Pictures While in Basic Training

First Platoon had excellent drill sergeants. Though they were always after my ass, it seemed. My first mistake, as they say in the Army, was to draw attention to myself. Since I'd been in junior college, I got PFC rank right away, and I was made Guide-on (platoon flag-bearer). I (truly) thought someone else would be better suited to the job and told SFC Almendariz so. He nonchalantly said, "I'll take care of it." Had a new Guide-on the next day, but he might have well as said, ~~I'll take care of your butt in good time.~~

SGT Baker first caught me dipping snuff tobacco in some class, and he made me swallow it. I made the sourest face possible to make it seem that it was enough (punishment). Next couple of times I wasn't so lucky. On the third time, I was in the drills' office doing push-ups (or the ready "front-leaning rest" position for 'em) until my hands were turning blue. Then I had to turn in all my "chaw" and "Foley. . .No more chewing tobacco in my Basic Training," SFC Almendariz said.

The next day I lit up a cigarette during a platoon smoke break — Oh Yea! But later I got caught for an "unauthorized cigarette break," as one Private Gunn had narked on me. That did the platoon a big favor by pointing out who our neighborhood tattle-tale was. But it cost me. I got chewed out by the senior drill sergeant, SFC Wilkerson, and I also was awarded the pleasure of doing weapons drills, personally, for the First Sergeant.

Somewhere in there, SGT Baker made me his personal project that cycle. He was on my tail about every day. He was good though, kept me going, if that makes any sense. He also ended up winning E Company's drill sergeant of the cycle award — the dreaded "post-holiday-cycle" which was supposed to be one of the toughest.

Below are some of our training pictures.

We're in weapons training here (M-16). Conway and Colon are the only ones I recognize in this picture.

Engelking, from Minnesota and one of my bay mates, is in the front, middle. I'm on the far left. I can't tell who's in the "pregnancy control glasses." Gabriel is in the middle. Fletcher is to the right of him, and Durant (we used to call him "Duran(t) Duran(t)") is lower right. I met up with him two years later overseas at a PX.

Here's that supreme antagonist, Dorshak (far left), having a "great day" it would look. Darling (which is really his name) is to his right; he looks almost homesick. You can see the ever positive "Fitz" just behind them in the middle. Genco is on the right, and Floyd is above Dorshak.

Here are many of the people I saw each day. Gabriel is on the left. Erkins and Dennis are the two black guys. Genco is above Dennis, and I'm to the right of him. Furnis is next, and I don't know who is right of him. Lower right is Gilley, from 'the Great State of Tennessee,' as he would say; he always seemed in a good mood. On the far right is Gibson (who didn't like me); he was also from Tennessee.

Conway in radio class with, I think, Genco. I can't tell who's behind them; they are probably from another platoon.

Can you read the varied thoughts off these faces?

The guy in the middle front is Mann, D. I did not really get to know him until we got to our next duty station. Behind him are (possibly) Riley, Quigley in the middle, and Porter.

Might be me here or someone else. We really did look the same out here, and the pictures taken on the range usually weren't too great.

The (Brigadier) General came out to the range to observe us, and — wouldn't you know it — walks by me. I came to a frozen stop and saluted. And — wouldn't you know it — Sergeant Baker just happens to be there to catch and correct me (you're supposed to keep walking, salute, and stop only if asked-to or addressed).

Bunch of us — who knows whom? — on the rifle range. Spent many a cold day (sometimes night) out here. I had to wear a frostbite tab on my field jacket (because I'd gotten the bite before in Chicago) and kept it on until a sergeant at Ft. Lee told me to remove it.