Chapter 19: The Unknown Soldier

Oblivious...July 1993.

  As I read the previous chapters, I can't help but question what my role was in the Army.  I had signed up to better myself and be part of something bigger than the life I had back home.  What I had become was something even I didn't recognize.  In the midst of all the partying and shenanigans, I realized that I had accomplished all kinds of things I would have never thought possible.  This chapter will hopefully remind me that I indeed had a purpose in the United States Army.

  It was early summer 1993, I was going on field exercises more frequently now that the cold snap of winter/spring had gone.  Bravo Battery stayed on the move often, going to places like Erlangen, Kitzingen and Oberdachstetten regularly.  We would convoy out to these places, and like a concert production, set up a tactical operations site in the middle of a wide open field in less than a couple of hours.  To look at the battery in combat ready stance was quite astonishing.  We sat up tents in predesignated areas that supported each area of responsibility.  Our medical aid station would always be situated near the command area, the fire control trailers sat up just past the CP, or Command Post, the missile guidance center sat up next to it, followed by the large radar system.  The perimeter past there was guarded by what was called the ECP, or Entry Control Point, which was a dug out bunker with two men manning a radio and gun.  These two soldiers would be responsible for checking anyone who wanted in or out of the inner operational site.  Down range several meters was the Patriot Missile Launchers which were positioned strategically, providing an air defense blanket for the entire area.  I never really understood the operational aspect of the Patriot Missile system, other than it was an outstanding weapon during Operation Desert Storm.  All of our tents and vehicles were draped in a camouflage netting that blended in with the surroundings if seen from the air or from a distance.  When in combat ready status, Martinez and I basically stayed in the aid station and waited until someone needed us.
  As medics, we were in charge of the health and welfare of each soldier on the tactical site.  We also had responsibilities such as checking the water quality at the drinking point and setting up hand washing stations at the chow trailer.  We set up triage points in the event we had a mass casualty situation.  Triage basically means sorting out, and our role during a mass casualty situation was just that; to sort out the wounded according to the severity of their injuries and to provide necessary care to the most critical patients.  But for now, it was all simulated.  It was peace time, remember?  Another area we were tasked out to be in charge of was the helicopter landing zone.  This area had to be large enough to land an Army Blackhawk or Chinook type helicopter for medical evacuations, and the occasional VIP who may or may not stop in.
  Bravo Battery seemed squared away when it came to field operations, and the platoon sergeants always had something for the soldiers to do.  Martinez and I would read mostly, or I would take my trusty Walkman with me and listen to music most of the time.  Occasionally we would have other soldiers stop in and stay a while chatting with us if it was a down period and more times than often a card game would ensue.  I became very familiar with the game Spades.  In the field, we were out of the eye of the top command staff so it was a bit more relaxed.  First Sergeant Franklin would stop in from time to time to get his cough syrup, which I found had some alcohol content in it.  He was pretty laid back and always good to us.  I never saw him ever in a rage or threatening mood while I was attached to Bravo.  Captain Reynolds, on the other hand, was a different story.  She always seemed to me like she had to prove something and her logic at times just didn't seem logical at all.  It was always like do a task, then do it all over again three more times for no apparent reason.   A prime example of being in ADA, another damned Army.
Back in Shipton, Thursdays were known as Sergeant's Time.  We did try to do some type of training during those times, but usually turned into a large goof off session.  Sergeant First Class Bechtel would assign one medic to research a topic and present a class to everyone else.  It could be anything from how to set up a pot-belly stove to managing a traumatic patient.  One Thursday, we went down by Soldier's Lake with some litters, or portable stretchers that were used to put a patient on and carry them, and did casualty evacuation drills.  We took turns being patients and medics and simulating proper techniques of loading and carrying.  We tried to make the training as challenging as we could, having people lie in between trees and over embankments and such.  Eventually, the training turned into the usual antics.  Someone secured Smitty to a litter and stood him upside down against a tree, then after that, a group carried Bell upside down the whole way, with Bell yelling great obscenities the whole time.  Then, SFC Bechtel got on the litter and told some of the guys to carry her.  Just as they got to the embankment, SFC Bechtel rolled off the litter down the hill.  The straps on the litter had either failed or not been tight enough.  She laid there a minute, then reached around and grabbed her back. A couple of guys closest to her came to her aid and bent down trying to assess the severity of her injury, expecting the worst.  Just as they knelt by SFC Bechtel's side, she rolled over and grabbed them, pushing them down the hill into the small stream.  She had feigned her injury just to mess with they guys who dropped her off the litter.  It was all good nature fun, and good stress relief to break the monotony of garrison life.
Morning PT was the absolute devil in my opinion.  Especially during the cold months.  We had battalion runs every Monday morning to 'motivate' us for the new week.  I personally think it was punishment for the ones of us who partied.  On several occasions, there would be a soldier fall out of the run formation and vomit because they still were blitzed from the night or weekend before.  During the summer months, it was warm, not ungodly hot, but we did sweat profusely.  That sweat would smell like pure liquor  sometimes, making things ten times worse on the weak stomachs.  Command Sergeant Major Jameson was a PT fanatic.  He wanted a top shape battalion under his watch, and rightfully so, but even the seasoned veterans began to question it after so long.  We all got used to it, and dealt with the self destructive manor of the hangover run as we called it.  In hindsight, maybe if we had taken better care of ourselves, me included, the PT would have been very beneficial.
First Sergeant Moshner had left by summer 1993, his replacement would be SFC Banks, who was the Senior NCO in the battalion's supply section.  He was an alright guy, always easy going and not so high strung.  He reminded me some of Drill Sergeant Washington from Fort Jackson, just not as volatile. SFC Banks hadn't yet been promoted to First Sergeant, but had the time in service and promotion points.  For some reason, it was a while before he was officially promoted.  Captain Taylor was still our commander, but he was becoming a short timer.  He would do the Saudi deployment with us, then have a few short months after that.  In the medic platoon, we were getting ready to lose Anderson and Parker.  They would be replaced with some newbies before the deployment, and even though it had only been three months since the bus from Barton Barracks arrived with us on it, Rucker, Smitty, Cowden and I felt like veterans.  In the meantime, we were still making preparations for the deployment.  Official orders had not been sent for anyone, but the talk was that an advanced party would leave in July to get everything squared away.  Other than that, nothing much was said, and we still couldn't openly talk about the mission outside Shipton.  One major task we would have to carry out was to set up a clinic to get every one's medical needs and vaccinations in order.  We were required to have certain vaccinations before we could be deployed, and we had to have a recent physical exam, including a dental examination.  Over the course of three days, we sat up at the gymnasium in Katterbach and painstakingly reviewed every soldier's medical file with that soldier present.  It was like in processing at Fort Jackson all over again, except this time, we would be on that other side of the exam booth.  One by one, a soldier would come to the stations and one of us medics would check mark a paper and if needed, send that soldier over to a physician's assistant or a doctor from the 526th Medical Detachment which had a booth set up with us.  Even though we were the screeners, we too had to be vaccinated along with everyone else.  There was one shot everyone had to have called a GG shot, or gamma gobulin and another called ISG, a similar vaccination, which had to be administered in the buttock muscles.  The serum looked like petroleum jelly and burned when it went in, leaving a very sore spot on our butt cheeks.  Needless to say, there were several soldiers walking around like they had just rode in off the open range via horseback.
  One night I was in downtown Ansbach doing my usual rounds.  Eventually, it was time to head back but a downpour had begun.  I flagged a taxi down and mumbled "Shipton, bitte."  The driver was of middle eastern descent and spoke fairly good English, enough that I could understand him pretty well.  As we drove toward Shipton, he casually asked, "So, I hear you guys will be leaving soon?"  I asked what he meant, he said "you know, uh, going to uh, to Saudi Arabia?"  I was astonished how he would know that.
"Not that I know," I replied to the taxi driver.
"Come on, you know you are going to Saudi soon," he retorted, trying to get me to acknowledge.  I again played dumb and tried to sidestep the conversation, but he persisted.  Finally, I told him I was brand new and hadn't been told anything.  The whole discussion made me uneasy and put an end to my beer buzz I was enjoying.  I never said anything more to the driver and was more than ready to exit the vehicle at the gate.  It still made me uneasy as he drove away, so I mentioned it to the guys at the front gate, who casually said, "yeah those cab drivers know everything.  They are afraid they will lose business."  Operational security, or OPSEC, at its best.
My personal life was starting to perk up a bit.  Monika and I started hanging out more often outside of the barracks parties or at The Goose.  She was pretty cool, seemingly care free.  Monika was a bit taller than me and had brown/brunette wavy hair that was shoulder length.  She drove a motorcycle everywhere she went and always was decked out in leather riding attire.  Monika's English wasn't too bad, but she spoke with a heavy accent.  She didn't seem to mind my party ways and always laughed at my jokes regardless if they were funny or not.  I still didn't want to get seriously involved with anyone, but the platonic company was welcomed.  I was still just as party-hearty as always, and as the Fourth of July Holiday approached, it was I was in high gear.  Prior to the holiday, there was another fest in downtown Ansbach that was a load of fun.  We had just got off a field assignment and everyone was aching to get out and about.  We would hit the fest for a while, then meander to the Goose afterward to finish the night off in style.  During the Fourth, there would be a long break in the daily life and yet another fest in Katterbach, prime time for a good time.
  The Fourth of July Holiday 1993 started with a knock at my door at 0630.  Ace was out somewhere and not in the room, so I thought it may be him.  I opened the door to the sergeant of the day telling me I had guard duty.  Guard duty??  I had checked the guard roster religiously after the missing guard post incident and knew I wasn't on the list.  I started to argue with the sergeant and he basically told me to get dressed and report to headquarters no more questions asked.  I acknowledged and got dressed to start the duty reluctantly.  I reported to headquarters a few minutes later and the sergeant told me that someone who had guard duty didn't report and I was the first to answer the door, a 'knock and grab' kind of deal.  I was not at all happy but had no other choice but to nod and agree.  I pulled the first shift at the front gate and hardly anyone came into post.  My partner spent his time reading and I sat there still fuming over being duped.  Finally, the other guard told me the secret;  "keep a beer in the fridge and grab it when someone knocks on the door early and unannounced on a weekend or holiday.  Crack the beer open and take a quick drink to get the smell on your breath then answer the door, holding the beer.  This will thwart any attempt to have unscheduled guard or staff duty assignments."  I liked that idea, but really, who cracks open a beer at 0630 on a day off?  Well...
First shift was over at 1100 hours and the sergeant of the guard returned with some great news.  The soldier who had been scheduled had showed up and I was off the hook the rest of the day.  I was glad to hear that and hated to be in that other guy's shoes.  I went back upstairs and some of the guys were milling about, talking about having a cookout at the pavilion behind the barracks.  I said I would join and left to change.  After a quick stop at the shopette for drinks and food to add to the cookout, I joined the others out back.  The weather was perfect, cloudless sky, warm day with a slight breeze, what more could anyone ask for?   As the cookout wore on and the beer flowed the usual antics were in full swing.  I remember there was one guy with us who was gay and everyone knew it.  This was during the "don't ask, don't tell era" and it never really mattered.  I for one hadn't been around any openly gay people before, but he was one who never made a move toward anyone in our group and no one felt uncomfortable around him...until this day.  I had wandered off with one of the guys and two girls we knew from the Goose and  had returned with a large bite mark on my neck.  Everyone was giving me shit about the mark when suddenly, this guy grabbed my arm and bit it, saying "that's nothing like the blow job I'd love to give you right now."  I reacted by drawing my fist back and lunging at him, ready to pummel this fruit cake into the ground.  A couple of guys stopped me and I calmed down.  The guy was told to leave and he wandered away from us.  Until that point in my life, I had never been propositioned by a member of the same sex.

Posing with my favorite beer mug at Soldier's Lake, July 1993.

   The rest of the holiday weekend is pretty much a blur to me.  I went to the Katterbach fest with a bunch of guys and know I got hammered.  There is a picture of me holding a fest mug, which holds a liter of beer,  trying to convince everyone I wasn't drunk.  One of the lieutenants was standing by me giving me a look that said "bullshit!"  I don't really remember that picture being taken, but I have it.  I remember a bunch of us were walking back to Shipton from Katterbach and an MP van stopping us.  I just knew they were hauling us in for being drunk in public, but they gave us a ride back to Shipton, which was a welcome thing.  After the ride back, we decided to go down to the Goose and finish out the night...or morning.  The Goose was packed to the hilt, too crowded honestly, so we made our rounds and told a select bunch to follow us back to Shipton for the barracks party.  Somehow, I got separated from the rest from the gang and left after everyone.  I was walking down the backroad to Shipton and stopped a minute to relieve myself.  As I was doing that, I noticed a road marker that had been knocked over and the drunken mind began to wander.  Road markers in Germany are white plastic posts about three and a half feet long with black stripes painted on them and have small round reflectors placed on them.  I picked the leaning post up and it broke off from its base.  "Hmm, what do I do with this now" I thought.  I slung the post over my shoulder and kept on trekking toward Shipton.  I'm sure this was probably against the law but it would sure make a cool decoration in my barracks room, something to match the blinking construction lights I had taken a month or so earlier.  Ahh, the blinkies, I called them.  While walking back from Hai Life one night, there was a construction area that had orange barrels cordoning an area off.  On top of those barrels were small yellow boxes with a round blinking yellow light that warned people to stay clear of the area.  Not passing an opportunity up, I looked around to make sure no one was around and removed two of the blinking lights.  Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I placed the lights in my leather jacket and zipped it up.  Good concept, the only problem is, I looked like ET the Extra Terrestrial with the lit up chest.  I walked up to Shipton's gate and stopped to get my ID card out, the gate guard looked curiously at me and just waved me on through, blinking chest and all.
I walked into the gate with the newly acquired road marker over my shoulder, parading like I was bringing in a war trophy.  The gate guard once again just shook his head and waved me on in.  I got upstairs and the party was starting to really get going.  A ton of people were there and the music was blaring.  I topped the stairs and stood there for a minute, then held the road marker over my head in triumph.  A roar of applause rang out and everyone walked to me and looked at the marker.  I took it in Ruble and Mishler's room and propped it up for all to see.  I was proud of my trophy.  At some point, I got a marker and wrote on it "July 4th Weekend, 1993 and I am fucked up!!"  From there everyone there wanted to sign the newly dubbed 'party marker', eventually there were 200+ names on it.  From that night on, whoever opened their room as the 'beer control point' took charge of the party marker and displayed it in sight for all to see.

Signing the 'party marker' at the barracks party, July 4th weekend, 1993.

That night was wild indeed.  There was one girl who came to the barracks from the Goose who wore a zebra striped spandex mini-dress thing that hugged every inch of her body who no one knew, but made her rounds to several.  For example, one of the guys and I walked into a room to get a beer and she was there performing oral sex on a guy sitting on a futon, unperturbed by our intrusion.  A little more than anyone wanted to see of the guy there, but....Eventually we noticed a trend with this girl.  She would walk up to a guy, then lead him off for a short time, then back again and on to another guy.  This played out for a while and then one of the guys named Petty got a tap on his shoulder as she led another guy off and a whispered, "you're next."  Petty and I started laughing and just walked off, not wanting to take part in this bizarre circus.
I actually drank myself sober that night.  I never got sick or anything, I guess the walk back from the Goose kind of sobered me up and I wasn't able to get hammered like usual.  I'm not sure when the party died down, but I do remember waking up in my own room for once.
  That entire weekend was wild, a nonstop party, then it was back to the grind the following Tuesday.  Our deployment was approaching and the advanced party group would be leaving soon.  We would go through inspections to make sure our gear was ready, and also do room inventories.  The reality was starting to set in.  Finally, we could tell our families back home about the deployment, so I wrote a letter home explaining what was about to happen.  I know it scared mom and dad and everyone else to death when they got that news, but it was the Army and anything could happen at anytime.  I can't lie, part of me was scared too.  It was bad enough going from back home to the Army then a million miles to Germany, but to go to Saudi Arabia, where the Gulf War began really was unsettling.  Through all this time, Monika and I began hanging out more often.  There was a spark starting to flicker into something, but I wasn't sure I was ready for it yet.  That all came to a head one night when we were downtown.  Petty (yes, he is related to The King Richard) and I were at a fest tent with Monika and her friend Mary.  Mary came out and asked me why I hadn't asked Monika out yet.  I didn't know what to say.  Monika ran out embarrassed and I went after her.  I found her outside the tent crying and asked what was wrong.  She just shook her head and looked at me.  It was then I realized that there was a connection.
"You are going away soon," she finally said.  I told her yes, but I would be back.
"But what if something happens to you,"  she asked.  That was a hard thing to think of, but a logical concern.  I assured her that I would be fine and hugged her.  We stopped and looked at each other for a minute, and then kissed.  It all made sense...the night she waited for me outside my room, the way we always ended up at the same places and hanging out, it was all pointing to this moment.  Monika and I walked back into the tent hand in hand.  Alan stood and clapped and yelled out, "finally!".   Although I hadn't wanted a relationship or anyone to worry about me, here I was in that exact situation.
The parties continued nonstop during this time.  Our group of misfits were tight knit and always looked out for each other.  Occasionally, someone would get into some trouble for whatever reason and suffer consequences from the command element, but no one was out to hurt anyone.  It was all good times and good fun for us, until one night.  I don't know the exact details of what happened over in Echo Battery's barracks on a July night, but the next day, Petty knocked on my door with some shocking news.  Sean Allison, the guy who was my first real patient, had been rushed to the hospital in serious condition.   Sean had been recently transferred from Charlie Battery to Echo battery due to some issues within his unit.  All Petty knew was Sean had been depressed and was facing another Article 15 for something and had drank a lot and took some pills.  His room mate had found him unresponsive in the barracks and called for help.  Sean was taken to the Ansbach Krankenhaus, and at the time no one knew how serious he was.  I was bewildered by the news.  Sean was one of the regular Goose Crew guys, one who took up for us if anyone gave us some shit.  I told Petty to keep me updated and find out when we could go see Sean.  Petty left and I just sat there thinking about Sean and his humor.  I thought about all the times I called him our bodyguard and he told how I had "saved his life".  Later that day, Petty came back and delivered an update on Sean that I didn't expect; he has passed away at the krankenhaus.  I backed up and let Petty in my room and we just slumped in chairs and stared blankly.  I couldn't believe what I had heard, it couldn't be real.  It just didn't make sense.  I stayed in that night and decided not to hit the Goose.  Petty came over and we toasted a drink to Sean's memory.  A few days later, there was a memorial service for Sean and I was unable to attend due to guard duty.  Sean was a good guy and left us entirely too soon.  I still think about him to this day.
A few days before the advance party left Ansbach for the desert sands, we had the commander's briefing.  Our mission would be to provide air cover for the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.  Our Patriot Missile batteries would be split between two areas, Dhahran and Rhiyad.   The mission would be called Operation Desert Falcon and be considered a combat/hazardous operation.  What I, nor most anyone not associated with the military, realized is that although Desert Storm was over, there was still a very real threat to security in the region.  The mission was considered a cease fire contingency operation  and still could flare up at any time.  My room mate, Ace, left as part of the advanced party in early July.  The other phase of the deployment would take place later in the month and the main body would deploy in August.  We would be there until December, but promised home before Christmas.  It was about game time for 6th Battalion, 43rd Air Defense Artillery. It would be a journey into the unknown, and I was content just being the unknown soldier...under the radar, just doing my thing.
 

Chapter 18: I Am, I'm Me

Private First Class Robert E. Kiskaden, 6th Battalion, 43rd Air Defense Artillery.  June 1993.

 I saw a poster in the barracks lobby one night, it said "Army:  Be all you can be."  This was the Army motto then, and I stopped and just stared at it that particular night.  I asked myself, "Am I really all I can be?"  I didn't have an answer for my thought as I wandered out to hit the town.  By now, the group I ran around with had formed a cohesive camaraderie.  We would walk down to the Goose 10-20 at a time, a show of force to be reckoned with. Inside the club, we stayed close, if one person in the group got in trouble, the whole bunch would stand up for him and promptly take care of a situation.  We always had an after party back at Shipton too, usually picking out people to come with us from the Goose.  By the time we would leave, the group would usually grow to about 30 people staggering in the front gate.  HHB's second floor would then become a block party.  We had some regular people starting to hang out with us, usually German girls; Martina, Tanja, Nelly, one we called Annie, and a few others would be there every weekend.  No one usually said a word about our parties or how loud they became because usually, everyone was there.
In May 1993, Harold and I caught wind of a Metallica concert that was going to be in Nurnberg on a Sunday when we weren't going to be in the field.  Michalea got our tickets and Sal would be our driver.  It would be an awesome change of pace for me, I had already seen Metallica back home in Louisville and they were one of my favorite bands.  European concerts are much different than US concerts.  They are mostly held outside and huge crowds attend, so this would be an experience.  The day of the concert, we all got ready and started out, but first, we had to make a stop at a party near Barton Barracks at the soldier housing complex.  We got to the party just to make a short appearance before we trekked to Nurnberg, the place was crowded.  Butler, Anderson and a couple others were singing a version of a song called The End of the Road, because the party was on behalf of someone leaving the unit and going back to the States.  I found out where the beer was and was good to go, drowning down 17 before we left.
I was pretty numb when we left for the concert and don't recall much of the trip.  I do remember getting stopped on the Autobahn at some point.  We were stuck in a gridlock and the urge hit me.  I jumped out of Sal's car and ran off to the side of the road to relive myself, hoping traffic didn't start moving.  I staggered back to the car, tripping over a guardrail and banging my leg up.  I laughed it off because it was funny, but I was sure it would hurt like hell later.  After about an hour, traffic started moving slowly again, eventually we saw what the problem was.  A car had hit an overpass and nearly split in half.  The Autobahn has a reputation of being the ultimate speedway. For the most part, there isn't a speed limit on the Autobahn, but generally it is 130 km/hour, or 80 miles per hour in some areas.  This makes for some spectacular crashes, as we saw on the way to Nurnberg.
We arrived at Nurnberg's Zeppelinfeld, a large outdoor stadium with large marble and stone entrances and walls that reminded me of a Roman coliseum.  This stadium was where the famous Nazi rallies were held and a landing site for the Graf Zeppelin and Hindenburg in the 1930's.  We could hear the first band, Suicidal Tendencies, already blazing through their set, the delay on the Autobahn was to blame for that.  My buzz was starting to wear off and the May heat was starting to beat down on me as I walked into the gate.  Inside the gate, a vast sea of people were packed in, the stage was far off ahead of us.  We made our way to a spot to sit down just as Suicidal Tendencies closed their set.  This was by far the most people I had ever seen in one place; upward of a hundred thousand or so people. It was awesome to see but a bit intimidating at the same. We found a beer stand and grabbed drinks and a gyros from a food stand next to it and settled in for the rest of the show.  The Cult was going to be the next band to perform, I only knew one of their songs called Fire Woman that had been a radio hit back home a year or so before.  Once The Cult got onstage, they were far from the band I heard on the radio.  The singer was struggling through the opening song and hanging onto the microphone stand limply.  After a few songs, the crowd began getting restless and hostile, tossing items onto the stage.  Finally after a few minutes of that, the crowd began to boo loudly, prompting the band to leave the stage early.  There's nothing like the sound of a hundred thousand Germans booing a band off stage.
Harold and I made up our mind we were going to get closer to the stage for Metallica's performance.  We noticed the crowd had started to thin out near the stage and we made our move.  We got part of the way to the stage then stopped in a mass of people.  Harold decided to go around to see if there was a better way forward, but nothing.  We were closer to the stage but still pretty far off than what we wanted to be, then just as we stopped to gather a new plan, the familiar opening music The Ecstasy of Gold boomed over the PA speakers and the crowd surged forward.  Harold and I got separated by the crowd but I kept moving forward.  The mass of people pushed forward in anticipation of Metallica taking the stage, and once they did, it was pandemonium.  The band segued into their song  Creeping Death and the crowd was furiously pumping their fists in the air to the beat.  The bass boomed into my chest and I had to get closer somehow.  I made some forward progression, even tripped over a couple who were wrapped in a blanket being...intimate.  Metallica had a stage at this concert that extended out into the crowd a bit and the area around that extension was called The Snake Pit.  In order to be in that area, you had to have a special arm band, of which I did not have.  So I wandered over to another area closer to the barricade, still within arm's length of the stage, but was stopped by a large group of people who weren't budging.  I was so close, yet so far away....I had to think of something quick.  When I got to Germany, I was issued the Geneva Convention Card, which identified me as a medic.  The card had two red crosses and a photo of me on it with some information, so I pulled it out of my wallet and flashed it to the people in front of me.  The crowd parted and let me through surprisingly, all the way to the barricade.  "Holy crap, it worked," I said to myself, but then the greed of the moment started taking over.  I wondered since that ploy worked so well, why shouldn't I get into The Snake Pit and blend into the crowd?  I started heading to the area cordoned off, flashing the card to everyone in my way.  It was working!!  I got to The Snake Pit's barricade and a guy tapped a security guy's shoulder and pointed at me.  The security guy looked at me and started to wave me on in, but another security guy, who was obviously American, asked to see my card.  I quickly flashed it in front of him, but he motioned for me to hand it over.  I complied and he looked at the front and back, then handed it back to me with a smirk and a "nice try, buddy." I felt a little dejected but still excited that I had made it that far on a ruse.
I had my camera with me and took a few pictures, but from my vantage point, I couldn't get a good shot of anything, but I was set in for the duration.  I wondered what had happened to Harold and if I would ever get back to Sal's location, but didn't want to miss the show from my spot.  I was completely sober by this point, so I really enjoyed the show Metallica was putting on. After about two and a half hours, the show was over and people started filing out of the area.  I strayed behind, looking for any guitar picks that may have been tossed out by the band and missed.  Luckily, I found one near the barricade and quickly stashed it in my pants pocket.  Now came the inundating task of finding Sal, Harold and the others.  I wandered back to where the beer stand was that I had stopped at earlier, but didn't see anyone I knew.  I stayed in that spot for a little while until the crowd thinned out more, then started toward the gate, growing a bit concerned.  I got outside the gate and stopped, hoping to see anyone in our posse.  This was before the day of cell phones, so I had no way to communicate with anyone.  Finally, I heard someone yell my name and I looked over and saw Harold with Sal and the bunch.  I fell asleep on the ride back to Ansbach, we got back to Shipton around 130 am.  I was exhausted but it was a great day all around.
German weather is much like Kentucky's, just without the humidity.  It could be freezing cold during PT then 70 degrees by noon formation.  One thing constant was that it rarely got hotter than 75 degrees, but when it got cold, it really got cold.  We were tasked out for a field assignment one day in late May, early June. It was blustery and rainy the day of the deployment, far different than the back home version of the season.  We woke up the next morning to find a fresh blanket of snow had fallen on the field site...wait...snow? I couldn't believe my eyes, but luckily we had our cold weather gear with us because of the previous day.  By noon, the sun had same out and it was warming up.  The snow was gone by early afternoon and it was like a totally different season.  Another thing that springtime didn't bring with it was the thunderstorms like back home.  We had one storm late one afternoon that packed a little punch to it, but nothing like I had seen at home. Field assignments were being a bit more strenuous during this time, all in the preparations for the deployment looming ahead.  As far as the medics, we really didn't have a lot to do for the evaluations that were ongoing, but we stayed occupied doing medic skills.  We always had to be on top of our game, as we were the most visible in the eyes of the Command Sergeant Major and Battalion Commander. 
I was settling into the unit pretty well, was getting along well with everyone in the medic platoon. I started taking my extra duty as publications clerk seriously and totally redid the publications library.  I felt like I had a purpose finally, although it was nowhere near what I had been trained for.  Our aid station at battalion headquarters really didn't see any action aside from the occasional soldier asking for aspirin or Motrin.  One day, I was manning the station by myself and a sergeant walked in and asked me for some "stay black."  Being that he was African-American, I really didn't know how to respond other than laugh and ask for a repeat.  He again asked for "stay black" and pointed at a bottle of skin lotion on the table.  I finally got what he was saying and we both laughed it off.  It was those kind of things that opened my eyes to a world of diversity with all walks of life.  There were no racial boundaries, no defining lines of black, white or any other race.  We were one with each other.  But as in any other situation, there are those that push the limits too far.
One evening I was in the room, Ace and I were watching a Rush concert on TV.  A couple more people stopped in and we were starting to have a few beers.  Suddenly, we heard some yelling and the sounds of a fight in the hallway.  Instinctively, I opened the door to look out and someone pushed me back in.  Roundtree, the soldier who lived next door to us, ran into to the room from the common bathroom we shared and yelled for us to stay in.  It sounded like the entire floor was erupting in a brawl that rivaled any at the Goose.  It sounded like the fight had migrated down the hallway a bit, so I peered out.  It was mayhem, people swinging and flailing around, several solid punches were being tossed about.  One guy looked out his door the same as I did and was dragged out in the hallway and kicked relentlessly.  Someone finally got to him and dragged in into a room.  I quickly closed and locked the door, not wanting to be pummeled.  The fight sounded like it had swelled even bigger and then we heard a pained scream, unlike any we had been hearing.  Someone yelled that a person had been stabbed and it was chaos.
By then, the duty sergeant had came in and tried to intervene, and after a minute or so we could hear some more louder voices yelling for people to get down on the ground.  I peered out again to see military police pushing people against the walls and parting the mob.  On the floor, one soldier was lying down holding his left side.  As a medic, I instinctively went to go assist him, but was ordered back in the room.  People were lying around bloody, scraped up and still cursing each other.  The whole issue was surreal to me, that this could be happening at all.
The melee finally dissipated and several soldiers were arrested. The stabbing victim was hauled off for further treatment at the krankenhaus by someone.  The barracks were put on full lock down, meaning no one could leave or visit.  The duty sergeant had guards who were not on gate duty patrol the hallways throughout the night.  I think everyone slept uneasy that night, not knowing if anyone would try to retaliate.  The next morning, we were dreadful of Captain Taylor's take on all of this.  Our PT session was like basic training, very relentless and pushed us each to the point of collapsing.  The eight o'clock formation turned into a tirade by Captain Taylor.  Apparently there were two soldiers who were in rival gangs back at their home cities, one being African-American, the other being Puerto Rican.  This sparked an intense fight, one that had been brewing for sometime.  Each side had recruited their own gang members making this a bad situation from the start.
"I cannot believe that my soldiers of HHB could act like common vigilantes,"  Captain Taylor began.  Everyone stood at ease, not a sound could be heard.  He went on telling us we were to be under lock down with bed checks and everything at a certain hour, a curfew would be imposed.  This was to be in effect for everyone until the command staff determined exactly who was involved.
"Anyone involved in this brawl will be punished under the articles of the UMCJ to the fullest extent,"  the captain continued.  That meant even innocent people who got dragged into the fight would be punished, which none of us thought was fair.  The next several days were very tense to say the least in the barracks, but no other incidents happened.  Eventually, the soldier who was stabbed recovered and several others received Article 15's of varying degree.  Truly not a good time in HHB Barracks.
After a couple of weeks, the heat of the brawl had blown over.  Those who were involved in the organization of the fight were separated, some even sent to other units, and things got back to normal.  I was glad I was liked by most everyone and the 'party guy', no one messed with me at all.  I was starting to make friends outside of Shipton, one guy was named Jurgen who was German and liked the same music as me.  I would see him and some others he ran with at Hai Life often, usually drinking into oblivion.  Milt, who was one of the guys from the barracks, got involved with Anja, a girl who was friends with Jurgen and the others.  We'd all hang out downtown and eventually stagger back to the barracks.  It was fun times, indeed and a welcome change from the military world.
Nights at the Goose were always entertaining; fun times, good people, loud music...and the fights.  I was at the Goose with the guys one night and some guys from Katterbach were giving someone with us a hard time.  Allison, the brute he was, intervened and backed the assailants off, for a moment.  The night went on and these guys kept prodding someone for a fight and were obviously tanked up on liquor.  Allison got in one guy's face and backed him close to the door.  Once there, he gave a hearty shove and the Katterbach guy went sailing out on his ass.  This prompted his buddies to jump Allison and some of our guys to jump them.  Soon the scene was much like the barracks brawl and spilled outside.  There must have been twenty or more that were involved, people who weren't even part of the initial fight got involved.  Someone called the local police, or poliezi, and the MP station and soon after there were blue lights everywhere.  The poliezei just stood back and watched as the fight wore on.  Allison was punching wildly and hit a guy with such force, he collapsed in a heap. The guy's girlfriend jumped in and clawed Allison's now bare back, and he swung around blindly, hitting the girl square in the face.  He was like a man possessed when the MP's showed up, so they immediately targeted him.  It took three men to tackle Allison down, and as they were handcuffing him, I sneaked back into the Goose out of sight.  I ordered a beer and went outside to the patio to escape the madness.  Later on, I learned that Allison got an Article 15 for hitting an MP and reduced in rank to private.
Personally, I was quite content being single.  I didn't try to hit on every girl who came my way like some of the guys.  Most of them treated girls like pieces of meat and trophies.  I talked to many girls, bought them drinks, but really only wanted someone from the opposite sex to talk to.  Plus I liked to drink too much and that had already caused a rift with one potential girlfriend.  If things happened, they happened and it was just what it was and nothing more, but I treated them respectfully.  Around June, I started noticing one particular girl who was always at the Goose and our parties.  She and I made eye contact often, but I didn't really go up to her for a long while.  Finally, one night at the Goose, I pointed at her and blurted out, "what's your name?"  She blushed and told me her name was Monika, or Moni as she liked to be called.  Rather than moving on with the usual amenities that followed when someone is interested in another person, I replied with, "cool," and walked on by.  The rest of the night we kind of flirted with each other but that was it, I never asked for a number nor did she ask anything of me.  Moni would reappear often, and we always had that playful, flirty chemistry, but I wasn't ready for anything to go further.
Sergeant First Class Bechtel, who had recently been promoted to this rank from staff sergeant, gathered the medic platoon together during sergeant's time one Thursday and told us we had new field assignments and partners.  Some of the medics were leaving the unit soon and we had to fill slots.  Prior to this, we were just assigned to line units as needed.  I had been in the field twice with Charlie Battery and more times with HHB.  I also did range duty for Delta Battery once with Peschke in Erlangen, which was near Nurnberg.  My new assignment would be with Bravo Battery, meaning anytime they were mobilized or deployed, I would go with them.  My medic partner was Martinez, a Hispanic guy from Laredo, Texas.  Martinez was funny as hell and always cracked off hand jokes that made one laugh regardless if the punch line was funny or not.  We got along good aside from the cultural differences we had; like I said, the Army was, and still is, very culturally diverse.  We went to Bravo's barracks and met with the first sergeant and commander.  First Sergeant Franklin greeted us first.  He was a rather large African-American guy who spoke with a slow drawl.  He asked us right off the bat if we "had plenty of that cough medicine, cause I get that field cough out there."  We assured him we would have it.  He then looked at my name tag and asked, "soldier, how the heck do you say that name?"  I told him and he said, "that's too much to remember, so you will be called Kiss from now on."  We met Bravo's commander, Captain Reynolds, who was a stocky lady with a short haircut and kind of looked a little manly.  She had very little to say to us and really didn't seem that friendly at all.  We would be the ones that the soldiers of Bravo Battery would come to in times of need, it was a huge responsibility, one not to take lightly at all.
There was another time where, looking back, I could have very easily became a statistic.  I was at Hai Life, Milt, Anja and some of Anja's friends were there too.  Hai Life wasn't that active that night and Milt and I decided to go with the group to a party.  All of us crammed into a small compact car and headed out to who knew where.  We drove for what seemed to be an eternity and ended up in a soccer field in some town.  I could see the television tower from Ansbach far off in the distance, its light blinking away like a beacon.  There was a field party in full swing where we were.  Milt and I were the only Americans there, so we were apprehensive at first.  Anja assured us we were okay and we went into the building next to the field.  As I said before, I carried my camera with me often, this night was no exception. I don't really recall much about the night, but the pictures bring the story to life.  I was around people I that had no idea who they were, out in a strange place away from where I was supposed to be.  I do remember at one point trying to find a place to lay down and the room I went into was full.  The last thing I remember at all was drinking with some people around a bonfire.
I woke up the next morning freezing and wet from the dew, much like I did behind Shipton that one time.  I was kind of confused about my surroundings, I didn't recognize anything in the morning light.  I saw some tents dotting the field and the building, but where I woke up was pretty much in the middle of the soccer field.  The first time I woke up like this after my run in with the Mad Dog 20-20 should have frightened me, but it didn't.  This was an exception.  For the first time, I was scared.  I walked into the building to find several people, none of whom I knew or remembered, sleeping in little huddles.  All I could remember is that I started out the night with Milt and Anja, but they were nowhere to be seen. I didn't really want to go tent to tent to find them because I had no idea who I was dealing with and sure didn't want to upset anyone I didn't know.  Now, my mind wandered on how I was going to get back to Shipton.  It was approaching 0630 and my wet clothes were sticking to me, causing me to shiver.  I stopped for a minute and looked around as a last ditch effort to remember where I was.  Far off, I saw the Ansbach tower and that jogged my memory.  Slowly some things started becoming clearer....The tip to Hai Life, the sight of the tower lights blinking far off in the distance and the bonfire.  Other than that, I didn't recall much more.  I thought about walking back to Shipton, but this looked much farther than the walk into town I was used to.  I went back into the building and found a space in the floor near the heater and laid down.  I dosed back off to sleep but was woke up a little while later when people started milling about. Soon, Milt and Anja showed up much to my relief.  My head was pounding and all I wanted to do was get warm and sleep.  We had someone take us back to Shipton around 0900 hours, I payed attention on the trip back in an effort to see where we had been, which was a town called Herrieden.
We got back to Shipton and I parted ways with Milt and Anja.  I lumbered up the steps to the second floor and ran into one of the guys in the kitchen area who told me I had a visitor who waited on me by my door almost all night.  I was intrigued to find out who but he wouldn't tell me, just said, "I had her come stay in my room til you got back."
I went to the guy's room and there was Moni, sleeping in the spare bunk.  Why in the world had she waited on me?  Moni woke up and had little to say to me, other than telling me in her broken English how she fell asleep by my room's door waiting to hang out with me.  I was flattered, but still felt horrible from drinking all night and made little more conversation.  I'm sure I came across as a total ass to her, but at that time, all I wanted to do was sleep.  Moni left and I retreated back to my room to sleep it off...again.
I walked by that poster in the lobby everyday.  Everyday, I saw that saying, "Be all you can be."  I wondered if I was really all I could be.  All I knew was one thing at that point in my life, I am....I am me....but was it who I wanted to be?