LEFT BEHIND"Hold Over" status... SO there were three of us that watched as the rest of the class shipped out to various places, to include Vietnam. Me, a blonde and a guy from Virginia. The Blonde and I were both from the Midwest. But she was from Kansas City! I found her very worldly. We were told we belonged to the Army Security Agency and our clearances had not yet come in. We were "Hold Overs". . . like so much of last nights beanie-weenies. The guy and I had orders together to Turkey. {Recall that I had asked to change mine from Berlin because I did not want to be the first female anywhere.}
We were given regular Army jobs while we waited. If our clearances didn't come through, we would be reassigned into the Army. I don't recall what they did with the guy from Virginia or Chris (the blonde). I was sent to the Mess Hall for mess duty. I would rather have been drawn and quartered. I was in the worst noisy stinkin' slop pit you ever saw. Seems they regularly flooded the place and hosed it out... that would be my job.
Now I need to back up just abit here and point out that not once did I grace the slop pit mess hall duty my entire time in Basic Training. We had something called "Fire Guard Duty" where each night one person would be totally denied our three hours sleep by standing up and watching the bay all night. The Drill Sargent's would come sometime in the night and place a towel on two different bunks and these two girls would be woken up by the Fire Guard girl and sent off to mess duty.
Quietly, with eyes half open, I watched this secret ritual one night. They just sort of tossed them, there wasn't a roster involved at all. Being a very light sleeper back then... I felt something touch me one night. . . sure enough a damn towel....SON OF A BITCH!. . . . I watched until I saw the Fire Guard go towards the toilets and pitched that fuckin towel on the bitch in the next bed.... she was a snotty piece of work anyway.
I might add that this same snotty bitch also went to MP School. . . she broke a record of lasting less than an hour.
The MP School Mess Sargent was like a Specialist seven or eight... I'm pretty sure that those ranks haven't existed in a thousand years, he had about a million stripes pointing straight to hell.
The Mess Spec. was a fucking dickhead. He had two volumes, loud and louder. Evidently, within the first five minutes, I either was not standing in ankle deep water correctly or not holding the hose properly. The noise was deafening. I hate cooking, food slopping and kitchens in general, always have. He comes by and screams something in my ear... I have no idea what he said.... But the asshole inside me broke.......after months of abuse......Sybil stepped forward and yelled at him to go fuck himself. Now this isn't the point to get all impressed; #1. jet engine volume noise and #2. he had turned his back and was walking away, #3. There is no way I thought he could hear me over all that noise.
Imagine my surprise when he turned around and I distinctly heard him say... "WHAT DID YOU SAY?"
I quickly bent over, put my hand to my mouth (Read Finger Down Throat) and commenced to vomiting..... I was escorted from the mess hall. He felt really sorry for me, said he didn't know I had hollered for help and that he wouldn't even repeat what the hell he thought I'd said. I told him not to worry about it, kitchens always make me vomit.
I was sent back to my bunk to rest for the day..... Hot Damn in Jamaica.... I liked this "Hold Over" shit.
The next day I walked about two blocks to a small office and reported in for office duty. This Sargent was so thrilled to see me I know he was peeing himself. He handed me a key to the building, told me to answer the phone and take messages..... then...then ..... he whispered, pointing .... that phone there is an *Autovon Line, and for me to help yourself to it. . .winked at me and left. I was there, in a building, by myself, for weeks. I never saw my "boss" again, and the phone never rang. I used to stare at the mystery line and wonder "What the hell was he talking about." and then I'd go back to sleep.
A couple days later, I asked my First Sargent if I could go home and get my car. He gave me four days and I did it. It was so strange after so many months of no sleep and physical hard work to have nothing to do.
Chris ended up in the Mess Hall. She said she didn't mind, I told her to puke if she ever wanted out. But to watch out cause that s.o.b. could hear above all that noise.
We hadn't even really had time to talk to one another before then. We became good friends, and are to this day... though it be only a card or letter a couple times a year. Our lives are very different. I'm an old woman with four kids and she is a not so old woman with dog shows. Sometimes I envy her, sometimes I'm sad.
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MY JAR HEAD
I don't know how things are done now days, but back then if a type of job skill needed particular facilities, then our Armed Forces shared. Marines and Army were given the same police training at Army installations. Dog Handlers, on the other hand were all trained by the Air Force, on an Air Force Base. However...that's about as far as it went. The Marines police the Navy and the Air Force does what they damn well please so why have any trained police force... just give them a uniform. (Hell I don't know what they did.)
Anyway, I found out early I had a taste for Marines.
I had acquired a big marine with bright blue eyes from New York. This read New York City in my mind and I was always a bit taken back when he seemed as hayseed as I was. He was from up in the Catskills.... city folk to me.
One night a crowd of us was down in "Disgust-a" Georgia. A couple of the boys were getting or had already gotten tattoos. My marine boy, Tim, went in to get his second, a fruity play on his family name. I decided that this was for me. I stagger in and explained that I wanted a USDA CHOICE meat sticker on my ass. Luckily, some were not as drunk as others and I found myself face down on the sidewalk with a couple of very goods friends sitting on me. My ass remains unmarked... Dear old drinking buddies, I thank you, where ever you are.
I was sad to see my Marine ship out, he wrote often and sent pictures. Tim had asked me to marry him, I told him it was a lost cause. . a **mixed marriage just didn't stand a chance. He told me he would find a way. . .then he got sent to Twenty Nine Palms.... there was no way. Our letters were hot and heavy.
One night after we had downed about a fifth of liquor, Chris said.... you knew I was seeing him too, right?
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DRINKIN' UP THE WHOLE LIQUOR STORE
There was a small Class Six Store (Military Liquor Store) near the school facilities. Every night after work Chris and I would hop in my car and go to the Class Six and each buy a pint of the same liquor...but NEVER the same thing twice. We had decided to drink our way down the isles of the local liquor store. Then it was off to the Whippy Dip where we would each buy a large soda, dump most of it out and pour in the booze. Every night, without fail, a couple a day on the weekends.
Our weekends started at 5pm (1700 hours) every Friday. By 5:30, we were checked into the Hornes Motor Inn. Months of communal showers and you will pay just to look at a bath tub. The first time we had flipped a coin, ever after that it was like clockwork taking turns. Walk in the room, drop our overnight cases and whose ever turn it was headed for the bath. The other went down to the Lounge and drank. The key was exchanged as the refreshed person traded places with the Lounge person.... when we were both bathed and dressed like normal women... dance and drink. It wasn't even anything we ever spoke about, but ***no men ever entered our room, nor did we leave with any men. It just wouldn't have been a very smart thing to do. Plus, between the two of us, we could have probably kicked half the state of Georgia's ass with one hand tied behind our backs.
A hot bath, good liquor, soft beds... we lived for our week ends.
I called home and my mother told me there had been men in suits all over town asking questions about me. A lady at the school had told a friend that men had taken all my school records. I might clue you in here... mother owned a Beauty Shop...hairdressers hear everything. My father was upset and wanted to know what I had done. I told mom to tell him it was called a clearance of some kind and I was waiting for them to finish.
Chris and I had never really thought the day would come... but it did. We looked at each other and laughed and cried. We had a choice... Coffee Brandy or Georgia Moonshine. We had been drunk on everything in the entire Liquor Store. We bought one pint of Moonshine and decided to split it.
I remember being at the Whippy Dip..............................
I woke up in the dark and tried to roll over, but my foot was caught on something...and seemed to be a lot higher than my head. I realized that my head was in the flower patch next to our First Sargent's office door... but my feet were still in my car. Chris was in an equal position spilling out the passengers side.... it was a small German sports model. The car was in the Company's formation field. I realized to my horror that it was the sound of marching boots that had brought me to and the same for Chris. Our old drill took my car keys and had several of the new student MP's carry us to our barracks.
The next time I came to, I pushed on the lump in the upper bunk and Chris groaned.
I said: I just had the wildest, weirdest dream....
Chris: What?
Me: I dreamed I was on the tailgate of an old beat up station wagon with the hairiest Marine you ever did see and you were in the back seat with another Marine rocking the car so bad we kept spilling our drinks off the tailgate.
Chris: It wasn't a dream.
We went back to sleep. The next thing I heard was a horrible lightening thunderstorm, really bad. I seemed to be by myself... no lump above me.
Then I heard the clickety click from the taps on the boots worn by a female drill whose barracks we were borrowing the back corner of. I jumped up to attention... in my underwear, the storm raging.
She was very cordial, I didn't know what to think. She told me to get dressed and come over to her quarters because I'd be a lot more comfortable. I was confused.... my brain said..how can you be more comfortable somewhere if you have to go out in this storm to get there..... {Sybil stepped up and called me a dumbass hayseed.} I told her I'd love to but my ****friend Chris might get upset if I were gone when she got back. Oh! she says and her face lights up. I didn't know. Well okay, you stay safe now in this storm...... And she leaves.
I have always marveled at this encounter, and thanked God for it. I finally understood...
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THE LITTLE MARINE
One night after work (ha ha ha) when I got over to the company area, Chris was waiting for me in the back, sitting on a trash can. Our old Drill Sargent had his current formation standing there. When I got there he told them that every one was now present .. .{There were no women in this class that followed us, that is why we were being housed in another barracks, so ours could be used for men} ... He called them to attention for a short arms inspection.*****
Chris and I knew he was quite the jester... we kept straight and serious faces. The majority of the men were obviously horrified when they were told to drop their pants. But following orders they all began unbuckling their belts.... One little marine was particularly horrified. The others had picked him to "pick on" . The Drill stopped them and had a good laugh. Then he turned his attention to us..... He told us we could have anyone of his boys as our slaves for the rest of the night. Just pick some...go ahead. I reminded him that we left the Fort every week and didn't come back till Monday morning formation.
Chris and I called one after the other front and center and whispered to each other. We agreed to take the little guy, but to really take him and let the Drill sweat it out all week end... turn the joke back on him. We told him we just wanted the little guy because my car was a two seater and so we would just share.
You should have seen their faces when we drove off with that Marine stuffed in the luggage compartment. He kept saying, you're gonna pull over and dump me out right, this is a joke right, they're all gonna really make fun of me now. Chris and I never said a word until we got to the motel. That kid was scared stiff. Then we explained to him that this is how our week ends go. The floor is yours. After we are done with the tub he could do as he pleased. We had a happy puppy all week end. We bought his drinks and his food. He was really a good kid. We told him he could make up anything and everything and tell any stories he could dream up... we would NEVER say any different. It's been some 40 years ago. I just told. But Monday morning formation and thereafter, he was the kid with all the candy and Ten Feet Tall.
Our old Drill Sargent was beside himself. He kept saying, that he knew we hadn't done anything...did we? It was great fun.
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A FANCY SEND OFF
It ended as quickly as it started, minus the puking. We were sent home on leave to be shipped out.
Chris ended up in the Northeast. I went home, then to Twenty Nine Palms and my Marine. He took me to the fanciest places I had ever seen. His Aunt lived close and wanted to meet me for the family. Turns out they had money. I sat in a chair in her sitting room, she barely spoke to me. Tim seemed nervous and they got into an argument in another part of the house. We left shortly there after. He wouldn't tell me what had gone wrong at his Aunt's house. I remember a huge gated garden, it was so beautiful. I stepped out thinking it was like Wonderland, only to find out that even the trees and grass were plastic.
His Aunt told him I was a Mexican. Even after he told me what her problem was with me, I still didn't understand. I wasn't, but so what if I had been. She had asked me several times where I was from, and I kept telling her Iowa. Seemed to be all she was interested in. Then I remembered the time when I was a kid working the fields and went shopping with my mom and sisters and they couldn't get served because I was with them and the waitress thought I was black. I didn't like California or his Aunt.
I started to get nervous about going overseas. Tim told me not to worry, he would be there as soon as he could, he had found out that there were Marines stationed on the island where I was headed. To think of it as going on a great adventure. I remember thinking that I sure as hell hoped my great damn adventure didn't crash in the fucking Pacific where I would be immediately devoured by sharks. Sharks who were at this very minute watching the sky's for me.
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IF SHIT DIDN'T FLOAT WE'D ALL DROWN
MAC Flight, the sweatiest nightmare ride of your life. I hadn't been on enough airplanes to know just how bad of a sardine can it was. When I looked out the windows there were white caps covering the ocean.... masking the shark fins, thousands, nah, millions.
We couldn't land on the island, we had to go to Japan. But no sooner off the plane then herded back onto the plane. Someone said we were outrunning a Typhoon. A WHAT? Then why the hell are we running in circles.
It was dark when we landed at Kadena Air Base. The five of us had found each other on the plane. Me and the guy from Virginia, Dirk, and three guys from another class. So far, the Army had led us by the hand... go here, do this, give this to so and so, they'll take it from there. So there we were, our papers in hand waiting to give them to someone. The Air Force Sargent seemed the prime candidate, sitting behind a desk and all. After all, they had brought us to their "house" so to speak. Now what. He just kept telling us that someone from the Army would come and get us... to wait "out there" nodding his head toward a row of roofed tables a few hundred feet away. Oh and don't sit on the tables.
Morning came and with it more rain. Hard rain the likes of which I had never seen before. We huddled together, bought ten cent coffees and vending machine cardboard. Every few hours the sentry would bring the drug dog over to have a brief chat . . .during all these "chats" the dog would stick his cold nose up my skirt to my crotch. At first the guys with me laughed, nervous, we didn't want to get accused of having any drugs. By the second day, I had four fast friends, who felt bad for me, but there was NOTHING any of us could do. I had to take it. During the days that followed, most of the Air Force Sentry's did NOT allow the dogs up my skirt, but some did and I never knew what would happen next.
On into the third day, we were desperate. We thought maybe we had been dropped off on the wrong island. We were like beggars on the street corner. Grabbing anyone with in earshot if they knew where Field Station Sobe was. No one had ever heard of it. We assumed that by now we were all listed as AWOL and in big BIG trouble.
The boys kept sending me back in every time it looked like maybe someone new had taken over the desk area inside the building. To show our Orders and ask if there was someone he could call and tell them we were here waiting. They never raised their voices to me but would scream at the guys for bothering them. So, it was me, time after time.
And the RAIN came down. And the whole place smelled of backed up sewage. We were almost grateful as it kept our stomachs turned and the thought of food made us want to vomit.
We used to argue amongst ourselves if we were picked up late on the afternoon of the fourth or fifth day. An Army jeep appeared out of nowhere. He didn't ask us any questions or ask for our Orders, he didn't say much of anything. Later we found out this was our company clerk, also known as the one who had fucked up and forgot we were coming.
I remember just wanting a hot shower, dry clothes, and a bed.
We were all housed in the same building. Accommodations for females being made as best as could be expected. I was to have an entire wing all to myself it seemed. Female sleeping quarters had been fashioned on the first floor along with the offices and such. Males all on the entire second floor.
I was their first, their one and only, a real pioneer.
I was escorted to the doors of my new home for the next several years, an abandoned Mess Hall.
FTA.......FTA.......FTA ******
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*Autovon line was a world wide phone line. Just pick it up and dial up anybody in the whole world. Just don't get caught.
**mixed marriage (Army and Marine)
***except for the little guy we held captive that week end
****friend was used like "partner" is nowdays and no we weren't but it made me realize that it was a very respectful society within our society.
*****short arms inspection = penis inspection
******FTA Fuck the Army
Go ahead, tell me how disgusting this is and how I shouldn't be allowed to Bloggerfy anymore.
