Enlisted Training

I did my basic combat training at Fort Benning, Georgia, “Home of the Infantry”. Since I was on an Officer Candidate School (OCS) track I was appointed as the “Platoon Goon”, or acting Platoon Sergeant. My job was basically to prepare my 44-man platoon for formations and to attempt to march them to and from classes and the mess hall (Yes, we still had a company Mess Hall in those days). I had little real authority as the Acting Platoon Sergeant, but I always felt that it was a beginning of my leadership training.

I quickly learned the importance of identifying ‘talent’ and placing the right guys in the right positions.

We were a racially and ethnically mixed platoon. About one third of the guys were white, many from Ohio and the mid-west, some southerners and a couple of guys from the West Coast. We had a large contingent of Puerto Rican trainees and the rest were African Americans. Some ‘Regulars” like myself and some “draftees”.

On my first day ‘on the job’ my primary task was to organize the platoon. I had to select four of my soldiers to serve as Squad leaders. My first squad leader would assume the role as “Platoon Goon” if I wasn’t there. My first squad was composed primarily of guys from Puerto Rico. One large draftee had been a high school English teacher prior to getting drafted and I picked Juan as my first squad leader.

Juan was great. He and I worked well together. We would run into situations where some of our PRs would try to use the language barrier to get out of work. Juan would step in and ‘readjust their attitude’, as he liked to call it.

Don Phillips was a big black soldier from Columbus, Georgia, His mom lived within sight of the main gate of Fort Benning.  No one messed with Don! One morning one of his soldiers, a guy from Newark NJ decided that he wasn’t going to get out of bed for roll call. Don dumped him from his top bunk and drug him still wrapped in his sheets and blanket into formation. Don and three of his guys held him in place like that until the Drill Sergeant arrived and took over and provided the tardy soldier with some ‘additional remedial physical training’. He never had an issue again!

When I started my basic training, we received $84.10 a month for our basic pay. From that they deducted money for our Serviceman’s Group Life Insurance, and our Drill Sergeant ‘encouraged us (wink-wink) to take out a $25.00 government savings bond automatic deduction each month. That left us with about $57.00 a month disposable income.

My other two squad leaders were great and by the end of their training cycle the Platoon took top honors, without me!

Without me?

The final phases of our training were the marksmanship course. We marched about 10 or 12 miles out to the firing ranges and bivouacked there. Our tents were set up in a large field in nice, neat, orderly rows by platoon. Because of all of the rain that we got in Georgia each of the tents was ditched and the system of ditches carried most of the water out of our bivouac site.

We were still training with the old Korean War weapons. We were told that all of the newer weapons were being sent directly to Vietnam to replace the original M-16 rifles that had a common defect. So we were one of the last units in the United States Army to train with the old Korean War weaponry. We had to qualify with the M-14 rifle; by then it was an antique.

One of the problems that I had with the rifle was that I am ambidextrous, and I tended to shoot left-handed. According to my Drill Sergeant I didn’t have a dominant eye for aiming the rifle. The problem with this is that on military weapons they’re all designed for right-handed shooters. So, when the shell casings would be ejected often they would land on my right arm. As a result, I have a number of little scars, burn marks, where hot shell casings would get stuck underneath my fatigue jacket and burn.

Once my Drill Sergeant recognized the situation he took me out to the firing range for some extra training and eventually taught me how to shoot right-handed. To this day I still have some minor scarring on my right arm from basic training.

We loved being on bivouac. While we had to keep our tents straight and in order, we did not have all of the harassment that we had back in the barracks area. Physical fitness training consisted mostly of calisthenics and marching to and from the firing ranges. It was a great week out there. We qualified with our rifles, got to fire the 45-caliber pistol and got to observe other military weapons being fired.

Every morning my job was to get my platoon out of bed and make sure their tents were properly arranged. I would then form everyone into formation and each one of my squad leaders would report on any absences that they might have. I would then do a quick about face and report to my Drill Sergeant. After the morning report I would march everyone over to the mess truck for breakfast.

It was Thursday morning. It was our last day on the firing range. I had already qualified as an expert rifleman, and I was looking forward to being able to pin that new insignia on my khaki uniform. All we had to do was march out to our firing points with rakes and make sure that all of our brass was cleaned up and put into the ammunition boxes for transport back to the fort. The plan was after our ‘police call’ we would return to our bivouac site, pack up, and march back to our barracks at Sand Hill.

I hadn’t been feeling good for about three days. On Monday I started getting bad headaches, and when I reported this to my Drill Sergeant, he just chewed me out and told me that I wasn’t drinking enough water, that it was dehydration. In those days we also took salt tablets with our water because of the heat. It was considered to be the best solution for dehydration issues. By Wednesday morning I was actually running a slight fever, but again our medic dismissed it as just fatigue from being in the field. Thursday morning, I had called my men into formation, took the report from my squad leaders, and did an about face to make my report to my Drill Sergeant.

As I did an about face and began to salute and present my report, I passed out. I was running a fever and could barely stand at that point. My Drill Sergeant called for the medic and sent me over to his aid station to check me out. At that point he realized that I was sick and decided that when the mess truck went back to Main Post that he’d send me back in the mess truck to sick call.

I think that Guardian Angel who always sat on my shoulder was looking out for me that day. The driver of the mess truck happened to be a combat medic who had just returned from Vietnam and was waiting for his discharge. His unit had put him on additional duties that day since he knew how to drive a truck. Our medic and the driver got together and decided that I was really sick. They thought that putting me into a bouncing truck on the old gravel roads might cause serious injury. So, he called for a Medevac flight.

Out cold on a stretcher, they flew me back to the hospital at Fort Benning. When I arrived, they realized I had appendicitis and immediately took me to the operating room for surgery. I was in the post-op and recovery ward for five days. I was then given a medical leave for 30 days and told to go home to recuperate.

Before I could leave, I had to go back to my area clear out all of my gear and turn in all of my equipment. The sad part about it was that when I returned to my barracks everyone was gone. My gear was stored, locked in a duffle bag in the Company Supply Room. My fellow soldiers were on their way to their next training assignment. Occasionally, during my career I would run into one of them. But the friendships that we had established disappeared when they put me on that Medevac flight.

I went back to Falls Church VA for 30 days.  At the end of my leave, I reported back to Fort Benning GA. I returned to my original training unit and spent the next twenty days on Kitchen Police (KP) waiting for another Basic Training unit to form up.

So once again I found myself starting basic training all over again. Once again, because of my experience, I was named the “Platoon Goon”. I would have to undergo an additional eight weeks of basic training. But there was a silver lining to this, I had already been through all of the training. My Drill Sergeants realized this and put me into a leadership position. They would take me off to the side and give me additional training above and beyond the basics that the rest of my unit was learning.

Even though going through basic training the second time was discouraging, it was actually rewarding. I found that many of the skills that I was learning from my Drill Sergeants would serve me well when I hit my Advanced Infantry Training at Fort Dix, New Jersey. I was already getting much of the training that I would receive there. Additionally, I was often used as a demonstrator, and I would have to work with some of my fellows who were having difficulties with some of their training.

Since I already had two months in the service I was automatically promoted to Private E-2, and I got to sew on my single stripe for that new rank. It also gave me a slight increase in pay.

At the end of the eight weeks after all of the testing was done, I graduated number one in my class as the honor graduate. As the honor graduate, I was immediately promoted to Private First Class, E-3. Again, I got to sew on another stripe, this time a stripe and a rocker and once again I got about a $30.00 a month increase in pay.

I had expected that I was going to stay at Fort Benning, Georgia for my Advanced Infantry Training, but I got sent to Fort Dix, NJ instead. It was my first time flying on an airplane! When I arrived there, I was with a new group of guys. Once again, I was made the “Platoon Goon” because of the fact that I already held the rank of Private First Class, and I was designated as an OCS Candidate.

Our training at Fort Dix seemed to be a bit shoddy from what I had seen at Fort Benning. One thing that I noticed was a large number of very senior noncommissioned officers that stayed in our barracks. One of them told me that he had been a major in the US Army in Korea during the Korean War. After the war there was a major Reduction-in-Force, and he had stayed on as a Staff Sergeant in order to get his 20 years of service for retirement purposes. When they retired, they would retire at the highest rank held, in his case, as a Major. A number of the other NCOs were in the same category. Many of them served as our training cadre during my training at Fort Dix.

I was intrigued by some of their stories from there combat duties in Korea. One senior Master Sergeant and I would often talk about his experiences not only in Korea but also in Vietnam where he had served three tours. I liked listening to him, he was a good instructor. I learned a lot from him. One thing that he told me was that since I was going to OCS after my training at Fort Dix that I needed to understand the difference between an officer and a noncommissioned officer and their roles in the army.

He explained to me that my career as an officer would be that of a ‘generalist’.

“Taylor, you’re not expected to know everything as an officer; don’t let anyone kid you. You’re in charge, but a wise officer listens to their sergeants. They’re the real experts, and you have to rely on their knowledge and listen to their advice. But in the long run you are still going to have to be the man who makes that final decision. It must be made on the best information that you have; then proceed as quickly as possible and make adjustments when needed.”

I followed his advice for most of my career. I was fortunate in that I had fantastic noncommissioned officers who worked for me, and I was smart enough to listen to them most of the time. I always took the attitude that if something went wrong it was my obligation to take responsibility for those actions. The advice may not have been perfect, but I was the one who accepted it and reacted to it; therefore, I was ultimately responsible.

I think that was the biggest advantage that I had over many of the officers that I knew in the military. I had been a noncommissioned officer. I had been a Sergeant myself. Granted my duties at the time as a Sergeant we’re very basic, but I learned from outstanding noncommissioned officers. If I was a good officer during my career, it’s because I stood on the shoulders of outstanding sergeants.

I graduated as the Honor Student from my AIT Course and was promoted to the rank of Corporal and a $56.00 increase in basic pay.  The rank of Corporal is perhaps the best enlisted rank in the entire US Army! I was a noncommissioned officer, with minimal responsibility. I was retained until October in the company that I had graduated from while I awaited my OCS slot.

Since my duties were minimal my First Sergeant arranged for me to attend the Combat Medic course which was being conducted in the battalion next to ours. Since I had already completed the required field training all I had to do was attend the medic related courses. These classes consisted mostly of advanced first aid and patient evacuation.

When I left the course, I was awarded a secondary Military Occupational Skill Code, 91B Combat Medic. But my OCS class still hadn’t been identified. So, I spent the next month and a half as a “Duty Corporal” assigned to perform routine supervisory duties in the Company Area.

We had a number of what we referred to as “McNamara’s 100,000” assigned to our unit and as the Duty Corporal my responsibility was to supervise them during the duty day. These men were incapable of meeting the US Army’s mental standards for enlistment. They were enlisted under special provisions that would basically get them off the streets and into a training program. They were non-deployable soldiers and would serve their time in garrison.

The vast majority that I worked with were fine people. Just not the sharpest tools in the shed. They would perform basic duties around the company area and my job was to supervise them and assist them when needed.

Each week we would have to strip the bunks in the barracks and take the sheets to the laundry. Each bale had to contain 25 sheets. I would have to go back and recount every bundle to make sure that the correct number of sheets was in the bale before they could bag them up. Rarely did I get an exact count. I’d either have to have them add a sheet or two or take some out of the bale. They seemed to have a difficult time counting to 25!

We would then load the sheets into a truck and take them to the laundry and drop off the dirty sheets and pick up bales of clean ones and return them to the barracks. There they would open the bales and drop two sheets along with one pillowcase, off on each bunk in the barracks.

Finally in late September I got my orders for OCS at Fort Belvoir, Virginia, Engineer Officer Candidate School. I had my heart set on returning to Fort Benning for Infantry OCS, but the Army had different plans for me. I was given a three week leave. My Company Commander gave me a unit promotion to ‘Buck’ Sergeant E-5, a $36.00 a month pay raise and a third ‘hard’ stripe for my uniform.

Next Week – Officer Candidate School

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The Advisor Series:

• The Advisor Series:
• “The Advisor, Kien Bing, South Vietnam, 1969-1970. A Novel” (Available on Amazon ASIN: B09L4X5NQ3)
• “The Province Senior Intelligence Advisor, Kien Song Province 1970-1971; A Novel” (Available on Amazon ASIN: B0BHL2XCX5)
• “The Hardchargers,” Vietnam 1972-1973; A Novel” (Available on Amazon ASIN: B0C7SPR1JY)
• “The Tuscarora Trail” (Available on Amazon ASIN: B0D3QY2GM6)

Check out my website for other books that I’ve written or edited.

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