Prolific Art Concepts
by Jeffrey A. Nord, Sergeant First Class (Retired Reserves)
18 October 1988 - 16 November 1990
HHC, 23rd Engineer Battalion
Hessen-Homburg Kaserne, Hanau, Germany
My first week at Ft Leonard Wood was spent mostly raking huge oak leaves into numerous piles and bagging them, but I also did some inprocessing stuff, like get my clothing and gear, haircut, paperwork, etc.
There were other new enlistees who were also going to be linguist/interpreters and they talked about how, after our 2-year training period, we could be assigned to some remote listening post with no one else around or we could be assigned to work in a US embassy, where we would be shot by Marines, if it ever got overrun (so the enemy wouldn't be able to get Top Secret information from us through torture).
I decided I really didn't want to be a Linguist/Interpreter after all and asked the assignment manager to reclassify me as a Personnel Administration Specialist, so he did. This reclassification resulted in me staying at the Fort Leonard Wood Reception Station for three more weeks. Luckily, someone in the office asked me if I would rather deliver mail, instead of raking leaves. Of course, I said YES! So, I spent the last three weeks delivering mail around the reception station, an area of several buildings scattered around approximately four acres. I enjoyed it and it sure beat raking leaves.
Toward the end of my month-long stay at Fort Leonard Wood, the assignment manager said he was going to send me to Korea. I told him I didn't want to go there, so he told me he would send me to Germany instead. That sounded good to me.
17 November 1990 - 2 January 1992
HHC, 299th Engineer Battalion
Fort Sill, Oklahoma
12-16 January 1991 - Here I am in the C-130 Cargo Plane somewhere between Altus, Oklahoma and Dhahran, Saudi Arabia.
12-16 January 1991 - A trip to the bathroom involved climbing up on the center horizontal beam and "tight rope" walking, around each support pole, all the way to the back.
12-16 January 1991 - We slept overnight in a hangar filled with cots in Torrejon, Spain, our second layover on our 3-day trip to Dhahran, Saudi Arabia.
January to April 1991
24th Infantry Division
Operation Desert Shield/Storm
Saudi Arabia & Iraq
In light of the ultimatum President George H. W. Bush gave Saddam Hussein with a deadline of 15 January 1991, I was a little nervous flying into Dhahran Air Force Base on the 16th of January, the day AFTER the deadline. I thought there was a chance we could be mistaken for enemy aircraft and shot down.
We landed in the morning and were told to wait on the concrete tarmac with all our bags of gear, so we did. We sat in the hot sun all day long, watching a great aerial show unfold as the huge arsenal of Air Force jets took off and landed during their pre-war test flights for the upcoming combat mission that evening. Despite being in the hot sun all day, we were all pretty well entertained by all the activity and none of us were really in a hurry to get to our new unit, except one crusty, old Sergeant First Class. He finally got upset, stormed off, across the tarmac and into an office in the terminal building, and demanded to speak to someone from his gaining unit, the 299th Engineer Battalion. After about a half hour, he returned with a triumphant look and said we (the four of us going to the 299th) would be picked up tomorrow afternoon and that, for the night, we would sleep on cots in a huge tent at Victory Station, not far from the air base. And that's what we did.
Just before lights out at 10 pm, two songs were played quite loudly on the intercom; the first was "Don't Give Us a Reason", by Hank Williams, Jr; the second was "Proud to be an American", by Lee Greenwood. I guess that was designed to pump us up. Only a few minutes after lights out, a loud siren was heard and we were told to go to MOPP-4, so we did and went back to bed. I woke up at around midnight and had to go to the bathroom in one of a series of many out-houses just a short distance from the tent. As I walked out of the tent to the out-houses, I saw several jets flying overhead in a northerly direction. I said to myself, "they're going into Iraq"! The next morning, we saw on a big screen TV that US-led coalition forces had bombed Bhagdad. That was the last TV screen I saw for nearly three months until we returned back to Khobar Towers after the war.
Later that day, the four of us were picked up by two Humvees from our gaining unit, Headquarters and Headquarters Company, 299th Engineer Battalion. We had to ride on the floor in the back of each Humvee, because they had no seats. We rode for hours over bumpy sand trails at high speeds, often getting airborne and hitting our heads on the top of the Humvee when big bumps were encountered, and there were many. Luckily, I was wearing my helmet. The constant bumps led to my butt becoming very sore (I think I probably bruised my tailbone) from riding on the floor and I could not wait to get out of that Humvee.
Finally, as the sun was setting, after many hours of a brutal and uncomfortable ride, we arrived at our bivouac site.
My standard battle rhythm during much of our three months in the desert mostly involved pulling guard duty from midnight to noon. During my 12-hour shift, I walked our sector of the perimeter for two hours, sat in the ALOC (Administration and Logistics Operations Center) for two hours to monitor radio communications with the TOC (Tactical Operations Center), walked for two more hours, monitored radios for two hours, and so on. For each 1/2-day shift, I ended up walking for six hours and monitoring radios for six hours.
One thing I began to notice, after several days of guard duty, was the ever-increasing discomfort in my back, while walking our sector of the perimeter. It's really no wonder, because I was lugging around over 50 pounds of weight: one M-16 rifle, 210 rounds of ammunition, 7 magazine clips, a flack vest, two 2-quart canteens of water (1 gallon total), gas mask and chemical protection suit, helmet, boots, first aid kit, magazine pouches and web gear.
Although I was a member of the S1 (personnel administration center), my supervisor didn't want me, or any of my coworkers, to work inside the ALOC, other than to monitor radios. He wanted to handle everything himself and It seemed like he didn't have a whole lot of administrative tasks to do there anyway, otherwise he would have had us do paperwork.
Instead, we did guard duty and basic sustainment tasks, such as laundry (in a pail), chow, personal hygiene, hole-digging details, waste-burning details and maintaining our foxholes. Sand blew into our foxholes every day and covered our gear and sleeping bags. Removing sand from our foxhole, our gear and ourselves was a constant battle. I am so glad I made the wise decision to bring two canisters of Wet Ones hand wipes with me. Before leaving Ft Sill, I took them out of the plastic canisters and double bagged each of them in resealable bags, then carried one around with me at all times, stowing them in the right thigh pocket of my MOPP suit, which I wore for most of my time overseas. We did not have showers, so Wet Ones were my secret weapon to stay clean.
I will never forget the hours I spent digging numerous holes in Saudi Arabia and Iraq. In Saudi Arabia, the sand was very fine and easy to dig. In Iraq, however, it was very much different; quite crusty and hard to dig, as if the elements in the sand bonded together, with the consistency of old concrete that's broken down and crumbly.
One day, while digging a foxhole in Saudi Arabia during a sandstorm, I breathed in a bunch of sand. That night and the next morning, I was having trouble breathing. I went to the medics and the physician's assistant told me I should be fine, but that I could develop silica lung in about 20 years or so. I sure hoped he would be wrong about the 2nd part.
Saudi Arabian sandstorm that I photographed from an observation/listening post (foxhole).
Another view of the sandstorm from the same foxhole.
Before leaving the northern region of Saudi Arabia to invade Iraq, our supervisor gathered us around and gave us a very serious talk. He told us, "some of us WILL die". To me, this was NOT something a leader should tell his troops before going into battle. I'm sure none of my fellow section members thought it was good for their morale either. After all, this was the first major war after Vietnam. Personally, I used to watch the news every night as they showed the Vietnam body counts and war footage. I was so glad that war ended before I turned 18. Ever since the kickoff of Desert Shield in August 1990, news media reported that Iraq had the world's 4th largest army and Saddam Hussein threatened that this was going to be "The Mother of all Battles". All this weighed on me at the time, not realizing, until the end of the war, that it was probably no more than just hype. As it turned out, we didn't suffer any casualties and came out of the war virtually unscathed.
For Operation Desert Storm, the 299th Engineer Battalion from Fort Sill, Oklahoma was attached to the 36th Engineer Group from Fort Benning, Georgia under the 24th Infantry Division (Mechanized) from Fort Stewart, Georgia. They were alerted 17 Aug 1990 and deployed into Saudi Arabia in late 1990 to prepare for the offensive. One combat engineer battalion was assigned to each maneuver brigade of the Division, 5th Engineer Battalion to 1st Brigade, 3rd Engineer Battalion to 2nd Brigade, and 299th Engineer Battalion to the 197th Infantry Brigade (Separate). The Division’s objective was the Euphrates River in Iraq. The battalions were assigned the critical task of identifying, marking, and improving over 500 kilometers of combat routes through the Division attack zone. On the morning of February 24, the 299th moved north toward the Iraqi border. At 1200 hours they moved to the attack with elements of the battalion racing ahead marking the desert route with lights for 197th Infantry Brigade. Moving swiftly and with fierce determination, the Battalion covered 100 miles by 0800 February 25. Twenty-six hours later found them an incredible 60 miles farther north, having reached the high ground south of the Euphrates, where they located Iraqi units. The 24th Division halted its advance on Feb 28 when the cease-fire went into effective. The 299th was stopped in an area east of Basra, where for the next few days they began to do what engineers love to do - blow things up. They helped neutralize Saddam's war machine by destroying huge caches of arms and ammunition found in the area. By April 1991 the 299th Engineer Battalion redeployed to Fort Sill.
Source: http://www.299thcombatengineers.com/History05Bunting.htm
View YouTube Video: 24th Infantry Division in Desert Storm
Link for General Information about the war: http://www.desertstorm1991.com
Throughout the war, I had a number of interesting encounters with wild life in Saudi Arabia and Iraq. Because of that, it seems worth mentioning in this section I call, "Wild Encounters".
SAND FLEAS: Although many Desert Storm Veterans complained of sand flea bites, I do not recall even seeing one, ever being bothered by them, nor did I hear other unit members talk about them. The only itchy experience I had was a weird fungus on my feet that stayed with me for at least 10 years after the war. I know, since I didn't encounter sand fleas, I probably shouldn't mention them, but to me, it was interesting that so many other Desert Storm Soldiers encountered them and we didn't.
SCORPIONS: I had a few close calls with scorpions, especially when we leveled a series of small sand dunes with shovels in Dhahran Air Force Base's emergency drop zone to prepare the ground for our medium-sized tent. It seemed to me that scorpions and sand vipers liked to live in the base of sand dunes, especially if any scrub grass grew there, because they held at least a little bit of moisture and would have been cooler than the upper layer of hotter, drier sand that was exposed to the sun.
SAND VIPERS: I ran across a few sand vipers at the emergency drop zone, but the real scary run-in was right after the ground war ended in Iraq. I woke up one morning, pulled my sleeping bag up in the air to shake out the sand, as I did every morning. After lifting up on my sleeping bag, I saw a 2-footer all coiled up on the ground directly below where I was sleeping. That really started my morning off with a big shot of adrenalin! I gave the sand viper a piece of my mind with my entrenching tool and a proper burial. In retrospect, I should have taken a picture first, but primal instinct took over and I quickly dispatched it instead. As far as I know, I was the only one in the company to share their sleeping bag with a snake. Psychologically, it was very hard to sleep on the ground after that and I was SO glad when we finally got to sleep on cots the last few weeks overseas.
CAMELS: I saw a number of camels throughout my time in Saudi Arabia and Iraq. It seemed like there were more in Saudi than Iraq though. It sure was funny to watch them trying to cross the road. If we drove a constant speed, without slowing down at all, they would not try to cross. But, if we slowed down, even just a little, they seemed to view that as a signal we were going to stop for them and they would then try to cross the road. During my last week or two in Saudi Arabia, while staying at Khobar Towers, I went just outside of the Dhahran Air Force Base to a local Saudi marketplace. There, a Saudi guy charged people money to ride on one of his two camels and have their picture taken on the camel. He had one with one hump and one with two. I rode one them and got my picture taken, but I haven't seen that photo for years. One very unpleasant surprise I discovered about camels was how smelly and nasty they were, with drooling mouths, mangy hair and flies swarming around them.
SHEEP: We occasionally saw small flocks of sheep and sometimes one or two stray sheep. One day, a lone, scraggly-looking sheep nearly walked into our perimeter directly in front of my sector of fire. Since I was on guard duty and couldn't leave my post, I asked someone to go talk to our supervisor to find out what should be done, if anything. I was really tempted to shoot it, just in case it was carrying a hidden bomb or something. Although, by the time that fellow Soldier returned with an answer, the sheep had already walked away and didn't breach our perimeter.
U. S. ARMY
U. S. ARMY (CONT.)
DEPLOYMENT
My mobilization processing was very minimalistic and only involved a few things, such as issuance of desert BDUs and equipment, receipt of a few weird shots, and storage of my vehicle and household goods.
On 12 January 1991, after a one-hour bus ride from Ft Sill to Altus Air Force Base in Altus, Oklahoma, we crammed aboard a C-130 Turboprop Cargo Plane and settled in for a multi-day trip to Dhahran, Saudi Arabia, including three layovers in Charleston, SC; Torrejon, Spain; and either Vicenza, Italy, or somewhere in Greece (I don't remember exactly).
IMMEDIATELY upon arrival to Fort Sill, OK, I was assigned to the 214th Artillery Brigade (Augmentation) who further assigned me as "filler" for the 299th Engineer Battalion, a unit that already deployed to Saudi Arabia for Desert Shield. This meant that, when I deployed, I would meet my new unit in Saudi Arabia. In actuality, I fully expected, even before I left Germany, that I had a good chance of deploying once I got to Fort Sill, so it didn't come as a surprise to me. What did surprise me were:
1. How fast the 214th published my "filler" orders once I got there (within an hour).
2. How long the 214th waited before telling me when I would deploy (less than one week before I left).
3. That my new deploying unit was ALREADY DEPLOYED (that was a curve ball).
4. That I would be assigned to another Engineer unit (the only Engineer battalion on Fort Sill, which is predominantly Artillery).
Immediately on arrival, we four new guys were met by three Senior NCOs (for Administration, Logistics and Operations), who, basically, gave us a quick rundown on everything (chow, latrine, water, work details, perimeter security, guard duty, etc.) and processed us in. They gave us a huge blister pack of white pills they said were pre-nerve agent antidote and told us to take a pill twice a day until they were gone. They made us filter out about half our field gear, all the stuff they deemed non-essential, and put all that in a duffle bag for the storage CONEX box. I never saw that bag until sometime after the war. They introduced us to some key personnel, while a backhoe roughed out our foxholes (one advantage of being in an engineer unit). They paired us up with a battle buddy and told us we would share the foxhole with our battle buddy for the rest of the war. Despite the great headstart from the backhoe, we both still had to frantically shovel quite a bit of sand to finish the foxhole, before it got too dark, because that's where we were sleeping. Noise and light discipline were in effect and we couldn't use flashlights to see.
BOOTS ON GROUND
F-N-Gs (FOUR NEW GUYS)
TWO BEST FRIENDS DURING WAR
An interesting thing I noticed, in my first 24 hours with the unit, was that a lot of guys wrote funny nicknames, instead of their rank and last name, on the front of their helmet bands (elastic bands, approximately 1/2" wide, that went around their helmets). Seemed to me like Soldiers in Vietnam did something similar.
Towards the end of my first full day on site, I was introduced to an older Soldier who had "Throneberry" written on his helmet band. I thought it was a curious nickname and was certain he would have a good story behind it, so I asked him, "What's a Throneberry?" He said, "That's my name, I'm Command Sergeant Major Throneberry!" He was my new Battalion Command Sergeant Major who I just met for the first time. I know I made a great first impression with him.
Funny thing, when the ground war kicked off, he followed directly behind me in the convoy the entire way north over hundreds of miles. I guess maybe he wanted to keep an eye on me.
WHAT'S A THRONEBERRY?
BATTLE RHYTHM
A few interesting reasons for many of the holes I dug were to bury food and equipment.
FOOD: Shortly after the mess section received a huge shipment of Lunch Bucket meals, I was ordered to bury dozens of cases of a less-tasty, microwable meal that we had been eating for weeks. The previous food was OK with me, but everyone else preferred the Lunch Buckets, as they were called, over the previous food. Interestingly, the Bedouins, experts at scrounging, found the cache of food I buried and removed it the first night, because it was gone by the next morning, with just a hole as evidence of its removal.
EQUIPMENT: Upon our return to Dhahran Air Force Base, we set up tents in the emergency drop zone, a place where jets would drop their payload of bombs in the event of trouble during landing. Luckily, there were no emergency drops in the week we were there, or we would have been toast. I was ordered to bury a lot of equipment there, particularly camouflage nets. The way it was explained to me was it was more trouble than what it was worth to try and clean ALL the dirt and dust off the nets to get them past U.S. Customs Inspectors.
WILD ENCOUNTERS
FEAR FACTOR - THE GROUND WAR BEGINS
Somewhere in Saudi Arabia - January or February 1991 - A Soldier's two best friends - the Medics and a shovel.
KHAMISIYAH, IRAQ
After the ground war ended, we stayed in the Iraqi Desert for quite some time and still wore our helmets and flak vests, just in case there were any Iraqis who didn't get the word that war was over.
We left Iraq at the end of March and arrived at Dhahran Air Base, all dirty and dusty, still wearing all of our full battle rattle, to a barracks area that had lawn chairs, volleyball nets and barbeque grills. We felt so out of place. The only reason we were there was to do laundry and take showers. Lots of base personnel in shorts and bare feet were lounging in lawn chairs, playing volleyball and grilling food. They appeared to be having a great time and must have been oblivious to the actual war we experienced. We looked at them with disdain and said, amongst ourselves, how ironic it was that they could live so well and still get hazardous duty pay, without having to endure all the hazards and hardships we went through. It just didn't seem fair to us.
Later we cleared a camp site in the Dhahran Air Base Emergency Drop Zone that was full of small sand dunes, scorpions and sand vipers. Despite the number of dangerous creepy-crawlies I scared up with my shovel to level our tent floor, I was really happy to be there, because I got to sleep on a cot, instead of on the ground, AND shed all the weight of my gear, only having to wear my uniform and soft cap. We stayed in this location for about a week before moving into the Khobar Towers apartment complex.
For the next two weeks, we slept in our cots in Khobar Towers, taking regular showers once again and adjusting back to civilized life. During the day, when we weren't cleaning our vehicles and equipment to prepare them for U.S. Customs Inspections, we would go to the local marketplace and buy souvenoirs to send home. I paid $5 or $10 to ride a camel and get my picture on it. Unfortunately, I don't know what happened to that picture.
There was a time or two when I had to pull guard detail in support of Khobar Towers' perimeter security. One day, a Saudi man came up to the wire and began talking to me about Islam. At first, I thought he was a crackpot or a potential security threat. He had long hair, wore a white thaub, and talked with a gentle, almost hypnotic voice. He wasn't pushy about his religion at all and seemed very kind and considerate. After a while, I started thinking, maybe this guy was JESUS, even though he was Muslim and not Jewish. He played me some Cat Stevens music and gave me some Islamic religous material to read. He wanted me to contact him later, after guard duty, but I never did.
CEMENT CITY SCARE
During our period of demobilization, we spent days cleaning vehicles and equipment at Cement City, near Dhahran, in preparation for our customs inspection. It was during this time that we got some very bad news. Some members of Company D, 299th Engineer Battalion, a Reserve company, based out of Pine Bluff, Arkansas, that served with our active duty battalion, were caught trying to smuggle bayonettes and weapons through U.S. Customs officials by hiding them in their vehicles. Our fear was that this was going to delay our departure by a very long time. Fortunately, our battalion, minus Company D, was not delayed and was able to fly back to the USA in the middle of April 1991. However, Company D remained there longer. I later learned that they left a week after we did.
The only souveniors I got were some small rocks that I sent home and an Iraqi duffle bag and canteen that I brought back in my duffle bag. I don't know what happened to those rocks, but I still have the duffel bag and canteen.
My journey back to Oklahoma was much more pleasant and quicker than the grueling, multi-day trip to Saudi Arabia. Our unit rode in a civilian jet, contracted by the Army, to bring us all home. I fell asleep on the plane before arriving in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, our first layover, and woke up after it touched down. As we walked out of the gate and into the terminal building, I was almost in tears when civilians started clapping, cheering and thanking us. I really never expected that at all.
After arriving in Oklahoma, we rode in buses from the plane to another unexpected surprise. All along the way, people on the street yelled and cheered as we rode by. All Soldiers on the bus, myself included, started getting caught up in the moment, stood up and began to cheer out the window to them. After a while, I started feeling a little guilty and sat down. I saw a Vietnam Veteran saluting us and suddenly realized, we came home to a hero's welcome, but he came back to a much worse reception; and here he is out there saluting us.
We were driven to a hangar in white buses. On the way there, they told us we were in for a real treat. Only until they opened the huge hangar door, did I realize what they were talking about. Inside, a very large group of civilians, many wearing red, white and blue, began clapping and cheering loudly from bleachers on each side of the hangar. We then marched in formation between them and stopped directly in front of them. I didn't realize it at first, but almost all the civilians were family members of Soldiers in my unit. Because I didn't have any family there and was new to the unit, I didn't know anyone in the bleachers and I couldn't help feel a little awkward about the whole situation, especially after my sudden realization on the bus. Strangely, I felt very isolated and alone, while the wild raucus went on around me. I didn't mind though. I was just glad to be back home. I started reflecting on everything that happened during the war, thought how nice it would be to eat KFC hot wings again and realized that probably all the Vietnam Vets, like me, were all probably just glad to be home too, even if their welcome was awkward.
Looking back on my experience, I deployed on short notice to a new unit that I met in the desert against the World's 4th largest army in the "Mother of all Battles", the first major U.S. war after Vietnam, and came back alive, despite what my supervisor said about "some of us WILL die". I did not get bitten by a sand viper, camel spider, scorpion or sand fleas. Being a little more modest than the average Soldier, I usually went out a little farther than most when going "#2", and used to rock hunt with the Battalion Motor Officer (BMO) outside our perimeter, so I thank God I did not step on a landmine while picking up rocks or "planting fertilizer". I dug lots of holes and fell in a few, breathed in a bunch of sand, but think I came out without silica lung. My foot fungus finally disappeared (after about 10-15 years). So, I feel pretty fortunate and count my blessings that, with the grace of God, I survived that ordeal.
RETURN TO CIVILIZATION
After the ground war ended, we set up camp near Khamisiyah, Iraq. Our Engineers demolished large quanitities of munitions nearby. Often times, when a charge went off, we saw what looked like bottle rockets going up into the sky at different directions and wondered how safe all this was. Jokingly, I told my battle buddy that we were more in danger there after the war, than anywhere else during the war. In hindsight, that was actually true, because the Army destroyed more than just high explosive weapons. They also destroyed chemical weapons, including sarin nerve gas.
February 1991 - We passed by this lone camel during our drive into Iraq. I took this picture in Northern Saudi Arabia or Southern Iraq.
February 1991 - Although it's hard to see, there is a flock of sheep wandering past a US Army unit's perimeter in Iraq.
For the war, the 299th Engineer Battalion was assigned to the 197th Infantry Brigade, which was assigned to the 24th ID(Infantry Division), which was assigned to the XVIII Airborne Corps, the headquarters that also commanded French Forces, as well as the 82nd and 101st Airborne Divisions. This map shows that the 24th ID travelled the greatest distance of any MACOM in the war.
After returning from my post-war leave, I got back to work in the Battalion S1 Personnel Administration Center. On 5 June 1991, I was promoted to Sergeant when we discovered that I made the promotion cut-off scores April 1st (while we were deployed). CSM Throneberry retired soon after that. Upon his retirement ceremony, we enlarged the photo I took of his vehicle driving through burnt wreckage in Iraq, signed and framed it, then gave to him as one of his retirement gifts.
Our new Battalion Command Sergeant Major, CSM Bourne, came to us after serving as Operations Sergeant Major in a Special Forces unit at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. He probably weighed 150 lbs soaking wet, but he was a force to be reckoned with. When introducing himself to someone new, he would say, "My name is CSM Bourne, as in.. AIRBOURNE!", then he would go on to mention that he was a former Special Forces Operations Sergeant Major. Between that, his rank and his cranky demeanor, he was able to intimidate all enlisted members, from First Sergeants on down. As my luck would have it, his big focus upon arrival was coming down hard on junior NCOs, especially Sergeants, such as myself.
Each work section had a specific area of responsibility when it came to police call (picking up trash). As a newly promoted Sergeant, I was put in charge of the police call detail for my section, which was responsible for picking up trash in the area between our office building and the command section office building where our CSM worked. There was a dumpster midway between the two buildings. Every morning, without fail, we did police call and left nothing on the ground.
However, CSM Bourne, a guy who I always thought was wired a little too tight, would regularly call our PAC Supervisor later in the day to rant and rave about all the trash round the dumpster. Of course, I got the brunt of blame from my PAC Supervisor. What happened was that, at times, the dumpster got too full and trash started blowing out in the Oklahoma wind. So, when that occurred, we ended up doing police call 2-3 times a day, often having to transfer trash from the overfilled dumpster to another dumpster. This pulled us away from our huge workload of paperwork in the office.
In the fall of 1991, SSG Allen, the PSNCO and my immediate supervisor, went to a two-month Basic Non-Commissioned Officer Course (BNCOC) and took a full month of leave immediately afterward. That left me in charge of all our section's Soldiers for three months. During that time, I had to perform all my duties and the PSNCO duties simultaneously...AND...do police call 2-3 times a day.
I didn't get along with my PAC Supervisor at all while the PSNCO was gone. By far, he was the worst leader I ever worked for. He wrote me negative counseling for petty and bogus things, he didn't help me at all with the extra PSNCO duties, he spent hours in the First Sergeant's office smoking cigarettes, drinking coffee, shooting the breeze and trying to buddy up to the First Sergeant. He let the CSM bully me around and use me as his own personal secretary or delivery guy (the CSM would call my PAC Supervisor to tell him he needed help, so my PAC Supervisor told me to go help him). He didn't support me in any way. As a matter of fact, I think he did everything he could to hurt me. The sad part about that whole deal was that I was really trying hard, as a conscientious and motivated Soldier, to do the best job I could to support our team.
Another thing I had to deal with was the VOLUNTARY EARLY SEPARATION INCENTIVE PROGRAM (we called it "THE EARLY OUT PROGRAM"). It allowed Soldiers to get out of their enlistment contracts early, just by signing a few forms. Due to the command climate that our wonderful new CSM fostered, I had to process and monitor processing status/location of over 200 requests in our battalion, by far the highest number of any battalion on Fort Sill. In addition, I was required to frequently report constant status changes and include totals, broken down by MOS, rank, unit, etc. The complexity and changing nature of this matrix was very difficult to manage with the technology I had and consumed a great deal of time and energy to maintain.
Going through so much stress, I just wanted it to end, so I submitted my own early-out request and was honorably discharged on 2 January 1992, ten months before my ETS (Expired Term of Service) date. Words could not express the sheer relief I felt on that day.
BACK ON AMERICAN SOIL - RETURN TO FORT SILL
POST-WAR APOCALYPSE NOW
ARMY NATIONAL GUARD
24 September 1992 - 1 April 1993
Installation Support Unit, Camp Ripley
Little Falls, Minnesota
I came across some good websites while researching information for my Desert Storm service, so added them above, for my quick reference later. I used to really trust the government. I always thought the Army was a good organization with good standards and ideals. However, during my research, I learned some interesting and disturbing things about the Army. It appears they have a history of conducting drug experiments on Soldiers and Civilians, and I was a part of that during Desert Storm, but I didn't even know.. until now. Personally, I used to think the whole idea of Desert Storm Syndrome was a bunch of bunk. But now, after all I've just read about what the symptoms are, I realize I've been experiencing almost all of them, especially in the last 5 years. So, I can't help but wonder if maybe there is something to it.
Looking back, I'm not exactly sure now why I joined the Minnesota Army National Guard (MNARNG), because I lived in Huron, South Dakota, a distance of 300 miles away, and there was a SDARNG unit in Huron. The only thing I can guess is that the MNARNG offered me a part-time position as an X-Ray Technician at the state MNARNG headquarters and maybe I thought I would receive training I could use in the civilian world. As I later learned, I would not be going to school for two years, due to scarce school seat allocations or whatever.
My first drill weekend with this unit did not go well. Prior to drill, a thief broke the driver's side window of my pickup outside my Huron apartment in the middle of the night and attempted to steal several tools I kept behind the seat. Fortunately, the cops caught the perpetrator in the act and arrested him on the spot. They woke me up to identify my truck and they told me they were going to have to keep my tools as evidence, since the crook had them in his posession.
After completing my 300-mile sandwich delivery route for Pugsley Sandwiches, Inc. in the late afternoon on the Friday before drill, I was about to drive from Huron to Camp Ripley when I noticed that my left headlight was burned out. I had a spare headlight, but the problem was that all my tools, including the allen wrench I needed to loosen the headlight cover, was held in evidence by the Huron Police Department and I didn't want to go buy more tools. So, I left Huron with only one headlight, which turned out to be a very bad decision.
It was about 2 am, as I drove into Wilmar, Minnesota, I dimmed my lights for oncoming traffic. When I did this, I only had one headlight shining on the road and did not see the big deer until it was too late. Rather than hit Bambie, I swerved to miss it and ended up going sharply and uncontrollably into the median, rolling my pickup a few times and landing upside down. I don't remember if I wore my seat belt or not, but I wasn't hurt and crawled out the back window, which was knocked completely out. My emergency lights came on automatically and a passerby stopped and called the cops.
Eventually, the police came. They told me there had been a lot of accidents involving deer in that spot. They asked if I needed an ambulance, but I told them I wasn't hurt at all, just a little shaken up and that I would be grateful if they could call my unit for me, so I could tell them what happened.
When I told my unit, they said they would send someone from Camp Ripley to pick me up in Wilmar (100 miles away). A few hours later, a Soldier came, picked me up and drove me back to Camp Ripley. On the 2-hour ride back, he kept asking if I was OK and I kept telling him I was fine. At some point during this trip, I couldn't stop thinking what a great first impression I was making, because this would be the very first time I met my new unit.
Since my mother and step-father lived in nearby Brainerd, MN, they picked me up at Camp Ripley on Sunday afternoon, following drill dismissal. Monday morning, I purchased a cheap, used, Japanese-made car (Mitzubishi, I think) in Brainerd and drove that back to Huron, only losing one day of work at my civilian job.
I went to Camp Ripley for a few more drills that were extremely boring. I didn't have anything to do, as an X-Ray Technician, because I wouldn't be trained for two years (or more). So, in March 1993, I told them I wouldn't be coming to any more drills and was considering going Active Duty Army. They discharged me on April Fools' Day of that same year.
Solving the Mystery of Gulf War Syndrome
Every month, our battalion conducted "alerts", which began very early in the morning. These were Cold War exercises to prepare us for the possibility of Russian invasion through the Fulda Gap. With each alert, every Soldier was required to sign in, for personnel accountability, get all our personal gear out of our barracks rooms, pull all our section gear (tents, camouflage nets, radio antenae, field computer, tent heaters, office supplies and field table) out of storage, load it into trucks and drive out of town to a predetermined location in the woods. After the exercise was over, we had to off-load all the trucks and put all the gear back in storage.
Despite not EVER driving out to the woods during alerts, I ALWAYS helped the section with loading and unloading. As a matter of fact, I was very motivated to get everything loaded and unloaded quickly, not only for the benefit of the team, but also, so I could get back to my work in the S1. I usually loaded/unloaded equipment twice as fast as my fellow section members who liked to sham and take their time during those operations. The reason I didn't go out in the woods was, because I had to stay in the battalion personnel administration center to monitor personnel accountability statistics from each unit (based on the sign-in rosters) and report the numbers to the battalion commander once every hour.
COLD WAR ALERTS
SERGEANT COOKE
Shortly after I began working in the battalion PAC (Personnel Administration Center), Specialist Cooke, a Combat Engineer from one of the line units (Company A, B, C, D and E) was promoted to Sergeant and transferred to HHC to become my direct supervisor in the S1. I think the reason the line unit transferred him to us was because he had some problems they didn't want to deal with. That type of thing was common, as I later learned from my experience working in various battalion S-1 shops throughout my career. Line units would always try to move their "weakest link" Soldiers out of their units, if possible. Reasons included physical, mental and behavioral (discipline) problems. Because the S1 was often understaffed by school-trained personnel administration specialists, normally about half our section was supplemented by Soldiers from the line units who were not school trained. Most of these Soldiers had a chip on their shoulder and really didn't seem to want to be there. As a result, we had to deal with all the challenges associated with their presence in our section. Some worked well, but the majority were either incompetent (not their fault), unreliable, unmotivated, unable to assist with physical tasks or trouble makers with bad attitudes.
Once every week, SGT Cooke left the office for the entire afternoon to travel to Frankfurt Military Hospital (2nd floor) for psychological counseling. During the time he was my supervisor, especially the first six months, I had to endure the power trip he gained from his promotion to Sergeant. He really let it go to his head (no pun intended).
One day in the Fall of 1989, approximately a year into my overseas tour, SGT Cooke was doing maintenance on our section's cargo truck with a PFC in our section who came to us from Company E (the "River Rats"), the battalion's only boat-bridging company. The PFC was behind the steering wheel, controlling the electronic cable winch that was mounted on the truck's front bumper. Right after the PFC released (unwinched) all the cable line, SGT Cooke applied a light coat of grease to the cable, then held onto the end of the cable to keep it taut as the PFC reeled it in. (The proper, standard procedure for this operation was to hook the end of the cable to a Humvee, put the Humvee in neutral, then let the winch reel the Humvee in. The weight of the Humvee would keep the cable line taut.) Unfortunately for SGT Cooke, he either didn't know the proper procedure or didn't want to mess with having to dispatch a Humvee just for that one, simple operation.
It was cold out, so SGT Cooke was wearing his field jacket and gloves while holding the end of the cable with both hands AND under his right armpit for stability (similar to how one would hold a rope in tug-of-war). As the PFC winched the line in within a few feet of the winch, SGT Cooke realized that the hook had caught the side of his field jacket and attempted to brace himself with his hand on the winch to prevent his torso from getting sucked in. Tragically, his hands got crushed in the winch and, only after hearing his screams, did the PFC stop the winch. Aside from SGT Cooke not following standard safety protocol, another contributing factor to the accident was that the PFC was a shorter guy and could not see SGT Cooke over the hood of the vehicle.
Upon hearing screams, mechanics came quickly to help extracate SGT Cooke's hands by removing bolts from the winch mount, which took about 15 minutes, so I was told. Right after that, he was rushed to the hospital. A short time later, I learned that he had lost a few fingers and a few parts of fingers, and underwent some serious surgery with hundreds of stiches in both hands. I didn't think I would ever see him again, since his injuries would, obviously, result in a medical discharge. Although I felt very sorry for what happened to him, I also felt somewhat relieved that I wouldn't have to endure his power trips anymore.
Incredibly, about a month or two later, SGT Cooke returned to work in the S1. I was horrified, not only by the fact that he was back, but also by what happened to his hands. Fortunately for me, the post-accident SGT Cooke was a lot more down-to-earth and humane than his former self and he never bothered me then. Now that I think about it, he was probably on pain medication that whole time and didn't feel like messing with SPC Nord.
He only spent about a month or two with us before he was transferred to Madigan Army Medical Center at Ft. Lewis, Washington, for what, I assume, would have been several months of physical therapy and eventual medical discharge. I hope he's doing alright now.
In November 1990, toward the end of my two-year tour in Germany, I received orders to transfer me to Fort Sill, Oklahoma. On Saturday, 10 November 1990, the day after I completed all my final out-processing before shipping out, word came down that Major General Paul Funk, 3rd Armored Division Commander, was calling all battalion commanders to Frankfurt for an urgent meeting. The rumor was that our division was going to be put on "Stop-Loss", due to the build up for Operation Desert Shield, and that our battalion was going to deploy for war. This meant no transfers out and no discharges for an undetermined period of time.
I was supposed to ship out the following Monday, November 12th, which was Veterans Day, but was told all transfers were cancelled, and that I wouldn't transfer out (and I didn't fly out on Veterans Day). Later in the week, however, our battalion CSM called me in to his office to tell me, since I already out-processed, that I could transfer to Ft. Sill. So, I flew out of Rhine Mein Air Base a few days later.
STOP LOSS AND MY PCS
LOCK DOWN
At least three times, we were locked down at Hessen-Homburg Kaserne. As standard procedure, in the event of a security breach, the installation was locked down, restricting all personnel from entering or exiting until the breach was resolved. In every case we had, the security breaches amounted to missing Army property, specifically weapons, night vision devices and C4 plastic explosive. As I recall, the length of time we were locked down ranged anywhere from several hours to 3 days, depending on how long it took to account for the missing property.
Lock down was not fun. We had to do police call, at double-arm interval, the entire length and width of the kaserne. We had to search in every building, including our barracks rooms, wall lockers and duffle bags; in every vehicle, both military and civilian; and in every (nasty) dumpster. We were also restricted to the confines of the kaserne's tall, razor-wire fence, so it was like being in prison until lock down was over
The crown jewel of our security breaches was on 5 July 1989, when we had a Health and Welfare Inspection, because somebody in the battalion put a block of C-4 plastic explosive under a bridge and, luckily, it wasn’t detonated. Someone found it, the MPs were alerted and they traced the lot number on the C4 to our battalion. We had to stop working in the office for the rest of the day to search everywhere on the kaserne. Eventually, they found the guy who planted the C4 and they also put seven others in jail for having live ammo, duds or parts of military firearms in their wall lockers. Supposedly, the bridge that was rigged with C-4 was the same bridge we ran under every morning for PT.
RELIEF FOR CAUSE
Somewhere in the middle of my two-year tour, a new CSM was assigned to our battalion. He was a hot-head at times. One day, he told me to make copies for him, so I did. When I returned, something set him off about how I made the copies. He started ranting and raving, cussing every other word, getting angrier by the second. I started slowly backing my way out of his office until I got to the doorway to the hall. At that point, he grabbed a beer stein or big coffee mug, one of many on his desk, and threw it, full force, at the wall. Ceramic shards flew in all directions along the wall. Luckily, I was able to dodge the shrapnel (barely), by leaning backward into the hallway.
Shortly after that incident, I was told to process a Relief-for-Cause NCOER on our CSM. Apparently, he was embezzling money from the officer's "cup and flower fund". It was rumored that he had a gambling problem and that may have been a factor in his bad behavior. If you were me, would you not have enjoyed typing that NCOER? I would be lying if I said I didn't.
It's funny, because I spent many years processing thousands of NCOERs during my career, but his was the only Relief-For-Cause NCOER I've ever done.
HANAU, GERMANY
I have many fond memories of the wonderful town of Hanau, Germany. As with about every German town, Hanau was clean and well-maintained, with cobblestone streets and a quaint charm. Because the Brothers Grimm, famous for their childrens' stories, were born in Hanau, there is a statue of them in the central part of town called the "Marktplatz" (Market Place). During the Christmas season, this area came alive in the late afternoon with street vendors selling Christmas gifts and holiday treats. The food from the street vendors' carts was awesome. One of my favorite things to buy there was the brautwurst with a brochen (German bread roll) and hot (spicy) mustard.
Interestingly, I saw my name on several businesses and signs in Hanau and other places. I soon learned "Nord" translates to "North" in English.
I met some good people (Germans) in Hanau who were very friendly and hospitable. However, I sometimes wondered why the people I passed by in the Marktplatz did not seem very happy, because they didn't smile or make eye contact. Perhaps, this was a cultural thing or something, I don't know. Dealing with Germans, one-on-one, particularly in a German shop or restaurant, was nice though. They tried to speak English when they realized I couldn't understand much of what they were saying in German. I was able to speak enough German to get by, but my comprehension was not so good.
EUROPEAN R & R
FRANFURT, GERMANY: While stationed in Germany, I enjoyed riding the trains. The train system in Europe was wonderful and I could go almost anywhere on them. Usually, I would ride the train to Frankfurt, only 30 miles away, to sample the food and the sights there. My favorite place to go was the crepe stand in the Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof (main train station). I used to get one every time I went there and ate both kinds: savory (ham, swiss cheese, mushrooms) and sweet (Nutella and bananas). They also had a Nordsee Restaurant in the station, and I loved eating their awesome breaded fish and fried potatoes with onions.
Below are a few pictures I took of the Frankfurt Hauptbahnhof
Frankfurt Haufbahnhof Rail Yard
Frankfurt Haufbahnhof - Interior
Frankfurt Haufbahnhof - Front Interior view
I had a friend who lived "on the economy" (in a German apartment off post) with his wife and three daughters. I used to go to his apartment about once a week to grill food and eat dinner with his family. It was nice to get out off the kaserne and spend time in the civilian world with people who spoke English. It made me feel normal, like I was back home without the military.
He and I used to golf together a number of times, mostly at nearby Rhineblick Golf Course in Wiesbaden, Germany. One time, we rode the MWR bus to Garmisch, Germany, in Southern Bavaria and golfed at the Alpental Golf Course. I thought it was so cool and surreal golfing in the alpine meadows with the majestic Alps in the background.
In early December 1989, my friend and I rode the MWR bus on a 3-day trip to Berchesgaden, a small German town in Southern Bavaria. We really had a great time and were lucky to be there on December 6th, because that was when Berchesgaden celebrated Saint Nicholas Day with a traditional parade, called "Buttnmandl" or "Krampus". It was very unique, to say the least. Unfortunately, my camera, film and photography skills weren't very good at the time, so the pictures below are very grainy and dark.
In April 1990, after my friend and I visited Garmisch for a few days, we continued our trip on the MWR bus to Innsbruck, Austria, for a day tour there. While riding the bus, I took a few photos of the landscape we passed, one of which was the Alpine Meadow in the slideshow below. The reflection on the window showed up in all of those pictures, including the one below.
BARRACKS LIFE
I really didn’t like living in the barracks. It was depressing sometimes. NCOs and married Soldiers didn’t have to go through half the stuff we did in the barracks, like Health and Welfare Inspections, Battalion Command Inspections, Company Commander’s Inspection, daily barracks cleaning and fire alarm drills. We didn’t really have fire alarm drills, but, for some reason, the fire alarm always went off and the fire department had to send a fire truck to investigate the scene. We had to leave the building each time that happened. Also, we had to put up with living with a bunch of guys, some of which we would rather not live with. At any time during off-duty hours, when we were in our rooms, anyone could just walk right in. We were not allowed to lock our doors while we were in our rooms. It was really bothersome when up to 10 guys per night would come into my room, asking questions like, “where is your roommate?”, or “can I borrow …?” It was really hard to get any privacy there, not to mention fresh air. Every day, I had to put up with cigarette smoke – it was everywhere, in the hallway, in the CQ area, outside in formation and in the office. Our shower room had six shower heads, but no privacy divider. I didn't like having to shower with other guys.
Click the "book" on the left to read a few pages of logbook entries that I put together after transcribing letters I wrote from Hanau to my dad in 1988-1990.
It's not really Top Secret.
Click the "book" on the right to read a few pages of WEIRD THINGS THAT HAPPENED WHILE I WAS IN HANAU.
It's not really Top Secret.
While visiting Berchtesgaden, we rode a bus up a mountain to Kehlsteinhaus, better known as Hitler's Eagle's Nest. It was quite an awesome view from up there. Of all the unique places I've been, this ranked right up there in the top five. Knowing the history behind it and seeing the incredible views made it very surreal.
During a later visit to Kehlsteinhaus, I first stopped at Golfclub Berchtesgaden, halfway up the mountain to the Eagle's Nest, and played a round of golf with an old German who lived right on the course. It was gorgeous scenery and I had a blast playing golf with this gentleman who was a boy during WWII.
He gave me a good WWII history lesson by pointing out a number of houses and war bunkers around the golf course and telling me where all the different German Soldiers and Third Reich leaders stayed during the war. His family owned one of the houses when the Nazis came to buy his house. He said, "If you refused to sell to the Nazis, they would kill you and then just take your house". His father got his house back after the war and he took it over after his father died.
FORT SILL - 12 YEARS LATER
In December 1990, I found the place where I did basic training in 1978 and took pictures. At the time, all the buildings in the battalion area were in the process of being demolished. I saw many asbestos signs and thought that was interesting, considering I spent a whole summer in one of them.
I drove around to other places on Fort Sill to see if I could find anything else that looked familiar to me. Amazingly, I saw a sign in front of one of the buildings with my old drill sergeant's name on it..."CSM D.L. MULL"
I went into his office and told him I was one of his former trainees from 1978. He was very freindly and calm, much older than I remember, but I could easily recognize him. We talked for about 15 minutes, reminiscing about the old days of boot camp. I related one story about him going ballistic on 2nd floor during an early-evening boot inspection. I told him I thought I smelled booze on him. He said that was quite possible, because back then, all the drill sergeants were alcoholics, including himself.
Below are many pictures I took of our battalion area, as well as one of the ammo dump I had to guard a few times and which was not far from where I found CSM Mull working.
April 1990 - HHC barracks room in Hessen-Homburg Kaserne. Three words..."What a mess!" This was my roommate's area of the room I had to share with him. I believe he was drinking tequila the night before. I took a picture to show what I had to deal with in the barracks. This was just one example. There were many.
Photos of the Veteran's Memorial Dedication in Salem, SD
In the heading above, I joined two phrases, "Post-War Apocalypse" and "Apocalypse Now", to characterize my difficult experiences over the next eight months at Fort Sill. This story starts off pretty good, but turns ugly quick.
After returning to Ft Sill, we all had to take mandatory leave, so I drove to Salem, SD, and visited my dad and two sisters. While there, I golfed a lot with my Dad at McCook Country Club. One day, after golfing, my dad took me over to the McCook County Courthouse to watch a ceremony. It turned out they were having a Veteran's Memorial Dedication Ceremony and, surprisingly, asked me to stand to be recognized as the only Desert Storm Veteran in attendance.
As the old Army cadence goes, "I finally found a home, a home, a home away from home, hey!"
Chapter 2
18 OCTOBER 1988 - 1 APRIL 1993
ARMY, Reception Bn, Ft L Wood, MO
ARMY, 23rd EN Bn, Hanau, Germany
ARMY, 214th FA (Aug) Bde, Ft Sill, OK
ARMY, Desert Storm, Saudi/Iraq
ARMY, 299th EN Bn, Ft Sill, OK
MNARNG, ISU, Camp Ripley, MN
GARMISCH-PARTENKIRCHEN, GERMANY
BERCHTESGADEN, GERMANY
HITLER'S EAGLE'S NEST
INNSBRUCK, AUSTRIA
END OF CHAPTER 2
I was assigned to HHC, 23rd Engineer Battalion at Hessen-Homburg Kaserne in Hanau, Germany, a small town not far from Frankfurt. The 23rd fell under the 3rd Armored Division, the "Spearhead" Division, so named because it spearheaded the US First Army's drive through Normandy, France, during World War II.
On 18 October 1988, I enlisted as a Linguist/Interpreter in the U.S. Army. The Army sent me on a long jet ride from Hawaii to Fort Leonard Wood, MO, for inprocessing. Prior to my enlistment, my recruiter said that, after a few weeks of inprocessing at Ft Leonard Wood, I would spend about two years at the Defense Language Insitute in Monterrey, California, learning a foreign language. But, he couldn't tell me which language I would be learning.
A MONTH AT FORT LEONARD WOOD, MISSOURI
HESSEN-HOMBURG KASERNE
The Augmentation unit consisted of a group of about 30 Soldiers, mostly non-deployables (pregnancies, injuries, psychological, etc.). The rest were, like myself, new arrivals that would eventually deploy. I spent almost two months here.
For my first month, the leadership seemed non-existent to me. They did hold opening and closing formations, but they never did PT and there never was any accountability. Most Soldiers didn't go to formations, so usually there were only about 10-12 individuals present (mostly deployables) in formation. My barracks roommate, whose broken leg kept him from deploying, made regular personal trips to Dallas on his motorcycle, staying gone for a week or two at a time and no one ever missed him.
After my first month there, when leadership finally did start maintaining accountability formations, he was ultimately reported AWOL and the possessions he left in our room were inventoried and locked in the supply room.
It was funny watching them inventory my roommate's household goods, because he left behind hundreds of music cassette tapes. The Supply Sergeant began recording the album name of each cassette tape, but after about three entries, suddenly dumped the footlocker filled with cassettes upside down into a duffle bag and said he would just group the whole mess into one entry.