The National Guard is the oldest fighting force in the United States. This is the militia that is referred to in the Constitution- you know, the second amendment- the one that allows possession of firearms. During Colonial times, this group of citizen soldiers was known as the Minutemen. Paul Revere’s midnight excursion was directed to those who dropped whatever they were doing and took up weapons to repel the invading British. Throughout history, the National Guard has served in all major wars, most minor incidents and a variety of disasters (natural and otherwise). More U.S. Presidents have served with the National Guard and its variations than any other branch of service. From these beginnings evolves the modern Army and Air National Guard, comprised primarily of trained reservists who answer the call of duty one weekend a month and two weeks during the year, fulfilling a two-fold mission. First, there is security of the state. Then, when Uncle Sam’s full-time fighting force gets jammed up, the reserve can be federally activated by order of the President of the United States.
The history of the Guard has been colorful. When anyone mentions the National Guard, some think of the statue of the minuteman, striking a stoic pose , musket in hand, truly prepared for duty. For the most part, however, the Guard struggles with a public-image problem. A good example is the media’s concept of the “weekend warriors”. The movie “Rambo” showed, for example, several Guard guys unable to contain a single super troop. During the course of action, several soldiers requested to go home for a variety of reasons. Then, there was the movie “Southern Comfort”, where ill-prepared soldiers were fighting a real war with rifles filled with blanks. My personal favorite was “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes”, where-in fatigue clad individuals were bowled over by mutant tomatoes. Then there was the nasty incident at Kent State University, where students were shot and killed by “overreactive” reservists from Ohio’s National Guard. How about the concept of being able literally buy one’s way into the Guard? This would have probably kept you from going to war during the Vietnam era.
Even within the ranks of the military, there is that mindset of National Guard- the NG’s- the Nasty Girls, the No-Go’s, the Girl Scouts, the Boy Scouts, Weekend Warriors, etc. The book, “The Sunshine Soldiers”, was based on basic training of reservists during the Vietnam war. There was no disguising the contempt the regular military had for the part-timers. It seems as though the intense training produced a group of troops just short of military standard. They were undisciplined and somewhat rag-tag in appearance, not to mention that they were probably on their way back home after basic, while others were preparing to ship to unknown destinies.
With this in mind, one would have to wonder what type of person would, by choice, enter this somewhat peculiar branch of service. Why would a God-fearing man reared with Christian values leave a wife of four months to undergo the rigors of learning to kill and survive in the most absurd of conditions, enduring a variety of hardships and deprivations and learning seemingly useless disciplines from people with very limited social skills? Add to this the fact that there was no requirement to do this.
I enlisted in the Florida National Guard in February 1977. This was in spite of the fact that I had outlasted the draft with a student deferment while in college. When the draft went to a lottery system, I was far enough down the list that the draft had become a non-issue. Still, I felt compelled to serve. My father and brother had both been career military, which I knew was not my calling. But I was driven by curiosity at least to sample the menu. As I boarded the Greyhound bus at Jacksonville for Fort Jackson, South Carolina, I must admit I was wondering exactly what I was doing there. I thumbed through a copy of Ian Fleming’s “From Russia With Love” and talked to other people who were headed for a similar fate. I thought of my apartment, which was less than a block away from the beach, where the sound of the surf was always present. The one thing that I would not miss was my job as a “client representative”- or bill collector. In theory, I would be able to gain a new trade through the training I would receive.
Everyone who has been through basic training has his or her share of horror stories. The rumor that we were hearing was that the Army was attempting to make their version of the Marines’ Parris Island happen at Fort Jackson. And for the next several weeks, I believed that rumor. The long hours, nasty food-like products, physical training (PT) at a variety of times, classes of infinite boredom, weapons training, nuclear, biological and chemical (NBC) training, endless hours of marching and inspections were but a few of the highlights. Kitchen Police (KP) and other details would cut into the few moments of sleep we thought we were going to get. Days started as early as 4:30 a.m. and terminated when the drill sergeants were tired of messing with us, which was usually quite late. The army is always fond of reminding you that they are only required to give you three hours of sleep per day, and not necessarily in a row. But they were ingenious. Who would have ever thought of using a garbage can as an alarm clock substitute? It works well when waking sixty guys, as it rolls down the barracks aisles. Thanks to ill-fitting boots producing hall of fame blisters and a nice dose of pneumonia, I got to visit the troop clinic and spend quality time at the hospital.
After basic and a week at home, it was back