A small word of warning. I don't do blue...but this one may not be for everyone...contains scatological humor. In order to ramp up for any major exercise, little three day exercises are planned to fine tune some aspects of field operations. I have been against three day field stints for a long time. The problem is that a GI can endure anything (almost) for three days. They can avoid hygiene, live in the same clothes, and hold their potty needs. In order to learn to live in the field, ...

We were pulled out of Log Base Nellingen and regrouped in Echo. We only had one vehicle loss, a 5000 gallon JP-8 tanker that was still burning two weeks after we dropped it in flames. We accounted for all of our equipment and did a couple dozen shake down inspections to make sure no one was trying to bring an AK-47 back to Germany. There was a mad rush to get us down to the Desert Inn, a holding camp set up with tents, pizza hut, ice cream shop and other comforts so we could move our vehic...

I went to Twentynine Palms in the summer of 1977 with the 7th Infantry Division. We were part of a huge exercise that was supposed to teach us a lot about living and fighting in the desert. The Marines were our aggressors (that means that they were our simulated enemy). The Marine/Navy aviation were bad guys, Air Force was on our side. There wound up being more than 25000 troops involved in this little desert war. Before I tell you how the Colorado National Guard played a huge role in ke...

I was musing over things that were common experiences for GIs in the sixties. Life was a lot different then, obviously, but there are a few oldies but goodies out there so I decided to play the old, "Do you remember..." game tonight. Wherever you go in the Army, you hear the troops talking about the places they've been and the things they had to do. It serves as a kind of bonding to have common experiences...it also provides your creds...you have been there and done that...you are one of u...

I had my first sit down with the two most important men in my platoon as soon as I could. I knew Pwoody from an earlier turn at Fort Ord; he had been a hell-raising drunken corporal at the time. When we locked eyes I saw that he recognized me. We had not been friends. Ricky was a small Philipino who looked as straight as they come. These were my squad leaders, the intermediate leaders who would be the supervisers in my platoon. In a nutshell, they could make or break me. They both had...

Over the years I have met all kinds of people in the Army...I mean people from all over the world. Sometimes the people you meet that are from other countries don't speak English all that well. It can lead to some funny situations. I have already mentioned my first First Sergeant whose accent was so thick that when he got mad and started chewing everyone looked at each other and shrugged, no one knew what it was about. I was in a unit once when the operations sergeant was Philippino and ...

I mentioned recently that I had to attend a funeral for an old friend. He was a retired Sergeant Major, an organized and responsible man, who knew he had just a few days left. He called in his kids and gave them instructions on how to take care of their mother after he was gone. He had arranged things to a "T" and gave them all the information they needed to take care of his affairs. He told his wife the night he died that she would not have to worry about anything, the house and the car...

Happy Thanksgiving, Joe...hope you have a lot to be thankful for.

Litke came back from Germany with a Super Beetle, a 1600cc with loud pipes and oversized tires. We were on the same team of instructors at the Fort Ord Drivers School. Our office was connected to one of the big classrooms in a drafty old pre-WWII shop building...the last in a row across the street from the monster motor pool where our trucks were parked. Just across the apron on the north side of our shop was the post incenerator where the local police and sheriffs offices burned up all t...

This is a short one but has always been one of my favorites because Willie is involved and his quick wit was always a joy to me. I am not sure how it will come across in print, well, you be the judge. When we were doing student convoys in the back country of Fort Ord, we were fed lunch by the cook school's field mess operation (where their students learned to use their field equipment). There was limited parking at the field mess so we parked the convoys at a nearby break area and loaded...

Fort Ord was one of the most beautiful places I was ever stationed. Right on the northern lip of Monterrey Bay, it has sand dunes, sea scapes, coastal hills and behind them there is a series of valleys and ridges that are literally breathtaking. I was stationed there four times (basic training counting as one). I attended the truck driver school there in 1964 and returned as an instructor in 1975. There were 5 Driver Training Ranges the school used; DTR 1 was in the sand dunes along Im...

We stood at attention as the rifle salute was fired. Another old soldier lowered into the ground. this one an old and dear friend, a long time retired but not long enough on earth. A big man in body and spirit, a sergeant major of the old school and deserving of the honors given him today. Watching the burial detail go through their moves, I was silently going through the commands and the timing of the shots. It took me back to Fort Ord in the middle seventies when I was the NCOIC of the...

Sorry JU readers. As many times as I have warned others about believing what you find on the internet, I fell victim by not listening to my own advice. There is now an updated article from the source I used for a previous article about a Florida School honoring COs on Veterans Day...and apparently the school had a good old fashioned Vets Day celebration without any mention of COs. At least that is what the principal says. I guess the correct thing to do would be to pull down my original a...

My normal wake-up at 0400; down the concrete stairs in the dark to the cold shower. Half-way through the ritual I hear a roar. I dash upstairs and find that Pvt K has awakened to discover that someone has urinated into the top of his footlocker, which he has left open overnight. He accuses me of being the culprit since I was the first one up...we "discuss" this for a few minutes and after many assurances that I know where the PP goes, he grumbles his way into the clean-up. We don't ...

I think it was the summer of 1968, we were living in a little apartment over a shoe repair shop in Lampertheim, Germany. We used to listen to an English radio station (Radio Luxemburg) in the evenings because AFN just played an hour of popular music and the brits played it all night long. It was cool to listen to, it sort of faded out and then it would come back in sometimes but it was music young 'uns like us liked. The British news reader (that was what they called him...no putting on...