Prolific Art Concepts
by Jeffrey A. Nord, Sergeant First Class (Retired Reserves)
U.S. ARMY
24 September 1993 - 13 May 1996
1st Battalion, 6th Infantry Regiment, 3rd Infantry Division
Rose Barracks, Vilseck, Germany
INFANTRY
14 May 1993 - 22 September 1993
U.S. Army Infantry School
Fort Benning, Georgia
Right before enlisting in the Army the 2nd time, I had applied for a job as an Auditor for the State of South Dakota and was selected to interview for the position. However, I never interviewed, choosing the guaranteed job in the Army over the possibility of a civilian government job with South Dakota. I always wondered if I would have gotten the Auditor job, but after retiring from the military in June 2014 and applying for dozens of State of South Dakota jobs with no offers, I realize I probably made the right choice in reenlisting in the Army.
At the time I enlisted, the only branch to which prior service military personnel could enlist was Infantry. It was about the last branch I would have chosen, if given a choice, but it was the only choice I had if I wanted to get back in the Army at that time.
My recruiter told me all I would have to do is attend one week of Infantry Basic Training (boot camp) to get rifle qualified. Then, I would attend Infantryman Advanced Individual Training (AIT) before going on to an additional AIT to get qualified as either an 11C Mortarman, an 11H Heavy Anti-Armor Weapons Infantryman or an 11M Bradley Fighting Vehicle (BFV) Infantryman.
When I saw my orders assigning me to boot camp, I noticed that they said I would be attending boot camp for 8 weeks. I questioned the recruiter about that and he said, "Oh, it's just what they have to put on the orders. You won't be there that long, just a week for rifle qualification". "OK", I said.
After a week at Fort Benning Reception Station, I received word that the Senior Drill Sergeant for my company wanted to see me right away. My first thought was that I did something wrong and was a little worried, but I marched on over and reported to him without hesitation, ready to take whatever verbal abuse he had to offer. After I reported, he gave me a very serious look and said he received a Red Cross Message notifying them that my 103-year old grandmother had passed away. He suggested I take emergency leave and attend her funeral, so I did.
I returned to Fort Benning a week later to find all the guys who I got to know at reception station the previous week were all gone to their respective basic training units. I stayed at reception station for about two or three more days, before they assigned me to my boot camp unit, located at the top of Sand Hill in the last quadrangle before the training ranges.
It was interesting to see about 1/3 of my platoon was prior service military, mostly Army, but we did have at least one each from the Air Force, Navy and Marines. At age 32, I was the 2nd oldest trainee after another prior service guy who was 33. The very young, non-prior service trainees called him "Grandpa" and they called me "Dad".
Our first week of boot camp was actually the fourth week of the non-prior service trainees' boot camp who were already there. The prior week, they went through the gas chamber, so I was glad I didn't have to go through that again. However, our first week was filled with fun activities, like a 10-mile road march with full ruck sack, 50-caliber machine-gun infiltration course (approximately 200 meters long) and, what we were there for, marksmanship training, which wasn't easy, considering most of us came from cooler and dryer climates and weren't used to the high heat and humidity. The lone Navy guy suffered heatstroke during the night-time 50-caliber machine-gun infiltration course and had to be sent to the hospital for treatment and observation. I thought he would get recyled and I wouldn't see him again, but he was released before we returned and was waiting for us in the barracks.
All of us prior-service guys thought we would move on to our AIT the very next week, but the drill sergeants told us we would remain with the traditional non-prior service trainees until they completed their boot camp at week 8. That meant we would get to go through another 4 weeks of fun-filled boot camp activities, including progressively longer, more difficult road marches and training on claymore mines, hand-to-hand combat, physical fitness and various weapon systems.
Our drill sergeants' favorite pastime, it seemed, was to have us run a couple hundred yards to a big hill, then up the hill and across a football field. At the end of the football field were sandbags we had to pick up and bring back to the barracks area. After everyone arrived back to the barracks with their sandbags, the drill sergeants told us we needed to take them back and stack them neatly on the other side of the football field. I think our daily record was three round trips each.
After we finally completed basic training, both prior service and non-prior service alike, we all were assigned to a different company, but remained in the same quadrangle on Sand Hill and began our 5 weeks of Infantry AIT. Much of the training, as I recall, was mostly basic squad tactics, such as fire and maneuver, react to contact, react to indirect fire, route reconnaisance, patrolling, etc., all things I already learned at my 1978 basic training and 1984 ROTC Advanced Camp. Despite the extremely hot and humid conditions and the demanding physical nature of the training, I didn't have much trouble with it, except when I got a really bad case of poison oak all over my forearms.
GP Medium Tent - Source: Harry's Army Surplus
CTCP - Source: www.ArmyRecognition.com
2. ALOC (Administrative/Logistics Operations Center): If I worked in the ALOC, I had to help set up two GP-medium tents, a bunch of cots, a radio antennae, two tent heaters, a field desk, two folding tables, several folding chairs and two big camouflage nets to cover the tents with. If we had to relocate, which happened more than I would have liked, everything had to be taken down, then set back up at our new location. Our mode of transport was either a 2 1/2-ton or 5-ton cargo truck with trailer.
1. CTCP (Carrier, Tracked, Command Post): If I worked in the CTCP, I could expect to be couped up inside a dark and cramped (often cold) vehicle, sitting on a steel folding chair, listening to loud, garbled radio chatter over the vehicle's loud engine and trying to make sense of what was being said, so we can update the big map board set up inside the CTCP. The map board showed military symbols of friendly forces, enemy forces, and other stuff for tracking the battle, so the Adjutant could react appropriately. For instance, if our battalion sustained casualties, the Adjutant had to report that information back to the ALOC, positioned to the rear of the battlefield, so the ALOC could request replacement personnel from higher headquarters.
Upon arriving to 1st Battalion, 6th Infantry Regiment's personnel administrative center, I was further assigned to Company B, one of four line units in the battalion. A line unit is a subordinate unit that is dedicated to the role of the battalion, which, in this case, is Mechanized Infantry. Normally, battalions are made up of 5 companies, comprised of HHC (Headquarters and Headquarters Company), which provides administration, logistics, training and operational support to Companies A, B, C and D which train on Bradley Fighting Vehicles and Infantry tactics. There were approximately 100 to 150 Soldiers in each company.
After receiving my orders, they walked me over to B Company's orderly room and introduced me to my new Platoon Sergeant. The first question he asked me was if I drank alcohol. I answered honestly, "yes, sometimes", but as I said it, I was thinking he was going to tell me to stop, that he didn't want any of his members polluting their bodies with alcohol. Instead, he said, "Good, because I don't want anyone in my platoon that doesn't drink". That disturbed me a little bit and I hoped that mentality didn't cause any problems down the road.
They took me up to my barracks room and introduced me to my new roommate. He gave me the rundown of the place and the daily routine, then told me to always keep a stick wedged between the floor and the bathroom door handle at night. The reason was because our room shared a bathroom with an adjacent room and the locks on the doors were very easy to unlock with just a coin. He said that guys would sneak into rooms this way and shave all body hair off you while you slept. Again, very disturbing to me, especially after inprocessing at the personnel administration center and seeing a bald-headed Staff Sergeant with no eye brows. I later learned they only did that to guys who passed out drunk in their rooms.
In the hallway, I noticed one of the guys who rode the bus with me from Rhein Main was having another guy carve weird designs into his shoulder with a razor blade. The guy doing the carving had a bunch of carved crap all over his arms. This was the third disturbing thing.
My roommate continued telling me more stuff about the unit, such as how they initiate the new guys by making them walk through a big, deep, nasty, smelly swamp with their full gear and weapon. He said it is over 6 foot deep in places and some guys ended up over their heads and had to be rescued. This was disturbing thing #4 and I was only there about an hour.
I believe God is watching over me, because the next day, they introduced me to my new First Sergeant. He was kind of a chubby guy, with a funny and positive demeanor, but a little gruff sometimes. Prior to our meeting, he checked my personnel records and saw that I had a Bachelor's Degree and was formerly a Personnel Administration Sergeant, so he told me, "Nord, I'm going to send you to battalion (S1). You're gonna fix my EERs (Enlisted Evaluation Reports)". I thought it was kind of funny that he still referred to them as EERs, instead of NCOERs, because EERs were replaced by NCOERs about five years before.
A few days later, the S1 transferred me to HHC and I began working in their personnel administration center immediately, processing both NCOERs and OERs (evaluation reports for NCOs and Officers). Also, with great relief, I moved out of Company B's barracks and into HHC's barracks.
In my first year at the S1, I made Company B's First Sergeant very happy by promptly and accurately processing his company's NCOERs. All the other First Sergeants were happy with my work also. Mission accomplished.
A MUDDY MESS
FIELD TRAINING
When I was assigned to both the 23rd Engineer Battalion (Hanau, Germany, 1988-1990) and 1st Battalion, 6th Infantry Regiment (Vilseck, Germany, 1993-1996), I went on regular, month-long, field training exercises at Grafenwöhr and Hohenfels, Germany, where I worked in either the CTCP or ALOC:
I did my last month-long field problem with the 1st Battalion, 6th Infantry in the Fall of 1995. My PAC Supervisor, a Sergeant First Class, who normally serves as the S1 Section's NCOIC in the ALOC, did not go to the field, due to his wife being pregnant. She wasn't due for a few months after the exercise, so really, I believe, to this day, he just used that as an excuse to get out of field duty. At any rate, he put me in charge of the S1 section. I was a Corporal at that time.
I went with a skeleton crew of just two Soldiers, one shy of the minimum number of people needed to effectively set up a GP-medium tent. Because I was the lowest ranking section leader and because our First Sergeant brought one less walkie-talkie than what we needed, he decided that I didn't need one. However, I needed it more than any of the other section leaders, many of whom didn't hardly even use theirs. Because I was always having to RUN everywhere to coordinate or get stuff done, it was very tiring and stressful, not only the running, but knowing that the First Sergeant KNEW that I needed communications more than anyone else, yet he still left me without that.
This cantankerous, old goat was really hard-headed. He ordered us to set both of our tents, one for our S1 operations and one for sleeping quarters/staging area of casualties/replacements, in the bottom of a creek bed. I told him that was a bad idea, but he didn't care and ordered us to set up there anyway. So, we did. Guess what? It rained...and rained...and rained all night. We woke up to a stream running past our cots. Both of our tents were flooded with water. We had to tear down both and set them up again on higher ground the next morning.
After we got the tents and everything set up again, someone came into our S1 operations tent and told us that we needed to supply one Soldier from our section to assist with concertina wire.
The two guys I had with me were not a big help in the S1 at all. We had a Specialist who was very unmotivated and influenced the other guy, a very young and impressionable Private E-2, to be unmotivated as well. Because the Specialist had gone somewhere, probably to hide, I told the E-2 to go help put up the wire. So, he took off. He came back huffing and puffing about 10 minutes later. When I asked him what happened, he said the First Sergeant made him high-crawl from the wire to our S1 tent, because he wasn't wearing his gear (I was so busy doing S1 work that I didn't realize he left without his gear). I told him to get all his stuff and get back out there, so he did. However, he returned again and said that, this time, he forgot to bring his gas mask, so the First Sergeant wanted him to high-crawl with me from our tent back to the wire. Really?!?
We high-crawled through several muddy ruts to get to the First Sergeant who was at the wire. He gave me an ear full of verbal abuse and told us to high-crawl back to our tent, so we did. When all was said and done, we were covered in mud, so I changed into my last clean uniform.
Within a half hour, our First Sergeant unexpectedly ordered the entire ALOC camp site to move to another location. So, we had to tear down all of our equipment and load it into the back of our 5-ton truck and trailer. After we finished, someone noticed that the inside back tire of our truck was flat. The First Sergeant began yelling at me to hurry up and change it, because the convoy was ready to leave. I had to wrestle the front tire off to get to the back tire. Of course, in the process, my whole body got plastered with mud from top to bottom. My last clean uniform was now caked in mud. We finally got the tire replaced and, still caked in a muddy mess, I drove the truck in the convoy to the new location. And...of course...we had to set up all our equipment again.
That was, by far, the worst day I've ever had in the field. However, I did have many rough days to follow, considering the continous rain, lack of communications and numerous mass casualty and replacement operations involving several dozen Soldiers at a time. They would arrive as casualties by the truckload. We had to log them in and send them right back out as replacements. This happened several times during the day AND night. One day, after I got extremely stressed out, a Staff Sergeant told me to "sit down, relax, smoke a cigarette". He was very calm and relaxed with, seemingly, no worries or nothing to do. I told him I was so stressed out, I was ready to try most anything to stop feeling that way. I took a few puffs, but then told him I wouldnt finish it, because I would get dizzy. He said, "Well, no wonder you get dizzy, you're smoking it wrong! Don't take so much - just puff on it."
Looking back, I was stupid for trying it, even though I was REALLY stressed out, and stupid for being proud of myself for being able to smoke that entire cigarette, and even MORE stupid for continuing to smoke. At that time, many guys in the Army smoked and the culture was more pro-cigarette then, so I felt more like one of the guys.
Motto: "Regulars, By God!"
DEPLOYMENT
JANUARY TO FEBRUARY 1994
UNITED NATIONS PEACEKEEPING FORCE
OPERATION ABLE SENTRY
CAMP ABLE SENTRY, SKOPJE, REPUBLIC OF MACEDONIA
On another day, someone told me the helicopter pilots were going to do some test flights of the Blackhawk Helicopter and that they were asking for volunteers to ride in one of the helicopters. The flight was right after lunch, so I hurried up and ate my chili-mac as fast as I could, so I could get to the helicopters early and get a seat. The temperature was over 100 degrees farenheit.
My sense of urgency paid off, because I was the first one there and got a seat. They strapped me in, so I was facing the rear of the helicopter and couldn't see where we were going, only where we had been. They told us, if we ever get motion sickness, to throw up in our berets (we wore light blue UN berets), so it wouldn't spray out and hit all the other passengers, because all the doors would be open. They also told us to keep our berets tucked inside our BDU collars on our chest.
The test flight started out very well. We got to see Macedonia from the air, which was pretty cool (figuratively, not literally). The pilots flew fast and in several different directions (up, down, backwards, forwards, left, right, and a combination of all of them). They did Nap-of-the-Earth, then banked sharply up to a very steep height and came back to the earth in a similar fashion. My brain was having trouble processing all the pitch, yaw and roll of the helicopter riding backwards in the heat after a chili-mac lunch, a lunch that I probably shouldn't have eaten before the flight.
I tried to get my beret out from under my shirt, but the tight safety belt system, with 4 straps coming together at the point right over my chest, was preventing me from getting my beret out. I fought to keep holding on to my chili-mac. Most of the other Soldiers in the helicopter were not volunteers, like me, but flight crew or helicopter mechanics. They saw me looking rather pale and saw me struggle to get my hat. They said not to worry about my hat, to just go ahead and get sick, so I did. It sprayed everywhere and got on everyone. Surprisingly, none of them seemed to mind. Instead, they all laughed. I think they might have had some bets going on who would get sick first and this wasn't their first rodeo.
The worst thing about getting sick, for me, was having to endure the next 15 minutes of the test flight, because the pilots wouldn't stop the flight on account of someone getting motion sickness. They finally landed and I apologized profusely to all the guys in the helicopter, telling them I would clean up the mess. They all told me not to worry about it, that this happens all the time and they were used to it. After a few minutes of collecting myself from my ordeal and telling them I would be alright, they all walked away from me and the helicopter. I then proceded to clean the inside of the helicopter and then took a shower. By the way, taking a shower meant standing in two inches of nasty shower water, because the old, run-down building we stayed in had very bad plumbing and clogged drains. Now that I think about it, that probably didn't help my Desert Storm foot fungus.
Macedonia - January 1994 - Company B, 1st Battalion, 6th Infantry Regiment's First Sergeant Murphy (shown above in the lower left picture) took me on a tour of Company B's check points along several miles of the Macedonian border with Serbia. Along the way, I took these pictures with a Polaroid (so they are probably not in chronological order). I don't recall what the cause of the fire was in the lower right photo. It was so hot and dry there, perhaps it was spontaneous combustion.
One day, the First Sergeant of Company B, the same guy that transferred me to HHC to fix his EERs, took me on a tour of various check points that were manned by Company B Soldiers and scattered along several miles of the border. It was nice to get out of the old, run-down Macedonian building that I worked and slept in nearly 24-7.
BLACKHAWK DOWN, UP AND ALL AROUND
A UH-60 Blackhawk helicopter with United Nation's designations takes off from Camp Able Sentry II, 07/29/1994. Source: National Archives
After we completed our Infantryman AIT, the non-prior service trainees were sent to AIT for either Mortarman, Heavy Anti-Armor Weapons Infantryman or Bradley Fighting Vehicle Infantryman training. All of us prior-service Soldiers had to wait two weeks before going to our AIT. In the meantime, the cadre kept us busy with KP duty every day for those two weeks. After "graduating" from KP duty, we were split up, according to what school they chose for us. I was selected to go to the 2-week Bradley Fighting Vehicle Infantryman AIT.
During the BFV Infantryman school, most of our training was on how to maintain the Bradley, which was like a tank, except with thinner armor and a smaller gun. The only chance we got to actually drive the vehicle was at night and only for about 25 meters. I thought that was ridiculous. Something else I thought was funny was that they never let us fire any of the Bradley's weapon systems - not one.
After graduating from BFV Infantryman AIT on 27 August 1993, I was sent to Germany about three weeks later. I have no idea why I didn't ship off right away, nor do I remember what they had me do for those three weeks.
One day, my forearms broke out in a very itchy rash. There is no doubt in my mind, I got it during fire and maneuver training where I had to drop down on the ground after doing 3-second rushes from one tree to the next. Since we were in the field for a number of days and nights, I tried to tough it out, but at the beginning of day 3 of my rash, my wrists and the top of my hands began to swell up in a disfiguring way and I began to worry the swelling would get worse.
I told the drill sergeants that I needed to go to sick call and, after they saw my swollen forearms/hands, they agreed. However, they didn't seem in much of a hurry to get me out of the field at all. As a matter of fact, it seemed like they were stalling for some reason. The itching in my arms was unbearable and I really, really wanted to get out of there fast. The increasing summer heat of Georgia was making it worse. I finally got tired of waiting and asked the drill sergeants when they would get me out. They said as soon as all the stuff from morning field chow was put back on the truck (pots, utensils, boxes of leftover food, bags full of trash, etc.), then they could get me out of there. I started grabbing everything they mentioned and had it loaded on the truck, by myself, within a few minutes. Eventually, I got out of there, saw the medics, was given cortisone cream and calamine lotion to help with the itchiness, then was sent right back out to the field later that same morning.
Fort Benning, Georgia - July 1993 - Here I am with Calamine lotion all over my arms after returning from sick call. I tried to stay in the shade whenever possible, because the sun really made the rash worse. I have to laugh at how funny I looked with BCGs (Birth Control Glasses), Calomine lotion on my arms and a big smilng face with camo paint.
The primary role of the 1st Battalion, 6th Infantry Regiment was to support the United Nations in guarding the Macedonia/ Serbian border to prevent Serbian insurgents from entering Macedonia, which at that time, was called FYROM (Former Yugoslav Republic Of Macedonia).
My role in deploying to Macedonia was to process personnel evaluation reports (NCOERs and OERs), but I also processed several awards as well. I worked very long days, because there wasn't much to do during my free time, so I just worked to pass the time. I discovered a new video game that someone loaded onto the government computer I was using. The game was called "Wolfenstein, Spear of Destiny" and it was so much fun.
I pulled a few turns of guard duty up in the tower that overlooked the wire. Actually, there were two rows of wire about 30 yards apart to create a "dead zone" outside our perimeter. One night, while on guard duty, I spied a very small creature crawling around under the spotlights. Since guard duty is extremely boring to me, this creature, which I finally identified as a hedge hog, kept me entertained for quite some time. I wondered how they could survive, since they moved so slow. It was the first time I had ever seen a real, live hedge hog.
COMPANY B BORDER TOUR
SINGLE SOLDIER INITIATIVE
The second time I was stationed in Germany, life in the barracks was very different than the first time. During my first tour, single Soldiers were subjected to daily room inspections, were required to use the standard issue, green Army blanket on their bunks and had to clean common areas every day, including weekends, according to a posted duty roster.
USAREUR (U.S. ARmy in EURope) must have gone through some morale problems, or something, after I left Germany the first time, because they later established a new barracks policy, called "Single Soldier Quality of Life Initiative", or "Single Soldier Initiative" for short. Basically, what it did was give Soldiers more autonomy and freedom in the barracks. The idea was to foster a more relaxed home environment that married Soldiers, who lived off post in civilian housing (apartments), enjoyed.
I liked most of the aspects of the policy (no barracks inspections, no green, wool blankets and no cleaning the barracks every day, whether it needed it or not). However, there was one result from the policy that didn't work for me. Soldiers developed an attitude that they could do whatever they wanted, without any consideration for their fellow Soldiers in the barracks. Many played their stereos too loud with the bass turned up way too high. It didn't matter if the Soldier lived on the other side of the barracks, if their bass was turned up, an annoying drone would reverberate throughout the entire building. Some Soldiers played their music all night long too.
I had trouble spending any time in the room, let alone sleeping. I constantly found myself having to go knock on doors to ask guys to turn their music down. Often, I was met with a bunch of angry cuss words and/or uncooperation with my requests. There was at least one Soldier who gave me a really bad time when I asked him to tone it down, so I told the First Sergeant about it. That Soldier ended up doing a week of extra duty (janitorial work), as punishment. After that, I was pretty much labeled as a "stereo Nazi" or "music police" and a bunch of guys in the barracks seemed on the verge of trying to get back at me somehow.
I finally got tired of fighting with the idiots and began spending more time at the office during my free time. Since I couldn't sleep very well in the barracks, I just worked through the night at the office and slept with my head on the desk for an hour or two. I developed a routine that lasted throughout most of my 2nd overseas tour. It didn't solve the noise problem, but at least I didn't have to deal with it two nights a week. Also, on Tuesday and Thursday nights, after being up for almost 36 hours, I was so tired that I went to bed right after dinner and usually slept right through the night until 5:30 the next morning, despite the stereo problem.
My normal routine was:
RETURN TO VILSECK, GERMANY
In 1995, our Battalion Commander, LTC Carter F. Ham, transferred out. He was a tough, stern leader who we all respected and admired. He was a Vietnam Veteran and a superb battle tactician.
Throughout my 33-year career, he was the best, at grammar and spelling, of any officer for whom I served. When I started working countless, late-night hours in the office, I noticed some big piles of old, backlogged awards that needed to get processed. Although my role in the S-1 was just to process NCOERs and OERs, I took the opportunity to assist my coworker in eliminating the Awards backlog. I thought my grammar skills were pretty good, so figured I could create error-free "products" that the PAC Supervisor wouldn't have to return for correction before presenting to LTC Ham for his signature.
I typed up up the certificates, printed them and put them on LTC Ham's desk to sign. As it turned out, he signed most of them, but there were a few he returned for revision, because he spotted some very minor, barely noticeable errors that the average person would not have caught. Although a little disappointed about the rejects, I still felt good that he signed most of them. As a result, much of the backlog was eliminated.
My experience as a PAC Clerk, over a number of years, has led me to a theory of how the Army promotes officers. The pattern I saw was that, normally, the higher the officer's rank, the better they were at grammar and spelling. If the Army actually did promote officers based on their grammar skills, then LTC Ham would have a great career. In actuality, he DID have a great career. Interestingly, he is the only Soldier from the 1-6 Infantry who I have seen since I left the unit in 1996.
After 9/11, I began regularly watching news reports on the war in Iraq. One day, I saw him on TV, doing a press conference or interview on one of the news stations. At the time, he was Deputy Director, J-8, at United States Central Command in Tampa, Florida and Qatar.
In the fall of 2003, while working full-time for the South Dakota Army National Guard as the State's Orders, Awards and Security Clearance Manager, I attended a Personnel Security Manager's Training Course at Fort Riley, Kansas. I travelled there by plane from Rapid City, South Dakota, to Denver, Colorado, then to Kansas City, Missouri. After my layover in Denver, I boarded my plane to Kansas City and noticed a man in his seat, dressed in a suit, that looked very much like my former battalion commander. As I got to my seat, which was only a few rows behind his, I realized that HAD to be him, so I walked over to meet him and saw he was wearing a star on his collar. I introduced myself as his former S1, 1-6 Infantry NCOER/OER Clerk and told him I was on my way to Fort Riley. He said he was now a Brigadier General and recently began serving as the Deputy Commanding General for Training and Readiness, I Corps at Fort Lewis, Washington. I don't recall exactly where he said he was going, but I imagine he was on his way to some high-level meeting at Fort Riley or some other place in the region.
In 2004 or early 2005, I saw him on the news again. This time he was the Multinational Brigade Commander (Task Force Olympia) - North in Mosul, Iraq.
Sometime between 2007 and 2008, I saw him on the news AGAIN. This time he was the Director of Operations, J-3, for the Joint Chiefs of Staff and he was wearing THREE stars.
The last time I saw him on TV was when he was wearing FOUR stars and served as the AFRICOM Commander during the terrorist attack on the U.S. Embassy in Benghazi, Libya in 2012.
He retired from the Army on April 5, 2013. I am honored to have served under him and equally proud of him for his achievements after he left the 1-6th Infantry.
LTC CARTER F. HAM, BATTALION COMMANDER
ARMY NATIONAL GUARD
14 May 1996 - 14 September 1996
HHB, 153rd Field Artillery Brigade
Arizona Army National Guard
Phoenix, Arizona
SPECIAL DUTY - APO AE 09112
From late November 1995 to early February 1996, I worked "Special Duty" in the Army Post Office on Rose Barracks. Aside from the terminal leave I would take from February to May 1996, this would be my last 90 days in the military. Because my MOS (Military Occupational Specialty) was 11M (Bradley Fighting Vehicle Infantryman), an MOS considered to have little transferability of skills to civilian employment, I was authorized to work at the post office, to learn civilian job skills, and was allowed to wear civilian clothes for the entire three months. Also, I didn't have to do PT. I thought all those perks were great.
I worked hard at the APO, but also had a lot of fun. The Christmas holiday season was the busiest time of the year for the permanent employees and I think they were grateful to have me and a few other Soldiers assist them in unloading the daily semi-trailer full of packages and performing other postal duties. They were great to work with.
TERMINAL LEAVE
In May 1994, I went to Ledwood Barracks in Wurzburg, Germany, to participate in warfighter training, called "Operation Anvil". The exercise was held inside of a huge white tent that was chock full of computer equipment; large-screen monitors showing the mock battlefield in military graphic symbology; and BFV simulators which looked like very expensive, interractive video games.
I really didn't like warfighter training. It seemed to be either very chaotic or very boring. I didn't get to operate any of the interactive computer games. Instead, I sat in front of a computer to monitor the battle and react, as needed, to any changes. My computer was right next to a series of communications radios that were used by each of the battle staff officers. The exercise went around the clock for many days. I worked 16-18 hours a day, which I didn't mind, because our crew was short-staffed and there wasn't much to do during off-time anyway without a vehicle to get around.
CHAOTIC: Very often, during a heated battle exchange, the battle staff area would get very loud with radio squelch, voices over the radios and several officers engaging in different conversations simultaneously. I couldn't understand much of what they were saying. It just sounded like chaotic jibberish to me and was very unsettling.
BORING: In between battles, especially at night, there would be a lull in activity that made time seem to stand still. I had a very hard time dealing with the boredom, because I was so used to being productive and doing something.
CHINOOK #4
In the Summer of 1995, our unit began a different kind of field training exercise. It was called MOOTW (Military Operations Other Than War - pronounced "MOOT-WAH") and it was like nothing I had ever seen before, except on television. We conducted this training on two separate occasions and with two different scenarios.
The first MOOTW scenario was in a mock European village that looked like a Hollywood movie set. A hostile civilian crowd (Soldiers in civilian clothes acting like out-of-control rioters) tried to mob us and take our weapons, while we tried to maintain order and control of the village. This realistic training was kind of fun, but very stressful and physically demanding, because it involved a lot of running around in our gear, struggling with "civilians" and reacting to superiors' orders.
The second MOOTW was set in a big hangar with a concertina wire fence surrounding it. The scenario was for our unit to serve as a collection/evacuation point for civilian non-combatants who were fleeing an area of armed conflict. Our mission was to separate hostile civilians from friendly civilians, detaining the hostiles and processing the friendlies for later evacuation with the unit, by helicopter, to a safe zone. It seemed to me this exercise was modeled after what happened at the end of the Vietnam War in the largest helicopter evacuation in history.
My role in this second exercise was to process freindly civilians and log them on flight manifests for each of four Chinook Helicopters that were used in the evacuation process. I was also going to be the last Soldier being evacuated by helicopter to leave the hangar. I was told not to leave the hangar until all Soldiers and Civilians were on board all four aircraft and accounted for. I don't remember why this was, all I know is they should have had me go to the 1st helicopter, instead of helicopter #4.
All four helicopters were parked in a single row, with #1 being closest to the hangar and #4 being the farthest away by about 1/4 mile. When I left the hangar, I was wearing my full battle-rattle with weapon and heavy ruck sack on my back. Everyone was waiting for me and my boss in the #4 helicopter was waving and yelling at me to hurry up. I was still a non-smoker, ran 8-10 miles a day and was in the best shape of my life, but that run from the hangar to helicopter #4 was the toughest, most exhausting run I've ever had.
On 14 May 1996, I reported to my new Artillery unit in Phoenix. When I got there, the full-timer looked very perplexed and surprised by my presence. He wasn't expecting me at all. He said they didn't have any SIDPERS data on me, nor did they have my OMPF folder. They said I didn't even have a slot (position) in the unit, that it was already filled by someone else.
They told me to follow up with them every few weeks, and informed me that I wouldn't be able to attend their upcoming annual training until they received the SIDPERS data. I was very disappointed in hearing about not having a slot, but even more so about the SIDPERS fiasco. I kept calling them every two weeks, like clockwork, but each time, they told me "nothing yet".
In mid July 1996, I had worked some temporary jobs in Phoenix, but still didn't have a permanent job after getting out of the Army a few months earlier. With temperatures in Phoenix soaring well over 100 degrees farenheit, it began to seem a lot like Saudi Arabia to me and I didn't want any part of that. My mother and step-father had long since retreated from their snow-bird residence in Phoenix to Brainerd, Minnesota, for the summer, so I no longer had any family there. As a matter of fact, I didn't really know anyone there.
I witnessed a number of crimes being committed in the short time I lived in Phoenix. Right after I returned from Germany, having been in Phoenix for only a few hours, my step-father took me with him to a convenience store to buy some soda or something. While there, a shady-looking character grabbed two 24-packs of beer and ran out of the store as fast as he could without paying.
About a week after I returned from Honduras and Just before my mom and step-dad left Phoenix, I rented an apartment in the middle of Phoenix. During my first visit to the apartment to move my stuff in, I could not drive into the parking lot, because the driveway was blocked with a bunch of cop cars responding to a call of a big guy disturbing the peace. The cops maced him, but it didn't seem to bother him. I found out later that guy was pounding on my new next-door neighbor's door to demand he pay him $20 (for drugs probably).
With all these factors in play (crime wave, heat wave, no job and no family there), it seemed like a good time to get out of the crime-ridden desert and move to a cooler, safer place. Remembering how nice and cool San Francisco was my first time there, I thought I would try going there again, so I did. Just before I left, I called the full-timer at HHB, 153rd Field Artillery Brigade to let him know that I was moving to California and would call him again when I found a unit.
I took Interstate 93 north across the Hoover Dam and right past Las Vegas. I probably should have stopped in Vegas, because I still have not been there yet. I kept heading west, on Nevada State Highway 160 to California State Highway 190, until I got to Death Valley. I drove around Death Valley in 127 degree temperatures, enjoying the sights and staying cool with the air conditioner. Then, my car began to overheat. It was a very tense and hot ride up the hill to get out of there. I turned my air conditioner off and turned my heater on, because someone told me the heater pulls heat off the engine. Despite doing that, the temperature warning light remained on the whole time up the hill, making me wonder if my car was going to make it, but it did.
Before I left Phoenix, I purchased a portable rifle with a detachable barrel that could be stowed inside the stock. I figured I might need it during my trip to San Francisco, because I would be staying in bear country along the way. Knowing I could defend myself against a possible bear attack made me sleep better during my overnight camping stay in a park on the outskirts of Mammoth Lakes, CA. I continued north to Yosemite National Park and stayed there a few days and nights, sleeping in my tent with my portable rifle ready to fire, just in case.
After leaving Yosemite, I headed west to Santa Cruz, stopping in the late afternoon for dinner. After dinner, I continued north along the windy coastal mountain roads on my way to San Francisco. However, I seemed to have taken a wrong turn or something, because I ended up driving for hours in those mountains, before ending up at Pacifica late at night. I slept in my car until morning, then drove north along the shore to San Francisco.
When I got there, I checked into a cheap hotel for a few days and began looking for apartments. I found one in the Richmond District, an area where I had lived from 1984-1986. The only drawback was that I had to share it with an older lady who seemed a little weird and, as I later learned from living with her, was rather CRAZY. So, I kept looking for a different apartment while trying to find a job.
Luckily, I only had to live with her for a few months before finding a $325/month room in the basement/garage of a very nice Filipino family. They let me use their kitchen to cook and made me feel welcome. It was a very nice living arrangement for the price.
During that two-month period, while I was focused on trying to get set up, I did not find a unit. Meanwhile, the Arizona Army National Guard, unbeknownst to me, had received my SIDPERS and OMPF, then gave me a General Discharge on September 15th for failing to attend drills. I thought that was pretty messed up, because they didn't even try to contact me. I found out about the General Discharge when I met with a recruiter to try enlisting in the Air Force Reserve as an Engineer. The recruiter informed me that I couldn't enlist in the Air Force Reserve, due to the General Discharge on my record, but added that the Army Reserve would still take me.
CALIFORNIA OR BUST
U.S. ARMY RESERVE
21 April 1997 - 10 May 1999
481st Transportation Company (Heavy Boat)
Stockton and Vallejo, California
In January 1997, I got a civilian job as a Contact Representative for the Social Security Administration in San Francisco. Three months later, on 21 April 1997, I got back in the Army Reserve, signing up to be an 88L Watercraft Engineer with the 481st Transportation Company (Heavy Boat) at Rough and Ready Island in Stockton, California.
Prior to completing the 88L Watercraft Engineer Course at the U.S. Army Transportation School in Fort Eustis, Virginia in August 1997, I attended monthly drills and learned quite a bit about the LCU (Landing Craft, Utility) on the job, especially during my 2-week annual training in the summer. It was pretty nice that we didn't have to worry about overnight lodging or driving back to our homes on Saturday night, because we slept in small sleeping rooms on the vessels.
They assigned me to the U.S. Army Vessel Malvern Hill (LCU 2025). My supervisor, a SGT (E-5), was an older gentleman (over 45), a full-timer who served as our Chief Engineer and knew the LCU like the back of his hand. It was often rumored he was born in a shipyard. Fortunately for me, he was very willing to share his knowledge and I tried to soak it up like a sponge. He was a good leader, flexible, dedicated, patient and great to work for. I could not understand why he didn't have more rank, considering his age, technical expertise and leadership attributes. It just seemed wrong to me that he wasn't, at least, a Sergeant First Class.
After graduating from the Watercraft Engineer Course, I still was not considered fully qualified, until I earned my Mariner's License. In order to get that, all items on my Mariner's License training task list would have to be checked off by my supervisor after I completed them. Each item was either a task I had to perform or a hands-on test I had to pass. Some of the tasks/tests were not easy, such as having to trace all the piping below decks and identify where they all went and what they were for. Eventually, I got through them all and earned my license (shown below) on 1 October 1998.
I drove about 85 miles from my apartment in San Rafael to Stockton, CA, every month for drills. Driving to Stockton on Saturday morning was very enjoyable with light traffic. I was able to drive 75 MPH most of the way. However, driving back to San Rafael on Sunday afternoon was a different story. Most of the time, it was very hot outside. It seemed like everyone from the bay area was returning back home from their weekend trips to Lake Tahoe or Reno, at the exact same moment I wanted to get home. All this traffic clogged up the freeway, causing total gridlock for miles, with no movement for several minutes at a time.
MONTHLY COMMUTE
AMPHIBIOUS SURPRISE
SUISUN GHOST FLEET
One hot, summer day, we went on a sail mission to pick up, and later drop off, a large group of Marines who were training on amphibious operations. We sailed directly to the shore, lowered the front ramp onto the shore and raised it back up after they were all on board.
We sailed past a series of Islands and beaches along the way, one of which was popular with the locals, because there were a lot of people grilling, sunbathing, boating, jet-skiing and swimming in the area. Having so many Marines on deck created quite a stir among the female civilians in the area. We, the crew, never got that much attention sailing past this area before, but then most of time, we rode inside the vessel with no more than just a few Soldiers on deck.
Unexpectedly, about half a dozen women in the river, on the beach and in boats, took their bikini tops off and yelled "woo-woo" at all the Marines. Of course, these Marines, being young, yelled back with their approval and encouraged more women to participate.
All the guys agreed we should train with the Marines more often.
During my time with the 481st, I had the opportunity to make about four round-trip voyages from Stockton to the Port of Oakland. We started out at Rough and Ready Island on the San Joaquin River, sailed through Suisun Bay , the Carquinez Strait, San Pablo Bay, then to the San Francisco Bay before arriving at Oakland.
Usually, we sailed at night, so I slept through most of the journey and didn't see much. However, we did sail during the day on at least one occasion and I saw some interesting sights along the way (aside from the ladies that flashed us). We made a few temporary stops at some drawbridges and had to wait for the bridge staff to stop ground traffic on both sides of the water, then raise the drawbridge to allow us to pass. That was pretty cool, I thought.
I also saw a very large fleet of old, WWII ships anchored in the middle of Suisun Bay. It was very eery and surreal-looking. I was in awe and near-disbelief when I first laid eyes on this amazing sight.
HAZMAT HEROES
One day, while walking around the deck of the Malvern Hill, I happened to notice a cofferdam on the boat was rapidly filling up with water. My recollection of the actual cofferdam size may be a bit off, but it seems to me, it was approximately 4' high, 4' wide and 2' deep. It was just a steel box, open on the top and welded to the boat, with a pipe that came up through the bottom. That pipe led to a tank that contained oily water from the bilge tank. Someone, NOT ME, left a valve open that should have been closed. It let contiminated water out of that pipe and into the cofferdam.
I quickly alerted my supervisor and everyone who was within earshot, then ran across the gangway onto the docks to the nearest HAZMAT spill kit. I grabbed as many sponges and absorbant rags as I could carry and ran back to the boat. By then, my supervisor, the old guy who was allegedly born in a shipyard, found the problem and closed the valve, but not before oily water began overflowing from the cofferdam and across the deck in a small stream.
I frantically tried to contain the stream with my rags and sponges, but there was more water than they could absorb, and a little bit spilled over the deck and into the river. By then, some more guys got involved and eventually deployed a Zodiac boat with containment bouys to corral the spill. Luckily, they were able to fully contain the spill which was probably less than a few galllons.
BENT PROP IN PANAMA
MARE ISLAND - VALLEJO, CA
I was very fortunate to have had the opportunity to go to Panama City, Panama, for my 3-week annual training in June 1998. Normally, annual training is only two weeks long, but ours was three weeks. On June 8th, we flew to Panama City, Panama. Our mission was to fix and then sail a crippled Army LCU (that included a bent propeller) from Panama to Moorehead City, North Carolina.
Before the trip, I purchased a few ocean fishing poles and transported them with me on the plane in 5” PVC pipe (with end caps). I figured we might have time to fish, and as it turned out, we DID.
We spent a week in Panama, sleeping on the LCU, which was moored at the dock on Rodman Naval Station. Most of the time, we were restricted to the boat, which didn’t offer much to do, so I fished off the dock when not working. I didn’t catch hardly anything, except a huge electric eel. That was the scariest thing I’ve ever caught. I was so freaked out that I forgot to take a picture.
Around February 1999, my unit, the 481st Transportation Company (Heavy Boat), relocated from it's port at Rough and Ready Island in Stockton, California, to a port at Mare Island in Vallejo, California.
I only drilled a few months at the new location. Too bad, because it was much closer than Stockton. I only had to drive about 30 miles around the San Pablo Bay to get to Mare Island and the commute back to San Rafael was not congested on Sunday afternoon, like it was from Stockton.
Instead of having to sail all night from Stockton, over 100 miles on the San Joaquin River, to get to the Port of Oakland, we only had to sail across the San Pablo and San Francisco bays from Mare Island, which was much closer. The only drawback to having the boats located so close was that, unlike the fresh water at Rough and Ready Island, the new location was located in salt water, which facilitated corrosion on the boat. I didn't stay long enough to have to worry about that problem though.
Regarding my meal schedule: After I posted this table, I remembered that I rarely, if ever, took a full hour to eat a meal. As a matter of fact, I was usually done within about 15 minutes and went right back to work.
We were not able to replace the propeller, so after spending a week in Panama, we finally set sail in our diesel powered, 175-foot, bent-prop LCU.
Because we were sailing a smaller vessel (compared to the oil tankers and such), we had to navigate through the Panama Canal at night, because the canal reserves daytime passage for large ships. After being dragged by cables connected to rail cars, called “mules”, through the Panama Canal, we made our way to the Atlantic Ocean. The unique thing about that voyage was that, due to the shape of the Isthmas of Panama, we had to sail northwest to get to the Atlantic Ocean. Traveling that direction seemed very counterintuitive to me, since the Pacific is west and the Atlantic is east.
Once we got out of the locks and into the ocean, we were met with some pretty large, in-coming waves that sprayed the windows of the Captain’s Bridge. That was the only part of the voyage where I almost got seasick, even after taking my dremamine (seasick pills).
For the next nine days, we sailed through the Caribbean Sea without sighting land. The trip was extremely boring. While working, all I did was check the many pipes, gauges and valves on the LCU during my watch. When not working, I ate and slept a lot to avoid motion sickness. I also fished with some of the guys, but the LCU was travelling too fast for most fish and we only caught one barracuda during the entire nine days.
After leaving Panama, we never saw land for over a week, until we got to within about 15 miles off the Miami shore, where we saw a faint outline of Miami’s buildings. Shortly after that, the sky became smoky and stayed that way all day as we sailed up the southeastern seaboard. We later learned the smoke came from extensive forest fires that burned in Florida for several days. After we docked the LCU at Moorehead City, North Carolina, we stayed overnight and flew back to California.
ITALIAN STONE PINE
While living with the Filipino family for about a year, I came home one day and parked my car on the street in front of their house. As I got out of my car, I heard a creaking sound coming from the direction of one of the trees in the boulevard. I walked over to the tree to investigate the source of the noise. As I got right up to the tree, the creaking got louder and, suddenly, a huge branch began to fall in my direction. I took off running as fast as I could. It was such a close call, that I felt the leaves and twigs brushing against me as it fell, but luckily no heavy stuff hit me. I had just barely cheated death or serious injury. However, my car was not so fortunate as you can see in the slideshow below.
In July 1994, I rode an MWR bus from Vilseck, Germany, to Paris for a one-day tour. It was a great experience and I saw a lot of interesting sights in Paris, as well as on the bus ride through France.
In 1994 or 1995, I rode an MWR bus to Venice for a tour of the city. We left in the evening and arrived in Venice the next morning. There was so much to see, but I was only there for one day, before getting back on the bus that evening and sleeping on the long ride to Vilseck.
I sometimes think back to that incident and wonder how lucky I was to have not parked a few seconds later, because I may not have heard the tree from inside my car and could have likely been seriously hurt or killed.
San Francisco, CA - Mission District Office of Social Security Administration on the corner of 22nd and Valencia Street. This picture was taken with a disposable camera, so the quality is poor.
Rough and Ready Island, Stockton, CA - Landing Craft docked in tandem. This picture was taken with a disposable camera, so the quality is poor.
14 MAY 1993 - 10 MAY 1999
Chapter 3
ARMY, BFV Infantry School, Ft Benning, GA
ARMY, 1-6 Infantry Regiment, Vilseck, Germany
ARMY, Transition Leave, Panama/Honduras
AZARNG, 153rd FA Bde, Phoenix, AZ
USAR, 481st TC, Stockton/Vallejo, CA
Despite being a work-a-holic, I did manage to get out and explore Europe much more than I did when I was stationed in Hanau, Germany, from 1988-1990. I took advantage of some AFRC (Armed Forces Recreation Center) and MWR (Morale, Welfare and Recreation) tour offerings and rode the bus to various places, including Neuschwanstein Castle, Munich Octoberfest, Amsterdam, Prague, Salzburg, Paris and Venice. Unfortunately, I only have pictures of my Paris and Venice trips.
PARIS, FRANCE
I kept my ID badge that I wore in the simulation center.
VENICE, ITALY
Upon returning to Rose Barracks in Vilseck, Germany, I went back to my previous work routine, working 36 hours straight, twice a week. I also ran about 8-10 miles a day (six miles in the morning for PT and 2-4 miles in the afternoon) and lifted weights about 3 or 4 times a week. My APFT scores were always really good, usually above 280. I always maxed the 2-mile run event. Back then, I was a young, 34-year old, hard-charger who felt like I could conquer the world.
OPERATION ANVIL - WURZBURG, GERMANY
END OF CHAPTER 3
One summer, our unit held its summer picnic and fun day at Stockton Golf and Country Club which was right across the San Juaquin River from our LCUs. During several drills prior to that picnic, I would often see civilians across the river enjoying a nice game of golf while I slaved away below deck in very hot temperatures. The steel deck absorbed heat from the sun and the heat from the engines made the engine room feel like Death Valley in July.
Since our picnic was on a golf course, the main fun activity was golf, but there was also volleyball. To make the golf more fun and interesting, the full-timers organized an informal tournament with various pin prizes for certain holes (ie., closest to the pin, longest drive, longest putt, etc.). At the time, I was a fairly good golfer with about a 7-handicap. Approximately two dozen soldiers and family members golfed in the tournament.
As I remember, it was a beautiful day and not too hot. We were paired up with a partner and we walked around the course, instead of riding in carts. We had a great time and I golfed really well that day. As a matter of fact, I won a box of golf balls for a pin prize AND earned a ball-picker-upper for having the lowest score for the tournament.
481ST SUMMER PICNIC
HEAD FOR THE HILLS
In April 1999, after dealing with a hostile boss at my civilian job with the Social Security Administration Office of Hearings and Appeals (SSA-OHA), I took nearly a month of leave and drove from California to the Black Hills of South Dakota.
At that time, my father lived in Custer, SD, and I stayed with him for several days while driving around the Black Hills to look for employment in the region. I was particularly interested in a newly advertised GS-5 position with the U.S. Forest Service in Spearfish, SD, so I drove there to check it out and submitted my application at that office.
I was really impressed with the City of Spearfish. I thought it was a beautiful town and would be a great place to live, far better than the rat-race of California.
I purchased a 1972 Rolohome trailer house at Bicentennial Court on Liberty Lane in Spearfish, for about $10,000, with the full intention of moving there, once my leave was over. It was quite a leap of faith, because I didn’t have a job in Spearfish yet, but I did have a number of backup plans, in case I didn’t get the Forest Service job. Amazingly, ALL the plans actually happened. They were:
Plan A: Enlist in the South Dakota Army National Guard (enlisted 11 May 1999)
Plan B: Get a temp job until I get something permanent (worked at a casino and at the university)
Plan C: Attend classes at Black Hills State University using GI Bill (enrolled in the 1999 Fall Semester)
Plan D: Get a job at the Post Office (worked there twice, once for three months, the other time for 2 weeks)
Plan E: Get a full-time job in the SDARNG (worked full time for the SDARNG from 1999 to 2014)
After returning to California at the end of my leave, I submitted my letter of resignation to the SSA-OHA, packed up all my belongings in a U-Haul trailer and drove back to South Dakota to live in Spearfish.
Below are some of the pictures I took during one of my trips between California and South Dakota.
1999 - Trailer house I purchased in Spearfish.
Rose Barracks pictures below
After staying in La Ceiba for another week and still sick, I flew to Tegucigalpa, the capitol and largest city of Honduras, with a population of around one million. I think it was a good decision to fly, even though it cost more, because that bus ride just took too long and was very brutal. I would have had trouble riding the bus so long, being as sick as I was.
From Tegucigalpa, I rode the bus about 120 miles to Comayagua, then took a taxi to Sato Cano Air Base. I stayed at Sato Cano for a few days before catching flights back to Panama, then Charleston.
After landing in Charleston, I drove back to Phoenix, arriving on 13 May 1996, my last official day in the Army. I had planned on driving up north to South Dakota, on my way back to Phoenix, but I stayed way too long in Honduras and spent too much money there. I only had $50 left when I got back to Phoenix.
RETURN TO PHOENIX
I took a two-hour, 30-mile boat ride north from La Ceiba to Coxen Hole, the capitol and largest town on the island of Roatán. It was a rough ride over decent-sized waves and I almost got seasick, I think because I was riding below deck as far forward to the bow as possible, as no other seats were available. The boat was packed.
Coxen Hole was very touristy and commercialized. I wanted to explore the island to get a feel for "the real Roatán", so I rented a car and drove across the island to Punta Gorda. It was very mountainous and the road was full of switchbacks.
A higher percentage of people spoke English on Roatán than on mainland Honduras, so it was easier to communicate. I met some locals who were very friendly and hospitable. They took me in and tried to make me feel at home in their open-air shack with no electricity or plumbing. We went out in their canoe and speared fish. They later cooked it and we ate it with some other stuff. I slept a few nights in their shack, but had trouble sleeping with the mosquitos flying around. A few days later, I got very sick. I ended up staying in Roatan for a week, before finally heading back to La Ceiba on the boat, still sick from the week prior.
THE ISLAND OF ROATAN
FIRST SWIM IN THE ATLANTIC
One day, my Honduran taxi driver drove me from my hotel to the ocean. I told him I was going to swim out a little ways and then come back in, just to say, "I swam in the Atlantic Ocean". The area where he took me was pretty rocky and I had to be careful walking to the water, so I wouldn't hurt my feet on the rocks.
I started swimming out a little ways, before I realized the current was carrying me out to sea. At first I started to panic. I got tired and out of breath from trying to swim back to shore against the rip tide. The waves were fairly rough and choppy and made swimming difficult. At the time, I felt my situation becomming very dire and I thought my chances of drowning were pretty good. I knew I needed to relax and catch my breath, before attempting to swim again. So, I turned on my back and started breathing and relaxing. After catching my breath and composing myself, I began swimming at an angle to the shore. The current pushed me a quarter mile down the shoreline to a nice, sandy beach, a place where I should have started from, instead of the rocky area. I almost got upset with my taxi driver for trying to kill me by taking me to that rocky shoreline, instead of the nice, sandy beach, but figured maybe he didn't know any better. Anyway, I was just glad to finally make it out...ALIVE. After that ordeal, I decided it was time to leave La Ceiba.
In early February, shortly before I left Germany to begin three months of terminal leave and permissive TDY, I reenlisted into HHB, 153rd Field Artillery Brigade, Arizona Army National Guard, as an 82C Field Artillery Surveyor and was told I needed to report to my new unit on 14 May 1996, the day after my ETS. In mid-February, I flew from Germany to Phoenix, Arizona to begin my terminal leave.
Since the hoopty I owned in Germany went kaput, I let the German towing company keep it for scrap, rather than ship it back to the States, since it was broken down and not to American safety standards anyway. A few days after arriving in Phoenix, I purchased a 1983 Light Blue Ford Escort station wagon (with 30,000 miles) for $2,300.
About a week later, I drove from Phoenix to Los Angeles, California, with my mom and visited my older brother, Lance, who lived in Huntington Beach. Lance was engaged with a Japanese American woman named Rita, who worked as a psychologist. She was very nice. We had a good visit, staying for two nights, then headed back to Phoenix.
A week later, I drove from Phoenix to San Diego with a couple of guys who lived in the apartment complex that my mom and step-dad managed in exchange for their rent. We took the train to the Mexican Border, then walked across the Rio Grand River on a pedestrian bridge. On the bridge were several beggars from Guatemala. They were really short and looked very poor. We walked around Tijuana for several hours, before finally getting out of that crazy place. I was glad to get back over the U.S. border and home to Phoenix.
A few weeks later, I drove across the country to Charleston Air Force Base, South Carolina. In order to save money on lodging, I slept in my car for two nights during the three-day trip trip to Charleston.
From Charleston, I flew in a military plane to Panama City, Panama. In Panama, I stayed in billets for 2 days at Howard Air Force Base.
I then flew from Panama to Honduras, landing at Soto Cano Air Base, near Comayagua, Honduras, located in the center of Honduras. I stayed in billets at Sato Cano for two weeks, traveling around Comayagua in cheap taxis.
I headed north on a very rough, and often bumpy, 13-hour bus ride from Comayagua to San Pedro Sula, with another 3-hour bus ride to La Cieba on the northern Honduran coast of the Atlantic Ocean. I stayed about a week in a few different hotels in La Ceiba, but kept the same Honduran taxi driver the whole time. I didn't speak much Spanish and he didn't speak much English, but somehow, we were able to understand each other fairly well.
