I transferred colleges and found I was three classes short. Selective Services said I had to take seven classes that quarter to keep up, or get drafted.
I arrived at Fort Jackson, S.C., at 0100 hours in November 1971 and started taking tests and filling out forms. By dawn there were only two of us still taking tests. They offered me a rotary winged warrant officer position, and I declined if not a commissioned officer.
Basic started and we were living in barracks built in 1935 with a five-year life expectancy. I learned to take the last fire watch of the night — since we had coal-burning furnaces, this allowed me to shower and shave in a relaxed setting before starting my duty. In junior high school, to be around the girls, I took typing. The company clerk was a one-finger typist, so one day I went down to company headquarters and typed up all his work while on a break. They decided that since I was No. 1 or 2 in physical training, an expert marksman, but just okay at throwing grenades, they could use me in the office. I would then be taken by jeep to whatever training was scheduled. I promoted myself, picked the best kitchen police day for me, and for bivouac I stationed myself in the colonel's private lodging to keep the fire going if he should show up. Bivouac that night was on a hillside, and when the rains came, everyone ended up at the bottom of the hill in mud.
One night trying to read, I covered my hanging light bulb with a wet washcloth. I was so engrossed in the book that I didn't notice the washcloth had dried out. My first warning was the fire over my head. I slammed my book shut around the bulb and it went dark. Then I ran to the storeroom in the dark, grabbed a bulb and replaced it while some idiot was yelling fire. By the time the drill sergeant arrived, I was making snoring sounds and nobody could explain what bunk in the barracks had lit up. My lower bunk roommate, Merrill, was an Oklahoma tackle, so as long as I kept his boots hidden so he could wear them for relaxation, he was my night-time guard on base. You see, there was a lot of violence on base if you wandered at night. I wonder whatever happened to Merrill.
The story continues with advanced individual training escapades. It didn't stop at basic!