In 1957 I went into the Army after graduating from high school. Three of us went to Syracuse, N.Y. for physicals. We thought we would be back home that night, but we ended up on a plane to Fort Knox, Ky. Our day concluded with us sleeping on the rec room floor when we got to the base. Basic training was going well. I never saw so many tanks in my life!
One training day the platoon was to go to the close combat course. To get there, we had to go down Misery Hill. We were told the fort’s general would be flying over us, checking on our platoons that day. I was in the third platoon when we left the company area, but for some reason the fourth platoon did not leave with us. We were marching in formation down Misery Hill, the fourth platoon had not caught up to us yet, and the general’s helicopter was coming. Our platoon sergeant was yelling at us to not look up and to stay in line. Well, being a country farm boy, I looked up just as the helicopter was over us. What a sight – at that moment the general’s helicopter hit high tension wires and started spiraling down. As it came down, the blades hit trees, and pieces were flying all over. The last I saw of my platoon sergeant was his butt as he jumped over the guard rail. The helicopter crashed right where the fourth platoon should have been if they had caught up. Thankfully, the general and the pilot were okay, just shaken up.
We did not have to go through the close combat course that day as there was no power to that area. The general came to the company area the next day to tell us we acted very well, and he was glad we were okay. That was a day I will never forget. I can still see the sparks flying when the chopper hit the wires and came down, hitting the road right behind our platoon.