Pt. 4 - Basic Training

The trip to Ft. Lewis was a quiet one. We new recruits didn't know each other, and I guess we were all pretty nervous about our first day in the Army.

The bus entered the base and proceeded to the basic training area which was located at North Ft. Lewis if I remember correctly. After a short drive, we arrived at our home away from home for the next couple of months.  We stopped on a street with white and green two-story wood barracks on both sides. The bus driver opened the door.

That's when the yelling started.

A Drill Sergeant entered the bus, glared at all of us for a couple of moments, then started yelling at us to get the hell off of "his" bus. Another couple of drill sergeants were waiting for us as we hustled off the bus. Their job was to get us organized into some sort of lineup so that we could be marched to our next destination, which was the barbershop. You wouldn't think that getting lined up would be that hard, but it seemed to take forever. For some reason, it can be hard to remember which foot is your left foot with a sergeant in your face screaming "you're other left, YOUR OTHER LEFT!"

At the barbershop, all of us were given buzz cuts, which had the wanted effect of making us all look the same. A couple of the hippies were pretty forlorn after the barbershop visit. Then we went to Supply, where we were issued our military fatigues, boots, socks, underwear, caps, helmets, and a duffel bag to carry it all in. The next stop was our barracks, one of the green and white buildings that I heard were built during WWI.

Each floor of the barracks was exactly the same. There were two rows of double bunk beds separated by a wide aisle. Each new recruit had a locking wood footlocker for storing underwear, and toiletries and a wall locker for storing fatigues and jackets. There was a communal bath/shower room at one end of the building. The barracks were to be kept spotless at all times, or else! Each floor of the barracks had one platoon (about 50 men) assigned to it. An Army company is made up of four platoons.

The first week at basic training was consumed with learning how to do things the Army way: how to march, how to address Non-Commissioned Officers (NCOs, aka Sergeants) and Commissioned Officers (Second Lieutenants and up), how and when to salute, how to fold up your clothes for the inevitable barracks inspections, how to polish your boots, and the hated daily Physical Training (PT) drills. We learned quickly that calling drill sergeants "Sir" would incite said drill sergeants to get in your face and scream, "Don't call me Sir, I WORK FOR A LIVING, DAMMIT!" It was during this week that I learned that I had a beard. It was invisible to me, but our eagle-eyed drill sergeant could see it, so I started shaving every day. Someone had to stay up all night in shifts on fire watch to sound the alarm if the old barracks somehow managed to catch on fire. When I was on fire watch,I was always impressed with the number of guys that were talking in their sleep - it was a regular mumble fest at night.

When I joined the Army I was 6'3" tall and weighed 185 pounds. I wouldn't say I was fit, but it didn't take me long to get fit. However, many of the new recruits were way out of shape and PT was brutal for them. We did jumping jacks, crunches, and push-ups twice a day, and when not doing marching drills we jogged just about everywhere. Some of the men couldn't keep up; some simply collapsed on the ground and wouldn't or couldn't get back up. We heard that if a person kept this up, they might be considered unacceptable for the Army and be given a discharge. I can't say if this was true, but the rumor helped a couple of other people seriously consider failing at PT in order to escape the rest of basic training.

I suppose that the most enjoyable part of basic for me was the marksmanship training. The Army's standard service rifle in 1968 was still the M-14 rifle. This was a semi-automatic rifle that fired the NATO 7.62 mm round. It utilized a 20-round magazine. We had to become proficient at hitting human-sized targets with this weapon at a distance of 100 meters. Even with the basic iron sights, and a pretty decent recoil every time it was fired, I was a very good shot with this weapon and enjoyed shooting it.  This was the only weapon that we were trained to use at Ft. Lewis. The US military would soon switch to the M-16 assault rifle as the primary service weapon. 

After the first couple of weeks basic training became easier, and the platoon I was assigned to began to gel as a team. The food wasn't too bad, and the drill sergeants quit busting your ass once they got the impression that you were getting with the program. In the later weeks, we ran more, did more M-14 training, stabbed straw men with bayonets attached to our rifles, learned how to use a gas mask, and took long 20-mile strolls in the woods while carrying all of our gear (web gear, backpacks, and rifles). I recall attending a one-hour class on the Communist Menace in Southeast Asia, including a brief presentation about the Domino Theory. To graduate from basic training you had to pass a final PT test. I hated running, so I tried to do extra well on the other requirements so that I could take ten minutes to run the mile. It was a breeze.

This is the platoon that I was attached to in Basic Training at Ft.Lewis. I'm the sixth guy from the left in the top row.  Our motto was "A-4-2, Every Man a Tiger!" This was the 1st Platoon of A Company, 4th Battalion, 2nd Training Brigade. Our drill sergeant is the grumpy looking guy at the right of the fourth row from the top. I never saw any of these guys again.

My family came to Ft.Lewis for our graduation ceremony in August 1968. I was terribly homesick, so I really enjoyed seeing them. I was assigned to the Transportation Corps so I never attended the Advanced Infantry Training that was required for all future infantrymen. I was now a Private in the US Army, making $102 a month.

Next stop - Marine Diesel Mechanic school.

Pt. 3 - Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's Off to the Army I Go!

There were three things I had to do before being inducted into the Army:(1) take an aptitude test to see if I had the smarts to be a mechanic in the Army,(2) take physical and mental exams to see if I was generally fit to be in the Army and (3) graduate from high school.

I took the aptitude tests at the recruiter's office and I was told that I passed them with flying colors. However, I was told that I probably wouldn't work out too well in any sort of clerk position (hold that thought). Shortly afterward, I took my physical and mental exams at a hulking grey concrete building on the Seattle waterfront not far from the current location of the Coast Guard docks. That building is still there, but it looks like it hasn't seen any use in quite a while. I was given a file folder to keep with me as I visited various doctors in my shorts and t-shirt while they checked me for any physical deformities, or any other shortcoming in my vision, hearing, teeth, etc.. Finally, I was interviewed by a psychologist who seemed mainly interested in whether or not I currently was or ever had been a Communist sympathizer, or even more importantly, a homosexual. I told him no to both questions since at that point in my life I had never met a Communist or a homosexual. Not that I knew of, anyway.

I received a letter from the Army a couple of weeks later telling me that I was an entirely acceptable specimen and that my induction date was set for June 21, 1968, a few weeks after my high school graduation. My girlfriend and her mom were pretty pissed about this decision I had made, so I didn't see much of them after this time. I was driving an old beater two-door station wagon at the time that I had paid $45 for; it had a blown head gasket that I fixed, then drove until I sold it to a friend for $75 a few days before leaving home. 

On June 21st, 1968 my dad dropped me off at a building just north of the Ballard bridge to get sworn into the Army.  That building is still there, the current home of some sort of a studio complex on Seattle's Elliot Way. With just the clothes on my back and a shaving kit, I joined a nervous crew of young men, some like me, just out of high school, some hippies with long hair and bell-bottom jeans, and some surly ne'er-do-well looking dudes that kept to themselves. A couple of buses idled outside. An Army officer entered the room, got us lined up in somewhat neat rows, had us raise our right hands, then had us repeat after him the Oath of Enlistment:

"I, Michael Lynch, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God." 

After this, we were herded off to the buses for the 40-mile trip to Fort Lewis, just south of Tacoma. There I would attend Army basic training for the next 12 weeks.  At that time in my life I had never smoked a cigarette or a joint, never been drunk, never been laid, and never met a person of color. I had a lot to learn.