Ft. Sill Oklahoma 1985
It was 113 degrees Fahrenheit. Enough to bleach an anus in three minutes. Ft. Sill was the Wild West… a tree every quarter mile whether you needed one or not.
We sat on the spongy Buffalo grass under the lone tree on the parade field as a pair of training NCO’s gave the latest block of instruction.
”Listen up you shit-covered sexy National Gaaahdz! My name is Sergeant First Class Johnson and I am the Instructor for this four-hour block of instruction. This is my A.I., Sergeant Schmiied. This be the M561 Gama Goat and I be the Gama Goat driver! Task, Condition, Standard, Sirs!”
I was almost asleep. I was sweating uncontrollably in my starched-out BDU’s. The smell of diesel from the dilapidated Gamma Goat lingered in the super-heated air. I was a gold bar OCS sub-human National Guards Officer. No longer a Navy Petty Officer.
Everybody hates the Guard. They have hated the Guard since 1636 in Massachusetts when Pikeman John Smythe Williamson was caught asleep naked with a muscular male Indian after eating fried Beetus on duty. Williamson was tarred and feathered by a tribunal of angry Puritans.
Army training was incredibly boring. I was always tired. I never listened to a single word of training. I tried to care, but I couldn’t.
“Why is the Army obsessed with sleep deprivation? It is so stupid. The bad guys sleep. They are rested and we are always tired. WTF?”
I said out loud.
”You should shut your mouth. What do you know about it? You fucking prior-service Navy swabby, fruity former sailor-man.”
Said some uptight skinny anus of a Lieutenant.
”Maybe you should shut your mouth, you drooling anus-face, I wasn’t talking to you anyway. Mind your fucking business, you have enough problems to deal with from the look of it.”
”I’ll deal with you later.”
”You couldn’t deal with your own anus.”
”You two cunt-faces shut up. I’m not your goddamned babysitter. Learn about this goddamned Gamma Goat. I have a forked Artillery penis and I can split two anuses at once! I’m gonna make you stupid shitheads the first driver and assistant driver with a ton of High explosive rounds. Then we’ll see how chatty you girls are.”
Whispered Major Cowbienous inhaling erotically. He was our lead instructor. He was a Vietnam Vet. Was a Lieutenant with the New Hampshire National Guards Artillery when they were called up for Vietnam.
”You young twats with your namby-pamby sexy talk make the National Guards look bad. When we were in the ‘Nam, the so-called active duty, pot-smoking, heroin-shooting, anus-bleaching, fragging, deserting draftees and goat-fuckers had the nerve to defecate on my beloved National Guards. Fuck them active duties. Maybe if we had National Guards in force we’d have won the goddamned War. LBJ was a bleached anus.”
At the end of training day, I went for a run. I liked the sparse mountains. Ft. Sill had good sitelines.
TO BE CONTINUED