I grew up in a Hartford suburb, experienced the one-room schoolhouse, then three years in normal grade-school brick. My father wanted me to experience the city where he grew up, so I went to Catholic school through 8th grade and back to normal HS. The city experience did prepare me for HS in the ways of the street kids. I went on to college for two years, until we ran out of money. I decided to beat the draft board to the punch and join up, taking testing in New Haven overnight and going through the recruitment drills, finally settling on the NSA career path. I had worked driving a chemical delivery truck and as a retail clothing salesman for a year. I was in good shape, having tossed 100 lb. bags and drums around for eight months and was often accused of pushing my platoon too hard.
After shots and testing for three days, we finally got sorted and assigned to a company for training after two days of exercising and time sessions. I was called into the orderly room to the first sergeant’s, where he informed me that I was going to be in charge of the platoon from 1630 hours to 0700 hours each day, as our platoon sergeant had a family and a wife who was expecting shortly. I was told to appoint three squad leaders with one as assistant platoon leader.
I chose an acquaintance from West HFD with one year's ROTC experience, and we shared a room together. From that time on, things went fine. Everybody got along and the guys came to me for advice and ladies, since I was 21 at the time and the “old guy,” except for a couple of retreads who chose to bed upstairs.
About the 5th week, one morning after breakfast and a short break, we were spread out to start the job of qualifying everyone. Our platoon did well with the help of my two retreads, when one of my friends came running up to me and asked me to call an ambulance for a malinger who shot himself in the foot. I did so and also called a lieutenant friend in our company who hurried back from HQ. We were given clearance to head back to our barracks as the heat had gotten pretty high.
We reported to the first sergeant and fell out at 1600 hours.
I had several kids under my leadership who were hesitant of the showers and bathing on a regular basis. I spoke to them and admonished them to change their habits. Most did, except for one recruit from NW CT Hills who was causing problems with surrounding bunkmates in the barracks.
My head squad leader and myself chose to head for the beer hall and try their showers when walking away two platoon members approached us about giving one individual a “shower." I didn’t condone it, but warned them of the consequences of their actions in case of any injuries suffered by the recruit. We finished our beers and another squad leader came in smiling and joined us while telling us what happened and not to worry.
After a late Mess Hall visit, we returned to the barracks and received a knock on our door and in came a bright-red-skinned private. He started to proceed to tell us what happened to him when I asked if he was accusing anyone of mistreatment. If so, he was to put in writing the names, rank and serial numbers of those involved, and that this might make him be recycled.
Earlier the next morning, I met the sergeant as he headed toward so he wouldn’t be blindsided by the first sergeant. After telling the first sergeant my side of the story, I was informed to not worry about it and that was that.
I often thought of that recruit while going through that part of Northwest CT. I often wondered if that had any repercussions or effects on his life.
As of this date, I have not met or heard anything concerning this incident. So I have put it to rest.