52 Years Ago Today

Fifty-two years ago, this very day, I was rudely awakened in the middle of the night and dragged out into the snow.  I learned in an instant that, as a private in the U.S. Army, soundly sleeping in a pup-tent on the snow covered Rocky Mountains of Colorado is apparently a luxury that is not guaranteed.

February’s 15 degree temperature demanded I crawl back into my sleeping bag but the obstacle to that desired intent was formidable.  My First Sergeant had other plans for me that very cold winter day.

For the next 24 hours I was placed on perimeter guard; restricted to a frozen hole in the ground that was about 3 or 4 feet deep and a roughly 4 foot egg shaped circumference.  Whereas I was mad as a hornet and frozen to the core, I had to admit (after the fact) the view was awesome.  The only thing better than being in the snow covered Rocky Mountains is being in the snow covered Rocky Mountains surrounded by a fireplace heated cabin.  There really was no comparison to the view before me.  Regardless, at that particular moment anger ruled supreme.

I could hear activity in the AO but most of the visibility was obscured by trees and boulders.  The longer I sat there, the angrier I got.  Not sure there has been since, a man I’ve hated more than that First Sergeant at that time. About every hour or so my Squad Leader or Platoon Sergeant (and even on one occasion the First Sergeant) came to check on me, bringing me hot drinks, snacks and meals as required. They would always chat for a minute or two; I figured they hung around for a bit to relish in my anguish. However, with time I grew to believe they chatted with me to ensure I had not faltered into a frozen stupor.

First Sergeants control the lives of everyone in the unit.  You would have to have spent time in the military to fully understand that harsh reality.  I’ll not waste words here trying to explain it; it’s one of those things you have to live through to understand.  His intent to torture me on that day had no training value, it had no value in honing my skills, it certainly did not enhance my morale; so what was the purpose?

To this day I cannot say for sure what his purpose was, but the fact of the matter is, had he not done that, my 18th birthday in 1973 would have come and gone with little to no fanfare.  As it is, I look back on that day with a fondness that I keep hidden away, a recollection that pops up every year around this time.

Today is my birthday, I turned 70 years old.  I have many such memories that span my lifetime, some are good memories, some are bad memories, some are regrets of what I did and regrets of what I should have done.  I’ll not wax philosophically and say that day taught me to be strong and gave me stamina that served me my entire life.  It was just another day in the life of a Private in the U.S. Army; a day like any other that contains a memory.  This particular one was a hard day to live through at the time, but has changed into a memory that brings a smile to my face.

Here, as they say, is the rest of the story.  A few days after this incident, while still in the training scenario, I received a package in the mail.  Letters for me during my early years in the military were few and far between, so a package was a spectacular surprise that helped ease the tension brought on by “the incident” of a few days prior.

The package, in the hands of the First Sergeant, hereto referred to as my nemesis, was in bad shape; obviously crushed during shipment by the USPS.  As it turned out it was a cake sent to me by my girlfriend.  Sadly, the cake had also been crushed.  It wasn’t until after he gave me the package and I had opened it that I noticed he had with him a pick-axe.  He retrieved the package, gave me the pick-axe as well as my next task.  I dug a 3X3 foot hole in the frozen ground and we buried that cake with a 21 gun salute and taps sounded out by kazoo.  According to the First Sergeant, my cake had died in action yet continued to struggle and with it’s dying breath got back to the unit; and for that, it deserved a military funeral.  I don’t recall how I actually felt that day.  I think “stunned” would be a partial description of how I felt.

Thus was my 18th birthday and the memories that surrounded it.  Full disclosure, when we concluded the field exercise a week or so later my First Sergeant gave me a 3 day pass, a freshly baked birthday cake and a six-pack of beer.   Guess he wasn’t so bad after all.