March 3, 1993....I had just boarded a plane bound for the other side of the world, leaving behind all I knew and felt close to. Granted, I had already left home almost six months prior, but the sanctity of knowing that all I had to do was hop across the land to get back home was soothing. Now, I was going across the Atlantic Ocean into a new and strange world called Germany. As my plane backed out of the gate, I watched that window where Kim and I had just been looking out fade off into the distance. A cold feeling of loneliness shuddered over me as that plane lifted off the ground and again, the Earth faded below me. I reflected over the last six months and how my life had changed so much in that short time as the plane climbed higher over Texas in a north-eastern path. I had written some letters home to people telling them my new destination, but because of the transition, I hadn't received any replies back from anyone. I felt more alone now than I had ever to this point. Many of the other guys from medic school were on the flight milling about once the plane got to cruising altitude. The flight would take roughly fourteen hours and across several time zones, plenty of time to relax, I thought. I drifted off to sleep at some point, only to be awakened by a jolt of turbulence. No matter how many planes I had been on, the turbulence always un-nerved me. It was becoming nightfall and I looked down below at the vast array of city lights blotched all across the land. Above the plane, there was a slight cloud bank and a bright moon starting to shine. We passed over some clouds and I saw what I think is one of the most spectacular views I have ever seen. Below the plane was a ocean of white fluffy clouds reflected by the moonlight. Just outside was the open clear sky with the moon and stars almost at arms length, oh to have been able to reach outside that plexiglass window and touch the stars.
One of the things I remember most about the flight was passing over Canada. We flew directly over Toronto and the amount of lights illuminating the ground was just incredible. It looked like the entire Earth below was alight, then almost as abruptly as the lights appeared, they vanished in the dark. On the plane, there was an interactive map showing where the plane's location was, we were over Canada still and making a turn more easterly. Aside from some sparse lights of towns or cities, there was nothing to see below, so I sat back and took out my trusty Walkman radio. I scanned the radio frequencies in search of something that would take me back to my life that was passing behind and below me. I heard a familiar song called 'Lights' from the band Journey and listened to it as I looked out. The opening lines summed it up for me, "When the lights go down in the city, and the sun shines on the bay, ooh I wanna be there in my city...". It wasn't the sun shining down on any bay, and I never had been to San Francisco, but those words just fit the situation. I listened to that song and leaned back in my seat, drifting off once again.
I woke up to the feeling of intense warmth on my cheek and the sensation of light bleeding through my eyelids. It was early morning and we were still in the air, high above the Atlantic Ocean. I looked at the map on the screen and we were far past Newfoundland and over open water. I had never seen the ocean until this point, the closest thing was seeing Lake Michigan the June prior to my leaving, when I trekked to Shelby, Michigan to see one of my childhood friends graduate high school. I looked down at the water below and spotted a large freighter ship below. It looked so tiny from so far up, the North Atlantic looked so peaceful. The cabin crew were walking around serving breakfast items and I had realized that I hadn't eaten in several hours. The little bowl of cereal wasn't quite enough, but it would make do. I hadn't got up and moved very much until then and my bladder was sloshing by that time. I made my way down the plane's aisle and for the first time I realized that for the most part, all aboard were soldiers like me. I saw McMahan sitting talking to some of the guys, cracking jokes just like he had at Fort Sam. After I returned from the lavatory, I sat down next to him and talked for a while. He was mimicking Senior Drill Sergeant Myers and cracking us all up, oh I wondered what the senior drill sergeant would have said about this show?
The flight seemed like it would never end, and sometime up in the morning, the cabin crew returned with carts that had drinks on them. They sold little shot bottles of various liquors and canned beer. When the stewardess approached me, I opted to drink a beer and much to my surprise, she didn't card me or anything. Must have been the uniform, I guessed. Some of the guys took full advantage of the drink carts and soon were feeling pretty good. I had a couple of beers and never got a buzz, it was better to watch the others get hammered. Who needed an inflight movie when you had drunk newbie soldiers leaving the country for the first time?
Land finally started appearing out the window, the map on the screen showed we were somewhere over the United Kingdom, over Scotland. We couldn't see a whole lot, there was a cloud cover partially obscuring the ground, but we could see some white dotting the landscape below, indicating snow. We had left San Antonio, where it was nearly 75 degrees there, this snow was not a welcome sight for me. A couple more hours and we were over Germany and starting to descend, our destination was Frankfurt. As we broke through the clouds, we could see more and more snow below us, I could see the famous Autobahn, which looked strikingly like our own interstate road system in America. From what I could tell, the landscape looked pretty close to what it did back home. As we drifted downward for the approach, I could make out villages and towns, houses were close together and almost arm's length distances from each other. We started out final approach in Frankfurt, this landing was far more smooth than the others I had endured. I knew some about Frankfurt and that area of Germany from history classes in school, mainly about World War II, so it was neat to actually be seeing it. We approached the gate, I was nervous about what to expect out that airplane door. I envisioned walking into the airport to a flurry of people speaking only German and no one understanding anything I was asking. I exited the plane, took a sigh and set out for the baggage claim area.
Frankfurt's airport, or flugplatz, as it is called, was very large and busy, kind of like the Atlanta airport. All of us were met at the baggage claim by a sergeant in his Class A uniform. Great, I thought to myself, here we go again, instantly I had a recurrence of stepping off the plane, then on a bus and finally being met by a screaming drill sergeant. This sergeant seemed different, he didn't have that hard edged drill sergeant attitude. We were escorted to another area of the airport to a holding area and told to have a seat and wait for further instructions. We could roam around, but not too far. The 'hurry up and wait' aspect of the Army was becoming a common practice already. I went to the restroom to relieve myself and was in the process when I heard someone walk in behind me. I never paid attention until I looked over and a lady was sweeping the floor right next to me. This was something I had never experienced, usually bathrooms are private from such things, custodians knock and ask if anyone is in there before coming in on someone taking a pee in the States, this was very strange to me. After several minutes, we all were herded to awaiting buses parked outside. Our bags were loaded into the back of them and we boarded them. I again wondered if when we got to our destinations if we were going to be met by a barking drill sergeant telling us to "get off his damn bus." We all had a packet of papers given to us by our drill sergeants at Fort Sam that had our orders in them. I opened mine and scanned through the military jargon written on it and found that my destination would be Ansbach, Germany. I had never heard of the place and had no idea where it was located in relation to where I was at that time. Some of the others on the bus had started looking through their papers too. I saw the looks from a couple others reading their orders, a look of confusion, they too had orders to report to Ansbach.
I curiously watched out the window as we drove away from the flugplatz, the streets were bustling with activity, there was a light snow on the ground. The place had a kind of renaissance look to it, the buildings looked very old. I remember reading historical accounts of the Allied bombing raids and how major cities including Frankfurt were bombed almost off the map. I was in a historically important place, and it fascinated me, so much that it kept me from being homesick for the moment. We stopped several places along the way, other soldiers were getting off the bus at different posts, not all on board were from Fort Sam. Most of the ride was on the main roads leading into small villages which looked like they were centuries old. The bus trip was long and it took a couple of hours to reach Ansbach. We arrived first in Katterbach, which was an Army aviation base just a few miles from Ansbach. The group of soldiers who exited left only four of us, a female named Bohlen, Staff Sergeant Lape, Rucker who also came from Fort Sam and Sergeant Goodwin. We departed Katterbach and a short distance away we passed a sign that read Shipton Kaserne. Sergeant Goodwin told SSG Lape he had heard horror stories about that place and hoped none of us got placed there. The comment about the Shipton Kaserne made me wary, so I got out my orders and it said I was to report to the 235th BSB, I wasn't sure if that was my actual unit, but it didn't say anything about Shipton. We drove into Ansbach, which was just about 3 or 4 miles from Katterbach, the town looked very old, there was a large palace located right off the main road. It was a beautiful palace of white marble siding adorned with golden accents and statues. I had my camera with me, but unfortunately had no film in it. It was almost dark by this time and we arrived at our destination at the top of a hill in Ansbach, a sign post outside the gate read Barton Barracks. The bus rolled to a stop and we all exited. This was the 235th Base Support Battalion, the same as my orders read, and I found out the same that the others also read. There was no drill sergeant barking at us, no large group of new soldiers like in basic training or AIT, it was a calm and serene moment. The weather was remarkably different too. As I said earlier, we left San Antonio and it was almost 75 degrees. Here in Ansbach, it was around 28 degrees and snowy, I had been accustomed to the weather in Texas and not prepared at all for this. We were greeted by someone at the barracks building who told us we were staying there for the night, that everything was closed on post. I looked around and the post was quite small, a few buildings were on the property, which was enclosed by a large wrought iron fence and stone wall. There were no soldiers milling around, not much of anything at all to see. We walked into the barracks building and it looked deserted, nothing like what I had been exposed to. We pretty much had the entire place to ourselves, the building was a large structure that looked rather old, kind of a scene you would see in a horror movie....a group of four go into the old spooky building for an over night stay...little did they know that lurking in the shadows....
The sergeant in charge of the barracks gave us some bedsheets and pillows and told us to grab a room on the first floor, Bohlen would have to be in a separate room, of course. Then, he left, told us SSG Lape would be in charge of us until morning. There comes a time in your life when you have to put aside your reservations about mingling with strangers whom you have never met before and this was one of those times. I have never really been the type to shy away from strangers, I can make friends about anywhere. Rucker was the only person who I could relate to, since he too was fresh out of 91B school. He was an African American guy from Washington, DC and seemed pretty mellow, we got along good right off the start. After settling in and seeking out showers to rid ourselves of the funk of a nearly two day travel, we changed into civilian attire and set out to see just what was around. Staff Sergeant Lape and the other three stayed behind while Rucker and I went out to explore the new country. There was a small shopette there, a barber shop and a pizza place. It was after 2000 hours local time, or 8 pm, and all but the pizza place was closed. I was starving by this time and Rucker and I decided to walk over to grab some pizza. While walking, I quickly found out that cowboy boots, snow and cobblestones don't mix well as I nearly slipped and fell many times in transit. That was the highlight of the evening so far, watching me attempt to walk on the slick stones and not bust my ass. I looked like quite an oddity, I'm sure, I was dressed in a black leather jacket, my Ozzy Osbourne concert shirt, stone washed jeans and those boots, all this with a nearly shaved head. I looked like one of the typical skinheads that I had read about and seen pictures of, and to top it off, I was accompanied by a black man, a stark contrast by all looks of things. We got into the pizza place and sat down, there was no one at all in the place other than the person working there. Then it hit me, how would we order our food? Neither Rucker nor I could speak or understand a word of German. Luckily, the guy inside the pizza place spoke English and the menu was also in English, I guess since we were on a US military post, it naturally would be.
Our bellies full, Rucker and I quickly realized that there was absolutely nothing to see at Barton Barracks. I told him, "You know it would royally suck if this is where we are going to be stationed the next two years." He agreed, and we went back to the barracks. The rooms were cold, the heaters had not been turned up, it would be a long night for sure. I then noticed I hadn't called home, so I went out to the phone booth outside to call. There was a six hour time difference in Germany, so now it was nearly 2130 hours local time, meaning it was around 3:30 pm back home. This time difference would prove to be very tiresome for me. I called home and talked to mom, she was very glad to hear from me. I told her about all that I had seen on my trip from Frankfurt to Ansbach, that the landscape was much like Kentucky. She told me that Kim had called her and they had talked for a long time earlier. Mom said that Kim was crying and missing me like crazy, so after ending this conversation, the next call I placed was to Kim, only to get the answering machine. I had forgotten that she and her family were driving back from San Antonio and they probably hadn't got back home yet. I returned to the barracks and everyone was in the same room chit chatting. Bohlen had got spooked by being in the room alone so she asked if she could sleep in the sergeant's room. We were all adults and it never crossed anyone's mind to act inappropriately, so it wasn't a problem. We sat up until after midnight talking about our Army experiences, or lack of experience in the Army for Bohlen, Rucker and me. Eventually we all went to sleep, I had my trusty Walkman out and listening to my Ted Nugent tape Double Live Gonzo. This tape was special to me in some weird way, part of it was recorded in San Antonio back in 1977 and hearing Ted address the San Antonio crowd gave me some peace of mind, knowing that Kim and I had also heard some similar talk when we saw the Damn Yankees concert just a few days earlier. It took me back to that moment and moments Kim and I had spent together.
The next morning, we woke up on our own around 0630 hours, no sergeants came storming in with trash can lids banging and no early morning PT session were in store for us. Soon after, the duty sergeant came in and told us that we would be inprocessing all day and pointed us in the direction of the building to go to. This was a stark difference than what basic and AIT was, which was all go, go and go til we couldn't go any more, now it was all about that hurry up and wait. There was no chow hall there, just a little diner type thing by the shoppette or the pizza place. The pizza place wasn't open so we wandered in the diner and grabbed a bite of breakfast. While sitting there, there was a music video show on and the Journey song Lights came on. I smiled at seeing it because I had heard that song as we were leaving the North American East Coast. Hearing that song and talking to mom the previous night had made me kind of homesick again, I was in a different country, about to embark on a new life, a stranger in a strange land. I had to shake the feeling, because now, there wasn't anything I could do about it. We started the long process of getting organized in the Army systems, getting our ID cards and our paperwork squared away. We all had several copies of our orders and transit papers we had to bring to each processing station, it was almost like basic training all over again with all the paperwork at first. We found out that Barton Barracks would not be our permanent home, that other orders would be given to us placing us in a permanent unit somewhere nearby. Rucker and I were issued what is called Geneva Convention ID cards, which identified us as medical personnel that we had to keep with us in case of capture in a combat situation or other type of combat related issue. What that card meant was that we had to be treated better than a usual prisoner of war if captured, but also meant we had to be the medics for the other prisoners. A wonderful thing to think about being a new soldier and all in a strange place.
After what seemed like an endless barrage of processing, we finally finished around 1400 hours, or 2 pm. We each had our orders in hand, we all would be assigned to 6th Battalion, 43rd Air Defense Artillery. Staff Sergeant Lape and the Bohlen were communications specialists, SGT Goodwin worked in another field, and Rucker and I were medics. We boarded a bus and headed out back toward Katterbach. The weather wasn't too bad that day, a little overcast, but not as cold. We traveled down the main road, then turned onto another road, right where that sign that read Shipton Kaserne was pointing. Staff Sergeant Lape, spoke up and said, "Oh no, you gotta be kidding!!" We turned off the main road onto a lane that went straight through farmland. Ahead, there was a green fence and gate with a guard shack to the right. Staff Sergeant Lape groaned in displeasure as we entered the gates to Shipton Kaserne. The guard checked the ID of the bus driver and motioned us on through, then the bus stopped. There was no swarm of sergeants yelling for us to get off the bus, but there was a few standing out in the area by the bus stop. We exited the bus and were directed over to the area where the sergeants were standing. One of them, a stocky man around 40, introduced himself as First Sergeant Moshner, Headquarter's Battery's top non-commissioned officer. We quickly learned that he didn't mix words or care what came out of his mouth when he first spoke to us.
"Welcome to Headquarters and Headquarters Battery 6/43, or HHB as you will now know it." His words were stern and to the point, kind of like First Sergeant Trost at Fort Sam.One of the things I remember most about the flight was passing over Canada. We flew directly over Toronto and the amount of lights illuminating the ground was just incredible. It looked like the entire Earth below was alight, then almost as abruptly as the lights appeared, they vanished in the dark. On the plane, there was an interactive map showing where the plane's location was, we were over Canada still and making a turn more easterly. Aside from some sparse lights of towns or cities, there was nothing to see below, so I sat back and took out my trusty Walkman radio. I scanned the radio frequencies in search of something that would take me back to my life that was passing behind and below me. I heard a familiar song called 'Lights' from the band Journey and listened to it as I looked out. The opening lines summed it up for me, "When the lights go down in the city, and the sun shines on the bay, ooh I wanna be there in my city...". It wasn't the sun shining down on any bay, and I never had been to San Francisco, but those words just fit the situation. I listened to that song and leaned back in my seat, drifting off once again.
I woke up to the feeling of intense warmth on my cheek and the sensation of light bleeding through my eyelids. It was early morning and we were still in the air, high above the Atlantic Ocean. I looked at the map on the screen and we were far past Newfoundland and over open water. I had never seen the ocean until this point, the closest thing was seeing Lake Michigan the June prior to my leaving, when I trekked to Shelby, Michigan to see one of my childhood friends graduate high school. I looked down at the water below and spotted a large freighter ship below. It looked so tiny from so far up, the North Atlantic looked so peaceful. The cabin crew were walking around serving breakfast items and I had realized that I hadn't eaten in several hours. The little bowl of cereal wasn't quite enough, but it would make do. I hadn't got up and moved very much until then and my bladder was sloshing by that time. I made my way down the plane's aisle and for the first time I realized that for the most part, all aboard were soldiers like me. I saw McMahan sitting talking to some of the guys, cracking jokes just like he had at Fort Sam. After I returned from the lavatory, I sat down next to him and talked for a while. He was mimicking Senior Drill Sergeant Myers and cracking us all up, oh I wondered what the senior drill sergeant would have said about this show?
The flight seemed like it would never end, and sometime up in the morning, the cabin crew returned with carts that had drinks on them. They sold little shot bottles of various liquors and canned beer. When the stewardess approached me, I opted to drink a beer and much to my surprise, she didn't card me or anything. Must have been the uniform, I guessed. Some of the guys took full advantage of the drink carts and soon were feeling pretty good. I had a couple of beers and never got a buzz, it was better to watch the others get hammered. Who needed an inflight movie when you had drunk newbie soldiers leaving the country for the first time?
Land finally started appearing out the window, the map on the screen showed we were somewhere over the United Kingdom, over Scotland. We couldn't see a whole lot, there was a cloud cover partially obscuring the ground, but we could see some white dotting the landscape below, indicating snow. We had left San Antonio, where it was nearly 75 degrees there, this snow was not a welcome sight for me. A couple more hours and we were over Germany and starting to descend, our destination was Frankfurt. As we broke through the clouds, we could see more and more snow below us, I could see the famous Autobahn, which looked strikingly like our own interstate road system in America. From what I could tell, the landscape looked pretty close to what it did back home. As we drifted downward for the approach, I could make out villages and towns, houses were close together and almost arm's length distances from each other. We started out final approach in Frankfurt, this landing was far more smooth than the others I had endured. I knew some about Frankfurt and that area of Germany from history classes in school, mainly about World War II, so it was neat to actually be seeing it. We approached the gate, I was nervous about what to expect out that airplane door. I envisioned walking into the airport to a flurry of people speaking only German and no one understanding anything I was asking. I exited the plane, took a sigh and set out for the baggage claim area.
Frankfurt's airport, or flugplatz, as it is called, was very large and busy, kind of like the Atlanta airport. All of us were met at the baggage claim by a sergeant in his Class A uniform. Great, I thought to myself, here we go again, instantly I had a recurrence of stepping off the plane, then on a bus and finally being met by a screaming drill sergeant. This sergeant seemed different, he didn't have that hard edged drill sergeant attitude. We were escorted to another area of the airport to a holding area and told to have a seat and wait for further instructions. We could roam around, but not too far. The 'hurry up and wait' aspect of the Army was becoming a common practice already. I went to the restroom to relieve myself and was in the process when I heard someone walk in behind me. I never paid attention until I looked over and a lady was sweeping the floor right next to me. This was something I had never experienced, usually bathrooms are private from such things, custodians knock and ask if anyone is in there before coming in on someone taking a pee in the States, this was very strange to me. After several minutes, we all were herded to awaiting buses parked outside. Our bags were loaded into the back of them and we boarded them. I again wondered if when we got to our destinations if we were going to be met by a barking drill sergeant telling us to "get off his damn bus." We all had a packet of papers given to us by our drill sergeants at Fort Sam that had our orders in them. I opened mine and scanned through the military jargon written on it and found that my destination would be Ansbach, Germany. I had never heard of the place and had no idea where it was located in relation to where I was at that time. Some of the others on the bus had started looking through their papers too. I saw the looks from a couple others reading their orders, a look of confusion, they too had orders to report to Ansbach.
I curiously watched out the window as we drove away from the flugplatz, the streets were bustling with activity, there was a light snow on the ground. The place had a kind of renaissance look to it, the buildings looked very old. I remember reading historical accounts of the Allied bombing raids and how major cities including Frankfurt were bombed almost off the map. I was in a historically important place, and it fascinated me, so much that it kept me from being homesick for the moment. We stopped several places along the way, other soldiers were getting off the bus at different posts, not all on board were from Fort Sam. Most of the ride was on the main roads leading into small villages which looked like they were centuries old. The bus trip was long and it took a couple of hours to reach Ansbach. We arrived first in Katterbach, which was an Army aviation base just a few miles from Ansbach. The group of soldiers who exited left only four of us, a female named Bohlen, Staff Sergeant Lape, Rucker who also came from Fort Sam and Sergeant Goodwin. We departed Katterbach and a short distance away we passed a sign that read Shipton Kaserne. Sergeant Goodwin told SSG Lape he had heard horror stories about that place and hoped none of us got placed there. The comment about the Shipton Kaserne made me wary, so I got out my orders and it said I was to report to the 235th BSB, I wasn't sure if that was my actual unit, but it didn't say anything about Shipton. We drove into Ansbach, which was just about 3 or 4 miles from Katterbach, the town looked very old, there was a large palace located right off the main road. It was a beautiful palace of white marble siding adorned with golden accents and statues. I had my camera with me, but unfortunately had no film in it. It was almost dark by this time and we arrived at our destination at the top of a hill in Ansbach, a sign post outside the gate read Barton Barracks. The bus rolled to a stop and we all exited. This was the 235th Base Support Battalion, the same as my orders read, and I found out the same that the others also read. There was no drill sergeant barking at us, no large group of new soldiers like in basic training or AIT, it was a calm and serene moment. The weather was remarkably different too. As I said earlier, we left San Antonio and it was almost 75 degrees. Here in Ansbach, it was around 28 degrees and snowy, I had been accustomed to the weather in Texas and not prepared at all for this. We were greeted by someone at the barracks building who told us we were staying there for the night, that everything was closed on post. I looked around and the post was quite small, a few buildings were on the property, which was enclosed by a large wrought iron fence and stone wall. There were no soldiers milling around, not much of anything at all to see. We walked into the barracks building and it looked deserted, nothing like what I had been exposed to. We pretty much had the entire place to ourselves, the building was a large structure that looked rather old, kind of a scene you would see in a horror movie....a group of four go into the old spooky building for an over night stay...little did they know that lurking in the shadows....
The sergeant in charge of the barracks gave us some bedsheets and pillows and told us to grab a room on the first floor, Bohlen would have to be in a separate room, of course. Then, he left, told us SSG Lape would be in charge of us until morning. There comes a time in your life when you have to put aside your reservations about mingling with strangers whom you have never met before and this was one of those times. I have never really been the type to shy away from strangers, I can make friends about anywhere. Rucker was the only person who I could relate to, since he too was fresh out of 91B school. He was an African American guy from Washington, DC and seemed pretty mellow, we got along good right off the start. After settling in and seeking out showers to rid ourselves of the funk of a nearly two day travel, we changed into civilian attire and set out to see just what was around. Staff Sergeant Lape and the other three stayed behind while Rucker and I went out to explore the new country. There was a small shopette there, a barber shop and a pizza place. It was after 2000 hours local time, or 8 pm, and all but the pizza place was closed. I was starving by this time and Rucker and I decided to walk over to grab some pizza. While walking, I quickly found out that cowboy boots, snow and cobblestones don't mix well as I nearly slipped and fell many times in transit. That was the highlight of the evening so far, watching me attempt to walk on the slick stones and not bust my ass. I looked like quite an oddity, I'm sure, I was dressed in a black leather jacket, my Ozzy Osbourne concert shirt, stone washed jeans and those boots, all this with a nearly shaved head. I looked like one of the typical skinheads that I had read about and seen pictures of, and to top it off, I was accompanied by a black man, a stark contrast by all looks of things. We got into the pizza place and sat down, there was no one at all in the place other than the person working there. Then it hit me, how would we order our food? Neither Rucker nor I could speak or understand a word of German. Luckily, the guy inside the pizza place spoke English and the menu was also in English, I guess since we were on a US military post, it naturally would be.
Our bellies full, Rucker and I quickly realized that there was absolutely nothing to see at Barton Barracks. I told him, "You know it would royally suck if this is where we are going to be stationed the next two years." He agreed, and we went back to the barracks. The rooms were cold, the heaters had not been turned up, it would be a long night for sure. I then noticed I hadn't called home, so I went out to the phone booth outside to call. There was a six hour time difference in Germany, so now it was nearly 2130 hours local time, meaning it was around 3:30 pm back home. This time difference would prove to be very tiresome for me. I called home and talked to mom, she was very glad to hear from me. I told her about all that I had seen on my trip from Frankfurt to Ansbach, that the landscape was much like Kentucky. She told me that Kim had called her and they had talked for a long time earlier. Mom said that Kim was crying and missing me like crazy, so after ending this conversation, the next call I placed was to Kim, only to get the answering machine. I had forgotten that she and her family were driving back from San Antonio and they probably hadn't got back home yet. I returned to the barracks and everyone was in the same room chit chatting. Bohlen had got spooked by being in the room alone so she asked if she could sleep in the sergeant's room. We were all adults and it never crossed anyone's mind to act inappropriately, so it wasn't a problem. We sat up until after midnight talking about our Army experiences, or lack of experience in the Army for Bohlen, Rucker and me. Eventually we all went to sleep, I had my trusty Walkman out and listening to my Ted Nugent tape Double Live Gonzo. This tape was special to me in some weird way, part of it was recorded in San Antonio back in 1977 and hearing Ted address the San Antonio crowd gave me some peace of mind, knowing that Kim and I had also heard some similar talk when we saw the Damn Yankees concert just a few days earlier. It took me back to that moment and moments Kim and I had spent together.
The next morning, we woke up on our own around 0630 hours, no sergeants came storming in with trash can lids banging and no early morning PT session were in store for us. Soon after, the duty sergeant came in and told us that we would be inprocessing all day and pointed us in the direction of the building to go to. This was a stark difference than what basic and AIT was, which was all go, go and go til we couldn't go any more, now it was all about that hurry up and wait. There was no chow hall there, just a little diner type thing by the shoppette or the pizza place. The pizza place wasn't open so we wandered in the diner and grabbed a bite of breakfast. While sitting there, there was a music video show on and the Journey song Lights came on. I smiled at seeing it because I had heard that song as we were leaving the North American East Coast. Hearing that song and talking to mom the previous night had made me kind of homesick again, I was in a different country, about to embark on a new life, a stranger in a strange land. I had to shake the feeling, because now, there wasn't anything I could do about it. We started the long process of getting organized in the Army systems, getting our ID cards and our paperwork squared away. We all had several copies of our orders and transit papers we had to bring to each processing station, it was almost like basic training all over again with all the paperwork at first. We found out that Barton Barracks would not be our permanent home, that other orders would be given to us placing us in a permanent unit somewhere nearby. Rucker and I were issued what is called Geneva Convention ID cards, which identified us as medical personnel that we had to keep with us in case of capture in a combat situation or other type of combat related issue. What that card meant was that we had to be treated better than a usual prisoner of war if captured, but also meant we had to be the medics for the other prisoners. A wonderful thing to think about being a new soldier and all in a strange place.
After what seemed like an endless barrage of processing, we finally finished around 1400 hours, or 2 pm. We each had our orders in hand, we all would be assigned to 6th Battalion, 43rd Air Defense Artillery. Staff Sergeant Lape and the Bohlen were communications specialists, SGT Goodwin worked in another field, and Rucker and I were medics. We boarded a bus and headed out back toward Katterbach. The weather wasn't too bad that day, a little overcast, but not as cold. We traveled down the main road, then turned onto another road, right where that sign that read Shipton Kaserne was pointing. Staff Sergeant Lape, spoke up and said, "Oh no, you gotta be kidding!!" We turned off the main road onto a lane that went straight through farmland. Ahead, there was a green fence and gate with a guard shack to the right. Staff Sergeant Lape groaned in displeasure as we entered the gates to Shipton Kaserne. The guard checked the ID of the bus driver and motioned us on through, then the bus stopped. There was no swarm of sergeants yelling for us to get off the bus, but there was a few standing out in the area by the bus stop. We exited the bus and were directed over to the area where the sergeants were standing. One of them, a stocky man around 40, introduced himself as First Sergeant Moshner, Headquarter's Battery's top non-commissioned officer. We quickly learned that he didn't mix words or care what came out of his mouth when he first spoke to us.
"When I call your name, sound off," He continued, calling out our last names, but he called out one more than was there. "Where the hell is this soldier?" He barked, another sergeant told him that person would be on the next group to come in. He released SSG Lape, SGT Goodwin and Bohlen to the other sergeants and they walked away. First Sergeant Moshner then looked at Rucker and me and said, "you two must be my medics, follow me." We walked with him into the first set of buildings, which were three story brick buildings with very few features other than windows on them. We went into the CQ office and were told to stand by while he went into another office. He reappeared with another man, a captain, who introduced us as Captain Taylor, our Battery Commander. He shook our hands and seemed okay to me, then as quickly as we met him, he walked out of the room. First Sergeant Moshner told us to follow him once again and we followed him back outside. There, Rucker and I stood at ease while the first sergeant spoke to us about how things were at 6/43. First, he told us that the unit was ADA which meant Air Defense Artillery, or as he put it "another damned Army", that we would quickly learn that about the place. He told us he was a short timer and "didn't give a fuck about any of the bullshit cause I only got 45 days and a wake up left then I'm retiring back home to do absolutely nothing." His words were colorful, that was for sure. First Sergeant Moshner then said something that really was quite hilarious, but we could see there was a sense of seriousness about what he was saying.
"There's a lot that goes on in my barracks after hours, you would think that its a damned brothel up there, we got little fuck bunnies running around fucking like rabbits, I'm surprised no man's dick has fallen off up there." Rucker and I chuckled a little bit, and the first sergeant shot back at us. "You think this is funny? You'll see what I mean. There's a little blond who makes her rounds to all the newbies, pretty soon you all will be fucking like little bunny rabbits too." His words were downright funny to me, nothing like I had expected. Then he told us something that would put a damper on the light conversation.
"Now what I'm gonna tell you, you don't tell anyone, not even your mommas back home. Reason I'm telling you is because I'm short and I don't give a fuck." His tone had changed to a serious, more direct dialect.
"You will go get your field gear Monday morning, then within the next couple of weeks, you will be issued your desert gear." I looked around and noticed green pine trees and snow on the ground, desert gear? The first sergeant continued.
"You will be deployed to the Southwest Asia area of operations later this summer, around August, for a combat tour in the Persian Gulf." Wow...The Persian Gulf, the same place that Desert Storm took place. He warned us not to mention it to anyone, that this was classified information, and told us to walk with him.
We were led upstairs to the barracks, which were totally different than anything I had seen to that point. The barracks looked like a hotel, with long tiled hallways and doors off to each side. We stopped at one room and he knocked on the door, the soldier opened and quickly went at ease. First Sergeant Moshner told him to carry on and to meet his new room mate, which was Rucker. The guy was a tall, lanky man, last name Arms, who also was a medic. After a couple of minutes, the first sergeant looked at me and asked, "Just how in the hell do you say your name, private?" I told him the way it should be pronounced, he said, "Well fuck, I won't remember that, I'll call you Kiss." That was a name that stuck with me from medic school, and would throughout the rest of my Army days. We walked down the hallway to another room, this time we were greeted by a portly guy who opened the door and said, "Hey, Top, got some new meat?" This guy was Himel, and was also a medic. He seemed a bit arrogant as we talked. The first sergeant came on in and asked me where I was from. I told him Kentucky, and he asked Himel if he had any of that "good old Kentucky remedy shit" on hand. Himel looked and brought out a fifth of Wild Turkey, saying "only real mean drink the kickin' chicken". Oh boy, I could see this was going to be one long tour of duty. Himel poured the three of us a shot and First Sergeant Moshner toasted by saying, "Private Kiss, welcome aboard." We all took our shot and slammed the shot glasses down on the table. The first sergeant told Himel, "This is your new room mate, try not to run him off like the others," then left. Himel looked at me for a while, then said, "Okay, here are my rules, you don't fuck with my shit, I won't fuck with you. You gotta earn your place before you have any ass up in this room without my permission." The other 'rules' were almost as equally worthless, but I let him say his peace to pacify his ego. This had the makings of a miserable time, I just knew it.
Before long, it was time for afternoon formation. We went outside to the area where the first sergeant greeted us and there was a whole group of soldiers milling about. We were grouped into platoons according to our MOS, or Army job classification, the medic platoon had about ten in it. I almost felt out of place because all the rest had been there for a while and already knew each other, it was like basic and AIT all over again for me. The first sergeant called the battery to attention, we were now called batteries rather than companies due to the artillery classification of the unit, and the individual platoons reported their status. It was Friday afternoon, so the first sergeant began with his safety briefing.
"It's Friday so you all know what that means, time for the First Sergeant Moshner safety brief," he began. "If you are going to the club don't drink or drive or end up in the stockade, watch that Green Goose and those damn Turks." I wondered if the Green Goose and Turks he was talking about was a code name for some gang or something. He went on and talked about the emergency contact numbers that were posted on the wall by the CQ office and then asked, "Medic Platoon, you all got the goodies set out?" The platoon leader, Anderson, nodded and said they were, again I was oblivious. Then, First Sergeant Moshner called the four of us newbies out to the front of the formation and introduced us. He told everyone to take us under their wings and to teach us right. If Himel was to be my mentor, I already wanted a replacement.
After introductions, the first sergeant told us, "Okay, since you all don't think I know what goes on in my barracks, when I call you to attention, you sound off with 'fuck like rabbits', got it?" He then called us to attention and the whole formation shouted out "fuck like rabbits!!" One sergeant first class told the first sergeant he was offended and First Sergeant Moshner's reply was, "I don't give a fuck, carry on." I was amazed by the first sergeant's brash attitude, but I guess he deserved to be brash after all the time he had put in. Anderson, the medic platoon leader, came up and formally introduced himself to Rucker and me, he was an African American guy who had been with the unit for quite a bit of time. He was also a veteran of Desert Storm, I later found out, so he wasn't green by any means. Our usual platoon sergeant, Staff Sergeant Bechtel, was on leave and would be back within the next week, so until then we were under Anderson's watch. I went upstairs to my room and Himel was already there getting changed. He told me it was the weekend and he had to get out of the place. He didn't make any small talk or try to get to know me at all, and after a few minutes, he left. I started unpacking and getting organized, I would have the top bunk as mine but for the most part, the room was all Himel's. As I unpacked, I found pictures of Kim and taped them to the wall by my bunk so I could at least see her when I fell asleep and woke up. I was looking at those pictures and missing her immensely, I hoped I would get a chance to talk to her soon. Not long after I got settled in, there was a knock on my door. I opened it up to see a short blond female standing on the other side. She introduced herself as Brandy and she lived across the hall. I told her to come in and she walked in and started asking me questions about where I came from and everything. She asked if I was married, I said no, she said, "good." After a few minutes of sitting around and talking, she got up and straddled me in my chair, planting a big kiss on me. She then told me, "I'm so attracted to you," and I just froze, knowing then that this was the person the first sergeant was telling us about who "made her rounds". She left and told me again that she was just across the hall if I needed anything to just come over, she stressed the word anything. I was taken aback by this, normally I would have been very intrigued, but I looked up at the pictures on the wall and felt guilty, I really needed to call Kim and talk to her.
There was a phone booth out front, so I made the first call to mom to let her know I was okay and settling in at my new unit. I almost told her about the deployment, but stopped myself before I said anything, remembering what First Sergeant Moshner had told us. It was good to hear a familiar voice again because I really felt like a total stranger at Shipton, and it was starting to eat at me. I wrapped up the conversation and quickly dialed Kim's number. Rick answered the phone and told me it was good to hear from me, but Kim was not home, she had went out with some friends to celebrate being back home. I was disappointed, but understood why she wasn't home, I would probably be doing the same thing if I were back home. I wandered back in the barracks and ran into Rucker. He was asking how my room mate was, my reply was, "his name is Himel, but it should be Hitler." He said that Arms was easy going and laid back, it figured that I would end up with the control freak. Sometime later, a couple of the other guys stopped by and introduced themselves, Rockey and Ray, who were also medics. Rucker and I went over to Ray's room and we all started playing cards. Ray told us we had to be initiated as new medics and play the card game called Bullshit, which I quickly found out was more of a drinking game than a card game. This is a point where things get a bit hazy. I remember that we were drinking the dark German beer, which tasted to me like unsweetened tea more than anything. Everything that I did it seemed, Ray would call out "bullshit!! Drink!!!" So I drank quite a bit. Little did I realize, but German beer is remarkably stronger in alcohol content than domestic beer here in the States. Very soon, I was quite intoxicated. I remembered someone saying we should go to the 'Goose'. I had no idea what the 'Goose' was but I was up for anything at that point.
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| HHB welcoming party, March 1993. From left to right: Bruce Wright, Darren Rockey, Jose Martinez, Rich Ray. |
The 'Goose' was a club called the Green Goose, which was located about two miles off post. First Sergeant Moshner had told us in formation to watch out for the Green Goose, surely a nightclub wasn't too bad for us. We paid our admission and walked in, the place was packed, I remember. We made our way to the bar and someone bought drinks for us because we were the newbies. We all took a shot of some very strong drinks that burned all the way down. More drinks followed and pretty soon, I was beyond drunk. I do remember a fight breaking out between a couple of guys there that soon erupted into an all out battle royal with several involved. We left the bar and from that point I don't recall much of anything. I do remember walking into the barracks and seeing an open box of condoms on a table, these were the 'goodies' the medics were in charge of stocking each weekend I later found out. I remember walking down the long hallway that seemed to be closing in on me as I walked further down it. I also remember that I didn't get sick during any of this, which would probably had been a good thing to do in retrospect.
The next day I woke up with a splitting headache, a far worse hangover than I had when Jason, Matt and I went out that night in Morehead. I had the room to myself, Himel had stayed elsewhere the night before. I stumbled around trying to regain some of my composure, but I was so nauseated that I could barely function. I had never felt that way before, and hoped I wouldn't again anytime soon, but later that afternoon, I met some more people from the unit and we all popped open beers. It would be a long tour of duty for sure for this stranger in a strange land, I just hoped I would survive the first week at Shipton Kaserne.
