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YANKEE TANGO DOWN
(C) 2005 by W. R Benton
CHAPTER 1
“I am dying, but I ain't dead yet. No, not yet.” The prostrate figure in the hospital bed said as he opened his old and tired eyes. Michael noticed the old man was wired to various machines and monitors, all of which must serve some function. All the wires reminded him of an old black and white Frankenstein movie he had once seen as a child. There was a tube coming from the old man's nose and another one coming from under the light blue blanket. Michael loved the old man with all of his heart. The old man was his grandfather.
“Are you comfortable grandpa?” Michael asked with genuine concern in his voice.
“Of course not Mike, I am dying and comfort ain't part of the agenda.” Michael noticed the old man's eyes dancing at his own humour.
“Is there anything I can do for you grandpa?”
“Yep, Mike there is. I want to talk to you son. I want you to hear a story I have to tell.”
Michael pulled up and chair and made himself comfortable. He knew the old man could get long winded at times, but this could be the last conversation he would ever have with him.
“Mike, many years ago I experienced something that changed my life forever. Because of that experience, I will die a rich poor man. Confusing son? I remember.....
The air brakes gave a loud hissing sound as the driver slowed the bus down and then came to a complete stop in front of a well lighted brick building. A large red sign with white lettering read “Welcome to Fort Leonard Wood” was stuck out in the grass in from of the building. The front door of the bus opened with a similar hiss and a huge black man walked in. He stood unmoving and unspeaking next to the driver. I noticed he was wearing a green uniform, very shiny boots, and had a hat on that reminded me of a state trooper. What initially caught my attention about the man was the sharpness of his clothing. The shirt and trousers were starched to firmness that only a military man can appreciate. The sleeves of his shirt, with his five stripes, appeared sharp enough to cut an apple with. On the left side of his shirt, above the pocket, was row after row of multi-colored ribbons. I counted five rows of three medals each.
He held a clipboard in his left hand as he screamed in a loud voice, “Welcome to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri . On behalf of the Fort Commander , I welcome each of you. It is now zero four hundred. When I tell you to move, you WILL all exit this bus! On the pavement outside the bus you will find yellow footprints painted. You WILL stand on a set of footprints and wait for further orders! NOW MOVE!”
For the first time in my eighteen years I felt real fear. Not a fear of being hurt, but rather a fear of the unknown. See, my early years of life had been well established with a gentle routine. Less than twelve hours earlier I had been living at home with my parents on a small dirt farm, but there was a war was going on and I wanted to be part of it. You just didn't get much excitement on a farm. I had grown up hearing my Grandfather talking of his combat experiences in the World War One, while my daddy told his tales of World War Two. I grew up hearing how my great-great grand dad was killed by the Sioux Indians in Montana . My family was an old family of soldiers. I was old enough, in my mind anyway, to move off the farm and on to better things. As I moved as quickly as I could from the bus I wondered if I had not made a serious mistake. I soon found a pair of painted yellow footprints and stood in place.
“Good morning girls. My name is sergeant Williams. I am your drill instructor. I am your mother, your daddy, and your girlfriend for the next twelve weeks. But, if you try to kiss me or screw me, you will regret it. You WILL all call me sir! The first and last words out of your mouth will be SIR! When I say move, you will MOVE! I will.....” Suddenly the sergeant quit speaking.
I felt myself tremble as I watch him moved toward me at a rapid rate and the taps on the bottom of his shoes clicked loudly in the early morning air. Now, I ain't much of a praying man, but when he moved toward me I prayed he had another victim in mind. He stopped in front of an overweight black man beside me. I watched as the sergeant placed his hands on his hips, leaned forward until the edge of his hat was on that young boy's nose, and then I heard him scream.
“Where are you from boy?” The sergeant yelled in a deep loud voice.
“I. . . I. . . I...I am from Arkansas Sir.” The overweight black kid stammered out. I could see his whole body tremble as he spoke.
“You come all the way from Arkansas to be in MY Army boy?” The sergeant screamed a question once more. I noticed the sergeant's face was red and tobacco juice ran down the left side of his mouth. I was listening closely to the conversation. Whatever the fat kid had done, I wanted to avoid doing it.
“You mean I got up out of bed at this time of the morning, showered, shaved, came here to meet my new men and they sent me a fat nigger boy from Arkansas ? Did you come all the way from Arkansas just to piss me off boy?” The sergeant yelled again.
“Sir! No, sir. I want to be a soldier. My daddy was a soldier, sir.” The fat boy responded with a shaking voice. I honestly thought the kid was going to cry. His eyes watered and he was trembling, but he stood firm.
“Boy, you have caused me to be seriously upset. Nonetheless, I promise you and any other ladies I find here, you will soon be at home tellin' yer folks how you got thrown out of MY ARMY! Now, step ON the yellow foot prints, not beside them. NOW!”
As soon as he had spoken, the sergeant walked to the front of the group and gave us instructions on how to walk to the barracks. We turned to the right and made our way a few blocks towards some old wooden framed buildings. As we walked in a light misting rain, I wondered about the fat black kid. What had he done to be singled out? Surely it was not just because he had not stood in the yellow foot prints? I was too tired to think much about it, but I was concerned. No, I did not think I would be hurt here. Despite everything so far, I did want to stay in the Army if I could. I would face a lot of shame back home if I did not make it.
“Listen up ladies. Inside you WILL find a rack, or a bed as you dumb ass civilians call ‘em. You WILL get into that bed and go to sleep. I will NOT be in to tuck you in. I do not want any joking or grab ass played. I WILL be back to wake you gently in a few hours. NOW MOVE.” The sergeant was screaming again and much louder this time. As I ran up the stairs and into the barracks I could still hear him yelling, “Move, move, move.”
The inside of the barracks was drab. There were no curtains on the windows, no furniture except for metal bunk beds with large wooden boxes in front of them (which I found out later were called footlockers). The building was divided into two floors. I was moved along with my part of the herd to the first floor. I thought “herd” as we moved, because all of this reminded me of moving cattle.
I picked a bed and undressed. I immediately slid between the sheets and remained absolutely still. I watched twenty other men on my floor undress and get into beds. After just a few moments, the sergeant suddenly appeared at the doorway and said in a low voice, “Good night girls. Sleep well my sweet's.” The light went off and I was asleep instantly.
I felt as if I had just closed my eyes when he light came on and a loud banging sound filled my ears. I awoke with a start and looked around me. It had not been a dream. I was at Fort Leonard Wood and in military basic training. I quickly climbed out of bed and stood beside it feeling dumb. I did my best imitation of standing at attention. Sergeant Williams had a trash can in his left hand and was banging the inside of it with a night stick. What was I expected to do now? Would I unknowingly break some written or unwritten law? I glanced at my watch and noticed it was six in the morning. We had received just about two hours of sleep.
“I hope all of my precious little ladies slept well. Now, LISTEN UP, people! You WILL shower and shave. I want ALL facial hair removed. That means all beards, mustachios, and sideburns off. Sideburns off to the top of the ears! You have twenty minutes to do this. NOW MOVE PEOPLE!”
All twenty of us moved quickly toward the bathroom. Since there were only ten sinks, ten of us should have showered while the other ten shaved, but it did not work that way. All twenty of us attempted to shave at the same time. I was lucky and got a position in front of a sink. Two guys shaved behind me and would occasionally lean over to rinse a blade in the hot water. Not a word was spoken as we shaved. It was as if we were avoiding anything that might draw attention to ourselves.
As soon as we shaved we undressed and went into the showers. The showers were in a large room with about twenty showerheads. There was absolutely no privacy as all of us stood butt-naked under the running water. I do not think our nudity even entered our minds at the time. We had only one thought in our heads, to be done within the twenty minutes the sergeant had given us.
I quickly dried off and redressed in the same civilian clothes I had worn the night before. I moved to the side of my bed and stood there. I was hungry, but also more than just a little worried. What was next? As I glanced around I saw many bloody faces from the quick shaves.
“Are my girls all clean and ready to start a busy day?' The sergeant asked in the same kind voice my mother often used with my sister.
I cringed as he moved to the front of me. His hands were on his hips once more and his uniform was perfectly pressed, with the same sharpness of the night before. His right hand came up with his index finger extended. He poked me on the right side of my chest and screamed, “What is your name boy?”
“Sir! Willie…Willie D. Moreland, sir.” I was able to stammer out. I was scared, tired, and unsure of myself.
“Well, Mister Willie D. Moreland. You are an idiot! Are you an idiot Moreland? Did I not tell you I wanted all hair off of your face?”
“Yes sir, you did. And, no sir, but I am not an idiot, sir!”
“You callin' me a liar boy?” His head had jumped back as if he had been slapped by my words.
“Sir, no sir!” I responded quickly.
“Ok, then we both agree that you are an idiot. Now, I want to know why I still see a hair on your upper lip boy! Get back in that latrine and shave it off, NOW!” As he screamed his left hand, holding his clipboard, motioned the way to the latrine. I moved as quickly as I could, but it was obviously not quick enough as I heard, “Move it boy...move! Move! Move!”
After I had removed the lone hair on my upper lip, I started the busiest day of my life. Blood was flowing from more than one cheek as the sergeant marched us or rather we stumbled to a barber. The sergeant said we didn't know how to march and he was not sure we could learn, because we were so stupid. He said we walked and pranced like a bunch of schoolgirls in front of a school yard full of football players. In less than a minute all of my hair was removed. Then, still wearing our civilian clothes we were taken to eat. A place the sergeant called a mess hall.
“Ladies, you WILL EAT. ALL of you WILL EAT. You will drink TWO glasses of water as well. Take what you want, but eat what you take. When you reach the mess sergeant give him your last name first and your first name last. Let's hurry girls, you have twenty minutes.” The sergeant then moved over to another group of drill instructors.
As I went through the serving line I was surprised by the food. There was bacon, sausage, ham, eggs, gravy, and potatoes. I requested bacon, eggs, and potatoes. They were dumped with little ceremony on my tray by another skin-headed young man. I placed two cartons of milk, as well as the required water, on my tray and made my way to a table. As I approached I noticed the fat black boy was there, along with two others I did not recognise. Once I had reached the table we all sat down. While the three of us were wolfing the food down, I watched the fat boy lower his head in prayer.
Now, I had been exposed to church and religion at home. We all attended regularly actually. But, during the last year or so, I had decided it just was not for me. I rationalised that since God had been forced on me during my youth I had a right to decide if I wanted to accept him or not. Did I believe in God? Maybe. I see myself as a free thinking man. I look at things from all angles and look at the variables before I decide things. I saw no need for serious religion as long as I was a good man. A man that helped others, watched my language, and did what I thought was the proper things in life. Besides, with all the religions in the world, it could get confusing to a young man like me. It was easier just to ignore it and live my life. Nonetheless, I did stop eating and lowered my head as fat boy prayed. Old habits are hard to break.
The rest of the morning was spent getting issued some of our small clothing items or buying toiletry items, eating a nice lunch at noon on the dot, physical fitness, and to learning how to make our beds. We had not yet received our uniforms. A new sergeant taught us how to stand at attention, how to salute, and some basic facing movements. I found it all both interesting and boring at times. At four o'clock in the afternoon we were all marched to dinner at the mess hall. The meal was good, fried chicken, pork chops, mashed potatoes, corn, green beans, bread, milk and dessert. Well, they may kill me here, I thought to myself as I gulped down the remainder of my milk, but it won't be by starving.
The next morning was a repeat of the same, except at five the light came on as sergeant Williams came in with a hand full of post cards. The front of the card had the picture of an infantryman in a bayonet charge with the words Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri , printed above him in red ink. He handed each of us one as he spoke, “You will take a post card, sit down with the card on your foot locker, and await my dictation.” He handed out all the cards and walked to the front of the platoon. His hands were on his hips and he was standing ramrod straight as he started speaking, “Dear mom and or dad. I am at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri . I am safe and I am healthy. I Love army life. I have a wonderful drill sergeant. All my love, then sign your names.” As soon as he had spoken the last word he had moved forward to collect the cards. That was it and I could see where letter writing could be a real problem in the army. Well, I guess there was not much to say anyway at the time. We were all too tired and scared.
After Sergeant Williams had collected the post cards we were marched to the hospital where we lined up and received shots. As I neared the medics giving the immunisations I noticed they were using an air gun of some kind. It made a slight psst sound as it was fired. When it was my turn, I was instructed to stand relaxed and to let my arms hang freely. I felt a slight pressure on both of my arms and heard the medic say, “Next.” The man behind me fainted.
Early that afternoon we went to a large warehouse. We lined up in single file and entered the door. Positioned along the hallway were long wooden counters. Behind each of the counters were other skinheads issuing clothing. As I approached a young sergeant standing by the first counter I heard him yell my sizes to a clerk. I was handed a set of fatigues and told to try them on, right there on the spot. Mine were a perfect fit.
“Mine are too small.” I heard a man behind me say.
“Mine are too big.” Another voice moaned out.
“Trade your uniforms then!” I recognised the young sergeant's voice yell.
We marched out of the warehouse wearing our new uniforms, boots, and caps. All of the clothing on our backs and in our duffel bags was an olive drab color with the exception of our underwear. The underwear was white. The only disappointment was our uniforms had no stripes, nametags, or army tags and they were just as plain as can be. Of course, according to the sergeant, we were lower than worms anyway and deserved no better.
The remainder of the day was busy with cleaning the barracks. I suppose that was done to exercise our arms to avoid stiffness from the shots. We cleaned the latrine, shined the floors with a buffer and part of a wool blanket, and dusted our belongings. I had reached the conclusion that everyone in the army lived a Spartan life. All my belongings were hanging on the wall behind my “bunk,” or in the wooden footlocker in front of it. I realized it t takes little for a man to survive.
At exactly nine o'clock I heard a bugle playing taps and the sergeant was standing in the doorway. As usual, his hands were on his hips as he spoke, “Time for bed, girls.” As soon as he had spoken, he turned the light off. I crawled into the sheets and thought of my first real day in the army. It was not so rough and the food was great. It had felt good to wear a uniform, even if I didn't have any stripes or medals and the fact I had not earned the right to wear it in public yet . I was content and a lot of my earlier fears had vanished. It was then I heard the fat black boy.
“Lord, help me. This is difficult for me. You know I am weak and not strong like most of the other men here. I know I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me. I ask in Jesus' name, amen.”
“Yea, someone help the fat boy!” I heard an unknown voice say in the darkness.
“You gonna need some help fat man, soon as sergeant Williams gets a hold of your black butt again.” I heard a deep black voice comment and then chuckle.
The fat boy remained silent. After a few more wise cracks the room quieted down and many fell asleep. It had been a busy day and tomorrow was sure to be a repeat. I felt a serious need to warn the fat boy about his religion. “Fat boy, are you awake?” I whispered as I leaned toward his bunk.
“Yes, I am wake...and the name is Fantroy. Thomas, or Tom will do.” came a response in the dark.
“Listen, Tom, I respect your beliefs, but you should keep it to yourself. You know the others will tease you and make life just more difficult for you.”
“Let them tease me, ‘cause it means very little to me. I am one with the Lord.” Was his brave comment, but it sounded as if he were speaking through tears.
“Fantroy, I …never mind. Get some sleep.” I had realized I would meet all kinds of people in the army. But, a Bible thumper was the last kind of person I had expected to be sleeping next to me. While he seemed to be a nice guy, I just did not need what he had to offer and I damed sure didn't need the attention the Sergeant gave ‘em. My last thought as I drifted into the dark void of sleep was wondering what would happen tomorrow.
The weeks flew by and we slowly became soldiers. We had classes on a variety of things, such as first aid, weapons, military history, the Uniform Code of Military Justice, and the list goes on and on. Most of the subjects were interesting while some were so boring I fell asleep. It seems that without realising it, I learned of the history of the army, wilderness survival, tactics, living in the field, and the M-16 rifle. My rifle was issued to me after about four weeks in the army. I had to memorize the serial number and learn to safely handle the weapon. I learned that it was the most important piece of equipment the army had. While cannons, helicopters, and tanks all kill, it is the individual with a gun that is the heart and soul of the army. An enemy area cannot be taken under control without the infantry taking it and holding it.
“Ok maggots, listen up! In a few minutes you will fire your weapons for the first time. I want NO horseplay or joking around! You will move forward to the firing line when, and only when, you are instructed to do so. You will fire your weapon from a position when, and only when, you have been instructed to do so. You will cease fire immediately when instructed.” A short four striper Hispanic sergeant gave us the briefing with a bored look on his face.
“Line one, move forward to the firing line and assume the prone position. DO NOT fire until I give the command.”
As one we moved forward, kneeled and then down on our stomachs. The weapons were all kept pointed down range at all times.
“Lock and load.” Was the next command from the range Noncommissioned officer over a loud speaker.
I inserted my clip and pulled back the charging handle. I looked to make sure my rifle had the safety on. I then wrapped the sling over my and around my left arm to secure the weapon. I was ready to fire.
“Ready on the left. Ready on the right. Ready on the firing line. Commence firing.” I heard the commands just before the loud bangs began. The noise was unbelievable. I lined my sights up on the paper target, held my breath, and gently squeezed the trigger, just like the text book stated I should do. I saw a piece of paper fly up on my target and knew I had the range. I fired my whole clip and then heard the loud speaker announce,
“Cease fire on the firing range. Cease fire. Clear your weapons.”
As we were clearing our weapons a range sergeant asked the man beside me if his weapon was cleared. I heard the man respond, “Sir, my gun is cleared, sir.” I thought the sergeant was going to have a heart attack.
“GUN! You callin' your weapon a GUN?”
“Sir, ahhh, yes sir.”
“Private you will entertain us until I get tired.” I heard the sergeant say as he moved the
young man to the side and had a private discussion with him. I then watched as the man ran round the back area of the range yelling at the top of his voice, “This is my rifle and this is my gun. This one is for killing and this one is for fun.” I noticed he held his weapon in his right hand above his head and his penis in his left hand as he ran. He ran until we left stopped firing our weapons an hour later.
We spent the remainder of the day at the firing range. We fired standing, kneeling, behind cover, and sitting. I had a good time for the first time in my army career. As soon as the scores were tallied up sergeant Williams had us in formation and ready to march back to the barracks. I expected him to immediately march us off, but instead I heard his voice yell, “Fantroy! Front and center.”
I suspected my man Tom was in for another chewing from our friendly army mom. Instead, as soon as Fantroy was standing attention in front of the formation, I heard Williams say, “This man fired expert with the M-16. He is now qualified to wear the expert rifleman's badge. Fantroy, you hit 99 out of 100. Great job.” I watched, fascinated, as Fantroy did an about face movement and returned to the ranks.
The remainder of my basic training was dull. It seemed as if day after day was filled with classrooms and boring lectures. Without realizing it, we eventually learned enough so that we at least looked like soldiers. We gained self-confidence and abilities we never suspected we had. We made friendships and shared hardships we would remember the rest of our lives. Then, twelve weeks after we had first arrived at Fort “Lost-in-the-woods,” we graduated. I can still remember the immense pride I felt as we wore our dress uniforms and passed by the reviewing stand. I remember the loud, “Eyes....right!” the drill instructor gave as we marched by the officers in the bleachers.
We were now capable of being cannon fodder, could recognize an officer six out of ten times, and were on to more advanced training. While I was to go to Advanced Individual Training (AIT) like everyone else, I would not be leaving the fort. My training was to be conducted right on Fort Leonard Wood.
