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EVERYBODY’S DANISH – Uncle Fred’s Army
By fred | February 14, 2010
EVERYBODY’S DANISH 1950’s U. S. Peace time army
This week I will again take you back to 1950, it is near the fall, a bit of chill in the air as I remember. My year of active duty in the U. S. Peace Time army, the first few months of my army life – we are in the middle of our 12 weeks of basic training.
Some of you old army guys may say, “Hey Fred, they only have ten weeks of basic training.” Maybe in your army, but I was in the test program that they were attempting to get passed into law. Congress was hoping to pass a law where each male of 18 years of age would go into the U. S. Army for one year of active duty after which he would be in the Active Reserve for another six years. This would be a copy of the Swiss program and some other nations where a program such as this technically made each male citizen a soldier.
If attacked they could mobilize an army in a matter of days, weeks at the most. For this reason we had twelve weeks of training, not ten. I gotta tell you, we sure as hell were soldiers after that. There was no hand held weapon we could not fire from a Bazooka, machine firing weapon – on down to a hand gun. We had been rolled over by tanks, crawled under barbed wire for fifty yards with live ammunition being fired over us. War games! I was killed so many times it is silly, but I am getting ahead of myself.
I hope all of you are well, sorry I have not been so active in posting messages, I have been attempting to make a few bucks more with my eBay jewelry store – and have to admit I am doing better, much better because of spending the extra time.
I have always been fascinated by business, ran my own businesses all my life, the last business most of you know was a restaurant in the Danish Village of Solvang, California. However most of my life I ran our family corporations. Our family import and distribution business of Scandinavian and European foods called Lundsing & Company Inc. our Import alcoholic beverage company Ambassador Import Company and our distribution business of alcoholic beverages called Acorn Beverage Company. When Dad retired I ran em all for 30 plus years. It was a tough go, six days a week often 12 hours a day; you will not be finding me writing much about that period of my life. With payrolls to be met, fighting the major big money importers and losing too many battles because I could not match their money and distribution power, it was not a fun time of my life.
It was not a time of life where I could relax and enjoy the give and take of business. We did live well, Sally and I did somehow raise two wonderful boys and we put a few bucks away, that is all I can say for that. What the hell, we had a big house, a pool, a boat, several cars so we did not starve, just wish during all those years I could have been with Sally and the boys more – life is full of wishes.
However, when I ran those businesses, with employee problems, customer problems, finance, tons of correspondence since most of our suppliers were in Europe, I really did not have the time to truly study the businesses. If I had, I think I could have been far more successful. Don’t we all look back and think — if only—-!
I have been experimenting with listing on EBay, come on’s lines of a listing – related to seven day auction listings and think I have the key to far more sales. If so – your old buddy will be writing another short book on Successful selling on E-Bay – if my experiments are successful why not?
Amazingly my book “Making Money is Simple – Just Boring!” is still selling for $10 in my store as an e-Book. I wanted to invest some of our family funds in my system again in the market but getting approval from my bride has not been forthcoming – what the heck it would likely take a bit of extra time also which I am not long on right now. Anyway, we shall see, eBay is changing their selling format in March so it may be a new ball of wax then.
I will try to get off another Humor & Stuff from Buddies soon – as all of you are sending in plenty, just I haven’t always enough time with listing items, answering correspondence of buyers and packing orders, sometimes it gets hectic. I am trying to get into higher priced jewelry as it takes a lot of work to make money in the selling range of $5 to $10. But – you sell what folks want – right~!
This time you will follow me in the army as the company Guide On, and all we went though to pass our weekly inspections. My 1st Platoon, Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 9th Infantry Regiment, 2nd Division usually came in first in our company inspections, we had a couple of seconds and one third in our twelve weeks of Basic Training. You will read how we did it.
Wishing you all the best,
You’re Uncle Fred
GUIDE ON - from Everybody’s Danish
My platoon was the first platoon, and as such, always was in the lead of all marches, parades, and reviews. The normal marching formation was a column of four. Four training squads to a platoon, so you had the four squads making up the line of four. The captain would always march or hike, whatever the case in the very front of the company, in the front on the right is one man, he is called the ‘guide on.’ He carries a tall, lance like pole, with the company markings.
I was given that job. Why, – well I was one of the biggest, the tallest, in the first platoon, and as the acting sergeant of the platoon I was elected. It was kind of fun being out there in front with the all four platoons following the ‘guide on.’ The problems did not start in the field, those long marches through the woods, heck, that was fine. Where the trouble started was practicing for formal reviews, all by our self, without other formations of troops. The Fort Lewis parade ground was one huge, very huge grassy area. A company of two hundred was almost lost in it.
One day the captain called a halt to the company. He and the field first Sergeant were off to the side watching us. I was in front with my trusty lance, or ‘guide on,’ feeling great, leading the company. He looked down that long column of over 200 men and said, “Nielsen, get up here.” “Yes Sir,” I said, and practically ran up to him. “Look at that column, what the hell do you call that?” he said. Damn I just could not figure what the hell was bugging him.
The Captain knew I couldn’t figure out the problem, so he said, “We are supposed to be marching in a straight line, the column looks like a snake, curved back and forth. They are guiding on you, you have to walk in a straight line. Line up a couple of trees on the edge of the parade ground, and walk straight at em.”
I just could not get it right, at best; there was always a curve in the column. Captain Skelton would get so damn exasperated he would grab the guide on, march in my position for a hundred yards, then yell at me to look down the column. Sure as hell the company was straight as an arrow.
Now I had no trouble keeping a straight line marching down a street or even on the parade ground during a review. Then there was a curb only so many feet away, or a formation of troops to keep an equal distance from. The captain and field first soon figured that for some reason or other, I just could not do a straight line looking at a distant line of trees, or whatever else I was supposed to line up on.
I got to keep the job, again I wonder why. The guys really gave it to me. I got called some so called ‘nick’ names, like ‘snake,’ and many that you would not want to put in a book ladies and kids might read. Stuff would be made up, like due to the curves the forth platoon probably had to walk an extra mile, on a ten mile march. If we were hiking someplace the field first or the captain would often say, “Company attention! Nielsen, are you awake.” “Yes sir,” I would have to say. The Sgt or Captain with a grin would say, “If we marched in a ‘straight’ column we might get there a little earlier.”
I took this seriously, and did not like all the ribbing, not one little bit. One day the company was in formation in front of our company building getting ready to take off, when I got this crap, just one to many times. I said to the field first, “Permission to speak, Sgt.” Everything got awful quiet, you just did not stick your neck out normally, I knew it and all the other 200 guys knew it. Sgt. Jungbooth looked at me and said, “Go ahead.” “Sgt, I volunteer to give up being the company guide on.” The Sgt looked at the company and said, “Any takers?”
He waited, no one said a word. “All right,” he said, “When the captain or I take that stick away from you Nielsen that is the day we have another guide on.” Well, that cut the kidding down a bit, it was livable after that. In fact, it made a guy popular in a perverse sort of way.
Months later after our year of active service was almost up and we were getting ready to leave for home; the Captain shook my hand and wished me a good life. With a big smile he said I was the best soldier in the company, but the worst guide on he ever had.
INSPECTIONS, COUNT THE ‘GIGS’
We have discussed inspections in a limited sense; however they deserve a little more attention. Inspections were a major part of army life. Among other things it determined if you got a weekend pass. Company details, what we called the ‘shit details’ were often filled by the platoons, and in some cases the individual men that did not pass inspections.
Our basic training life seemed to be based on something that was called a ‘gig.’ If your rifle was not clean enough you got a ‘gig.’ Bunk not made properly, footlocker messy; you got a ‘gig.’ Too many ‘gig’s and you were on K. P. (Kitchen Police – a nice word for scrubbing pots and pans), or maybe on the coal shoveling detail, something you did not want to do if you could help it.
The Friday nights were hell, cleaning until the early hours of Saturday morning. The actual inspections were 10 A. M. Saturday morning. You went to the Mess and had breakfast Saturday morning and did not linger. After breakfast, you ran back to the platoon and latrine area, got your bunk and equipment in order, and double checked which ever area you were assigned to. You made damn sure it was clean and ready for inspection.
Our platoon, the first platoon, had designed a system that worked. Early A. M. Saturday morning after the heavy cleaning was done; we had the guys take showers, using only a couple of the showers in the latrine. The same went for sinks, only three were allowed to be used. The next morning, no showers were allowed, as we had all the shower stalls so clean they were gleaming. The toilets, urinal, sinks, were the same deal, only several were used.
About nine fifteen, the platoon sergeant, Sergeant Rogers would yell, “Last call for the latrine.” If you had to go, you had damn well better go then, because once that call was made, the latrine detail rushed in to give the sinks, urinal, toilets, and floor area around those areas the final cleaning. Then the latrine was shut down, except for inspection, and right before that, what our sergeant called his ‘secret weapon.’
About fifteen minutes before 10 A. M. he would have all the guys in the platoon in there inspection spots. That was at the foot of their bunk, next to the footlocker. Then the last minute rush was on. The squad leaders would go down their men, carefully checking each guy, making sure each footlocker was open and neat, bunk tight, every little detail they could think of.
While this was going on Sergeant Rogers, said to me, “Let’s finish it up.” He would go into his tiny room and get his secret weapon, and I would reach under my bunk and get mine. The secret weapons were two old army towels.
I would race for the latrine and go through every toilet stall, every shower, every urinal, each sink, and the mirrors above the sinks, everything, just looking for a drop of water, a few hairs, speck of dirt, anything that would get us a ‘gig.’ Our guys always did a hell of a job, but it is amazing the small things I would pick up or wipe up. When I closed that latrine door, it was clean, not a speck of lint, or hair in the place.
Our platoon Sergeant was going through the platoon area with the same attention to detail. Every window sill, the wide door sill, the tops of the doors, the wall locker tops, the rifle rack tops, every space that could possibly catch a speck of lint or dust was given a quick hit with the towel.
Why would be go over something that the platoon had worked until 2 A. M. that morning to clean? It is amazing the amount of dust, lint, dirt, just floating in the area that fifty men moved around in. Even in a few hours dust could settle on any flat surface.
Now we just had minutes to do all this, usually I practically skidded to a stop at my bunk inspection position. I would quick fold the ‘secret weapon towel’ and gently but it under the bed between the mattress and the medal springs. Then make sure the bunk was tight enough to bounce a quarter off of, and maybe have a minute to take a breath and relax, before the officers hit, and the yell from our sergeant, “Attention.”
One morning they just hit us to darn fast. I had to throw the towel under the mattress and did not have the time to fix the bunk properly. The Captain did not spot it, but one of the Lieutenants from the other platoons, with glee, pulled out at quarter and flipped it in the air. It landed ‘plunk,’ no bounce there. A ‘gig’ for Fred. For the ‘acting platoon sergeant’ to get a ‘gig’ was not really a good deal.
After the inspection, Sgt. Rogers said, “They seemed to catch us with our pants down that time. I guess we had better give ourselves another five minutes.” The rest of the guys in the platoon loved me getting that ‘gig.’ Appropriate remarks were made for a long time after that, by that gleeful bunch of wonderful bastards.
The actual inspection, I can’t think of another word for it, but play time! It was the one time those ROTC second Lieutenants got to play. The Captain would walk by, glance at everything, very seldom say anything, and hardly ever give a ‘gig.’
The three Lieutenants followed by their platoon Sergeants with paper and pencil would really start the fun. Our Lieutenant and our Sergeant would just stand at parade rest and watch. When they were through with our area the Lieutenant and Sergeant of the next platoon to be inspected would just watch, and so forth.
I really believe that another ‘secret weapon’ we had in those inspections was our Sergeant Rogers. The guys in the other platoons just hated his guts. They said that it would look like they were not going to have many ‘gigs’ when Sgt. Rogers would lean over and whisper into the ear of our First Platoon Lieutenant. All of a sudden the Lieutenant would start checking something different, ‘gig’ after ‘gig’ would be found.
I can still see those Second Lieutenants coming into the platoon room with their Sergeants trailing behind. Sometimes they would stand there, with evil grins on their faces – then shake out a pair of pure white gloves. They would slowly put them on; I don’t know if they were trying to put the fear of God into us or what.
They would then proceed to run their fingers, covered with those white gloves, over the tops of door sills, tops of lockers, and window sills, looking for that speck of dirt to give those guys in the First platoon a ‘gig’.
It was just a bunch of big kids having fun, playing. I never remember this crap from any other officers. Even during an A. G. Inspection with officers from Battalion, Regiment, or Division, doing the inspections, this stuff never went on.
I would assume that you figure I have a low opinion of Second Lieutenants – that is right and wrong. It was the ROTC Second Lieutenants that would drive you nuts. Everything they knew was out of a book, no practical knowledge.
After basic training all of our ROTC Second Lieutenants were transferred from the company, and we got a different breed of Lieutenants. Ours was a First Lieutenant from West Point. Everyone liked him, he knew it all. The big difference was that he had done it all. He would give you tips on cleaning something, good tips, because he had done it himself. When he talked, all of us listened. The difference was easy to spot with the respect he got from the Captain, and the old enlisted men. He did not ask for that respect, he deserved it, earned it, and was a different breed of cat than those Shave Tail ROTC Second Lieutenants we were used to.
One of the other platoons got a Second Lieutenant that was also another highly respected guy. A fellow that had gone through several tours of enlistment and decided to go to OCS (Officers Candidate School), he had worked his way up the enlisted men’s ranks to Tech Sergeant before going to OCS. This guy had done it all too, you could not give this guy any bull; he knew exactly what it was to be an enlisted man. You do not give a ‘snow job’ to an old pro like that.
These were the officers that were to take us into ‘Advanced Infantry Training.’
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