I was born on the back end of the Great Depression and just prior to our entry into World War II. After Japan attacked United States Military facilities President Franklin Roosevelt, after an overwhelming aye vote from the Congress, (adhering to the Constitution) declared war on Japan, Hitler then declared war on the United States. Young men rushed to join the military forces, leaving college and jobs and families behind. Everyone who did not rush to enlist, with few exceptions, were drafted into the military service. For those who survived, most did not choose to remain in the military. They wanted to return home as soon as possible and get another start on life. It would not be a resumption of the life they left behind, because they had all changed, to some degree, and things at home had changed for them (although we felt, at home, that little had changed),
I grew up on a Central Texas farm during the Jim Crow era. Even when I graduated from College and entered the Army ( I jumped ahead of the draft), the harsh and cruel Jim Crow laws were still in effect. But when I reported for basic training at Fort Chaffee, Arkansas, I found that the military services had finally been integrated. The African American troops did not train in isolation from the White troops and the African Americans were finally included on an equal basis in the military branches of the United States. Our Battery Commander ( Ft. Chaffee was at that time, the Army training center for field artillery, thus, “battery“, rather than “company“) at Fort Chaffee was Captain Clarence Barrens, who was African American. There were three of nine of our battery’s command who were African Americans. It did not bother me in the least, and I detected no outward resentment from any of the White recruits. We just wanted to complete basic training alive and well (it was not as bad as we thought, at the time). Our battery was, indeed, an ideal training ground in dealing with diversity. We had people from Louisiana, Arkansas, Texas, Oklahoma and, I believe, New Mexico. We had “Cajuns,” Native Americans, Hispanics as well as representatives from a variety of ethnic groups (German, Czech, Polish and others). We farmers, hillbillies, city folk and a couple of outlaws to some big city dudes. We really didn't know or care about the social or economic status of each other, it didn't matter, under the circumstances, anyway. After a few days “on the hill,” the location of “boot camp,” all the recruits felt equal…all were buzzard bait.
We developed close ties with some and cautious friendship with others, based upon temperament and conduct, rather than race, color, religion or any other “civilian” labels. We avoided the “gold bricks” and the trouble makers in order to keep our own noses clean. We had, probably the worst “gold brick” (screw ups and avoiding work was his specialty) in the Army. He was White and from Texas. When he got into a shoving match with a Black sergeant, later at Fort Knox, Kentucky ( I happened to have him in the same group as I, when we were assigned advanced training stations), he went to the Inspector General and an investigation ensued. The I.G. interviewed, privately, all the troops who witnessed the incident (in a chow line) and not one person spoke against the sergeant, even though we felt that he had “lost his cool.” It did not seem fair for a “gold brick” to damage or destroy the future of a career soldier. Race did not enter the considerations. We all agreed.
We had lots of fun and made friends. I remained in touch with some for several years after I was “out.” I wish I had done the same with others. After all these years (about fifty), I still wonder about some of those guys and where they may be and whether they are alive.
When we graduated from basic training, Battery B., Basic Training Command, on 7 November, 1958, we marched proudly in review and felt very pleased that we had made it. No one, not even the guy doing his third cycle, was “re-cycled” to do it all over to get it right. We were all pulling for that guy. He tried hard, but he just had a hard time getting things right. We received our orders and train tickets to destinations across the United States, depending upon our classification. I was in a group headed to Fort Knox, Kentucky, for Armor training…armor…in a tank? I did not like the idea of crawling inside a giant steel tub and rolling around across the land unable to see (90% blind when locked down) and unable to run for cover. But then, I had no choice, so I would be a tanker.
