Learning To Walk - A Soldier's Story by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 16

I was awakened the next morning by someone who was making the rounds of all the new graduates. They were handing out large tan envelopes, each containing the paperwork necessary for departure to our various technical schools. Some were stamped with the word ‘classified’. When it comes to that particular word you quickly learn not to ask questions. My envelope bore no such stamp. However, it did contain a stapled stack of paper. Each page was identical. These were my orders to Fort Benning and every person I checked in with would get a page for administrative purposes. Also included was an airline ticket to Columbus, Georgia as well as instructions on where and when to meet the next shuttle bus going to the airport. My flight was scheduled at 1530 hours that afternoon and I was expected to be in uniform. I got to the airport with time to spare. Half an hour later, I was on my way to Georgia. The flight was only about forty-five minutes, so there wasn’t much time to sleep. The plane touched down on the tarmac of Columbia Metro Airport after an uneventful flight. I grabbed my duffle bag from the luggage carousel and jumped into one of the many taxis parked in front of the main terminal. It wasn’t long before I was being driven through the main gate of Fort Benning. I had instructions to arrive at a dorm near Military Road and Avenue A. Another night in temporary quarters with nothing to do but wait and like the night before, I was there without a roommate - alone. Not that I minded being alone. I guess I’d just become accustomed to the controlled chaos of basic training. Now, it was the quiet I found unnerving and I also found that without the constant tension of the unpredictable, getting a decent night’s sleep was difficult. In the morning, I checked in with Major Philip Stannard, who was in his third year as commander of the education center of Fort Benning. I waited outside his office until called. Upon entering, I saluted and announced myself in proper military fashion.

“Sir, Private Taylor reports as ordered, sir.”

I saw no reason to yell it out. After all, this wasn’t basic training.

“Relax, Private,” he said. “You only have to say sir once now.”

He asked for a copy of my orders and in return gave me a map bearing a circled area.

“Report to this location at 1300 hours for orientation,” he said. “And you might want to be there about twenty minutes early.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he looked up from the paperwork I’d given him.

“Is there something else, Private?” he asked. “No, sir,” I answered.

“Alright,” he continued. “You’re dismissed.” I saluted again and walked out leaving with the distinct impression that he wasn’t especially fond of having a desk job. Perhaps at one time, he was teaching. But apparently, officers don’t teach - they command. I decided to leave for orientation about an hour early, partly because I wanted to get a look around. Fort Benning is enormous and I could see myself easily getting lost. Following the directions, I found my way to the base orientation center. Upon entering, I met Staff Sergeant Eugene Bolger. “You’re a bit early, aren’t you?” he asked. “I just wanted to get my bearings, sir,” I replied. “Sir?” he said. “Let’s get something straight Private, I ain’t no officer, so you don’t call me sir, got it? It’s just Sergeant Bolger.”

As the classroom began to fill up, everyone tried to put on their military bearing.

“Alright, everyone, have a seat,” he said. “First, relax. This isn’t basic training, so we’re not gonna get all formal here, alright? Second, welcome to Fort Benning. This is your orientation briefing.”

We were all asked to introduce ourselves and tell the class what we were training for. There were a few other soldiers who were training for Cavalry Scout as well. Orientation was about two hours long and we were given a map of the base, assigned quarters, and provided directions to our respective training areas. As it turned out, our quarters were at our training areas and we were told where the commissary, base store, and recreation centers were located. Also provided was a map of the area just outside the main gate. There was a large department store and a strip mall, while off to the right was an apartment tower - probably filled with military personnel. The sergeant passed out weekly meal tickets, good for three meals a day for one week. After it was used up, another would be assigned. I wasn’t so much interested in shopping on base as I was curious about what was off base and it was Friday, which meant I had the weekend to do some exploring. I rose the next morning at 0500 hours and dressed in camouflaged fatigues - more often referred to as BDU’s, or ‘battle dress uniform’. Over the last nine weeks, I had become very accustomed to wearing these. So, I took the maps with me and headed toward the main gate. Only a few blocks into my walk, I discovered that the base had a bus system. It was only then that I realized just how big Fort Benning really was. I waited for a bus, grabbed a schedule and found a seat. In roughly ten minutes, the bus pulled up in front of the main gate just in front of Victory Drive. Looking at the map, I decided to go into Avondale. This turned out to be a small, quiet suburb just south of Columbia. The idea of going into the city didn’t seem wise, considering I was traveling alone. There wasn’t much to see, just a couple of gated communities set on a small rise with the city of Columbia standing intimidatingly in the distance. After fifteen minutes of witnessing what was obviously a disturbing degree of wealth - reminding me very much of home - I caught the southbound bus back to the base but not willing to go back to the base just yet, I got off at the mall across from the main gate. I spent about an hour in the department store. There really wasn’t anything there that caught my interest and since I’d be at Fort Benning for only four weeks, I saw no reason to buy anything. After leaving the department store, I wandered down the strip mall and passing numerous small shops and restaurants, I came to a storefront bearing a sign that read ‘Book Store’. My curiosity had become stimulated by a large curtain that hung behind its glass façade. No sooner than I stepped through the doorway, did I quickly realized that this was no ordinary bookstore. To the right was a long row of video booths with their doorways covered by dark floor length curtains. In front of me were seemingly endless racks of magazines and paperback books. Each one was adorned with a graphic cover illustrating mostly naked people engaged in what could only be described as some form of deviant behavior. To my immediate left was a large glass case filled with items I am still unable to fully describe. Two things became abundantly clear to me. The first was that I had stumbled into a porn shop. The second was that it was very unlikely I would find anything by Shakespeare. The remainder of the weekend passed uneventfully. I did decide to go to the base store. It just looked like another department store, with nothing that really stood out at me. At this point, if I wanted anything in the way of literature, I’d have to order it online. But, it also occurred to me that there probably wouldn’t be a lot of time for reading. Tech school was to begin the next morning, and Sunday night found me still living in temporary quarters. I still had no idea where I was supposed to go, just a piece of paper with a circle on it. After turning in, I found that I was still having difficulty getting used to the odd silence of silence but eventually, I drifted off. I also discovered that the events of ‘night fire’ were beginning to replay themselves in my dreams and the next morning, I was startled awake by the sound of gunfire. I looked out of the window and saw nothing. Apparently, the sound of my dreams had shaken me from my sleep and I took it as a clear sign that I needed to talk to someone. Struggling to achieve clear-headedness, I’d saw their faces in my mind, heard them screaming, and caught a whiff of burning flesh. It wasn’t clear to me whether I needed professional help. Maybe a sympathetic ear was all I needed. At least, I’d be talking it out. I also decided to keep a journal documenting these dreams. Perhaps, I thought, it would be a good way to separate myself from them for the sake of self-examination. At around 0700 hours, I was picked up and taken to my new quarters. Fortunately, I wouldn’t be sharing a space with thirty-nine other people this time. Instead, I was assigned a dorm room at the edge of the training area. There were thirty people in the class, so we were all lucky enough to get our own rooms. Tech school training would be led by Staff Sergeant Bruce Whitfield and it was difficult. Basic training would be a close second next to tech school. When I left basic training, I was convinced that the physical aspect would end as well. I was very mistaken. Everything centered on strength training and heavy lifting. At this point, my six-foot frame carried around two hundred and twenty pounds and not much in the way of body fat. I certainly didn’t have six-pack abs but I had put on a lot of muscle mass. One of the requirements for cavalry scout training was that I had to pass a psych test. An overwhelming characteristic of the job was stress and as a cavalry scout, I would be the eyes and ears of the commander during battle. More than that, I would likely be one of the first at the front line relaying crucial information. The commander would base his orders on that information. The lives of American troops would hang in the balance based on my observations as well as my ability to stay calm and focused. Thus, the need for a psych test. Sergeant Whitfield gave an orientation briefing at 1300 hours after everyone had settled into their new quarters. He handed out maps of the training area and provided an overview of the next four weeks. He also informed us that we would not be there if we had failed the psych test. Those who had were assigned to a different career field. The next four weeks centered on both classroom time and field training. The primary duty of the job was reconnaissance and everything else was a means to that end. There are many ways in which to gain information about the enemy, going on patrol was just one. I was taught how to assist at observation and listening posts, how to track enemy movements, how to navigate for the transport of equipment and ammunition, among other things. Tracking someone who’s traveling by vehicle isn’t as easy as it might seem. There’s a bit more to it than wheel tracks in the sand. Tracking people moving on foot involves another level of difficulty altogether and there are many variables to consider in determining, for example, the age of a set of tracks, weather, runoff, terrain, and temperature, to name a few. I also had access to military satellite imagery as part of being able to assess enemy terrain and weather conditions. Every speck was vital to the decision-making process when engaging the enemy. We would be on their turf, so the scout was heavily relied upon to find the enemy’s weaknesses as well as the paths of least resistance for the advancement of allied forces. And of course, there was more physical training. The runs got longer and we began carrying heavy wooden poles over our heads. Some of the duties of cavalry scout involved lifting heavy equipment, sometimes carrying it over long distances. I also became familiar with demolitions and mines. Becoming a cavalry scout was far from being a well-armed messenger boy. I would also learn how to fire antipersonnel weapons as well as maintain communications equipment and reconnaissance vehicles. There were no classes on weekends, but it was expected and strongly recommended that we study and go to the nearby base gym. With only four weeks of difficult training, it was impossible to develop friendships. It seemed that when I wasn’t sleeping, I was either in class, in the field or studying. But, in spite of the level of difficulty, training went by fairly quickly and after a total of thirteen weeks, ten days of leave didn’t seem like a lot of time. But, I wasn’t about to complain.