1st day in the field.
Road march OK. Groin muscle
hurts like Hell. Couldn't run.
Back OK. Feet OK. One blister
after arriving. Letter from
[fiance]. Everything is
confused. We have so
much stuff and only a tiny tent
to put it in. Give me the
city. Hygiene will be
sorely tested.
I made the road march. But I was limping and was in constant pain. The last thing I wanted to do was go on sick call before this big day. I believe I had resolved to go on sick call the next day.
On the bright side, my feet and back seemed OK. The basic training giveth and the basic training taketh away.
Also on the bright side, I screwed up the drill sergeants plans for us on the march. We'd been on the march for a long time and were getting closer to the destination. At one point, I spotted someone moving through the trees ahead of us and on our left, so I yelled "ambush!" as loud as I could and the column scattered to either side of the road and took cover facing out.
The drill sergeants quieted us down, said nothing was going on, and reformed us in column.
Then we marched forward for a short bit until the machine gun--on our left--opened up on us. Once again we hit the ditches for cover. I was right in front of the machine gun. Presumably I died in the first burst. But I still tried to signal to squad mates down the line that they should move out and flank the gunner. But it was loud and nobody seemed able to move. Then it was called off. Thus ended our lesson in not paying attention as we marched along oblivious to threats.
I should protest that the Army really should have taught us the lesson that the best way to deal with an ambush is to attack into it or get out of the killing zone rather than hit the deck in the ambush zone. On foot, attacking was the only option.
Once again, an example that we weren't anywhere near to being trained soldiers yet.
Actually, I had a similar experience in my Guard unit. We had to set up a bunker at the entry road to a camp site where we had our antennas and assorted equipment set up. In theory, we would have an infantry company to man our perimeter in the field. My guess is that we'd be on our own in West Germany given the need for ground troops at the pointy end of the stick. But we did have to man the front gate for the field training. Our bunker was set up off to the right of the road with a lovely field of fire down the road and a large depression off to the right that would have been difficult to cross protecting that side.
The first time I had guard duty at the bunker, I did a quick recon around the area and noted that a draw through the forest off to the left of the road provided a covered route that went right past the bunker and would allow attackers to bypass the bunker and roll right into our position. I mentioned this to the captain when he came by. Apparently he filed my E-4 advice in the appropriate receptacle.
A day or so later, I was on an errand with one of our sergeants and we went past the command post of the Military Police unit that had been assigned the mission of hitting our position. Later I found out that they had advanced through the draw and burst into our position. Who'd have guessed that?
But I digress. So we dusted ourselves off again and marched into our camp site.
Our tents were arranged around a perimeter. We jammed our gear in the front so it acted like sand bags. I don't think we were told to do this but it made sense. I can't remember who I shared a tent with. I assume I didn't have my own since I think we each carried a shelter half. I'm surprised I didn't at least mention who I had as tent-mate.
Clearly I should have been Air Force with my preference for non-dirt living. After AIT, when active component people were getting their first assignments, the ones who went to an Army signal detachment at an Air Force base acted as if they'd been granted early access through the Pearly Gates by Saint Peter himself.
In the meantime, I was in the field and not happy about it. Had it rained, I cannot imagine how miserable I would have been.
Note to women, camping vacations are not optimal for me. You'd owe me big time.
