96th Division October, 1942
My orders to active duty came in late September,
1942, I reported to Camp Beauregard, near Alexandria, in October and
in due course was assigned, along with a troop train load of other recruits
and inductees, to the 96th Division, newly activated, stationed at Camp
Adair, Oregon, just south of Salem. Our troop train traveled across
the southwestern United States and up the West Coast, arriving at Camp
Adair in about a week.
On arrival, I was assigned to Company F, 382nd Infantry,
a rifle company. The Company commander was a Captain Waggoner, from
South Carolina, and when he interviewed me, he asked me what a man with
my training, education and IQ score was doing volunteering as a Private.
I told him of my plan, that I was there to learn about the Army, and
looked forward to being among the first selected from the Division to
go to Officer Candidate School.
He designated me as an Acting Corporal and assigned
me to the Second Platoon. As an "Acting Gadget", I took a
lot of verbal hazing from the Regular Army cadre. However, it was my
good fortune to be associated with these experienced Non-Comms , and
once I had time and a chance to prove myself, all went very well. In
a month or so I made Corporal for real, then Sergeant, at age nineteen
and the youngest man in the outfit, and was Platoon Sergeant of the
Second Platoon thereafter. My Platoon was made up of good men who respected
me and were good to work with and train. There were some memorable characters.
Private Howard had been drafted out of the mountains
of Kentucky and really had never been out of his home area before. He
was perhaps thirty-five years old, very shy and the outside world was
a compete mystery to him. A slow but willing learner, he often needed
help with rolling his full field pack, getting his gear ready for inspection
and the like, and I always tried to help him myself. A lot of people
laughed at Howard, but after we went to the rifle range, they quit laughing.
He was a crack shot with the M-1 and made music with the Browning Automatic
Rifle.
Sooner or later, the Regimental Commander would come
around to inspect the troops in training, an event which placed everybody
front and center. Sure enough, the Colonel stopped in front of Howard.
Captain Waggoner went cold. The Colonel asked Howard who his Battalion
Commander was. "Sergeant Garrett," replied Howard. The Colonel
got the same reply to inquiries as to the names of his Regimental Commander
and Division Commander.
Finishing his inspection, The Colonel complimented
Captain Waggonner on the status of the training and the appearance of
the troops. Relieved, the Captain asked if the Colonel would like to
inspect any other areas. The Colonel replied, "No, but I sure would
like to meet Sergeant Garrett."
Medelin was a draftee from Texas or New Mexico, not
too fluent in the English language, more than somewhat unhappy with
Army life and, as a result, often having a hard time and giving others
a hard time. After one of his misdeeds, I used my best halting Spanish
to firmly head him off. We had no more trouble, and he became a good
soldier. He probably just needed someone he could relate to.
We had a man who had been a traveling preacher, out
of Tennessee or Kentucky, perhaps thirty to thirty-five years old, who
was a real woodsman and outdoorsman. I learned a lot about living in
the outdoors from him, making a bed out of tree boughs, getting a fire
with wet wood, staying warm under winter conditions and other most useful
skills. He also introduced me to the 91st Psalm, which he called the
"Soldier's Psalm".
"Tex" English was a happy-go-lucky, blond
headed young man who took to the light machine gun like a duck to water.
His favorite expression was "Heaven is my home. I'm just passing
through." I later learned that Tex was killed in the Leyte Island
invasion
The weather in that part of Oregon in the winter of 1942-1943 was awful.
Every day brought more rain. We lived in the rain and it was not at
all uncommon for us to spend the night in the field, sleeping in the
rain. It was all part of the training.
We had some snow. One particularly heavy snowfall came
while we were out in the field on what was originally intended as a
three or four day exercise. The snow got about knee-high in the flats
and we couldn't get back to camp and supplies and food couldn't get
to us from camp. We had an interesting week.
Basic Training continued until about the end of January,
and by then we were beginning to shape up to expectations, but continued
with advance training in various areas.
In early 1943, I made application for Officer Candidate
School and in due time appeared before a Board of Review of Officers
for an interview and evaluation. One of the officers on the Board was
Jerry Hightower, who had played football at LSU. He was kind enough
to compliment me on my appearance before the Board and my sense of humor.
This was most encouraging.
In early May, the 96th was transferred to Ft. Lewis,
Washington, near Tacoma. What a change! We moved into permanent barracks,
a great improvement over the temporary buildings we had at Camp Adair,
the weather was perfect, cool and clear, with snow covered Mount Rainier
in full view, and a small beer garden right next to the Company area.
The hills were covered with fir and spruce and, all in all, it was very
nice.
In late May, my orders came through to report to Officer
Candidate School at Ft. Benning, Georgia the first week in June. My
plan was working. My time as an enlisted man, particularly my experience
as a Non-commissioned Officer, was invaluable to me. When you have men
under your command, they are entrusted to your care in every respect.
It is your responsibility to see that they are properly trained and
qualified to do the job they are called upon to do, and, as an essential
quality of a leader, you must never call upon one of them to do anything
you would not do or attempt to do yourself. In the last verse of his
poem The 'Eathen, Rudyard Kipling states a truism - "but the backbone
of the Army is the non-commissioned man."
