street Drug

Me and the war effort [well, almost!]

I enlisted in the US Army in August 64, in Oakland, California.
Not sure if that was the smartest or dumbest thing I ever did in my life.

In the bay area [SF area, California] at the time, all army interested parties were bussed to the
Oakland recruiting-testing station. I was then given a military service number which I memorized. Ft Ord, about 250 miles south; is the Headquarters of the 6th Army, to which I was assigned. [it has since been closed down and that army disbanded.]

Our bus stopped at the reception center and, after filling out more forms, we left the building and lined up for a march

to our first barracks. One specialist commanded If any of you have contraband, such as weapons, drugs, or pornography, place same into this wastebasket being passed around. Now none of us were stupid enough to be carrying weapons or drugs but only the richest among us was LUCKY enough to have bought and brought porn with us [it carries a high value among soldiers and is easily tradeable for other items or sold]. Naively, several guys dropped their Playboys and Penthouse or other magazines that were brought to the fort. Those
sergeants and SP4s must have yelled What a gold strike when they returned to their
respective barracks with our valuable literature treasure chest!

Regardless, we then were directed to march and we stomped in the darkest of nights with some street lighting ] to our barracks, a barracks some mile away. These were two storied buildings. For those of you who have seen the movie, No Time for Sergeants a latrine is not just for doing one s business but it is a way of life. Yuck! A latrine has no stalls, thus, no stall doors. And the latrine has a trough to handle one s other needs. [ Shits, showers and shaves. ] This is also where military insults are offered freely, Who the f…got me up at this time of the morning?

By the end of this first week, [where we took a myriad of tests and received both our hair cuts and clothes] we were boarding our first duce and a taking us to basic training. This for me was at H-H-C, 3, 3, or, headquarters and headquarters company, 3rd battalion, 3rd training brigade, also known as Up on the hill.

Basic training was eight weeks in duration. In basic training, we had to climb some monkey bars on the way to mess hall. If you dropped, you started over. We were tested on our chain of command [who were our bosses in-between our platoon sergeant and the president of the US],

what were our general orders [mainly used when pulling guard duty] and general military knowledge such as the specifications of our rifles, the M14, and more. We marched everywhere as I remember, from 1 to 25miles; all staying on Fort Ord s grounds. We learned hand to hand combat [one day a guy, as we were learning how to do somersaults, landed on my face and the skin was almost totally removed and took 1 mo to grow back], bayonet practice, map reading, crawling under machine gun fire, grenade tossing, rifle range and more.

As my family and friends later learned, another thing that sort of sticks with a soldier
is his habit of eating quickly. you have

5 min to eat.

I became rather proficient at the use of my rifle. At the training range, one time, as we were all waiting to stop for a steak lunch, my sergeant said Kemper, are you hungry? Yes, sergeant! was my answer. Our rifles held 20 rounds in our magazines. He said shoot only for the three hundred yard target. I want all 20 in the bulls-eye… if you want to eat lunch. I took
careful aim 20 times and put 20 rounds into the bulls eye. I was motivated. I was hungry.

One day, we were ready to march to our training area and a call for a

change of uniform went out to which we all charged to our respective floors and rooms to remove or add uniform
components; jackets, canteen, etc. One time for change #2, then another time for change #3, and finally, on change #4, for reasons only my soul understands, I broke down. I sat on the steps and cried. It was too much too many changes. My platoon sergeant, I think he was also Stockdale, sat next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. Take it easy Kemper. Breathe easy.”

When we returner to our barracks, we each had our orders for our A.I.T., Advanced Individual
Training. I was assigned to C-1-4, or, C company,

first battalion of the 4th brigade. [Ft Ord, sixth army.] I was to be taught how to handle the soldier s personnel file, the world renowned DD214.

Two great things now were introduced; women and passes! I would come to regret one pass.

After taking the army bus to the Monterey service center, and having watched
TV for a few hours, I began slightly shaking. I am not a drug user or anything and had no explanation for this shaking. I laid down to rest for 1 hour while I waited for the free bus to take us back to the base. I quickly got a pass to go the hospital. Finally, after

being given a hospital gown, I was directed to a specific room and told to lie down. In 15 minutes, a medic came in with a flash light. Then another one came in. In a minute, I was put on a Gurney and
whisked down one long corridor after another and into a room for surgery. I was very tired and nervous. Finally, I asked the doctor or nurse present, Do I have Meningitis? Yes, I am afraid so was the answer. I was given a spinal tap that is usually a one shot or one is dead. I moved the first time and the 2nd time, it was successful what an odd sensation. I also received a urethra tube that hurt like hell and then, I puked white foam. That was scary.

I was then gurneyed to a room several hallways away and I rolled onto another bed for
healing. In this room were 7 other guys. It seems they were also Mengi survivors.
At Fort Ord, I think 120 men had contracted Mengi and 9 of us had survived it.

A few weeks later, I was back at my school. I soon graduated from Personnel training school and received orders to go to SETAF, [Southern European Task Force], a division of USAREUR, [United States Army, Europe]. I got my orders, made my

way to the fort bus stop, and rode to town. I went from the Monterey airport to San Francisco Airport direct to New York to Milano.
I was dropped off at my new unit, HHC, 560th Signal Battalion, at Camp Ederle in Vicenza, Italy. [which today houses special forces, and the 560th Signal has been dismantled.] in February 1965. This base had perhaps 2,500 soldiers with Verona holding as many and Leghorn also as many. We did have plain clothes security forces in different towns keeping a watch for Communists who might be coming in from Russia. Italy already had
a Communist party so this watching for the Russian Communists confused me.

Kevin McCue was a

room mate as was Ray Erwin. Kevin and Ray were 5 years my senior and a unique pair. Mr. McCue was a soldier like no other I would ever meet.

Kevin McCue was a private, E2, with no stripe. He had been in the service perhaps
2 years and tolerated it. He had some skill I had forgotten what, but he abhorred
the military so much that he refused to accept any rank above E2. He did what he was told
to do and not a lick more. He was positively a smart ass when he could get away with it.
He could easily make one laugh and I think he had a degree in Political Science or
English.

I once came within 2 seconds of challenging his pacifist role but thought better of it; making friends was hard enough; no need to piss off the few ones I did have.

Kevin took advantage of Ray Erwin. Ray was not as smart as Kevin though Ray had more money because of his rank.

I Grew up in the army, or, matured if you wish. I had not enjoyed the different values in hygiene and had wound up scratching my legs excessively one week. I went on sick call. I think I was a 1-2 days a week showerer. Soldier s work makes one stink anyway so why sweat showers was my attitude.

Anyway, I went on sick call because of my right leg itching so badly. When I rolled down my sock, my right leg was covered in crabs. GROSS! I honestly do not know where I caught them from but I was in the shower in 1 minute and my barracks was being cleaned from top to bottom when I returned that evening. Oh well. That did teach me about hygiene. I took daily showers from that day on.

After a bit, I became disenfranchised with my position and was removed from my position as a Personnel Specialist and demoted in work title. I was, over the next year, assigned as

generator repair specialist, M49 jeep repair specialist, battalion training driving and weapon specialist and PRISON guard and driver for a major [who visited missile silos one day]!

Our command [SETAF] it was rumored, had the highest volunteer rate for Vietnam out of the entire U.S. Army. One day, at reveille, a new soldier showed up that was as sharp looking as he was out of place. He wore a green beret. In short order, our battalion commander yelled out Soldier, you are out of uniform. To that, our sharper than a tack beret responded Sir,
according to Army Regulations x y and z [I do not remember what he quoted] Green Berets will

wear this headgear. To that, our smart mouth lieutenant colonel said something like Soldier, according to other army regulations, I am the commander of this outfit and I decide what the proper uniform is.

I was offered two separate trips to Murnau, Germany, to attend the generator and
vehicle repair school. Murnau is a few miles north of Garmish/Partenkerschen,
the main recreation area for our soldiers assigned to Germany.

The trip from Vicenza to Murnau on the train is a unique trip.

Some time in the early afternoon, the train I was on did something so cute and
yet to territorial that I had to laugh [but not at anyone so I did not offend anyone.]
The

trip winds through Swiss this and that way and winds up in the meadows and
farm lands and for about ONE HUNDRED yards, it passes through Austria before
it returns to Swiss on its way to its major city stop of Innsbruck, also in Austria.
I was dumbfounded when the train came to a stop in the meadows with nothing around
but beautiful grass and flowers. Shortly after the stop, a new conductor came around
and sought the equivalent of twenty five cents for permission to travel through this
part of Austria. That made absolutely no sense to me. Since my destination was
Austria and I started out in Swiss, why could not the two nations get together and
collect for entire route and divvy it out as applicable? Regardless, again, it was so cute
[if they had only had a yodeler and a glass of beer, it would have been perfect] that I paid
without asking further questions!

Back at the base in Italy, I was offered the chance to become a teacher and I loved it.
I taught the superior way to drive the new M151 jeep as it had a more flexible spring and
suspension system and our soldiers were tipping them over in large numbers and dying.
Next, I taught the use of the M79 grenade launcher which looks like a sawed off
shot gun. I also taught the use of the LAW, Light Anti-tank Weapon. I loved teaching.

I also met

Mario Violante, our base Italian -English translator and we had few but fun
times together, he being about 25 at the time and paid 1/4 what I was.

During my off times in Livorno, I met a few guys and one guy and I hit it off so we
would go cruising in his car. We struck out but we had fun together. Speedos came
into fashion about 15 years later but in Italy, I bought a similar suit and thought I looked
good in it. I wore in 2-3 times and the girls seemed pleased. I once swam out 200 yards
out to a cabin cruiser to help a girl swim into shore. That was very pleasing. I

did not
push the issue and said bye to her on shore.

In Vicenza, I was befriended by Ferrucio Alliana, a pastacherria [pastry shop] owner
and his wife. I loved sweet pasta and it was for sale at prices I could afford. One day,
in my best Italian, I chatted with Ferrucio and he invited me to go with him on his
Vespa to the ancient castle that once housed the real Romeo and Juliet. It was neat being there.

Soldiers in Europe had to go on frequent Field problems which meant being awoken
at odd hours in the morning, dressing rapidly and heading to the motor pool. Our caravans
took us to distant farms in the county.

We met lots of Louies , our name for the Italian farmers who rented us their fields for the duration of our field exercise that could run from 3 to 7 days. On several of these, if my tent mates could stand me, I would be directed to visit the different farmers and using my best Italian [rather limited, to be honest] see if I could barter some of our K rations [now MREs] for some wine. I always succeeded. [And I discovered how Louie lived, eating sparrows and vegetables. Much of Italy had a standard of living about like that of Mexico, but with a zanier political system.]

Another interesting day was when we had

our annual PT tests; tests to see how well we threw dummy hand grenades, long jumped and ran the mile. [in fatigues and boots!] I knew that today, I would surprise many people. A squad has about 12 men, a platoon about 4 squads, a company about 4 platoons, and a battalion has about 4 companies, thus about 704 soldiers. At the 3/4 mile point, I had moved up a smidgen and the smokers had fallen out. At the finish, I came in 5th.

A few months later came voting day. Since I was a mouth , I volunteered to give a small
speech. On the speech day, two high school girls gave speeches

and I was the only soldier to volunteer to speak and I was congratulated by the Command general. That was a brief High!

On the trains I took to Livorno two times, I had nice chats with different Italian and English speaking passengers and was also intrigued by the adaptability of the natives. In lieu of
roadside public toilets, at least at this time in Italy s history, people had to solve their
concerns by simply stopping along side the roads [which often ran parallel to the trains] and
just unzip or raise one s dress and squat, right there and then.

I wanted to see the county from atop Vicenza s tallest building and got permission from the
mayor

to do so and got some good pictures [in December]. [the bird crap on the stairway proved that either the Italians had no cleaning teams for this building or no one had climbed it in decades.]

I have written separately about a field trip to Marostica, the city of the living pieces Chess Game.

I can honestly say that I kept my eyes open, and learned both about life and the military
as a young soldier in Italy. I also earned an unenviable record; I had 7 article 15s before I was honorably discharged from the army in August of 1967. An article 15 is non-judicial
punishment. Usually, after 5, a soldier is given a general discharge. However, I

earned
all of my 15s via Chicken shit petty activities. The army can be cantankerous when it wishes to be.

I was assigned back to the states in October of 1966. I was assigned to be a clerk
at CDCEC, Combat Development Command, Experimentation Command, located both
at Ft Ord and at Hunter Liggett Military Reservation, located about 50 miles south east
of Ft Ord. Liggett was a test range for the new M16 rifles and other weapons. I was
still a PFC [single striper then] and assigned to be a clerk for a trailer Up on the range
with a major, captain and a master sergeant. Finally, a big day approached, the day the IG

[Inspector General] arrived to handle GI complaints. Although I was to be discharged in under 60 days, I still wanted to have more pay and higher rank and my master sergeant did not seem motivated to help me so I got immediate permission to see the IG. I brought along my test papers and scores from typing and other material, explained I was already 24 months,
3 weeks time in grade [no one had ever not gotten a promotion in the entire sixth
army with as much time in grade as a PFC, so I held an unenviable record] and the
IG promoted me on the spot to Specialist Forth Grade!!

I completed my three year enlistment honorably in August of

1967. I did not earn
a good conduct medal because of my 7 article 15s but I learned a lot; about traveling
[visited 16 nations], almost became engaged to an Israeli girl in Haifa, Israel, learned
how to kill, clean, maintain, follow orders and the difference between waste and
efficiency.

I joined the California National Guard a few years after my separation, entering as an Sp5, and
was an Executive Officer s driver for a battalion, attended Ft Ord s NCO academy to
learn how to teach formally and was honorably released a year later. The following year,
I re-entered the guard and this time as a Sgt E5. 3 stripes, yeah! A week later, our battalion went to the Hunter

Liggett area but an area I had not seen before. There, the California Guard has tank practice and other training. I took my own camera and shot pictures of tank training, recoilless rifle training and firing and got pictures of a fire that one rifle caused that threatened an ammo dump. I met a major general who was visiting the recoilless training. That was exciting too.

There were 5 photographers to cover this extensive two week summer drill. Normally,
each photographer was able to have as many as two pictures printed in our
summer review newspaper; I had 5 pictures printed. I was gleeful.

A year later, I thought I would try for higher rank after being

honorably separated from the
guard with my Sergeant s stripes. I entered the California ROTC program as their
oldest candidate, being in my mid 30’s. I was stoked! Ready for bear! At each stop,
changes were made as to fire team leaders, tail guards, platoon leaders, company commanders, and battalion commander. It was exciting. I put my experiences to work and remembered John Wayne s movie, Green Beret s and how they went through their Vietnam jungle. Finally, after the day gone, I was appointed student battalion commander and
was advised not to use the slur Ten hut but instead, command the full Attention! And I was shown how to spread out my troops in case we came under fire. I was so stoked!! We were told an Enemy had been discovered and they were coming after us, so we had to go from being attackers to being defenders. Two slight problems, no food and no jackets or dummy ammo. Without ammo [blanks] we were told to yell out bang bang. I laughed but not too loud. Finally, just before dawn, the enemy were sighted. At the proper moment, we began yelling BANG, bang, bang as loud as we could. I guess I yelled the loudest and longest. I was still stoked. When the fight was over we were brought together and after the real major and his student officers huddled, they said something like candidates, we have chosen the candidate with the highest demonstrated skills and best attitude, candidate Kemper! Yeah! I gained, I learned. I have my war stories.