Pt. 5 - Marine Diesel Mechanic School

Shortly after graduation from Basic Training in August, I boarded a Lockheed Electra airliner in Seattle for my next trip to Richmond, VA, the closest commercial airport to the US Army's Ft. Eustis. Ft. Eustis, located in Newport News, VA was the headquarters of the Army Transportation Corps at the time. After a long flight that included brief periods of very impressive turbulence, we landed in Richmond at about 3:00 am. I walked out of the aircraft into a sweltering, pitch-black Virginia morning. Whew, welcome to the South!

I was stuck in Ft. Eustis for a few days until I received my orders for my next training assignment at Ft. Story, VA, the Army's amphibian vehicle base at the time. Ft. Story (now known as the Joint Expeditionary Base East) was located within the city of Virginia Beach at historic Cape Henry, the entrance to the Chesapeake Bay. The Atlantic Ocean winds moderated the steamy summer heat and the miles of beaches made Virginia Beach quite the tourist attraction. I was told that even GI's could get laid there, at least in the summer!

Things at Ft. Story were quite different from basic training at Ft. Lewis. The base was established in 1914  so the same ancient barracks were still in use, but there were no drill sergeants, no daily PT, no fireguard watches, no marching (except for the occasional parade for visiting big shots) and no more weapons handling. I was in the Transportation Corps now, and there to learn how to maintain and repair the diesel engines used in the LARC-V, LARC-XV, and the LARC-60 amphibious vehicles used to transport supplies from ship to shore.

Here's a photo of a LARC-60 unloading a LARC-V.

I had enlisted for the Military Occupational Specialty (MOS) 61E20, which was an Amphibian vehicle mechanic, but I ended up graduating with a 61E30 MOS, which was supposed to be a depot level mechanic. The engines I learned to work on were the Detroit Diesel 6-71 (an inline 6 cylinder engine used on the LARC-60 - one engine for each wheel!) and the Cummins V8-300 which powered the smaller LARC vehicles. I enjoyed learning about these machines a lot.

Our training company had a regular routine:

• Get up at about 6:00 am, shit, shower and shave, make your bed, and then go to breakfast in the mess hall.
• Attend formation outside of the barracks, salute the flag, and hear any announcements.
• Drive to the motor pool to attend classes.
• Drive back to the mess hall for lunch.
• Drive back to the motor pool for classes.
• Dive back to the barracks for the evening formation, salute the flag, eat dinner and then go hang out at the bowling alley for the evening.

There were several black students in our class, the first people of color I had ever met. Being 1968, race relations were a little strained at Ft. Story; blacks and whites pretty much kept to themselves, even in the barracks. I did get invited to play basketball with these guys a few times until they realized that even though I was tall, I didn't have a clue how to play the game. Just another clumsy white guy, what can I say?

The first time I ever got stoned on pot was at Ft. Story. My girlfriend, who was still speaking to me at the time, mailed two joints to me. A couple of pals joined me in the woods behind the barracks to smoke, and in the words of the great bluesman J.B. Lenoir, we got "high as a Georgia pine." After a while, we returned to the barracks and I laid on my bunk to meditate. One of the black guys had the local R&B radio station playing. Guess what the first tune I heard while stoned was? "It's A Man's Man's World" by James Brown. 

It was The.Best.Song.Ever.

We continued with this routine until November when I graduated. In the meantime, Richard Nixon was elected President of the United States. I remember listening to the radio broadcasting his election then listening to Creedence Clearwater Revival's version of Dale Hawkin's "Susie Q" on a friend's headphones. I still didn't know much of anything about politics, but this Nixon guy made me feel uneasy for some reason, just like Creedence's faux psychedelic version of "Susie Q" did.

We graduated on a cold winter afternoon late in November 1968. The class stood in a formation outside of the Company HQ and waited for the First Sergeant to give us our graduation certificate and our orders for our next post. As the students received these documents, they were relieved and free to take off for their 30-day leave. After a while, there were only three of us left: me, this black cat named Johnson, and one other guy whose name escapes me. The First Sergeant gave us our graduation certificates, but no orders. He grinned at us and said, "Well whaddya know, I'll bet anything that you fellers are all going to the 'Nam, and your orders just aren't here yet."

WTF?! 

Sure enough, the word came through that all three of us were going to participate in the war. We were put on temporary duty and worked in the mess hall, peeling potatoes, washing dishes, and mopping floors until our orders made their appearance. I was assigned to the 1099th Medium Boat Company in a place called Cat Lai, South Vietnam. I left Ft. Story for a 30 day leave back in Seattle. I was now a Specialist 3rd class and making $137 a month. I was 18 years old and would be in South Vietnam by January.