ALABAMA AND
HELICOPTERS
Alabama at this time was still having race relations
problems. It was only January of 1966. The south had only been a few short years
removed from all those separate, but never equal laws. Blacks still had social problems
in the South. I was to find out that so were young liberal Californians.
Fort Rucker was an old military installation that was being
set up as the Army's main aviation training center. When I got there I had to
wait several weeks before the class started. There was a shortage of housing for
all the men. They had old Korean War wood barracks that had been boarded up and
closed since 1953. We had to go out to clean up the building we were to live in.
We had over 10 years worth of dust and dirt to clean up. It was a mess and the
toilets were horrible to clean.
Before we began the training we had to spend about three
weeks on details and cleaning. One day a sergeant came in to talk to us. He
asked if anyone wanted to spend that time as a Fireman. Well at that time I
thought fireman were the kind that rode around on the back of fire trucks and
fought fires. I was wrong - as I found out when I reported for duty. When they
handed me a coal shovel, I realized that I had made a big mistake. I was stuck on
long all day shifts feeding the fires for the heating systems. Me and my friend
got so black and dirty from the work. We had to laugh at each other for being so
dumb to volunteer. That was the coldest winter in over 100 years in Alabama and
we worked our butts off.
The school was boring. I had trouble understanding all the
stuff. I daydreamed through all the classes and barely passed the tests. The
flying was the fun part. We all got to go up in a helicopter and spend some time
just flying around the area. I could see that this was the job for me. No
walking around in the jungle for me. I would be flying over it all. Then they
took us to these large towers with M-60 machine guns mounted on bunji cords. We
got to fire them at targets below the tower. I found out that with a machine gun
I could eventually hit something. All I had to do was just kept pulling the
trigger and point it at something.
I was also to discover that I got air sick when I flew around
in the helicopters. I made up my mind to never throw-up in public and never complain.
After several weeks, I forgot that I was sick and managed to fly without much
discomfort. I was always slightly sick. The real trick was to keep my breakfast
and lunch down each day.
I made some good friends while I was there. One of the guys
was married and lived in Florida. We used to go to his house on the weekends. A
bunch of us guys would pay for his gas. This would allow all of us to get out of
the Fort each weekend. He set me up with a women friend, so I would develop an
interest in going to his town each week. She was a nice women and was very much
interested in me. I had no desire to have a relationship. I was just weeks away
from leaving for another assignment when my training was over. My friend went to
officer candidate school, as I could have at this time. I did not want to be an
officer. I had little desire to stay any longer in the service then I had to. I
got orders for Fort Campbell, Kentucky and was assigned to the 20th
Transportation Company.
I really enjoyed the area around the fort and went out to
explore the towns and cities as often as possible. My friends asked me to go to
the Grand Opera in Nashville. I thought that was a real opportunity to hear some
great music. I asked if it was French, or Italian Opera, then found out it was
country music. They all had a good laugh over it. We all went to Nashville to
see the show as often as possible.
I wanted to blend in with the natives in the area, so I
stopped off at a western clothing store. I bought what I thought was real cool
clothes. I got a black shirt with white pearl snaps down the front and on the
cuffs. I had black paints to match along with a large black cowboy hat. I also
got a pair of the best looking boots I could find. When I got in the line for my
first show I looked like I was a part of the act. I looked like a real cowboy in
all my fine clothing.
I started a conversation with some of girls ahead of us in
the line. The first thing one of them said to me was, "you must be from
California"! So much for my blending in with the local country folks.
Several of us in the company wanted to go right away to Nam
and get on with it. The company was going to go over anyway, but we did not want
to go with an entire group of new guys in combat. Before I got orders to go, I
had my own form of combat with a drunk Mexican guy in my own company. He was
about six feet two and weighted about 185 pounds. He was in great shape. He had
run with gangs in LA and had bragged about it. He was mean when he drank and
everyone was afraid of him. He had the reputation as the toughest guy in the
company and everyone left him alone. Well, one night, he was real nasty. He keep
trying to pick a fight with me for over ten minutes. He kept at it and did not
let up. He even followed me into the shower and pulled down his zipper and
pissed on me. I knew I had to fight him soon. I waited until I got out of the
shower and got dressed.
He came over and once again began to push me. I slowly walked
close to him while talking peaceful and quiet. He had made the mistake of
calling me chicken. I knew I was not going to be able to avoid a fight. I waited
until he dropped his hands down and gave him an upper cut to the chin that
lifted him at least four inches off the floor. Then I hit him again and again
with all my power. I was afraid to stop and kept at it until he was a bloody
mess. I got on top of him when he fell down and pounded his face with several
more blows. The back of his head was hitting the floor with each blow and blood
was all over the floor. The guys who had been watching the fight finally came
over and three of them pulled me off him.
It only took one guy with just his hand on this drunk's arm
to stop him from coming at me. I was being held back, but I knew from that moment
on that he would never bother me again.
The next day his face looked like he was in an accident with a baseball bat.
His eyes were both black and almost shut closed. His mouth was all black and
blue and his teeth were loose. His whole head was battered and bruised. Everyone
in the company thanked me for beating him up. The fact that I could beat him up
had everyone assuming that he must not have been that tough. He never bothered
anyone in the company again. We became good friends after this and he even
loaned me money.
