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.
