My draft number was approaching, so I decided to volunteer, having just turned 20 and completed two years of college. This was 1954 and an era when serving was one’s duty. I didn’t want it to interfere with my career or marriage plans. Besides, the available GI Bill to continue my education was a motivation.
Upon getting off the bus at Ft. Leonard Wood, Mo, we were immediately introduced to “policing the grounds.” Veterans know this means picking up all litter, with emphasis on cigarette butts, prevalent in those days and displeasing to me, a nonsmoker.
After three days of processing, we were off to Ft. Bliss, Texas. While in line for boots, I was waved aside because my size 10 and a half was not available. So I was separated from some friends and relegated to two weeks alone, making dogtags while waiting for boots.
My training cycle finally got underway. Ear plugs at the rifle range were not used then because commands were verbal. I practically lost most hearing for several days. I should have sought medical attention, but thought who would or could diagnose such ringing in the ears? Plus, I didn’t want a delay like the boots had caused, or I wouldn’t finish for Christmas leave. I managed by having my partner signal commands by tapping my shoulder. Of course, that wasn’t perfect. During one series, I fired a shot after the ceasefire command. I knew I was guilty, and some form of consequence was coming from the young officer. He, with a faint smile, knew he had to do something, so he had me stand off to the rear, where I had to repeat “ceasefire” for one hour. I was not smiling but thankful he let me off that easily. Surprisingly, the week ended well when I managed on Friday to qualify as an “expert” with a score of 221/250 and received an engraved bracelet.
I served all my time at Ft. Bliss, much of it at White Sands Missile Range as a launching crewman for the Corporal Missile. My friends who got boots went to Germany but I, who has 100 percent German ancestry, did not.