Book: 2
A poet mirrors truth--:
Quite wittinglyupside down--;
So says, he, the clown!
[From the poem: The Clown
Through the City and into the Woods
[Sketches of military life in the mid--seventies in Europe
As told by Buck Sergeant Christopher Wrightl974-l977
1.
It was a time when Russia was equal to the United Statesso it was measured in nuclear out putand so declared by many; and the measuring stick was: who could destroy the world fifty-times over? In consequence, there was two nations that could; in considering both to be a Nuclear Super Power, yes, by all means: both had such capabilities; --a time when the United States military was haunted by the rupture of the Vietnam War. A time when the Panama Cannel was being given away by the President of the United States; it was a time when the Military Forces were widely overlooked as a vital national resource. It was not until the 80s when the new President would see our m ilitary might was at its lowest, thus, he revitalized the internal and external structures of the United States Armed Forces. Had it gone to waste much more, for everything in the US Military arsenal was getting rustythe nation surely would not have been a strong enough country to take on any wars that lied ahead in the future; thus, an unpolished, and weaken America, was Chris dilemma, neglectfully and careless one could see this at the 545th Ordinance Company [possible as well as any other US Military Installation, worldwide; where the young sergeant was to be stationed.
--Again, to the point of brooding over what the soldiers felt, to be precise, the ones who had been in the military for a whileduring this time period, and a decade before, knew the military well, lived and ate the military life, was in war they knew and felt the insecurity of the times. And so did Chris feel this way, the way of the old timers: that presidents of this era filled their own beliefs and agendas, filled them with complacency, while others in the future would set them to alarm status.
2.
Troubles at the 545th [1974-77
Christopher Wright was entering the unknown and surely the unexpected as he readied himself for his new military assignment. He didnt know upon his arrival at the 545th Ordnance Company, thered be no Post Cards sent home from this shadowy adventure. From the city of Muster by Dieburg, as it was called, or Little Muster, was a long, long desolate road that lead to its gates: cow-pastors on the left side of the road, and weeded open range, with bulls, on the right: a meadow of sorts one might call it. And along this dirt dry long road which halted in front of a reclusive military base, which was also attached to a military nuclear site behind it, resided the 545th Ordnance Company, along with the 9th Military Police Detachment who guarded the nuclear site in what was called the back area. Above Chris head was a signas he stood at its gates, the shadow of the sign reflected alongside his feet: Welcome to the 545th Ordinance Company.
--And here was where he ended up, [l974he was 26-years old. As he looked through its gates it seemed quiet helplessly calm, almost too vulnerable to be a nuclear site, but then he had never been to one before. One could not help but notice the atmosphere that prevailed though, the gauntness about the place; he thought of the Pale Rider of the Four Horsemen of Revelationin the Bible: but that was too gauntly he told himselfhe convinced himself it was just a trifle mysterious. The long ride down the extended stretched out road from the city to the wooded area, the wooded area that also surrounded the military site and base was tiring, that was it, --he was just worn out, tired, needed rest [the site being in back of the compound, and absolutely, and completely camouflaged with all its neighboring greenery was now his home.
The air was cool, kind o f a fresh water breeze circled his aura; he took another step into the gate area, he had his dress greens onsome ribbons above his left chest and a combat stripe on his right forearm of his Dress Greens. Some people walked by the guard post, which was not far from where the Orderly Room was, as the Corporal stood in the gateway, Corporal Wright. Then with satisfaction of finding some kind of balance in all he saw, he walked through the gates completely, showing the guard his orders of assignment, --the guard looked at his chest, he had Vietnam ribbons on along with othersa few others. He looked impressed though and taken back a bit: for he had as many ribbons as any career soldier of a much older age; at the same time he put on a smile. The guard was a private. Corporal Wright was now inside the compound officially, the long road behind him looked like a picture that faded away into nothingness; you couldnt see the little town of Muter anymore.
3.
The Military B ase [West Germany
Along the side road, about two blocks, short blocks to be exact, from the main gate of the German-made US Military compound, called the 545th Ordnance Company, in West Germany, about forty-five miles from Frankfurt, by car, was the Companys EM Club; --short for Enlisted Mens Clubwhere the enlisted men went to shoot pool, drink and congregate. Along side the Ordinance Company, of which had about 160-military personnel, was the 9th Military Police Detachment, which had some forty-four soldiers attached to it; a perfect size platoon, one might add.
Going in something of a circle of the compound, starting from the gates, was: the PX [shopping area for the GIs; next to that was the Mess Hall, where the soldiers got to eat, and on top of that building was the quarters for the cooks to sleep, mostly males, one female. [It was at this time an early stage of the New US Military, where females were starting to fill more slots, or positions on military posts that were once filled by men, both stateside, and overseas. Along side of this were two large, three floor-barracks. The first one had a young First Lieutenant that slept in a private room in the basementLieutenant Goodwin. The second building had two Lieutenants that stayed there, both Second Lieutenants in rank; one was where Corporal Wright slept, on the third floor, Lieutenant Inman; and the other slept in the basement, Lieutenant Crawford. One was ahead of the ordnance battery [Inman, and Crawford was in charge of the arms room [where they kept the weapons, along with other duties. The Major and First Sergeant lived off base in the town of Babenhausen some eight miles away, along with some of the other Sergeants; actually about 15% of the Military Base, lived off base, to include that percentage for the Military Police Detachment
on the other side of the compound, or directly across from the PX, was the barracks of the 9th Military Police, of which they h ad only one [the whole compound being of about 300-acres . Now going back by the EM club again, across the street was the Surety Office, to its side was an open field somewhat, and then the barracks; the Surety Office was where one got their security clearance to work in the back site area [of which was the nuclear weaponsthe clearances were conducted by the FBI for background checks, and the Military Intelligence checked out the local and military areas.
Going further back, to the side of the EM club was the Motor Pool, where the jeeps and other motor vehicles were kept. Around the enclosed compound was cement walls, and barbwire fences; wire if not stone extended also into the site area. If one wanted to get to the back site area althoughbeing it was separated from the compound; separated by a wall specifically, he would have to go outside the gates of the compound, and drive along side the compound, and there within a few minutes hed run into its manned towers, manned with M16 rifles, M60 machine guns, and radar for overhead flying objects, of which this was a no fly zone, meaning, any aircraft that flew over this site was subject to criminal charges. Just a short ways beyond it, was the thickness of the woods again. Of the 300-acres Military Base, the site comprised some fifty-acres of it.
4.
Through the City and into the Woods
Remembering Vietnam [1971
[A journal notel975 Ive never tried to look back at my Vietnam experience, which many of my comrades at the 545th Ordinance Company were most interested in after a time, explicitly, after I had been there a while. I am getting a little ahead of myself, but allow me this for the moment [a pause. As I was about to say, not sure why I didnt talk about Vietnam, other than there really wasnt much to tell, and I had learned from the past, when you tell nothing they think you got something, and when you tell something, they think you are making it. So it boils down to telling them nothing, or what they want to hear. And you just simply get fed up with the crap. For all I cared they could get self-educated by going to the library and finding out all they wanted to, such as,
The war lasted ten-years; that, 3.5 million Americans went to that war, of them 500,000 needed psychiatric treatment, and I was not one. Most likely their question would have been someplace in that corner, why wasnt I one who needed psychological help: or was I, or did I? a question to ponder on for them. There were more suicides committed by the soldiers, who came home, after the war than soldiers killed in the whole damn war, and there were some 56,000-Americans that were killed. Funny, now that I think of it, there was only one general ever killed in the warin all the ten years of the conflict: and eight Full Bird Colonels. And out of 2000-officers that were killed, 600-were by GIs, the other 1400-have yet to be explained. Not many officers compared to soldiers, I think they were all hiding. That comes out to about one officer for every 28-men killed other than military officers, or better put, one officer for every two platoons wiped out, plus 2-left over.
Oh well, Vietnam to me was fun in a way, although the battle environment was less desirable, that was a high also, most disturbing was the loud noises, and vibrations, and at times the lack of oxygen about, especially when the dust, dirtearth is thrown here and there, believe it or not, it made the heart beat 200-times a minute, a natural high when all the rockets were coming in, within a measure of feet. Some of my friends got addicted to that high, addicted to killing also.
In a similar manner, the stress that went along with this environment, made me alert, my muscles somehow got stronger instantly, within the battle-mode. Oh yes, oh yes, not quite like the Hulk, but strong. One actually looses the ability to think clear for a moment, some longer th an a moment, especially during incoming rockets. You got not to panic, because you got to let yourself think. The quicker the better; I had seen many a man freeze, I never did, not sure why. I was a natural it seemed; my reflexivity was good. To my understanding there are only about 2% of populations that can kill and not have it affect them, you know, throw up, and get dizzy after the killing, stuff like that. I think I was one of them, possible one. No effect on me, none what so ever.
If I told my comrades here at the 545th these things, what would they think, I often asked myself that question, and then I answered myself by saying: would this be an attribute, or a postponed consequence? My alertness and responsiveness was highly developed, not only from Vietnam, but from my karate days in San Francisco, before Vietnam; --and the constant training. You train a soldier like you would train a dog, over, and over and over, and over until his front-brain and his mid-brain work for you, meaning, your mid-brain is saying dont kill, and your front-brain is saying, kill, save yourself, or if youre addicted, your mid-brain is most likely being suppressed.
For me it was a matter of environmental conditions to where Id shift my front and mid brain waves to work for me. In any case, this was all I was going to tell them, should they ask, --that is to say, should they ask and I feel like talking. But they never have asked yet, that is, gone beyond the simple, How was Vietnam, and I never went beyond, It was fine, and walked away. That actually stopped the asking a while ago, so as to leave well enough alone; actually Ive simply walked away a few times, and left them with the mystery they really wanted.
Well, Mr. Diary, Im getting tired, got duty tomorrow, got to get some sleep, goodnightJournal.
See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com
Author:: Dennis Siluk
Keywords:: Chapters
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