Two Score And Three Years Ago

Honestly, it doesn't seem like 43 years since I joined the army. A couple of years ago I went back to Pittsburgh's Federal Building to see an old friend. I stood in the lobby and looked towards the glass doors and could almost picture myself walking through them, suitcase in hand, back in 1969. Why God had mercy on one such as I... I will never know in this life. Why would He give blessings to one that He knew would so often trample them? If you have never had thoughts such as this, you must run out to get them. If you are a Christian and certain talk about God seems a little bit too syrupy for you then you must find out why that is the case. I don't believe that it's a litmus test for being a Christian, rather more of an eye test where for some believers only the top few lines are clear. The following blog from last year is about my eight weeks in Basic Training which began 43 years ago tomorrow. Many memories remain but none as vital as that of a 19 year old who did not know Christ nor his need of Christ. It would be roughly 13 years till the first line on that eye chart became clear enough for me to call out for mercy to Jesus...the Christ...the Son of God....the Lamb of God....the one who knows us better than we know ourselves....the one who came "not to call the righteous but sinners"... and the coming King and Lord of Glory! It would probably be close to another 13 years until I found out that I was indeed dead in my sins and could not have called out, and could never call out without first being regenerated from above.... a salvation even more amazing!!


It was September 19th, 1969. My aunt had driven me to the Federal Building in Pittsburgh and my mother was also in the car. I said my good-byes as I got out in front of the main entrance. The light was just breaking from the east and I followed the directions given to me and got on the elevator to go up to the floor where enlistments were taking place. There might have been thirty or forty of us there that day. We were given meal tickets for lunch and spent the morning filling out paperwork. At lunch I strolled around the floor that the cafeteria was on for I was not, as of yet, in this man's army. After lunch we took our physicals, the standard turn your head and cough variety, in a line of men standing around in their briefs. We filled out some additional paperwork including signing the enlistment papers and finally were ushered into a small room with the Stars and Stripes proudly hanging at the front. We were told to raise our right hands and repeat the oath of enlistment. Finally in the army? Most of the guys were directed to buses with a final destination of Fort Jackson, South Carolina but Harry W. and I were on another bus headed to Pittsburgh International Airport to catch a flight to Philly. Walking around the airport, I still did not feel like I was in the Army. Harry W. was a wonderful guy who resembled Drew Carey only not as good looking, was only a little taller than Danny DeVito and had a bad case of acne. The stewardesses were very pretty and Harry W. was really putting on the moves. The ladies were literally falling all over him...and ignoring me. Now what was wrong with this picture? I figured that personality must have something to do with this girl thing and that maybe I should try to get one...never did though. We arrived in Philly and followed directions once again to a limousine that would take us to Fort Dix, New Jersey... one long haired hippy type and a short, balding one who had a way with the girls. It was about midnight when we finally arrived at the wooden framed hut. Once again we were filling out paperwork with others who were arriving one by one. We were given mattresses and a couple of sheets and told to find a bunk....the end of a very long day. Finally in the Army? Morning came with loud shouts to hustle across the street for some breakfast and then report back. We were not marched because we had not yet been told which was our left foot and which our right. Next came a longer wooden building where we were issued the standard gear of fatigues, boots, socks, green underwear, a hat and duffel bag to put them all in. One better have the sizes ready for there were no questions taken and no words accepted except small, medium or large. I looked at myself in the mirror. Finally in the army? Nah. After lunch it was another cattle drive over to the barber's hut which had six long pew like benches and a long line of guys sliding down one place at a time as the one in front had his head shaved. To this day I wonder if these were actual barbers or if this was a second job after running a backhoe at night for it took less than a minute to run those clippers up and down the scalp. I put my hat back on and now it came down over my eyebrows. There I was, outfitted and bald. Finally in the army? We were introduced, if I can use that phrase, to a Drill Sergeant who was cordial and related stories from Vietnam for it seemed that all of them had just returned. This wasn't so bad after all. We spent two days being led around to various stations including the dentist where we established records to be kept until the day we would leave the army. Then came a surprise. We were bused over to another section of Fort Dix where the buildings were all brick. Off the bus we were herded and told to go into the barracks, find a cot to dump our duffel bags on and come right back out. We did this and casually formed some semblance of a line. Then Drill Sergeant Carter appeared out of no where. We were told exactly what we looked like and as I remember it had something to do with goats, Gilligan and Bullwinkle J. Moose. This guys jaw definitely jutted out farther than his nose. He was built solid and stood firm as a rock and we were later told that he still had plenty of metal in his back from Vietnam. Back to the barracks and the lights were out at nine. The next thing that I knew I was flying off the bunk into the air simultaneously as the lights came on. I was the unlucky one to pick the first bunk from the door. It was 5 AM and we had five minutes to be outside in formation. I still didn't know what a formation was. Left Face was the command and I was face to face with another guy. Panic had set in for one of us turned the wrong way. Fortunately the other guy was wrong and he was questioned as to what grade in elementary he ended his schooling in. We then started out in the darkness on my first actual march which soon became a quick time as we were then repeating, rather yelling, after Drill Sergeant Carter, that we wanted to be airborne rangers...go to Vietnam and kill those Viet Cong. Finally in the army? Reaching the mess hall we entered in a rather strange way. One line was released at a time and was to charge the mess hall yelling like banshees. I guessed there was a reason for that. One week followed another of pushing, shoving, marching, running, push-ups, climbing, shouting, singing and lunging with a bayonet. Six weeks into basic we were finally allowed to go to the PX. Most guys bought stationary, candy, cigarettes and paperback books. I bought Ian Fleming's Goldfinger. Finally came our week on the rifle range. I had never held a rifle in my life. When a recruit had a rifle in his hands he also had a Drill Sergeant two inches from his ear. They must think that we might turn the wrong way. No one complained. I was firing at targets I could not see and had no idea if I was hitting them but I must have because I did not have to go back. If someone had to urinate...silly comment...there was a large vat buried in the ground. No problem here...until it got filled up and had to be emptied. A small crane was brought in and four unlucky guys had to stand around it, shoveling and shaking it back and forth to get it free all the while standing in four to six inched of urine. Guess who one of those unlucky guys was? Finally in the army? We were bonding heavily as the fourth platoon and even more so to Drill Sergeant Carter. We were on a mission to win that PT award and we didn't particularly have any feelings of camaraderie towards the other three platoons, one of which occupied the other half of the floor we were on and one night we wound up in a big scrum, fighting over who got the mops and buckets first. Graduation came. It had been eight long, hard weeks. We, the fourth platoon, were psyched as we waited for the announcement of the PT award for we desperately wanted Drill Sergeant Carter to be acknowledged for it. And he was! Our squad leader was to march us back to the barracks and we had a fine idea to form the number four and march in it. The breaks on a car squealed and a Colonel got out who did not appreciate the meaning. He was up one side of that squad leader and down the other with words that one might expect out of the mouth of Hillary Clinton but not an officer in the United States Army. We were given the last night off and headed over to the EM Club for our first beers in two months. Walking, if you can call it that, back to the barracks, one of us fell out of a tree in front of us. Now how one could be with us one moment and then fall out of a tree in front of us the next, I never did find out. Finally in the army? When morning came we all waited around a slew of buses to take us to our advanced training with most going in different directions. We were given our platoon picture that morning and passed them around to be signed. I still have this picture with about forty signatures on the back. I alone got on the bus that was to take me to my advanced training and waved to the guys, the friends, that I would never see again the rest of my life, or even know how they made out. Finally in the army!