When I received my “greeting” from our local draft board in 1952, I was ready for it since three of my brothers had already served. One brother even stuck it out for about 24 years and retired as a rear admiral.
I was in fair shape for a 20-year-old because I played basketball in the winter and baseball in the summer. So basic training was not very rigorous for me. I rather enjoyed the long hikes, the running and the marching.
About 50 of us boarded a bus in Harrisburg, Pa., and headed to Ft. Meade, Md. I will admit my toughest day was the first full day. At 4 a.m. they roused us from our bunks and made us stand in an endless line, awaiting our first traditional breakfast of Army “S.O.S.” From there we went through a large warehouse to receive our clothing, shoes and boots.
After a train ride, we arrived at Ft. Knox, Ky., and were housed in some timeworn barracks where I met young men my age from a lot of Eastern states.
In basic training we were marched endlessly and lectured by officers and cadre. After a time we were finally issued M1 rifles. I looked at mine with mixed feelings, because the only gun I had ever shot was my father’s 12-gauge shotgun at a “block shoot” where I won a turkey. I had also hunted with my brother and shot a rabbit – which I pitied. I remember this while shooting my M1 and wondered if I could ever shoot a man. After carrying the M1 each day and using it to fire 120 rounds daily at the rifle range, I got used to the idea.
After basic training, my closest friend and I were working in the clothing and shoe line, fitting new reports. Both of us admitted we did not like this ho-hum job and the Saturday parading each week in garrison life. So Mac (Raymond McCauley from New Castle, Pa.) and yours truly went to personnel and signed up to go to Korea.
In Korea I was assigned to an R & M (reclamation and maintenance) unit, just below the 38th Parallel Line. We made sure the fighting men got hot meals, a hot shower, new uniforms and boots before they returned to the front lines.
While in training at Ft. Knox, Kermit Mumma was home and talked to my father. I did not know Kermit, but he was from a town next to my hometown. He visited me at Ft. Knox, and we discussed home.
While standing in a chow line at Chuncheon, Korea, who should tap me on the shoulder but Kermit.
After returning home to settle down and marry, guess who installed the telephone line in our new home but Kermit! It sure is a small world.