What follows, dear reader, is absolutely the last chapter of my military “career.” I promise!
Active reserve duty consisted of more than meeting once a month. What lay ahead was summer camp. Summer camp in the military did not conjure up visions of splashing in a swimming pool, playing volleyball, rowing a canoe in a race, enjoying picnic lunches, participating in singalongs, telling scary stories at nighttime, or anything else which sounded like “fun.” Oh, no!
Summer camp in the military meant playing soldier just like one had done during active duty (only for a limited time). What summer camp meant for those of us who were part of the 553rd Engineer Battalion, headquarters company, was a romp in the old Joliet Munitions Depot – long since abandoned – and going through the motions of soldiering.
Three companies of engineers – one from Illinois and two from Wisconsin – converged upon the camp, bringing their bulldozers with them. For two weeks, they were to push dirt around to their hearts’ content and to make sure that the dirt was pushed up into neat little piles. Doesn’t that sound like fun, dear reader? Perhaps to an engineer, it did. Yet, after a while, monotony set in, and the piles of dirt didn’t look very neat or little.
The medical unit, to which The Chas was low man on the totem pole, had task to look after the engineers’ health care. Did you cut your finger, soldier boy? Would you like us to kiss your “owie”? Here’s a band-aid, instead. Did you stay out in the sun too long, Sarge? Try some of this cream and wear a hat from now on. Did you fall and bang your head on your bulldozer, buster? Take two aspirin and call us in the morning.
The medical unit was increased by one person, a second lieutenant from Chicago. He was as unmilitary as The Chas was, but he was there only because he had been ordered so (and I still had to salute him!). For reason known only to him, he liked to regale us with his fascination for black teen-aged girls. It takes all kinds, don’t you know?
The medical unit’s first task was to keep the troops’ inoculation history up to date. For that purpose, we were provided with individual lists, containing information about which inoculations had been given (three in all) and when they had been given. The Chas was given a syringe to do the honors. Never having handled a syringe in his life proved to be disastrous; he botched it on the first trooper and drew blood. The major (the veterinarian) decided to transfer him to the checking of the inoculation lists and indicating which shots were needed for each individual. Most of the lists were seriously out-of-date, and so The Chas simply said “all of them.”
After that, the days became a matter of routine, i.e. we waited until some engineer decided to injure himself in order to avoid operating his bulldozer and push dirt around into neat little piles.
At the outset, we informed the troops that, because they were in an abandoned munitions depot, there was always the possibility that some live munitions might have been left behind during the abandonment. So, guys, watch where you tread! At least once a day, however, we heard a loud explosion, sometimes followed by an even louder screech. Surgery was performed by the major (the veterinarian) and the sergeant (the butcher). The second lieutenant acted as a nurse (Hot Lips Houlihan he was not!), and the corporal and I were orderlies (and Klinger we were not!).
One important part of the daily routine was to maintain the water supply. Illinois summers are notoriously hot; and, if you are out in the great outdoors, pushing dirt around into neat little piles, you tend to get thirsty, eh? Our source of water was a spigot planted in the ground as part of an underground plumbing system. A hose was attached to the spigot and, with it, we filled up a 5,000-gallon water tank on wheels. Once filled, the water had to be chlorinated in order to prevent infectious diseases. The major (the veterinarian) emphasized that we were not to chlorinate if anybody not in the medical unit was within 500 yards of the medical tent. The chlorine came in the form of common household bleach which is 97% chlorine, and we added five gallons of the stuff to “purify” the water. We did not want the troops to know exactly what they were drinking on a hot Illinois summer day while pushing dirt into neat little piles. Otherwise, they might have been motivated to approach the medical tent with their bulldozers and make neat little piles of us.
All in all, active reserve duty was a waste of time, and The Chas was exceedingly happy when it came to a conclusion. Thereafter, he was concerned that he might be called up and sent to Vietnam, where “routine” took on a much different state of affairs. (He was not – hoorah, hoorah!)
Post-script: it may be a hoary old cliché, but military service really did make me the person I am today. And, if you don’t like the person I am today, dear reader, send your complaints to the Pentagon!
Just a thought.