When I got out of the Army the second time, in 1971, it was still pretty much a "boys only club"...the Women's Army Corps (WACs) was a separate world: separate billets, separate job assignments, and fiercely enforced anti-fraternization regs. Sneaking into the WAC barracks was a general fantasy, sometimes discussed and even planned, but only rarely attempted...usually by fellas on the way home from the club who were well past the legal blood-alcohol limit. At the time I left the Army in '71, I had talked to only two (yes I am sure of that number) WACs and seen no more than a half a dozen...in seven years.
Something had happened in the nearly three years I spent as a civilian in Phoenix. I came back the Army and there were women everywhere. The ERA or whatever had caused it, the Women's Army Corps was disbanded; WACs were no longer WACs...they were just soldiers. I sat across the desk from the Spec4 who was filling out the forms to process me back into the Army and get my pay organized. She was a gorgeous blonde who had been the Queen of Monterey or Miss Monterey Penninsula (or some such title) the year before. It was an eye-opening experience and it foreshadowed what the next couple of years would be like.
The "All Volunteer Army", a series of policy changes that were inacted in 1971, had come to include putting boys and girls together. The Army in general had had a three-year head-start on me; I was suffering a culture shock. It meant a new wrinkle in a lot of areas of my life that I hadn't even considered. Still to come were shocks in the barracks, work place, and especially in the field during training exercises. It was a time of change and I was behind the power curve.
After a brief detour through the mess hall, I became an instructor at the Light Vehicle Driver's Course (LVDC) which required me to supervise the activities of female students. Which required me to read and digest a whole new group of regulations pertaining to what could and could not be done with and to females...not to mention a completely new set of regs about uniform wear and appearance standards and everything else. Boys and girls together yes, but totally separate still.
The driver's school closed and the cadre was reassigned to units in the 7th Infantry Division. I became a squad leader in B Co of the Supply and Transport Battalion (S & T BN). By that time I was getting a little more accustomed to having females around all the time. I was becoming familiar with the pertinant regulations and had learned a lot about the policies. And there were two female soldiers in my squad.
A truck company usually has three truck platoons each having two squads...well, the third platoon has a third squad of heavier trucks. Any way, the squad has ten trucks and twenty drivers...except it rarely has enough drivers to cover all ten trucks. I had a total of 8 drivers in my squad at the time.
This has all been a rather lengthy set-up for a silly incident that happened because I was sensative about how so many male sergeants found easy work, special assignments, and preferential treatment for the females that worked for them, especially the pretty ones. I wanted to ensure that no one would look at me and think I was in that category. I probably went a little too far in the other direction.
In almost all Army units, there is a Work Call formation after lunch. The company lines up on the street and the leaders give out any updated instructions, or new info, or just count noses to ensure everyone is back for work. We were in that "impressive milling-around ceremony that precedes every military formation" (thank you Joseph Heller). I was asking where Tony, one of the female soldiers, had gotten off to. She was a medium-sized blonde, pretty; and as a friend of mine used to say, she was "shiny but not too bright"...and often late. She showed up just as the First Sergeant yelled "Fall IN". She took her place in line and we listened to whatever it was the First Sergeant had to say. When the platoon sergeants were told to take charge of their platoons, and my platoon sergeant turned the squads over to the squad leaders, I told my squad to stay put for a few minutes...we were going to have a quick uniform inspection. I had noticed that when Tony jumped into formation, she was holding sandwich in her hand, a minor but still a uniform violation. I then went from soldier to soldier inspecting their uniforms and appearance. When I got to Tony, everyone was giggling. They all knew she was trying to hide her sandwich down by her side...she was blushing and giggling, too. I was caught up in the silliness of it and decided to have fun with it. I told her to "Present...Sandwich"...she raised her sandwich for my inspection. I pointed out, in my best parade field manner, that her sandwich was unservicable; it had a bite out of it. I grabbed the sandwich and took a bite...and announced through a mouthful of bacon, lettuce, and tomato, that her sandwich was not up to standards...and I gave it back to her. We all got a laugh out of it and went to work. At the close of the day there was still some talk about it and some soldiers from other platoons were laughing at it, too. All fun and games.
Until the next morning. I came to work and rousted my guys out of their bunks and into work-on-the-barracks mode. The females had a separate barracks and a female NCO from Battalion HQ took charge of their wake-up and clean-up activity. At PT formation I was told by that female NCO that Tony had gone to sick call and probably wouldn't be back for Work Call. Sometime that forenoon I got a call to report to the Orderly Room and see the First Sergeant. I showed up and found myself in a group of young soldiers waiting to see the "Top".
The First Sergeant came into the Orderly Room and told us that PVT Tony had been diagnosed with Hepatitis B and anyone who had traded any type of fluids with her had to report to the dispensary. All the young soldiers surrepticiously glanced my way. I immediately protested my innocence...been no spit-swapping on my part. Top smiled and allowed as how it was funny I had used that particular phrase since what I had swapped had indeed been spit. Tony had had to list anyone who had any fluid contact with her and I was on the list...I had bitten into her sandwich. Sigh.
We all reported to the docs and received our preventative load of Gamma Globulin...a dose that was determined by body weight and administered with a syringe that looked like the barrel of a .50 caliber machine gun. Being a rather hefty boy most of my adult life, I was given a generous load of the stuff, broken into two injections, one in each cheek...butt cheek, that is.
It was a most unpleasant shot and when I visited Tony at the hospital, she coyly told me she would have felt awful if I had gotten sick because she hadn't told the medics about the sandwich.
I never got sick; but I didn't sit too comfortably for a week or so, and I became firmly determined never...NEVER...to be so amusing again.