Chapter 17: Stone Cold Crazy

Army life so far hadn't been at all what I had expected. You see those movies where soldiers are on constant move and always geared up ready to attack whatever threat came near. Not at Shipton. Our biggest threat for invasion was the rabbits. Those furry things were everywhere. Each morning as we did PMCS on our trucks, it never failed, two or three would scurry out from under the ambulances. The going joke was that we really didn't have missiles or secret stuff on post, our mission was to protect the bunnies. We couldn't do any harm to them because they were protected according to the first sergeant, but that didn't mean we couldn't terrorize them a bit. One of the guys in HHB Barracks had a paint ball gun and would snipe the critters from his second floor window. An unsuspecting rabbit would be minding its business, and SPLAT! a bright orange or pink paint ball would hit it, staining the fur. It became a game, kind of like a live action Nintendo skill game. Eventually, the yards around Shipton became stained pink or orange and these little fuzzy pink and orange rabbits would dart around everywhere. One of our formation safety briefs started out with 1SG Moshner telling us he was not impressed with the colorful rabbits, but it was rather comical regardless and the practice continued for quite some time.
I noticed people would come and go quite often when I first got to the unit. Most were transferring to new duty stations elsewhere, but others were either retiring or reaching the end of their Army term. And always, there was a going away party. One party I recall was for SPC Haines that was held at Soldier's Lake just off post. About everyone in HHB was there, however I really didn't know her well at all. It didn't matter, as long as someone was partying, I was there. The bunch I went with nearly cleaned out the shopette's beer cooler, so we went over to Katterbach and got more drinks at the Class 6 store. This was the equivalent of Mike's Liquors back home. I was short on funds by the time I got there, so I settled on Boone's Farm to go with the beer I already had. We arrived at the party around 1600 hours, or 4 pm and already there was a crowd. There was food being barbecued and alcohol flowing freely from a common cooler that we all contributed to. I started getting drunk real early, and it was showing. Someone had a set of yard darts, which hadn't been available for many years, and I felt I could join the festivities too. After two throws and near misses, SSG Bechtel's husband felt it was necessary to suspend my part of the game for the best interest of everyone's safety. I remember hearing KISS' Double Platinum CD being played and I was doing my best drunken sing along routine. One thing about me as a drinker, I am quite funny, yet bold, when I get drunk. I don't get redneck or crying, and when I'm partying, everyone has to party just as hard with me.
As the evening wore on, the party was in high swing and I realized I was out of my Boone's Farm and low on beer. One of the guys handed me a paper bag and said, "Here, I'm done with this, take it." Inside was Mad Dog 20-20, grape flavored. I hadn't drank that before but it was free alcohol, who cared? I swigged the grape flavored concoction down, not knowing that it was very potent and had a legacy of making people very sick. I downed the whole bottle in no time and eventually, I lost all recollection from there on. From what I have been told, I was a riot, seemingly super-charged and partying the night away. Eventually everyone parted ways and headed back to the barracks at some point and those who were with me lost sight of me. I woke up freezing cold along the side of the road to the back gate at almost dawn. My leather jacket had a hint of frost on it, I had passed out on my journey back to the barracks and had been left, or more than likely I had wandered off from my crowd and ended up where I was. Either way, I was cold, my clothes were wet from the ground and my head was still buzzing. Once I got back to the room, I showered and changed for bed. I wrapped up in my sleeping bag and wool blankets but could not get the chill out of my system. I'm sure that had I not woke up when I did, I would have frozen to death just a 100 or so yards from Shipton's back gate. I was sick beyond belief the whole day after, and my toes were still numb from the cold up until early afternoon. I dodged the reaper for the first time.
One morning during formation, I was called out to the front with several others. We were all up for promotion and I was promoted to Private First Class, or PFC. It was a short and simple ceremony and took a total of maybe five minutes; Captain Taylor saluted us, we all saluted back and it was over that quick. I really didn't see it as much more responsibility and didn't take it as such, which probably hurt me in the long run. It all didn't matter to me much, I was just a another soldier in another damned Army called 6/43. How quickly that changed in the aid station though. SSG Bechtel told me with my promotion came extra duties, so I would be in charge of keeping our publications up to date and creating a sort of library of the ones we had on file. Not too bad, I thought, but then realized what a task it would be due to the fact no one else had been doing the work.
One thing about everyone in the barracks...we were all in the same boat together and looked out for each other. I made some good friends early on. One in particular was Farley, an African-American girl who was Bohlen's room mate. She hung out with us but didn't party as much as I did, or at least I saw anyway. One night I had been partying a bit too much and got locked out of my room without a key. I sat down in the hallway and ended up passing out next to my room. Every morning the staff duty NCO would do a walk through in the barracks and 'gather up' those who were out of line. To avoid that happening to me, Farley, with some help, dragged me into her room to keep me from getting busted. I woke up the next day confused but grateful to her. Another party friend was a British girl named Allison who would come party with us. She was not a usual 'Goose Slut', the name we would give girls that would come up just to score with a GI, but a girl who just wanted to party like we all did. She spoke with a thick British accent, was kind of heavy set with long dark hair and funny as hell with her jokes or 'quips' as she called them. One night after my usual drunken parties, I again passed out in the hallway. A couple of guys, White and Ruble, put me in White's room. I woke up the next day next to Allison in bed, very confused due to the fact that we all considered her as a mutual friend only. The guys and Allison let me think that something had happened well up into the day and I kept apologizing for breaching that friendship threshold, then the joke was on me...and well deserved.
Aside from the party life and day to day routine, my barracks life was miserable. After the episode with Himel and his girlfriend, I was determined to find a new room. I spoke with SSG Bechtel who told me to talk to the first sergeant. The day I spoke to 1SG Moshner, he called me into his office rather informally and asked what was going on. I told him that Himel and I didn't get along and I wanted to move, that the situation was just too much for me. First Sergeant Moshner told me that Himel only had about two months left in the unit and I should stick it out, but I held my guns. Finally, the first sergeant agreed to let me move so I went back upstairs to start the packing process. A few minutes later, a knock came at my door, it was the first sergeant. He had found an available room with a guy named Galvin who had been there about a year and was pretty squared away. First Sergeant Moshner told me that he would take care of Himel, that this wasn't the first time a room mate had moved out. I was glad the first sergeant was understanding, but being as this was a pattern with Himel, I supposed he had to be after so long.
I met Galvin down the hall, he seemed okay and pretty laid back. Apparently, he had been made aware of my partying ways and told me he was cool with having a good time as long as it wasn't in his room. I could respect that, as long as he was not overbearing and a total ass. I got settled in later in the day and we chatted about the unit and how things were going. He had been there a while and seen a lot so far, his best advice was to just go with the flow and stay under the radar. Galvin was a guy who was very squared away. His uniforms were crisp, boots highly shined and his demeanor was that of a leader. I felt that maybe he could steer me in the right direction, perhaps bring me out of my funk I was in and become a model soldier. We got along good, however he stayed gone a lot. Galvin was a Stinger Missile Specialist and was being evaluated for promotion to sergeant E-5. He kept a level head about things and didn't seem too egotistical. The room was at the far end of the hallway, away from everyone else I was used to but still not too bad. I was just glad to be out of Himel's world finally.
Not long after I moved, 6/43 had to participate in a Brigade Change of Command Ceremony in Geibelstadt. Our home brigade, the 69th Brigade, was based there and Colonel Rountree was retiring. The week leading up to the event, we did drill and ceremony over and over, much like at Fort Sam. The day came to do the ceremony and we boarded buses for the roughly hour and a half long trip. On the way there, the skies became gloomy and it began to rain. By the time we reached brigade headquarters, it was pouring down. We parked the buses at a hanger on the airstrip and formed up inside...and waited. We had all our TA-50 on, except our ruck sacks, and our M-16's so it wasn't entirely the most comfortable wait at all. Outside the hangar, the rain poured down and the cold air breezed through the open hangar and made for an even more miserable experience. A few minutes later, we were told to fall out and wait until we got word to go ahead with the ceremony, which was to be held outside. The day was a lot of hurry up and wait as usual and there wasn't anything really to pass the time there. Our platoon sergeants kept walking by inspecting us to make sure we were still in top form visually, a lot of high ranking soldiers were milling about too. An hour or so later, we were told to form up again and put on our rain gear, which was a pull over poncho. The rain had eased up some but still was going to be a factor in the whole process of the change of command. Our battalion commander came out and addressed the group by saying due to the weather issues, the whole battalion would not be required to stand outside for the ceremony. I hoped that I would be spared, remembering the long drawn out ordeal at Fort Sam. I got my wish, the medic platoon was spared mostly from the outside activities, but we were now thrust into the eye of the senior ranking commanders and officers of 69th Brigade.
The ceremony seemed to take forever, Colonel Rountree spoke about his military service and how his first duty command was at 6th Battalion 43rd Air Defense, hmm, how coincidental. He went on by saying the unit was distinguished during its tour of duty during Operation Desert Storm and he was proud to have commanded a fine bunch of soldiers. I hadn't really thought much about the history of the unit until then, I guessed I should have learned all I could about my home for two years. The brigade's flag was then handed off to Colonel Dodgen who had been a battalion commander at Fort Bliss, Texas. After the ceremony, there was a reception in the hangar with an assortment of food that went far beyond what was served in the chow hall on post. After a long while, we boarded the buses and headed back to Ansbach, another boring ADA day behind me.
I went on a couple more field exercises between April and May, they were starting to become common by then. I remember once we went to a place with Headquarters Battery and set up the battalion aid station rather than a field triage tent. These exercises seemed pointless to me, we always did things the same way over and over again. Little did I realize, or was even told then, was that we were being evaluated for our mission in Saudi Arabia that was looming ahead. During the headquarters exercise we did some medic based training, doing scenarios like we did at Fort Sam. We occasionally did some type of training every Thursday back at Shipton, but this seemed more enjoyable to me. One down side of that exercise was having to do mess duty, commonly called KP. It wasn't as bad as my experience at Fort Jackson, but still sucked regardless. Extra duties weren't a stranger for the medic platoon. We had a guard rotation that we did back at Shipton, meaning we would be scheduled to work at a guard shack at one of the entrances or at the operations site entrance. It was mundane duty lasting four hours each shift by two at the main gate, two at the back gate until 1800 hours or one in the operations area. Our duty was to check ID's for anyone coming into post and collect ID's from visitors, as well as look for any suspicious activity around the perimeter. We weren't armed with any weapons, so if there was an imminent threat we were helpless beyond hand to hand combat. The field exercises were different though, all we had to worry about was fire guard during cold weather months so that wasn't too bad.
The training schedules were picking up pace during early spring and when we weren't in the field, we were tasked out with inventorying our equipment and getting the unit's 600+ medical records organized. This meant when we weren't in the field, it would be long days at the aid station accomplishing these tasks. There were several nights that I didn't leave duty until well after 1900 hours, or 7 p.m. Organizing the medical records was a daunting task. We had to go through all the records for each individual soldier and log what vaccinations they had and when they needed more, as well as any condition that would make them undeployable. We organized the files by which battery the soldier was in, only problem was when we got the records from Katterbach's clinic, they were filed alphabetically and under a general 6/43 category. So we had to break down over 600 records into what battery they were part of, then the captain who tasked us out for this thought it would be best to go an extra step and organize the files into platoons. Needless to say my liver thanked her during this time, but it was mind draining work that went long hours.
After duty on Fridays, I had to get away from the barracks. I had gotten used to the life of going out to the clubs, even when the others didn't want to go with me. Galvin stayed elsewhere, so I didn't really hang out with him much. I was left to my own most of the time, which was okay with me, I could sort things out in my head better on my own. I was still pretty bitter of the break up with Kim and had no plans to be involved with anyone soon. I just wanted to be me and numb myself if I felt the least bit homesick or lonely. During my strolls into town I found other places beyond The Goose or Hai Life that were entertaining, some where the American GI's hardly frequented. One place was down near the McDonald's and was more of an arcade and pool hall than anything. It reminded me some of Gateway Video Store back home, where my friends and I would spend hours hanging out and playing pool or my favorite pinball games. This was similar, yet so different, I knew no one there. The camaraderie wasn't there like back home. I usually just ordered a beer then went upstairs and played pinball until I either got bored or ran out of pfennigs, or coin currency. A lot of times I would just wander down the small streets taking in the sights of the old town of Ansbach, usually alone and quite content. One evening I wandered into Hai Life for my usual routine. I was starting to become recognized by a few there and had made some friends. I got a beer then went to the game room to play a round of arcade games, all of which were full. I found an open pinball machine and started playing it, racking up the high scores. Apparently, when I get into a pinball game, I get so into it that I am very animated. As I play, I get into a zone, something that I guess is entertaining because during a break I noticed there were a few people standing at the machine watching me play. I at first thought I was keeping someone from a game and motioned for the next player who immediately waved it off, he and the others were watching me and my wild antics at the machine. I laughed and continued playing, but was distracted the rest of the time by the audience. One girl came to me and started talking to me after the game telling me that I looked funny. I didn't know if I should be offended or laugh with her, I chose to just go along with it. We laughed and talked some more through the evening, getting along pretty good. The girl's name was Karin, she was from Ansbach and had a smile that lit any dull mood. She spoke English pretty well, although with a heavy accent. Karin was a nurse at the local hospital, or krankenhaus as it was called there. We parted ways around midnight, she had to be at work early and offered me a ride, but I wanted to walk back as I always did. She gave me her number and said goodnight with her smile. I walked back to the barracks, not entirely buzzed or drunk as usual, I guess keeping up conversation with Karin kept me in check somewhat. I didn't want to think about a relationship or anything else than just someone to talk to and wanted to leave it at that, but Karin seemed like a nice girl that I could see more often.
Back at Shipton, life in the barracks had eased up considerably since the move. I still hung out with Rucker and Brightbill often, usually after duty hours we sat around and drank. Occasionally we would get wind of a party and go to it. One party in particular that has become quite infamous occurred when I was still in Himel's room, about a month before I moved out. There was a party at Foxtrot Barracks that we were going to, but first there were some stops we made. I was with Rucker, Bell and a few others and we went over to a room in Delta Barracks for a while. I started drinking malt beer, which is stronger than my usual Budweiser, then I progressed on to Jim Beam and Vodka. We stayed for a while then went over to Foxtrot Barracks where the whole second floor had turned into a block party. One thing about the Army, it is culturally diverse, even when a party is involved. The group of people were mainly African-American, but it didn't matter to anyone there. As the night progressed, I drank more and more, the last thing I recall drinking was tequila. I hadn't really been a tequila drinker, and under sober circumstances, the mere smell of it makes me nauseated. I downed most of a fifth bottle like it was water. I remember someone in a room that was open telling anyone who came in that it was toga only, so I went to seek out a toga. I ended up with a green wool Army blanket as a toga and proceeded on. The room I got the blanket from was a couple doors down and I went almost true toga, leaving my underwear on underneath it, and my other clothes in that room. At this point I wasn't really aware of my surroundings or who I was. Rucker related the rest of the story to me later. He and Bell went over to HHB Barracks. Later, I was going to go with them down to The Goose, but I ended up telling them to go on and come back later, that I was enjoying the night a little too much. Later on when Rucker and Bell came to get me, I was still in my toga, but at some point decided to go true toga, meaning nothing underneath. They told me to come on and I was telling them I needed my clothes, but I couldn't figure out where they were since I had been from room to room by this time. While going door to door I lost my toga, so here I was going door to door butt naked looking for who had my clothes. One could imagine the looks I'm sure I got from people as they opened the doors. Eventually someone tossed out my clothes and with some help, I got dressed. As Rucker and Bell were escorting me out of the barracks and from further embarrassment, I darted away from them to get another beer and lost sight of them. When the guys got to the lobby area of the barracks, they realized I wasn't with them so Bell decided to go back and look for me. That's when he heard a loud "Niagara Falls" shout from above and the trickle of liquid flowing down. As he raced up to find me, he slipped on a wet step and caught his shin on the corner. When Bell finally got to me, I was standing at the top of the stair case with my pants down, urinating and laughing the whole time. Bell had slipped my a puddle of my piss on his way up. Further tragedy averted, I finally was escorted back to my room. Bell and Rucker heaved me up to my top bunk and left me to pass out, but not before thinking they would have some fun with the drunk guy. They waited outside for a few minutes, then came back in the room, they hadn't shut the door when leaving. Once inside they thought it would be funny to mess with me a bit so I would wake up the next day in a weird or compromising position. What they didn't realize is that I wasn't passed out yet and when they came in, I heard them and bolted off the bunk to see who was at the door. Bell yelled out, "get him!" to Rucker and grabbed me. I had no idea who it was in the darkness and the survival instinct kicked in. I swung and caught Bell on the cheek bone just under his eye and then hit him again on the temple. They ran out of the room and I got back into bed unscathed,
The next morning, I woke up still about half buzzing with my right hand swelled and bruised. I had no memory of most of the night, the last thing I recall was drinking tequila in someone's room. As the day wore on, I saw Bell in the hallway, his left eye was swelled and blackened,
"Jesus Christ, man, what happened to you?" I asked, thinking he had got into a scuffle at The Goose.
"Dude, you don't remember? You did this to me last night. You are one strong drunk," he replied. I stood there not believing him as he told me what happened, then we went to Rucker's room so he could verify what happened. Rucker told me about the attempted raid on me, the Niagara Falls incident and me running naked up the hallway. That's when I thought they had exaggerated just a bit far and passed it off. Around 1300 hours, I went to eat finally and the guy doing head count looked up at me and smiled, asking if I had found my clothes. I looked at him shocked, still thinking it was exaggeration from Bell and Rucker, and then realized that it had been true. The worst part is the guy in the chow hall told me someone had video taped me running up the hallway! Nice, very nice, I thought. Now I would surely be the laughing stock of Shipton. A few days later, I finally saw the footage of me running down the hallway. An out of focus video showed me going door to door, my bare ass fully exposed and the cameraman giving a commentary like, "look at this dumb ass, looking for his clothes and scaring the shit out of everyone." Even later down the road, several months later, people in Foxtrot Battery still referred me as "The Streak."
Another not so proud moment happened around the same time the streaking incident occurred. I had been partying one night, finally turning in around 0430 on a Saturday morning. One of the last things SSG Bechtel did at the end of day formation was to tell us to look at the duty roster. That Friday, she said that and I checked the roster, sure enough I was slated for gate guard duty. Guard duty started at 0600 hours in the lobby of the HHB Command Area. The sergeant of the guard for the day would go by the duty roster and assign us shifts for the day. If we didn't report to duty, we were considered AWOL, or away without leave and could face serious consequences. That morning, I awoke to a pounding at my door and a bellowing voice yelling, "Kiskaden, get out here right damn now!" I had no idea who it was so I stammered to the door and opened it up still hazy from the night before. It was the sergeant of the guard yelling at me, which quickly woke and sobered me up.
"Dammit, boy, you smell like a damn brewery," the sergeant yelled at me. I had no reply and knew instantly I was in deep trouble. The sergeant continued telling me that I was in violation of several articles of the UCMJ and could get an Article 15. Then the sergeant looked around and came on in the door.
"Okay, I got that official shit out of the way," the sergeant said, "soldier what the Hell were you thinking getting drunk then not reporting to duty. It's 0700 hours!" I was sure that I was in for it and offered an apology as I scurried to get my uniform ready.
"I know you were partying last night, I saw you, so I told the commander that you were doing a task for me that's why you weren't at guard briefing. You owe me," he continued. Then he told me he had put me on second watch at 1200 hours and to be cleaned up and ready to go by then or else. I had dodged a career bullet for the first time.
I called Karin one afternoon and told her I was going to be at Hai Life after duty and asked if she would be there. She sounded happy that I had called and agreed to meet me there. The duty day however, lasted until 1900 hours, well beyond what I wanted. After the day ended I retreated upstairs and popped open a beer. As I got ready to leave, I continued to drink and took some with me for my walk to town. I got to Hai Life with a little bit of a buzz a little after 2100 hours and proceeded to go to the bar and get a tall glass of hefeweizen. I looked around and finally saw Karin sitting at a Tetris arcade game. I walked over to her and she glanced at me with a stern look.
"You are late," she said. I explained that we had more stuff to do on post than normally expected and I think she was okay with it, but was still kind of cold to me. This wore on me a bit, so I grabbed another beer, then another while she played the game and appeared to ignore me. Finally she got up and we moved to a table to talk. By now, I was feeling rather good and I guess it was showing.
"You are drunk aren't you," Karin asked.
"Noooo, no I-I-I'm good," I slurred. She just smiled and shook her head. The bar was pretty dead that night, so we left and went to her apartment across town. I had no idea how we got there, my head was spinning by then. We went into her apartment and sat down and talked some more. I was still sort of perturbed by her being cold to me so I put a block up internally. I'm sure she thought that our alone time was going to be more of a get to know each other, and I got no vibes of it being just a sexual tryst, but that internal block plus the alcohol and bitter feelings probably ruined anything at all. I couldn't get out of my mind how she acted like she didn't believe the reason I was late or how she ignored me, was that game more important? I became a bit colder toward her as we talked, prompting her to ask if I was okay. I told her it was late and I needed to get back to Shipton. Karin told me I could stay with her that night, but I didn't want to, my mind was made up; I didn't need anyone to give a damn about, or about me.
Karin drove me back to Shipton and I parted ways with her, feeling a bit guilty for being jaded. I hugged her and walked into the gate, not looking back. I called her a few days later and she was okay with me it seemed, so I was happy that I didn't make her dislike me. Another few days went by and I met her again at Hai Life, commencing on getting drunk yet again. I could tell early on she wasn't real happy with me getting hammered, but I didn't take that into account. She left the bar without asking me to join her that night nor did she offer a ride back to the barracks. I went back to Hai Life a few days later and she wasn't there, then the same again the following week. I tried to call but she wasn't home usually, or she wasn't answering, I thought. One night I went back to Hai Life with some guys from the barracks and commenced into oblivion. I was in rare form apparently and saw Karin standing near the table. I got up and walked to her to talk, tripping over the chair in the process. I cackled in laughter at the whole mess I had made and then walked to the back with Karin. I used to take my camera with me from time to time, stashing it in my jacket. I had left it on the table with the guys that night as Karin and I walked to the arcade room. There is a picture that was taken by someone that tells the rest of the story. It shows Karin standing facing me, my back to the camera and this look on her face that shows one of disgust and hurt. What the guys and the picture didn't see or hear was our conversation. Karin asked if I was drunk, I told her I was very drunk and she backed away from me. She began by telling me she really liked me and thought I was cool and that she hadn't dated any Americans before. Then she told me that we couldn't see each other again because I drank entirely too much and said things that hurt her feelings when I was drunk. I stuttered and tried to calm her but her mind was made up. She left by putting her hand on my chest and saying something like, "I know it's in there." As I watched her walk away, that block came back again. Good riddance, I thought to myself, what does she know by telling me how to run my life? I went back to the bar got a round of drinks for everyone and kept on going. The other picture taken that night was of me totally blitzed standing between two palm trees in a planter.
Looking back, I realize I was an ass to Karin and I was out of control. My life had turned stone cold crazy and she was the collateral damage. I never saw her again after that night and never tried to call her again. I told myself I didn't need her or anyone to care for me, I was just fine, and believed that for a long time. Karin was a sweet girl, one who didn't deserve to be the one who came in the middle of my self destruction and self pity for the past month or so. I never gave her a chance to see if it could work, and looking back I see that all things happen for a reason, and the two of us just weren't meant to happen.

Todd Villanueva, aka Ace and his 49's room decor.

Soon after I moved, I learned that Galvin was going to be promoted to sergeant, a fact I already knew, but the rules were that anyone over rank of E5 couldn't room with anyone under the rank, meaning I would have to find another place to live. Luckily, I found someone who had an extra bunk down the hall, and without even asking 1SG Moshner, I moved there. My new room mate was Villanueva, or Ace as he liked to be called. He was a unique individual who was a sports fan extraordinaire. The walls to his room were covered in sports cards in protective sleeves, the theme was baseball for the upcoming season. To say Ace was unique is a great understatement. He liked to party, but was rather quiet all around. He moved and spoke slowly, sometimes his thought drifting off to nowhere mid-sentence. Ace was a very funny guy so we got along great. Plus, we liked the same music, so that was a huge positive. Ace didn't have crazy rules for me to live by or any aspect of promotion anytime soon, so I was set for a while. He didn't trek to the Goose with us on weekends, he just stayed to himself for the most part.
Indeed, Army life was nothing like I had envisioned. The mundane duties coupled with the stone cold crazy lifestyle I was living after duty hours certainly made life interesting. The only things I worried about were staying under the radar and waking up the next day. Changes were looming just ahead, like that light at the tunnel's end that turns out to be a train.

Chapter 16: The Way of the World

Spring time brings green to the dead vegetation of winter, life abounds overhead with returning birds and the weather becomes more favorable. In Shipton Kaserne, spring brought another distinct element to the table. Every day, there would be a foul stench creep into the barracks and around the post, a smell of pure shit. Shipton, as I said, was out in the middle of a cornfield basically, and the farmers would spray a manure concoction on the ground to prepare it for the new planting season. This smelled like pure sewage and after nights of drinking and then having to run PT through the smell, it made life very uncomfortable. I was sure it was a ploy by our commanders to hinder our drinking binges.
Life at Shipton to this point hadn't been too bad, no micromanagement or random barracks inspections, no drill sergeants yelling for us to "beat our faces", just a routine of day to day activities that seemed mundane. One thing I learned to do aside from PMCS'ing our ambulances was to drive it around. It wasn't that much different than a regular car, just a whole lot bigger and more wobbly. The side mirrors became my best friends since there was no way to just turn and look as I was backing. Not long after our trip to Wildflecken, we drove out to a site near a town called Oberdachstetten, which was our designated training area. We would drive our military vehicles in a formation which looked like an Army invasion force, without the tanks and heavy guns, down the German roadways and through these little hamlet towns that I'm sure reminded the older folks of World War II. Oberdachstetten was quite a distance away from Ansbach and the training area was behind the town far back in the woods. There were ranges for all types of small arms there, along with several classroom buildings and nothing much other than that. My first trip there, we did some type of training and stayed mainly in the classrooms all day. We would visit this area often, usually about once a week throughout my time in Germany, so I became very acquainted with the surroundings...or lack thereof.
The first month I was in Germany was very eventful. I had made many new friends and was getting into a groove of my own, but still got homesick occasionally. Being so far away and knowing it would be a long time until I could see anyone from home started to work on my mind sometimes, especially when I was all alone in my room. I would go out on the weekends with some of the guys and usually never remember making it back to the barracks, all in an attempt to ease my mind from the distance. I called Kim's house quite a bit, but usually I would be told by Rick that she was either at work or gone out. Granted, there was a six-hour time difference, but I always tried to take that in consideration when I called. Eventually, Kim's letters began to dwindle down and mom said she had all but quit calling her too. This began to really work on my senses, and I would bury myself into drunken binges. I never really realized I was masking things with beer, but hindsight is never blind. I do remember one night I was in town and obliterated and decided I was going to call Kim to find out why she was avoiding me. For me to call home, I had a calling card and had to connect with an international operator to complete the call. This particular night, in my drunken state, the operator hung up on me two times. Apparently, the person on the other line wasn't able to understand my mumbling, so I asked one of the guys with me to get Kim on the line at least. Once the operator connected the call I got back on the line and of course got Rick. I was mumbling again and slurring my speech terribly and Rick told me to call back when I was in better shape. This pissed me off and I slammed the phone receiver down so hard that I nearly broke it in two.
In April, I was told I would be tasked out on a field exercise with C Battery. The exercise would last 12 days and be much like the FTX we did in basic training and medic school, but on a bigger scale. My medic partner was going to be Hall, an African-American guy who fathomed himself to be a budding rapper. We got along well, so the trip would be good I was sure. I had no idea what a field exercise for a regular Army unit consisted of but I was envisioning what we did at Fort Jackson. The next days leading to the FTX involved getting all our supplies accounted for and ready, as well as making sure our ambulance was in top shape. I was nervous, yet excited about this opportunity, plus it would be a welcome change from the barracks. Our job in the field would basically be setting up the aid station with basic supplies and medicines, then waiting for someone to get hurt or sick, Hall explained to me as we checked off the items in the metal transport containers. He had been there for a while and had done several field exercises so he helped me out quite a bit. We came from different backgrounds, and to an extent, different cultures but it didn't matter, we were both in the same Army with the same mission.
About a week before I was to go into the field, I received a letter from Kim finally. I was excited because it had been a while since her last letter. I opened it up anxiously, expecting a 5 page letter like she had sent before, telling me how much I meant to her and how she couldn't wait to be stationed near me. This letter was two pages and was far different. It started off with an apology for not writing, then into something I was not expecting. She wrote that the recruiter ended up not being able to get her a duty assignment near me, not even outside the United States, but she would be reporting to Fort Bragg instead. The letter went on by saying she had spent time with her former boyfriend and things between them had got much better since she had returned, so well, that she and he were going to try to see how things went. She also said that Fort Bragg was 80% male population and she didn't feel it was fair for me to wait for her when she didn't know what she even wanted anymore. I dropped the letter on the table in front of me and stared off into space, numb. Again, hindsight is never blind, I saw the signs and deep inside I think I knew what that letter was going to say, but didn't want to believe what I was reading. Kim closed the letter by asking me not to call anymore and how sorry she was to hurt me like she had, but it was better this way.
After the duty day, I wandered upstairs to my room. The first thing I saw was the pictures of Kim that I had taped on the wall next to my bunk. I wanted to rip them off the wall and into a million pieces, but at the same time, I wanted to just hold them and stare. I ended up taking them off the wall and walked over to the desk in the room and began writing a reply. I to this day don't remember exactly what I said in that letter, but I do recall it was a simple one page, one sided reply. I took the pictures that had been on the wall and placed them in the envelope, sealing what was once a great feeling of promise away for good. I walked down to the shopette and ran into Smitty who said his wife had just got there from the States and was wanting to go out. I let on like nothing was going on but inside I was like "who the hell are you to be able to get your woman to come here and join you?". I told him he should go to Hai Life and gave him a general direction of where it was located. Smitty nodded and said he'd try to find it then darted off. I proceeded into the store and bought a six pack of beer and headed up the stairs back to the room. I was still numb from the letter and looking down the long hallway made me feel even emptier. I drank one beer while walking down the hall then stopped in the kitchen area and stared out the window. It wasn't too long I was already three beers into my six pack and I wandered into my room. Himel was already gone and the room was quiet...too quiet for me. I changed clothes then headed out walking out the back gate towards downtown Ansbach, destination unknown. I took my last remaining beer with me and downed it as I passed the lake behind Shipton, tossing the bottle in the water. The walk to town was therapeutic, it was starting to become dusk and the air was starting to cool down. German weather was like Kentucky weather. It was warm during the days then cool at night. The next day it would be just cold and blustery all day. The walk down the side road into town ran through a cornfield, the night air and clear sky was mind easing. Of course the beers I had consumed had started to take the chill off me. As I looked around me, I thought back to the times back home when I would just take off walking into the woods near mom and dad's house. Once I had started out one morning and walked all the way to the river, which was about eight miles away, staying on the old horse and buggy trails that zig-zagged through the forest. I didn't get back home until well after dark, my trusty dog, Grounder, followed me all the way and collapsed on the porch as soon as we got home. Those times seemed so recent, yet so far away. Man, I needed some home comfort right then.
I got into Ansbach, walking by the Goose where nothing was going on there. I continued into town walking into the old part of the city and for the first time, taking in the sights of my surroundings. Ansbach was a beautiful town, the narrow streets lined with buildings that were centuries old. I walked into the heart of the city and saw the cathedrals that towered over the city, I made a mental note to one day go in and see what they looked like. Farther down the street I came to a familiar sight, Hai Life. It looked like there was a good crowd in there, so I stopped in. I looked around and didn't see Smitty or anyone else I knew. I went in the back and started playing the arcade games that lined the wall, minding my own business, trying to distract myself from that letter. I went back and forth to the bar ordering drinks, eventually I got pretty soused. Finally, I spotted Smitty and his wife, Misty, at a table in the front. I joined them and introduced myself by getting a round of drinks. As the night wore on, I drank more and more and eventually unleashed on Smitty and Misty about what had happened earlier in the day. Hurt turned to anger rather quickly and I'm sure a barrage of sailor talk streamed out of my drunken mouth. Eventually, it settled down, and it got late, Smitty and I had to be up for PT early. They offered me a ride, but I declined, said I would rather walk back to the barracks. The return trip to Shipton seemed a lot longer as I stumbled down the road. I got back to the guard shack and fumbled as I tried to get my ID out, luckily, the guard knew me and waved me on it. Sometime that night, I went to bed, my head still spinning with booze and anger.
The morning I was to deploy to the field exercise started at 0430 hours, luckily I had decided not to get hammered the night before. After getting our M-16's from the armory, I reported with Hall to C Battery's Company Area with all my bags packed to the hilt. I had all my TA-50 gear and fully loaded ruck sack on my back. It looked like we were going off to war more than anything. After accountability and breakfast, we reported to the motor pool to pick up our convoy dispatch, which gave us our authorization to leave post in a military vehicle and our route to our field destination. All of this was mind boggling to me, I had never had to do any of this before. Hall explained to me what the papers all meant but it still looked like gibberish to me. We got in the convoy line up around 0730 hours and sat....and waited....the hurry up and wait factor once again. Finally we got the move order at around 0900 set out, destination, a holding area . The trip took about two hours, we were lined in formation that resembled an invasion force. Our ambulance was about 3/4 of the way back in the formation, which stretched for over a mile. Once we arrived in Ktizingen, we entered the military post called Larson Barracks, which was much larger than Shipton. We sat on the access road for at least an hour or so and I looked around at the area. off in the distance, I saw some guys flying model airplanes, which caught my eye. I watched the little planes climb and dive over and over again, occupying my time. For that time, I was taken to another place, one away from the military life I was in. The planes soothed my mind from what was going on in my personal life.
Eventually, we started moving again. It was early afternoon and I was starting to get hungry. We drove up into an area that was gated off and only had a couple of buildings on the property. There were high earthen berms and huge steel doors dotted all around, which I later learned were places for the Patriot Launchers to be placed and deployed if needed. We parked the convoy again on the road and sat...and waited. I reached in the back and got out an MRE and started eating it. There was nothing at all going on at this point, no one was moving around anywhere, it was rather boring. After I ate, I dosed off. Hall was siting back and about dosed off too. In basic training and AIT, the field exercises were all go, go and go some more, not this hurry up and wait stuff. I woke up sometime later and got out of the truck and walked off the stiffness from the traveling and sitting. There was nothing much at all to see where we were, just those large imposing doors. Eventually, we were told to set up bunks in the buildings and for Hall and I to set up an aid station. We went in and unpacked our gear into a small room that looked like a class room, setting up our fold out cots and personal effects in our own little spaces. And that was basically it for the rest of the evening; sitting there. I thought to myself, "is this the field for an air defense unit?" I guess it was, considering we weren't a field infantry and relied on the missile defense systems to do the fighting for us.
I was bored, bored beyond relief at Kitzingen. There was no TV, we were locked in the facility grounds and couldn't leave, it truly sucked to be there. Hall had his radio and listened to it quite a bit singing along to the rap songs he was hearing in his headphones. I was, nor have I ever been, a big fan of rap music, but the music's beat was very interesting. As Hall and I talked more that evening, we talked about our tastes in music. He was really keen on music and how to arrange songs, and told me he had written some rap lyrics. He then asked me to try to rap. Now, being as I am a Caucasian from Kentucky, where the predominant genre is country music, rap was a distinct challenge for me. Hall started off by reciting lyrics from Dr Dre, a rapper who had just begun to emerge onto the music scene, and then asked me to repeat them just as he had. What came out of my mouth sounded nothing like a rap lyric. We both laughed about it then Hall began to get serious, like he was helping me through it. We batted lyrics back and forth for a while with him even questioning how I played bass and "had no rhythm". Eventually, we called it a night and Hall told me we would work on it more in the next several days. It was fun, yet a learning experience for me, and definitely passed the idle time.
We stayed at the site near Larson Barracks a total of three days, then got the order to move out again. We lined up in convoy formation and started out and again, I had no idea where we were off to this time. Our journey took about an hour and a half and took us on the outskirts of Nurnberg. From there we drove into a populated area to a large park where we stopped. It appeared an unlikely location to set up a military tactical site, but it was what it was. It was a hot April day and the weather was absolute perfect out. People were walking the trails and paths around us, staring at us intently as we loaded out of our vehicles. We had a formation and the commander told us all that due to some last minute issues, we would be staying at the park. He told us that the usual mission would not be possible because the Patriot Radar System couldn't be deployed. After accountability, we were released to start setting up the field site. Hall and I set up our site, this being the first time I had ever tried to put up a medium sized Army tent. After some coaching and instruction from Hall, I finally managed to help getting the tent up. As I was staking down some tethers, I heard someone call out "Medic!" I looked up thinking someone was making a joke, then saw a guy walking with another soldier over to us, one had his hand up to his face and I could see blood. I looked at Hall who said, "Well, you're a medic now, take care of him."
The pair sat down and I asked the soldier with his hand over his face to let me see what happened, and his entire face was smeared with blood. His nose was gushing blood and appeared to have a large mark on the bridge. I asked what had happened and he told me he was hammering a tent stake in the ground when it bounced back and hit him in the nose. I treated him and finally was able to get the bleeding controlled, then cleaned him up a bit. it appeared his nose may have been broken, but he didn't want to be sent to a treatment center, plus, I had no clue where to even take him. The soldier's name was Sean Allison, a big guy who looked more like a bar bouncer than anything else, and he was my first patient. He went back to work on his field site, but was a bit more cautious as the day went.
As the field site was built, we noticed some kids curiously watching us work. The Launcher Platoon had a large tent they were working on near our location and one boy about ten years old told the group he could help, for exchange for an MRE. One of the guys gave the boy and two others with him some MRE's and they started working on the tent feverishly. They did quite an outstanding job with it considering their size.
After all the tents were set up and the site was operational, we had another formation outlining the next day's activities. Hall and I had no clear and defined mission other than keeping the troops healthy. The following days were pretty routine and quite mundane to say the least. There was no PT in the field, no formation every couple hours, Hall and I only had one real obligation which was to make sure the hand wash stations were up and running near the chow trailer. So far the Army I had a vision of was far different than the reality I was in. One good thing was that the weather stayed very pleasant during the field exercise, with a couple days getting quite warm. To break the monotony of it all, we all found ways to pacify out time, usually with card games or running pranks on neighboring tents at night. One day, since we had no real mission, a sergeant with some time under his belt thought up an idea of doing a combat patrol scenario, complete with a squad of opposing force. I jumped at the chance to participate. After some preparations were made with the commander and first sergeant we got the green light around 1000 hours. I stocked my medic bag with plenty of IV fluids and bandages and met with the other guys who were going to participate, which numbered around 15 or so. It was a very warm day and clear skies, a perfect day for being outside. The wooded area we were in opened up into a large open field with a slight rise off to the north-west of our position. Our sergeant gave a scenario that a platoon had come under hostile fire and was in need of reinforcement. We had a quick brief of how we were going to carry out the mission, after all, our unit was air defense, not infantry, then set out. It was like the FTX in basic training all over again. We had our M-16's at the ready with blank rounds and moved cautiously through the trails in the forest. I couldn't help but envision episodes of Tour of Duty as we did this. Occasionally we would stop while the sergeant gathered information via a field radio of the impending 'situation'. It was exciting for me to be part of this, and it sure as Hell beat sitting around the tent all day.
As we approached the rise, there was a clearing in the trees and we stopped again while the sergeant observed the surroundings. All appeared to be calm so we proceeded to the edge of the trees and into the open field. That's when we heard the first few pops of small arms fire, actually blank rounds, near our position. We spread out into defensive positions, finding any cover we could as this staged ambush played out. The hillside came to life with the sounds of M-16's firing and the sergeant yelling out to different people to try to get a better position and locate the opposing force. The field ahead had a ditch that ran about 200 meters ahead of us and was the length of the entire area. It appeared the firing was coming from that position but we were at a disadvantage because of the terrain; we were wide open. Had this been real combat, I'm sure we would have been torn to pieces. The sergeant tried to organize some soldiers to do a flanking maneuver, to try and force the attackers into a two front situation. Now bear mind that this was all training, no real bullets were being used and we weren't actually 'pinned down' by enemy fire, but everyone was playing this to the max. A couple minutes later we saw the opposing force retreat from their position in the ditch line and disappear into the trees off to our 2 o'clock position. We held our position and regrouped under the cover of the trees behind us, waiting for the next order. Since going out into the open field was no longer an option, the sergeant decided to have us hug the treeline and make a counter-offensive. We were staying low but apparently not low enough as the sounds of gunfire rang out again. We scrambled to get cover again and as I was moving, my foot slipped on some loose ground and I rolled down the hill into some bushes. I crawled out and into the trees once again, by now some of the other guys in the squad had arrived where I was to make sure I was okay. My adrenaline was kicked into high gear during this, but I soon noticed an intense burning sensation on my hands, arms and face. My sweat made the burning more painful. I looked down and had big red welts on my hands and exposed arms. Apparently one of the bushes I fell into had little prickly barbs that acted much like poison ivy. I was miserable but still participated in the 'battle' which was quickly turning into mayhem. At some point, some of our soldiers decided to make a charge to the opposing tree line, eventually flushing out the opposition force. From there it turned almost into a melee of sorts, guys being tackled and pile driven into the ground. It looked more like an episode of WWE than anything. The whole 'battle' maybe lasted 20-30 minutes and never really had a resolution other than some much needed fun, but it was a learning experience at least. As we walked back, my body was stinging and burning from the welts on me. I got back to the tent and washed myself off with some cool water, which helped a little bit. I changed uniforms and that lessened the burning some but not entirely. I would have to just ride it out I guessed.
The remainder of the field exercise was mostly uneventful. The day we were to move out of the training area, I was more than eager to head back. The long two weeks in the field nearly drove me insane, I just wanted to get back and hit the club again. We made it back to Shipton later in the morning and after formation and weapons turn in, I retreated to my room. Himel wasn't there, so I just dumped my ruck sack and TA-50 in the floor. I turned the TV on and saw on CNN a report of a large house on fire. Why would CNN be reporting a large house fire in Texas? It was April 19, 1993 and I soon learned that in this burning house was a man named David Koresh and at least 80 of his devout followers. I was watching one of the modern era's most iconic scenes unfold and didn't even realize it.
My crazy nights in the barracks were still in full effect after I got back from the field exercise. I would go down to the shopette and grab a six pack and have it consumed almost by the time I got back to my room. One thing I knew could ease my mind was music. I didn't have my guitar with me but wanted to play again in a bad way. Parker, who was a medic that had been in the unit for quite a while, said he played drums and wanted to jam. Parker was a unique character who had an odd personality to say it mildly. One evening after duty, we went to Katterbach's recreational center and rented a music room. I hadn't played since the talent show at Fort Sam and I was sure I'd be rusty. Parker sat behind this large drum kit with a double bass set up, I plugged the bass I signed for in to an old 70's era Fender amplifier and we started just free styling. Parker seemed like he could keep a steady beat, so I followed him mostly.
"Hey man, I wrote a song, wanna hear it", Parker asked me.
"Sure," I replied, not really knowing what to expect. We didn't have a guitar player so I was sure it would be interesting, just not as interesting as what transpired. Parker started beating the drums for all he was worth in what I can only describe as a punk style. He then started shouting words out something along the lines of "you dirty slut...you ruined me...I wish you would rot in Hell...." I just kind of sat there absorbing the noise I was hearing, not playing the bass at all. After about a minute, Parker asked what I thought. I was still stunned by what I had just endured. Not wanting to say the wrong thing to set Parker off, I just sort of nodded and said something like, "yeah, very energetic, powerful." Luckily, the recreational center was about to close so we left, my ears still ringing from the crashing of the cymbals.
When I was around people and the night was active, I did well. I didn't think of home or Kim, life was good. It was when the crowd drifted off to their own rooms and the alcohol stopped flowing that I started to feel hollow and bitter. I didn't want anyone to care about, all I wanted was a party that never ended. Not every night was a drunken slob fest, I reserved that mainly from Thursday night until Sunday night. Brightbill, or Harold as I now called him, hung out with me quite a bit during the week to keep my liver from jumping out of my body and running away. Like the lyric from Foreigner's song 'Dirty White Boy', "I'm a loner but I'm never alone...." I was one who loved the company of everyone, but wanted to be left alone in the end. Duty days were starting to become long and drawn out and very routine. There were good moments, too, don't get me wrong. Like the time we were in Sal's room and were treated to an impromptu performance of 'Dust in the Wind' by Kansas. Sal played violin and another guy had his guitar with him, so they started playing the song. It sounded absolutely amazing. I only wish I had recorded that moment.
Another great thing I discovered was the spring festival called Fruhlingfest that was in downtown Ansbach at the end of April. It was kind of like a carnival with a large beer tent, called Bierhalle, in the middle of it. Where else could one get hammered then get on a ride that spins faster and faster legally? It wasn't hard to find the Americans who were in the Bierhalle, they were the rowdy ones. German people held their beer well and didn't act crazy when they drank. Beer was served with meals and even at the local McDonald's restaurant, so it was a natural thing for them. I went every night I could, usually staggering back to Shipton with a beer mug or two stuffed under my jacket. I would usually get back to the room and try to be as quiet as I could but usually ended up being much louder than expected. Himel usually didn't stay in the room on the weekends, he had met a girl and stayed at her place. There was one night that was the exception. I was in my top bunk sleeping it off when I woke up moving. I thought I had been slipped something in my beer until I heard a moan down below me. Instinctively, I peered over the edge of my bunk only to be greeted with something more horrible than Parker's song....Himel and his lady friend in the midst of passion. That was the final straw for me. The following Monday, I sought out another room in the barracks.
Before I left home, I would have never seen myself being in the situations I created. But then again, deep inside, there was the same person who always wanted to do the right thing, so on the surface during duty, I did what I was told and should have done no matter how I felt. No one worried about anything at all except for maybe messing up and getting an Article 15, so I was in like minded company. I had indeed changed since I left home, in some ways for the better and other ways, far worse. As far as I was concerned my way I was living was the way of the world, my little world. I found myself disassociating myself with back home and dug my heels in for the long ride, one party at a time.

Chapter 15: Who Are You?

I was nineteen years old and for the first time in my life, essentially alone to my own devices. And so far, my devices were becoming vices. As the days passed, more newbies came to Shipton Kaserne, each equally as wide eyed as I was at first. The first couple of weeks after we were issued our field gear were dedicated to what was called German Head Start, an orientation of German culture and laws pertaining to military folks. We would also test for our military drivers licenses during this time and take a tour of the area, along with learning some basic German language. Our instructor was a German lady, I think her name was Frau Herrscher, or something like that. We learned German phrases like "who are you, how old are you, where is the train station" or Bahnhof as it was called, and how to order food. We found that our teacher focused more on the food aspects of the class more than anything. Each morning at 0730, we would board the bus back to Barton Barracks for the class, there were several of us now, each one in a brand new world. Back at Shipton, the guys and gals in the medic platoon were taking me and the other newbies under their wing. Two more guys from Fort Sam arrived after a couple weeks, Cowden and Smith. They had been in other platoons at the same time I was at Fort Sam, but we never really knew each other. Cowden was from the Dallas, Texas area, and Smith was from North Carolina. Both had a Southern accent, but Smith's was more akin to people from back home. Outside the platoon, I was meeting more people whom I would become friends with, one being Brightbill from Florida. Brightbill worked in supply but had a room just down from me so we hung out a lot. The barracks was one big family, and a wide mix of many cultures and ethnicity. But my room mate Himel, was still a being of his own. Everyday, more of his 'rules' were preached upon me, one being that I could no longer have visitors in the room without his permission, his premise being that they would 'steal his shit'.
One day in the Headstart Class, we took a trip to the city of Nurnberg. This was an exciting trip for me, because of the history that the city held. We took the train there, this being my first time on a real train, the only other time was the little train at Camden Park in West Virginia that wound around the amusement rides and attractions. It was a surprisingly smooth trip, the countryside between Ansbach and Nurnberg was very much like home, farm land dotted the scenery and occasionally a small village would appear, then disappear just as quickly. There were many small villages and hamlets along the way, most looking like they had been there hundreds of years, and most likely so. We arrived at the Bahnhof in Nurnberg after about an hour's ride, it was a huge complex made of brick with a large half dome of windows above. We exited outside the station, and the city was bustling with people. I looked around and the old architecture captivated me. Across the street from where we were was part of the old city wall that surrounded Nurnberg in the Middle Ages. The large medieval gate was at the end of a bridge that looked a lot like a castle's entrance and I paused to take a picture. This was far beyond the trip to the Alamo I had taken while at Fort Sam. I was caught up in the moment I guess, and hadn't realized that the group I was with was migrating elsewhere. I quickly rejoined them and immediately Frau Herrscher pointed out a deli. She raved on about the fresh smells of the bakery next to it and how the best coffee and cappucino was served in another place nearby. All the while, I looked around at the buildings, all of which appeared to have been centuries earlier. We walked down one street to a bridge overlooking a body of water. Across the way was a Roman type bridge that had to have been there since the Roman times. I noticed a TV news camera and a tall blond woman standing with a microphone. As I looked further, I noticed the woman was Doro Pesch, a noted heavy metal singer from Germany who had some minor success in the US with a band called Warlock. I didn't approach her, as she was in the middle of a live broadcast of some sort, and my group was again leaving me.
We walked down many streets, then got to one area where the old wall bordered the street. A guy in our group from Katterbach told us that this was the famous Wall, or red light district. He told us that prostitution wasn't illegal there and at night, the women would line up against the wall and wait for their courtiers to take them for a brief encounter elsewhere. Well, at least it wasn't a deli or coffee house, which seemed to be the main topic of our guide. We stopped in front of a church that was massive, with two spires rising high above and coated in a pale green at the top. Frau Herrscher told us that in World War II, the Allies bombed Nurnberg, destroying most of the city. The only structure left standing in this area was the church and its tall spires. Closer inspection of the church showed black scorch marks from the fires that devastated the city during these bombing raids. For once, I was put in the other perspective or World War II, how it must have felt to be living there during this time and the fear the people must have felt. We went inside the church and it was stunning. A large chandelier hung low from the tall ceiling, it was adorned in gold, as were the other decorative motifs in the area. The alter was a large decorative piece that had figurines of the story of Christ carved into it. It was one of the most breathtaking sights I have ever seen. After a short time, we left the church and continued our journey through Nurnberg. Ahead of us loomed a large tower that looked over the city like a turret from a castle of long ago. Our guide told us that we were looking at exactly what I thought it was, the remains of the old fortress built in medieval times. We hiked up the sloping incline into the great walled court yard, this was awesome, I thought to myself, to be walking in a castle. Six months ago, I would have never imagined this. We took some time to explore the fortress, along one of the walls there was an open spot with a breathtaking view of the city below. Nurnberg looked like the ancient town it was as I looked down on it.
We left the fortress soon afterward and headed back toward the Bahnhof. We passed one house in particular that I found interesting, Albrecht Duhr's home. Duhr was a famed artist whom I had studied in art classes. Mrs. Osborne, my art teacher, would surely have loved this. Eventually, we made it back to the train station and started back to Ansbach. For the brief time I was there, I forgot I was a soldier, I felt like a giddy tourist, gawking at the sights around me. We arrived back in Ansbach late in the afternoon, reporting back to Barton Barracks to finish up the class room activities. Our teacher told us we had a review of driving laws and a test the following day, we would need this to be able to drive in Germany, even with military vehicles. We boarded the bus back to Shipton, arriving after the end of day formation.
It was a Thursday night, if I remember correctly, and the parties had already begun in the barracks. Himel had already left out before I got to the room, which was a relief for me. I don't usually dislike anyone, I always have tried to see the best parts of a person, but Himel was one I couldn't find a single good thing about. Brightbill, or Harold as he asked to be called, came to the room a while later. I really had no plans for the night, so he and I went down to Bonsingoir's room down the hall. Bonsingoir, or Sal as he preferred, was in supply with Harold and had been in country for a while. He had a German girlfriend named Sabine who was at the room with him, along with a few others. We all cracked open beers and downed them to start the night off. Down the hall, the other rooms were open with people milling about the barracks, drinking and cranking music that echoed down the hallways. After a while, Harold, Sal, Sabine and her sister Michaela decided to leave and go into town. It was around 2000 hours, and Sal was going to a club to DJ. I hadn't at this point been around any German people, nor had I been in their cultural environment. The Goose was a German bar, but primarily filled with GI's due to its proximity to the barracks. Sal took us to a place in town that had no real hint of the American GI attitude about it. The club was above another pub called Hai Life, up a long stairwell. We went in and there was no one in there, but it was still early. Sal walked over to the bartender and they exchanged greetings, it was apparent that they knew each other and had for some time. Sal took his place in the DJ booth and started the music. In Germany, there was a different genre of music that I wasn't used to called Techno. Basically, the Techno music there was like hyped up disco, mainly electronic with no real instruments. Needless to say, I was an outcast wearing my black leather jacket and KISS concert shirt under it. After a few minutes, some people started coming in the club, non of which were Americans that I could tell. It was rather boring to me, so Harold and I wandered downstairs to Hai Life. The place was filled with people and looked like a good place to be. There weren't very many Americans there, so the usual rowdiness was at a minimum. Just inside the front door there was a 6 foot long fiberglass shark hanging from the ceiling, I thought that it looked like a worthy trophy for my barracks room. The one thing I remember the best about going there was the song The Tide Is High from Blondie blaring out and the German patrons singing as loud as they could to it. I had some cash on me, so Harold and I decided to stay for a while and have a few drinks.
Hai Life seemed to be the place to be, they had pool tables and arcade games in the back, good music, food, beer and ladies. I instantly liked the place. I had downed several beers in rapid succession, my tolerance was building up and I was no longer getting super drunk so soon. I remember one trip back from the bar, I turned around and almost walked right into a tall girl who was wearing a black body suit that fit tight in all the right places. She had long dark hair and was dark tanned, and obviously not American. She was a few inches taller than me, so I had to sort of look up. I told her excuse me, she replied with "Bitte schon," which I had learned, was a proper way to reply to an excuse me situation. At that time, the beer took over the words that came out of my mouth and I blurted out, "Damn, you German girls are tall!" At that time, the language barrier was broken, and to my surprise she smiled and said, "thank you." I realized I had just embarrassed myself and nodded and went back to the pool tables.
Harold and I left the pub after about an hour or so, and several beers consumed. The long stairwell seemed much longer as we walked up it this time. We got back into the club where Sal was and there were a lot of people there. Michaela spotted us and called us over to a table. I was feeling no pain but not entirely drunk just yet. Harold and I sat down, and Sabine ordered a round of shots for us all. We all toasted and downed the shots, of what I later found out was some very potent vodka. More beer and shots were downed as the night grew on. The last time I looked at my watch it was approaching midnight. I remembered that I had a test the following day, but ah well, the night was still young. Sabine pointed out some guys standing over to the side of the dance floor and said, "See those guys, they are Turks, stay away from them, they are bad news." I nodded and agreed, but really had no idea why. I remembered what First Sergeant Moshner told us about staying away from the Turks, and still I didn't know why. As long as they didn't get in the way of my good time, I didn't care what they did.
Finally, the night was over, it was time to leave. I don't remember much about the ride to Shipton, except looking at Michaela and telling her that she was the coolest German person I ever knew. She laughed at me, I'm sure I was a total mess trying to complement her in my drunken way. It was after 0300 when I got back to the room, still trying to regain balance. I set my alarm clock to 0500 and fell asleep.
Life in Shipton wasn't all partying. We had to be up and in PT formation at 0530 each day, Monday through Friday. The lack of sleep and alcohol still in my system was brutal the morning after my night out with Sal. We did the usual round of push-ups, sit-ups, and then we did a run out the back gate, past the training area then back around the barracks, a total of about 2 and a half miles. By the time we got out the back gate, I thought my head would explode, but didn't want to let on like I was feeling horrible. When we got back around to the barracks, I literally thought I was dying. After PT, I went inside the company area straight to a bathroom and vomited. I went back to the room, and vomited more. Himel was there already and just looked at me. I looked back and said, "What, you never seen a guy puke?" He shook his head and said, "Well, young pup, you will learn that you can't go out and get shit faced every night." Then he walked out. I showered, got dressed and passed on breakfast, instead I slept until duty formation and roll call. My alarm went off too soon, and I wandered down to the company area. I still could taste the beer from the evening before. This was my last day for Headstart, and it would be horrific, I just knew it.
We boarded the bus to Barton, and I just fell into the seat, ready to pass out for the few miles into town. I woke up when the bus stopped inside the gate at Barton Barracks and felt a bit better, still not 100%. The day wore on, the class review and driving test preparation was cloudy, I wanted to just go back to bed and sleep it off. Finally at the end of the day, it was over, I somehow had survived and passed the program. By the afternoon, however, I was feeling much better, the recovery had been long but worthwhile. We got back to Shipton in time for the famous end of day formation speech by 1SG Moshner. We were dismissed for the weekend, to start it all over again. I took some time and called home to let everyone know I was alive still. Calls home were much easier now for both mom and me, I was settled in now and not homesick at all. I called Kim and talked to her for a while, too. She told me that she wanted to be with me so badly, that she hoped I hadn't found anyone else. I assured her I hadn't, aside from the kiss from Brandy, and I dared not mention that ordeal to her. She told me that she had talked to a recruiter in her area and he said if she went on active duty, he would get her as close to Ansbach as he could. This was a blessing to me, it seemed things would work out great for us. We said our goodbyes and I felt so at ease after talking to Kim, now if only the recruiter did his magic.
The weekends were nonstop parties, the treks to the Goose were becoming epic. I never envisioned the Army to be like this at all, but wasn't complaining. People told me I would become a changed person in the Army, and so far it rang true. I also asked myself several times, "who are you, anyway?" I had went from being a simple naive kid from Kentucky to something almost out of control, far beyond what I was just six months earlier. Aside from the parties, the real duty days began very routinely during the week; PT, formation, chow, formation, then released to our respective work areas. My first days at the Aid Station located in the Headquarters Building were orientation mostly. We had some medical supplies, just bandages and aspirin mainly out in the open. I was issued a combat medic bag, a large back pack looking thing that had several compartments for supplies in it. I had seen the medical bag on the rescue truck at the fire department before I left home, this was similar, just more compact. I met SSG Bechtel who had came back from leave, she was a tall lady who had been in the Army for a while and seemed okay. The other medics gave us the run down of what our mission was for the unit. Two medics would be assigned to a field battery and go wherever they went. Although we were under the command and control of Headquarters Battery, we were attached to the other battery commanders and fell under their command. Each medic team had their own ambulance, a HUMVEE vehicle that had a big box on the back and a red cross that folded out. I had seen these at Fort Sam and trained loading casualties on them but nothing more. We were in charge of maintaining these vehicles, and each morning after the second formation, we went to the motor pool and did what was called PMCS. PMCS stood for preventative maintenance checks and services, we had check lists we had to complete each morning. We checked everything under the hoods on these ambulances, and everything inside the patient compartment. There was a minimum amount of medical supplies required to keep on board each vehicle, including IV solutions. At this time in Germany, there was no real threat of the IV's overheating, but we had to make sure they hadn't froze overnight. The PMCS process lasted all morning according to schedule, but the actual checks only took a short time. I learned at this time the 'art of shamming.'
The motor pool mechanics dubbed the medics as 'the sham platoon', a term I hadn't heard before. What this meant is after we did our PMCS, we would mill about aimlessly, appearing to be very busy doing some task. We weren't allowed to just do our PMCS and go back to the room or anywhere, so we found ways to perpetuate being busy. Anderson had the best idea; walk around with a folder or clip board that had papers on it, periodically making an appearance outside writing on this 'official' paperwork. The medic platoon had a storage room at the motor pool that housed out field supplies, like tents and field boxes. We would duck in there and basically do nothing until it was time to go back to the aid station. If anyone in authority came in, Anderson would quickly get out his folder and have something in there relating to training materials, telling the VIP that we were doing a class on such and such. It always worked out, every single time. Army life so far was making me lazy and a common drunk.
After a week or two, we had to go qualify on our weapons. The last time I qualified any weapon was at Fort Jackson, and that process took forever. I envisioned the medic as carrying a side arm pistol rather than an M-16 rifle, but ended up with the rifle anyway. We would be going to a range on a training area called Wildflecken and would be staying a couple days. I had no inkling of what this would entail, but was excited that I was actually going somewhere outside of the post. We boarded buses that would transport us there rather than driving the Army vehicles. The buses were the luxury tour type and had plush seats with cozy headrests. We loaded onto them with our M-16's, our duffel bags and ruck sacks were stashed in the compartments under the passenger area, but still wore our Kevlar helmets and TA-50 gear. The trip was far off and seemed like it took forever to get there, in reality only about 100 miles or so. I saw much of the Bavarian landscape on the drive there, the snow had all melted off and some hints of greenery poked through the fields as we passed. I dosed off for a while, then awoke when we arrived in the area. The bus stopped in a town surrounded by tall mountains, like something from an old English tale. The houses and buildings looked very old and there was a church with a large tower that dominated the town. After a few minutes, we arrived at the training area gate, then went up a winding mountain road. The area was misty and dreary, like we were going up to Count Dracula's Castle in the books and movies. We arrived on top of a mountain where there were military vehicles parked and some buildings dotting the area, this would be our place of residence for the next couple of days. It was early afternoon when we arrived, but it was damp and gray, and quite a bit colder than Ansbach. We exited the buses and were led into a building that looked like the barracks off Hogan's Heroes. There weren't any bunk beds, no kitchen facility or bathrooms in there, basically just an open room.
We sat down and were given MRE's to eat, all of us decked out in our field gear huddled in groups. SSG Bechtel did a roll call and had a list of people designated for guard duty, my shift was slated from 2am until 4am, not exactly what I had hoped for at all. After we got our gear settled in, we had formation and weapons checks. We would start zeroing our weapons soon after, after my attempts in basic training, I hoped they had enough ammunition. The firing ranges were totally different than at Fort Jackson. There were pop-up targets spaced like the ranges before, but we were up on top of this mountain where the wind was a huge factor and the lanes didn't seem as spread out as before. We would zero our weapons on paper targets like we had in basic training and then fire on the pop-ups the following day. I got prepared for my turn to fire, anxiously watching the others, when suddenly a loud bang and flash of light lit up the area. An immediate cease fire was called, and a plastic target was on fire. After a few tense moments, the fire was put out and the range sergeant went to inspect what happened. An old grenade simulator was partially buried near a target and a stray round set it off. The flash somehow ignited the plastic target, a rather impressive display overall. After about an hour, we resumed firing. My turn came and I took a deep breath, hoping I didn't take all night to zero my M-16. When I got the call to start firing my shot groups, it was like second nature. My first shots were low and to the left, so I adjusted as told. The second group of shots were up where they should be but still a bit off. The third group of shots finally hit within the limit on the paper target, far less time than it had taken in basic training. There wasn't a large group of people who were qualifying, so it really didn't take long at all. The afternoon passed quickly, and soon it was time to clean weapons and eat supper, another MRE.
We had all our field gear lying in our own little areas, our ruck sacks and duffel bags making make shift dividers. The weather had become much much colder and the wind had began whipping across the mountain top. I finished my weapon cleaning and ate, very tired from the whole day. It was going on 1900 hours, or 7pm, if I was going to be up on guard duty at 2am, I needed to turn in. The room was cold, but heated by a small pot-bellied stove that kept the real chill off. I unrolled my sleeping bag and got ready to settle in, when someone came in talking about the temperature drop. I reached into my duffel bag and got out the cold weather jacket with the fur lining just in case.
At 0145, I got a tap on my side from the person on guard duty. I rolled over, still very sleepy and grumbled. I gathered my senses and raised up out of the sleeping bag to a much colder room. The heater was still going, but the cold had infringed the room. I asked the off going guard how it was, he replied, "cold and spooky out there." I put on the cold weather jacket, tightened up my TA-50 gear, grabbed my M-16 and headed out as quietly as I could. For this guard duty, I was in charge of guarding the ammunition shack, vehicles and was the fire guard for the barracks. I stepped outside to a brisk cold wind that stung my face. The area was dark, except for a small security light outside the ammunition shack. I looked out around me and down in the valley below, I could see the tower at the church and some of the lights in the town. There must have been a bell in the church tower, because there was an occasional muffled ring that could be heard. Then there was the mournful moan I heard as the wind funneled through the mountain passes beside me. It was a sound I had never, and haven't since, heard before. I compare the sound to a ghostly cry of a woman who had lost her most beloved, not a shriek, but a monotonous drone. I have never been one to fear the dark, but this was very creepy. I made the most of my time walking around the area trying to fend off the cold and not let my imagination run wild with the sounds I was hearing. Finally it was time to end my watch, I woke up another person, then settled back in for the other hour and a half I had left of sleep. In my sleep, I still heard that sound.
Wake up came way too early. I was worn out from the guard shift I had done. The morning was bitterly cold, the wind still stung my face as I walked out to the latrine. We didn't do PT, but actually had a hot breakfast brought in to us. This would be a welcome change from the MRE's we had the day before. After breakfast, we got right into the practice round before qualifications. I shot very well for practice, the targets seemed easier than at Fort Jackson, but still the wind on the range was quite remarkable. In between the firing groups, we all just kind of mingled around, taking time to go into the building and get warmed up. All the sitting around and waiting made my sleepiness even worse, but I couldn't just dose off, the powers that be frowned on that. Eventually, it came time for me to qualify. I relaxed the best I could and fired away at the targets, qualifying as a Marksman, one point shy of Sharpshooter. We had several who had to do it all over, so in the downtime, I cleaned my M-16 and made sure all my gear was packed and ready to go, I wanted off this mountain as soon as possible. Finally, the time came to leave. We boarded the buses again and headed to Shipton. After my night in Wildflecken, Shipton didn't seem so bad.
The days passed by, things became routine and we found new ways to 'sham'. I still felt very new to everything, but was making some good friends. Still, that constant chase for a good time continued, prompting me more and more to look in the mirror and ask "who are you." I had become a soldier, life was good, I was finally making something of myself, but at a price. During my nights of drinking, I would sometimes find myself wandering off on my own, a thousand thoughts running through my head, but I would drown the thoughts after a few minutes. As a soldier, I did my share of the duties I was given, but personally, I was a train wreck waiting to happen...and the brakes on the train were wearing thin.