addition to customary pushups and laps around a field, some were ordered to crawl under the barracks to collect ants. Once caught, they were to be crushed and stored in a shirt pocket. The few that insisted on being incorrigible were “recycled” to units that specialized in menial labor. Rumor had it that the most difficult were forced to march with footlockers strapped to their backs.
Kelly accepted the rigors of training as a matter of practicality. He was not enthusiastic about being a soldier, even though he scored among the highest on and off the rifle range. His compliance was simply a matter of taking the quickest and most honorable way through the ordeal.
As the weeks slipped by, he could feel his physical endurance increasing along with his confidence. His feelings were often inspired by the melodic words they’d chant while marching in formation. Often, the DIs would lead in a story about “Jody,” a mythical civilian who was home with the men’s girlfriends. In reply, the recruits shouted in step with the march.
“You had a good home when you left,” started the DI, leading on his left foot with the recruits following him.