As routine and mundane as the clinic duty may have been, it was still a rewarding experience for me. I learned a lot working there and felt that I had matured as a soldier and a medic. That maturity was becoming more evident when I ventured out with Christina to the Goose on occasion. I didn't drink myself into oblivion as I had before; as a matter of fact, a few of the 'Goose Gang' had slowed it down considerably. I guess we all matured a bit while we were deployed.
Around the end of my clinic duty in early 1994, I noticed intermittent spots appearing on my hands. They were small red bumps that would itch like crazy and spread across the knuckles of my right hand and onto the back of my left hand. It got to a point that it was becoming unbearable, so I decided to seek treatment. Doctor Mitchell suggested the rash was perhaps a latex allergy to the gloves I wore, so I changed to non-latex. That change didn't help and one of the places in my left hand grew bigger and became scaled over. After Captain Salzman looked at it, he told me it was a planter's wart and froze it with liquid nitrogen. That took care of the place on my left hand, but left a scar from the nitrogen burn. It wasn't uncommon for those of us that came back from the desert to have to get testing done routinely, as tuberculosis was a threat to us. Several came back and tested positive for the disease on the skin test, but not symptomatic. I chalked my skin issues up as just 'one of those things' and dealt with it, mainly because no one gave me a definite answer as to why I had a rash to begin with. Little did I know that the issue would become a life-long problem.
I knew my clinic duty was nearing a close and I would be back in the field before long with 6th Battalion, 43rd Air Defense Artillery; so I hoped to get something going musically with Gaines and Ludeke. We practiced as often as we could and finally landed a potential gig at the Officer's Club in Katterbach. The date was set and Captain Salzman and Captain Mitchell said they would come support us, along with others we had invited. The gig would be on a Saturday evening at 1830 hours and had the potential to be a great debut for our band. The only problem was, the Officer's Club was locked tight when we went to set our equipment up. Captain Salzman arrived and was as puzzled as we were, so he went to find someone to resolve the situation. A few moments later, he came back shaking his head. Apparently, the club's curator had decided that the club wouldn't be opened due to one of the aviation units being on alert for a deployment. No one had contacted Gaines and let him, or anyone else associated with our debut gig, know the change of plans. This was before the widespread use of cell phones and social media was not even an embryo at that point, so we had no way to contact those who planned to attend the show. Dejected, we left a note on a piece of paper on the doors stating the gig was canceled and left. We had worked up a lot of songs and were eager to let people other than our spouses or significant others hear us, but it wouldn't come to light. Not long after our failed debut, Ludeke got word he was also being deployed to Bosnia to support NATO troops. Our band dreams had been dashed.
The final weeks of my clinic duty were routine, yet eventful in some aspects. The first event happened late one night just off Katterbach's far gate. It was routine for the aviation units to conduct training at off post sites like Oberdachstetten or the one behind Katterbach located near Sachsen. A helicopter was conducting some type of training and lost power mid-flight. The crew tried to recover the flight, but ended up setting down hard; crash landing in a field. Medics rushed to the scene and the helicopter's crew was transported to the 526th Clinic for stabilization, then sent onward to Wurzburg Army Hospital. The clinic was activated after hours as an emergency medical facility, so only a few selected staff members were on hand for the incident. When we arrived at 0700 for duty, the last injured soldier had only been gone approximately an hour and a half. Ludeke, being the only radiology technician, described the situation; most of the soldiers hurt were complaining of back injuries, but one had some significant injuries from the crash. This was some of that long awaited excitement I had waited for, and it happened before I was even awake.
Another eventful incident was due to my own clumsy nature. I was working with Captain Mitchell and had a patient with a place on his hand that appeared to be a large wart. I was told to prepare a vat of liquid nitrogen so we could freeze the place off the soldier's hand, and as I was pouring the mixture into the vat, I bumped the table and spilled some onto my left hand, causing a large blister to form. I continued my task and acted as if nothing had happened in front of the patient, but the captain saw there was something obviously wrong. After the patient left, Captain Mitchell looked at my hand and told me it was serious, but not as bad as it could have been. He put some silvadene cream on the burn and bandaged my hand so I looked like a one-handed boxer. It wasn't long afterward that the pain set in; a pain far worse than the sunburn I got in Saudi Arabia. I was prescribed the medication of choice, ibuprofin, to ease the pain and any swelling. Just my luck, injured in the line of duty because I was clumsy.
By mid-May, I was back at Shipton for good and the battalion was gearing up for field exercises. My first field trip back from clinic duty was at a firing range in Oberdachstetten. It was a small arms range, mainly officers qualifying with pistols. It wasn't uncommon for the medics to fire off some rounds after the 'official' qualifying was over. In fact, on some ranges with heavy arms, medics who normally wouldn't fire weapons such as the 50 caliber machine gun and 203 grenade launcher participated; although they couldn't use the session as a true qualification due to being non-combatant. At the small arms range, I was allowed to qualify for my pistol badge and qualified as an expert. I could wear the badge because medics frequently carried a pistol as a sidearm, so it was a proud moment for me. Back in the aid station, a lot of new faces were among us. Since I was at Katterbach, SFC Bechtel had left 6th Battalion and moved on to another post. Our new platoon leader was Corporal Fowler, who had went to Saudi with us and was stationed at Riyadh. Among the new faces was a guy named Combs, who reminded everyone of the character Bull off the television show Night Court. He was hilarious with his off the wall quips and take on everyday things, and could always lighten the mood. Another new face was Hayes, a tall, skinny kid who always struck me as prissy and thought he was a bit above everyone else at first meeting. There were a couple other newbies that had, by now, been in the unit for a while, but were new to Donnelly, Rucker and me. Martinez was still technically my field partner, but he was soon getting married and going on leave. Our battalion schedule looked very busy for the next several months with several field deployments and range duties, and a tactical evaluation more intensive than the ones we did before our Saudi deployment.
The changes within the battalion were not only at the platoon level; Captain Taylor was gone soon after our return from Katterbach and replaced by Captain Stocker. Captain Stocker had previously been a commander for a Patriot battery and seemed to be very personable and in touch with the soldiers he commanded. First Sergeant Banks had been replaced by First Sergeant Jones, who was not the upbeat and friendly person 1SG Banks was. In fact, it seemed the new first sergeant really didn't want to be in the position.
My first full field deployment since clinic duty was a two week assignment near Kitzingen with Headquarters Battery. Field duty with HHB was different than with Bravo Battery, mainly due to HHB's role as the command and support base during combat operations. We sat up a large tent that we used as the battalion's aid station and for the entire deployment, provided guard, KP and other non-medical duties as the commander and platoon sergeant saw fit. A couple of times, we had field classes on first aid that involved members of the battery who were not medics. Each battery in the battalion had what was called Combat Lifesavers who were trained to do basic combat medical skills. It was up to us to make sure they maintained their skills and trained new lifesavers on a battery level. The deployment was rather mundane and uneventful, and the weather, aside from being a bit cold, cooperated.
Life off duty was moving along at a steady pace. I finally felt comfortable with how Christina and I were getting along. Contrary to what I may say these days, there were good times between us. To pass the time prior to going into the Army and before I bought my first guitar, I built model airplanes and Star Wars kits. I wanted to get back into doing that again, so I ventured out to the toy store in downtown Ansbach one afternoon. I bought a model World War II era military vehicle and the modelling fever was back. Our apartment had a big, built in shelf curio with glass doors and interior lighting, perfect for displaying items, so I took advantage of it. At first, Christina wasn't too happy about it but I convinced her it would be neat. Soon, more model planes and military vehicles started filling in the empty shelves. At the Katterbach PX, I found some Micro Machine toys that were the Desert Storm series and bought the whole lot of them. There were tiny soldiers, tanks, HUMVEES and Patriot Missile launchers. I put them on the shelves, much to Christina's dislike. Later in the relationship and marriage to come, I would have done it for pure spite and to get under her skin, but for the good times, I was like a kid again and excited to have a place to showcase these toys.
Christina and I would go up the hill into Bleidorn and see Jeremy and Misty or Harold and Salina quite often. One evening, we gathered at Jeremy's for a birthday party for Misty. Gaines came over with his guitar and we sat on the balcony drinking and singing songs from Blind Melon and other artists of the day. Times like those always stand out as fond memories to me. There was one person that Christina had friction with, Cowden's wife Tonya. Tonya was a very outspoken woman who didn't mix words. That was evident when Christina asked Tonya to cut her hair and then asked for a refund because she didn't like the style. The two got into a shouting match prompting me to intervene and make Christina leave Tonya's apartment. The last thing Tonya yelled at us was, "boy, you got a long road ahead if you are gonna be with her".
What little off time I had from the battalion was spent going back and forth to Burgbernheim. Gunter took me places he frequented, like his hunting spots near Illesheim and a gasthaus nearby that had some great food. One day he took me over to Oma's house and showed me a room upstairs he kept hidden out of sight. In there was all sorts of Nazi memorabilia; uniforms, weapons, medals and a large Nazi flag were just some of the items. These things should have been in a museum, but under German law, they couldn't be displayed publicly, and had the government known about this, they would have undoubtedly raided the house and arrested him. Gunter made some comments here and there about his thoughts on the Nazi Party, and he said he agreed with much of the party's agenda. His point being was that Adolf Hitler brought a war torn and financially broke country into a thriving and proud industrial might, to which, I agreed. Then he said that he supported the idea to take things by force and any other means if that is what made someone or some country great. He felt that the Nazi's were justified in reclaiming Europe after the Great War. I really didn't see eye to eye with him, but it was also very interesting and thought provoking hearing the perspective from the 'other side'.
Gunter's father was an airman in the Luftwaffe, or German Air Force, during the war and served at the Illesheim airfield. Modern day Illesheim is one of the Army's Apache Helicopter bases, but during World War II, it was a resupply and armament stop for the Luftwaffe. The airbase also housed a squadron of Heinkel bombers in which the elder Georg Markert worked as a mechanic. When the Allies bombarded Illesheim, the airbase was destroyed, but Gunter's father survived and lived until the 1980's. If you stand on the high ground behind the church in Burgbernheim, there are ponds dotting the fields leading into Illesheim, which were explained to me as being old bomb craters that had filled with water. All through my life until that point, I had only really heard the story of World War II though the American side. Hearing Gunter talk about his father and his thoughts about the Nazis was a real eye opener for me.
As spring progressed, the pace picked up again at Shipton. We were in the field more and more, and soon we were up to participate in a joint exercise in Hohenfels. I always heard horror stories about Hohenfels, that it was always rainy and mud was measured in feet. We would be part of a multi-force tactical exercise that would mimic being fully combat deployed and operational for the entire two weeks. Rather than one battery going off for training, the entire battalion would participate in some way. Our deployment phase began as usual with us being alerted and reporting to our respective battery location. Items were already pre-packed a few days ahead and ready to go when we pulled out. The route would take roughly two hours and would bring us within about an hour's drive time of the Czechoslovakian border. The trip down the autobahn was rather boring, so somehow we coordinated with the other medics to turn to a frequency on our mobile radios that was not monitored by battalion. We were treated to Combs giving us some hilarious tour guide like commentary, among other funny observations of how some of the towns looked like they should be pronounced. I'm sure had some wary commo commander been able to pin us to the source of short wave radio entertainment, we would have probably gotten reprimanded for sure.
We arrived at the Hohenfels garrison late in the afternoon and was told we would stage there for a day or so, but we were still considered under tactical conditions. The barracks we were housed in were long metal buildings with rows of bunks, much like the platoon bays in basic training. At our end of day safety briefing, the commander told us under no circumstances could we go wandering outside our areas, especially to the shopette for alcohol. We dismissed to our barracks and could change out of our BDU's into civilian clothes; soon afterward, a growing boredom came over the room. Directly across from our barracks was a movie theater...well, it technically was still within our area of operation...what harm would it be? A group of us exited the barracks and the fenced in yard and waltzed right over to the theater to see the movie called The Ref; a comedy starring Dennis Leary that was quite funny. Once the movie let out, a little after 2100 hours, we casually walked back into company area...right into the stern gaze of an obviously displeased senior NCO. We were quickly told to form up and start doing push-ups, much like basic training. There were probably fifteen or so of us, the most senior was a sergeant who took the lead for us. He argued the fact of the close proximity of the theater, but was quickly rebutted. The area we were confined to was to only be the barracks, no further. Point made, indeed.
We were awakened the next morning at 0500 and told to form up outside. We did a short PT session and afterward, told that only certain batteries would move out. Some of the medics were to deploy early in the day, while the rest of us waited and readied for the move order. The downtime consisted of last minute equipment checks and card games. Finally, Bravo Battery was called up to move out. My field partner was Hayes, and he was just entirely too clean and dress-right-dress for a field exercise. Hayes had been stationed at another installation that downsized and hadn't been in the field quite as much as I had, so this adventure should have been entertaining.
We convoyed out deep into the German forest, and sure enough, there was a skim of mud on the dirt roads we were on. We could hear the booms of artillery off in the distance and passed a column of tanks and armored troop carriers moving through the fields along the road. This was much, much different than our usual field exercises already. Bravo Battery finally reached our destination after several minutes of passing through dense forest and up steep hills. Our site was an open field that was muddy, but not the muck as we had been told to expect. We sat up our tents and camouflage netting and settled in for evening chow. Even though Hayes was clean for field conditions, he jumped right in and helped out. He said that this was what he envisioned himself doing and not being in a clinic the whole time. After a while, the two of us began chatting and Hayes wasn't all that bad; but he still had that prissy aura about him.
The two weeks seemed to drag by and at one point, we had to break the field site down, regroup and relocate to another site further in the 'box' as it was called. The weather wasn't too awful during the exercise and mud was to a minimum. Aside from a couple of guys coming into our aid station for minor bumps and dings, things went smoothly. The day we were to load up and move out, it was all hurry up and wait. By the time Bravo started moving, it was nearing dark. All of us were filthy and smelled from being out in the woods for so long. For the trip back after dark, we were under strict orders to travel in 'black-out' conditions, meaning no headlights and only the small black-out light on the front of our vehicles could be used. This made the trip even longer because we had to maneuver down the hills and across tank trails almost blindly. We finally arrived at the holding barracks where the trip began around 2230 hours and conducted a head count and inventory. During the formation, we learned that a HUMVEE of guys from another unit had wandered off the trail and actually struck a tank in the darkness. The HUMVEE was wrecked and the soldiers were evacuated out of the 'box' by helicopter.
We stayed the night at the barracks, and the most part of the day until the whole battalion could regroup. One of the trucks from Headquarters had broken down during the exercise, so Hayes and I had a couple of more soldiers ride back with us. It was getting near dark before we left the holding area and we were all worn out from the lack of sleep during the deployment and idle time prior to departure. I, along with a couple of other guys, decided to ride in the patient area of the ambulance and take advantage of the stretcher benches for a nap. Hayes was driving and another soldier was riding in the passenger seat as we bumped along the rutted trail. I noticed the trip got a bit smoother after a while; I just figured we were on a main road headed home. Shortly afterward, we stopped and Hayes yelled back and told us to act like we were sick. Being the senior medic, I was a bit puzzled and poked my head between the partition and asked why. Apparently, Hayes had decided to get off the bumpy trail and drive on the smoother road that paralleled us, which was a no go according to base rules. No tactical vehicles were allowed on the hard road; only service vehicles and foot soldiers were allowed on it. We had been stopped by an MP, who approached the vehicle and asked for our dispatch papers. He began by telling Hayes that we were in violation of the base ordinance, when all of a sudden, a soldier in the back with me groaned really loudly. I poked my head back out again and asked Hayes what the hold up was that my 'patient's' stomach pains were getting worse. The MP looked at me and asked me what was going on. I told him that we had a guy who was experiencing some stomach pain and the bumpy road was making it worse on him. Hayes told him we were trying to get to the clinic, but the MP told him it was closed. He then gave Hayes directions to another facility and told us to"carry on", and to "just get off the hardball road as quickly as possible". Hayes had just won some major cool points with me, even if we had just boldly lied to a senior NCO and military policeman.
We caught back up with the convoy and the rest of the trip back to Shipton was uneventful. It was late when we got back and all of us were dragging along, still stinking from the field. After our weapons turn in and accountability formation, we were dismissed around 2300 hours. I borrowed Ace's room to shower and rode back home with Jeremy. We had to be back at 0530; it would have made more sense to just stay in the barracks, but the lure of my own bed was too much. I got back to the apartment and Christina was sleeping. I don't think I stayed awake thirty seconds after I hit the pillow, the wake up was going to be brutal for sure.
Since I couldn't drive a standard transmission vehicle very well, I rode into the battalion with Jeremy. That meant I had to walk up the hill on Benkendorff Strasse to his apartment complex each day, so part of my PT was already done before I even got to Shipton's gates. Rather than going home after PT, I used Ace's room to shower and relax before the day started. One morning, Jeremy and I were running late and went speeding down the roadway past the Kaufhalle toward Shipton when we saw a flash ahead of us. In Germany, rather than having traffic cops wait for speeders, they position radar cameras along the roadway and when a vehicle speeds past it, the camera snaps a picture of the vehicle and a few days later, a picture and a ticket arrives in the mail. Jeremy knew that we couldn't slow down in time, so just as the flash caught us, we flipped our middle fingers in the windshield. Sure enough, a few days later, Corporal Fowler handed Jeremy a picture and ticket from the polezei with our fingers prominently displayed. The fine wasn't cheap; the equivalent of around 120 US Dollars...but the satisfaction of giving the sneaky camera our salute was priceless.
Christina and I were becoming more and more domesticated. I really cared for her and the idea of us getting married seemed more logical. Sure, we had some moments where we didn't get along, but our attraction was far greater. I had told my family my plans of asking her to marry me, and they naturally were apprehensive
about the idea. They felt I shouldn't have jumped into anything;
Jason York definitely gave me a hard time over it. But, like my
decision about joining the Army, I wanted to make a major life choice on my own free will; but their uncertainty still weighed on me. One weekend, Jeremy and I went to the main PX in Nurnberg and I went ring shopping. I found a nice engagement ring that wasn't too expensive and bought it for Christina. It was at this point that the first real crack in the surface began to form. I was beaming about the ring, and it looked like a great one for Christina. Jeremy and I stopped by and showed Misty, and she agreed it was a nice ring; that I had done well. When I got home and built up the nerve to finally pop the question, I gave Christina the ring and anticipated a large hug and tears. What happened instead dejected me and crushed the moment.
"That's a nice ring, but not what I was really wanting," Christina said as she just casually looked down at the ring. She even slipped it off and looked closer at it, almost scowling at the shiny object I had hoped she would have seen as something symbolizing my love for her. I held my tongue as she just laid the ring on the table next to the couch, but inside I was fuming and hurt. I was pretty sure she knew I was bothered, but never said anything to ease the situation. After I piddled around with a model kit, I couldn't shake the feelings brewing any longer. I wanted to avoid a total blow up, because had I opened my mouth and let the words fly out, the things I could have said would have not been pleasant at all. Oh what I could have said.....Instead, I grabbed my keys and simply uttered I would be back. I started out walking toward downtown Ansbach to clear my head with no idea where I would end up.
I stopped in the Musik Box and browsed through the CD's, but Christina's words still echoed through me. Who in the bloody Hell did she think she was? All this talk and prodding about marrying her and she does THIS to me??? I needed a drink or three!!! I wandered down to Hai Life and ordered a beer. I didn't recognize anyone in there but it didn't matter. I drank down the beer, ordered another and set out for the pinball machines. I don't really know how many beers I drank or how many games of pinball I played, but when I left, I was feeling pretty numb. As I walked down the narrow streets of Ansbach, I reflected on the past few months and thought about the good times. Would this just be a set back or a lingering sore spot, I wondered. I walked down a side street and something caught my eye in the window of a music store; a bright orange sunburst colored Les Paul guitar hanging on the wall. I stood and stared at the instrument and got lost in the sight of it. I wanted that guitar and made my mind up that I would save to get it...the random mind of a drunk person is a strange and uncertain thing, indeed.
Eventually, I came back home, but Christina was gone. She didn't leave a note or anything, but I assumed she had went to her parents' or Oma's house. My beer buzz was wearing off and I started working on that model kit again. The apartment was too quiet. I heard every noise outside and inside and it became unnerving. Too bad I didn't have more beer. I fell asleep on the couch sometime, and woke up in the early hours of the morning to find Christina home and sleeping in our bed. I decided to let the scorn of the day go and focus on trying to make a future for the two of us, regardless of the crack in the surface. I laid down next to Christina and closed my eyes, hoping for a good dream...a dream for the good times to hopefully come.
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