THE GENERAL’S PARTY from EVERYBODY’S DANISH
By fred | July 22, 2010
Dear Friends & Family
It has been a few weeks – sorry – for some reason, who knows, my eBay store sales have just exploded. Funny, you work so darn hard buying, importing what you think the ladies will like. Then taking pictures, writing the presentations, actually hundreds of hours of work hoping the store will be successful. Worrying that the stuff will not sell, that you didn’t make the right selections – then when sales start to really boom, you gotta worry about – if you can handle it all. All the recording, packaging, shipping of hundreds of items, hey guys – I am just one 80 year old fart doing this. My bride of over 60 years, the love of my life, tells me “I am retired – the store was your idea.”
The lady is right – one thing about being in business at my age is that it keeps ‘the little gray cells working!’
I have over 2,200 items in my eBay store, with more coming and sales growing almost too darn fast. One thing, it helps the budget so we do not have to spend our kid’s inheritance.
So now I have a few minutes – let us go back again to the late 1940’s and your Uncle Fred’s one year in the United States Army. You may think I am making this stuff up – you are wrong, very wrong, every story, everything that I have written, including the following, actually happened. For some reason, that year was a magical time of my life, how could I forget it? — for that matter, it would be damn near impossible to ‘make up’ or ‘dream up’ the crazy stuff that happened!
This chapter of Everybody’s Danish relates to my proudly being selected to represent Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 9th Infantry Regiment, 2nd Division at the General’s party. Being selected and actually going – were two different things – I did not have that honor and the reason follows: —
From – EVERYBODY’S DANISH
CHAPTER – THE GENERAL’S PARTY
After twelve weeks our basic training was over. We were soldiers. Besides the pretend ‘acting sergeant’ stripes, I had a real one sewed on my sleeve. Two of us in that training company became PFC’s (Privates First Class). We received a raise in pay from $80 bucks a month to almost a hundred – that was big money, to young men in those days. I sure as hell was proud of that one stripe.
The Brigadier General, the number one man of the Second Infantry Division, decided to have a dinner party to celebrate. One man was to be selected by each company commander to attend that party. Actually, it was a sort of press thing, newspaper reporters, radio, and magazine writers were all invited to meet those elite young men that the army had just finished training to be soldiers. The army was still trying very hard to promote a compulsory military training bill through congress. The party was to show the world what outstanding young men it could produce.
Captain Skelton had my Platoon Sergeant send me down to his office. Now you never went to the Captains office unless you were in big, and I mean big, big, trouble. I was scared to death. How the hell did I screw up, what had I done?
After knocking at the door, and being told to enter, I saluted, and said, “Reporting as ordered sir.” He looked up and smiled and said, “Relax, parade rest. Nielsen, how would you like to have dinner with the General, representing Charlie Company? A member of each training company will be represented.”
Dinner with the General, I guess I was a little speechless. Finally I guess I just said something like, “Yes sir.” He said, “Tomorrow the company will be in the field, so you stay in, get your dress uniform ready, get all slicked up, and report here to me at fifteen hundred (3 P. M.). You have the whole day to get ready, you will report to Battalion headquarters after I look you over, the dinner is at eighteen hundred,” (6 P. M.).
Did I work hard that day, I pressed my O. D.’s on my footlocker top, polished my brass and belt buckle to a shine that sparkled, and had my jump boots gleaming. Before the platoon went in the field for the day, I asked a buddy to trim a few hairs around the ears that seemed to be sprouting out. When I hit the Captains office at fifteen hundred I was beautiful, no doubt about it.
The company area was quiet, all the rest of the company was off in the field on some type of compass exercise. I first reported to our old Master Sergeant, he looked me over and said, “Report to the Captain,” and nodded to the door behind him, the Captains office.
After knocking on the door and getting the ‘Come,’ I saluted and said, “Reporting as ordered, sir.” The Captain got up and looked me over, and said, “O. K., you look fine report to the Major at Battalion Headquarters – and good luck.”
Was I nervous, I even had some paper tissue in my pocket to give my boots a brush if some dust got on them from the short walk to Battalion headquarters.
I reported to the Battalion commander, a Major, he looked at me with a weird expression, and just shook his head. Several guys were all spruced up and sitting on some folding chairs in the hall of Battalion Headquarters, so it looked like the party was on. Why the hell was he shaking his head. He said, “I’m sorry, Captain Skelton must not have understood, this is just not going to work out. Go back to your company, I will phone Captain Skelton and explain the situation to him.”
Now, I was nervous, really nervous, I just couldn’t figure what was wrong, the Major had looked at me awful funny, what the heck had I done wrong now?
Before I even entered the company office area I could hear the Captain talking, actually yelling at our Top Sergeant. “What kind of crap it that? I have to pick my men by size? This is so much bull shit, I can’t believe it.” The Captain was really wound up. In fact, I had detected a few words from the Captains early enlisted Navy vocabulary when I was at least ten yards from entering the building. The old Master Sergeant was talking quietly, just trying to calm the Captain down.
I hated to open the door. What the heck was going on? I figured what the hell, I better get it over with, and opened the door to the office area. The Captain looked up as I saluted and said, “Sorry you had to go through this crap.” I still didn’t have a clue as to what was going on, so I just explained, “I reported to the Major as ordered sir, but he just said to report back to you. He said he would phone you.”
“Jesus, you don’t know why you were sent back do you?” “No sir,” I replied. The Captain finally got a grin on his face and said, “Well, you are just too damn tall. I guess they don’t like tall guys like us. The General is five feet, nine inches tall, and some idiot on the staff decreed that no trainee can attend the dinner over that height. They don’t want the General in a picture with trainees taller than he is.”
At least I hadn’t screwed up, it was a big relief as far as I was concerned. The Top said, “The only men in the company area besides Nielsen are some cadre – the K.P.’s – (NOTE – K.P. means “Kitchen police” nice word for working your ass off in the kitchen doing all the dirty jobs) all the rest are in the field.” “The Captain said, “Who’s on K.P.?” The Sergeant went to his duty roster and read off three names, and said, “Besides these guys, there is also Laszlo, hell he is always on K.P. for some reason or other. The Mess Sergeant is even requesting that he be left there, said he is going to make a cook out of him.”
The Captain looked at the Top, looked at me, and got a devilish look on his face. “Laszlo, our number one screw up, now there is a good man for the General’s party. How tall is he I wonder? - Sgt, give me your ruler.” The Top opens his desk drawer and pulls out a foot long ruler. The Captain stoops down and starts making marks on the wall until he gets to five feet. He looks at me and says, “Nielsen, tell the Mess Sergeant I need Laszlo PDQ, bring him over immediately, I don’t give a darn what he looks like.” “Yes sir,” and I took off out the door running, if we were going to get someone to the Generals party I knew it had to happen quick.
Laszlo comes slouching into the office behind me, with a decidedly worried look. He salutes and said, “Fred said you wanted me, sir.” “Laszlo, stand right here, stand up straight, at attention, I want to measure you,” the Captain said. “Five feet, eight and a half inches, perfect. Laszlo I have selected you to represent the company at a dinner with the General, think you can handle that?” Laszlo’s back straightened up, “Yes sir, I won’t let you down Captain, I promise.”
The Captain said, “All right you have less than an hour, Fred help him get ready. If you need to borrow anything from the other men’s locker do it. I’ll explain to your platoon when they get back.”
That was one wild hour. Laszlo’s jump boots were already shined, he fortunately had on his beat up army issue boots for working in the kitchen. While he was taking a quick shower I transferred all of my brass to his Ike jacket, put my buckle on his belt. Got out the iron and pressed his wool pants and jacket on my footlocker, and was all ready for him.
We got him dressed in record time, and damn he looked good, except for his hair. The top was still short from months ago when we got our induction haircut, but the sides by his ears was getting awful ragged. I through a towel over his shoulders and trimmed it as best I could.
The Captain was at his desk and looked up, a little surprised, “Not bad, now get him over to Regiment, Battalion said they couldn’t wait, but they would delay at Regimental Headquarters as long as possible.”
Our Battalion Major was pacing up and down in from of the Regimental Headquarters with a worried look on his face. I was a little worried, I was really out of uniform. I still had my dress pants and shirt on. No tie, or jacket, I had stripped the brass off the jacket and my tie was on Laszlo. The Major wasn’t going to be ‘picky,’ he recognized me, and seemed happy as hell I was there with my replacement. “Sorry soldier, tell Captain Skelton this was not my idea, I just follow orders.” He jerked his head in the direction of the Regimental headquarters door and said to Laszlo, “Lets go, they are waiting for us, the Colonel wants to give us a once over before we go to Division.
When I got back to the company, I cleaned up the mess I had made getting Laszlo ready, the hair on the floor, towel thrown on the bed, my jacket dumped on a footlocker, got everything ship shape. I remember being so damn tired – I just said to hell with it and laid down on my bunk. I doubt if I had ever did that during the day, at least on a week day, since we got to Fort Lewis. I felt like I had hiked twenty miles.
All the guys got the story when they came in from the field. News went flying through the whole company. At dinner, guys from other platoons were coming over to my table and asking if it was true that Laszlo was really at the General’s party. They would be shaking there heads and grinning.
Some wild jokes about the General and Laszlo were traveling around the Mess hall. The whole company could hardly wait to hear what happened. One guy looked at his watch as we were leaving the Mess and said, “He has made it so far, he would be back by now if he didn’t. I don’t know, – maybe he is in the stockade by now. The Captain really had some balls sending him.”
It was almost 10 P. M. before Laszlo come bouncing in. That is the only word I can really use to describe it – he was high as a kite. He held his right hand up and said, “Don’t touch it, don’t even think about it. This is the hand that shook the hand of the General – ‘my’ friend the General asked me how I liked the army. I put in a good word for the Captain too.”
He was the man of the hour, hell he was the talk of the company for months. He even told the Captain time and again, that he had put a good word in for him with the General. You have to have really know Laszlo – to realize that this was probably true. The Captain must have figured that the crazy bastard had really said something to the General about him – and he was likely right!
One day as our morning formation was dismissed. Laszlo said, “Captain, I really did put in a good word for you.”
The Captain looked at him, and shook his head, and said, “Jesus, that’s what I’m afraid of. He turned around and started to laugh, harder and harder. He then said to our Field First, “Well Sergeant I guess I will probably be a Captain until I retire, but it was worth it.”
It was funny, from then on Laszlo was a different soldier. I never remember him getting another ‘gig.’ He asked to use my iron for his dress uniform, his bunk was tightly made, he even made a effort of make sure his footlocker was in order. Got haircuts regularly. Didn’t slouch anymore, walked with his shoulders back. He had written to his parents about the General’s party. His Dad must said he was telling stories, because he asked Lopez to write a note in Spanish to his Dad telling him it was the truth.
Laszlo associated the Captain, our Top Master Sergeant, and I, as the reason he went to the party, and was now, at least in his opinion, a big man in the company. He would tell the Captain and the Top time and time again, that any thing he could do for them, to just let him know. You just didn’t do that. He would see the Captain in the hall, and walk right up and say with all sincerity, “Captain you need anything just ask, just ask Laszlo and it’s done.” The Captain would try to be serious, but it was impossible, he would walk away muttering, with a ‘what can you do expression on his face.’
I got the same treatment, he was always putting his arm around my shoulders and telling the guys how I had ‘helped select him to represent the company.’ He would yell at the cooks whenever I walked into the Mess Hall, “Take care of Fred, he’s my buddy.”
Laszlo, a loose cannon ball, still a super guy, no one ever knew what he would do next. A great guy that all of us will remember. I will also lay a bet that he did the whole twenty years in the United States Army – or more until he was forced to retire. They would have to have kicked him out of the army, he loved it so. I will also bet he got all this brothers in too. He said time and again, what a better life the army was than working your life away in the fields bent over picking crops in the blazing hot sun.
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