6/23/2023 0 Comments Army basic training daily scheduleThere was also an outcast among us: Schloss, who was never known by any other name. At the barbershop, where Ramon was forced to see the curls of his pompadour tumble to the floor, he broke into tears. Ramon Rodriguez looked like a confused adolescent. Luis Rodriguez was a streetwise guy who preferred the tough look. Jose Rodriguez was a mild-mannered fellow with an Alfred E. Because the bungalows that housed the company were populated in alphabetical order, I had the company of three others who shared my last name. Most of us were Californians, but at least two were from Arkansas and another from Massachusetts. We also learned to disassemble and reassemble the rifle blindfolded, by touch alone.Ĭleaning our weapons and polishing our boots occupied a lot of our free time, giving us a chance to shoot the bull. Everyone memorized his rifle’s serial number. Each of us was issued an M1 Garand, a rifle that General George Patton called “the greatest battle implement ever devised.” It was an air-cooled, gas-operated, clip-fed, semi-automatic shoulder weapon. Near the entrance of each floor was a rack in which we locked our rifles. These were the “butt cans,” offered for the convenience of smokers. Throughout the room were several substantial wood posts to which were nailed two-pound coffee cans painted red and half-filled with water. Behind each cot was a rack on which to hang our clothes, left sleeve showing, and a shelf above it for our helmets. Each article had its place: rolled up socks facing in the proper direction, underwear, handkerchiefs folded the Army way, comb, and razor. At the foot of each cot was a green wooden footlocker for personal effects. We lived in white two-story wood barracks furnished with cots. (Whenever one of us appeared to be working too conscientiously, he risked having others label him R.A.) My ID tags–dog tags–gave my name, my rank, and my serial number, U.S. The Quartermaster issued us readymade uniforms and footwear with while-you-wait efficiency. The first two days at Fort Ord were devoted to getting recruits their clothes, very short hair cuts, shots, and other necessities. I was assigned to training company C of the 20th Infantry Division. There, buses met us for transport to nearby Fort Ord, where we would undergo 14 weeks of basic training. My orders were to report to Union Station and take a train to Salinas. On May 25, 1951, after an induction ceremony in the Mode O’Day building at Washington Boulevard and Hill Street in Los Angeles, I was no longer a civilian but a Private in the U.S. We realized immediately that our lives were about to change. In June 1950, I was on a trip to Yosemite with my brother Raul, who had also registered for the draft, when I heard the news that North Korea had attacked South Korea and that President Truman was going to order the U.S. (My last name on it was misspelled–as “Rodriquez”–as it was to be on each of the five Selective Service cards that followed.) On September 17, 1948, local draft board 121 issued me a draft card. My military service began, in a sense, when I registered with the Selective Service System upon reaching my 18th birthday. While I would never vote for a candidate merely because he served–other factors weigh much more heavily–I believe that both presidential nominees today lack a measure of personal experience that would benefit any commander-in-chief. Neither Barack Obama nor Mitt Romney has served in uniform. Back then, it was unusual to have a president without military experience. When Bill Clinton was preparing to take over as president of the United States, he got a lesson from Ronald Reagan on how to salute.
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