It was December  1972 when I entered the Twilight Zone. All that was missing was Rod Serling. I was riding on a train to Ft. Jackson S.C. to start my Basic Training in the Army. At the recruiting station in Raleigh, for some reason, I was put in charge of all the newbies, everyone whose destination was Ft. Jackson to start 10 weeks of pure-hell basic training. As we boarded the train, a few flurries of snow started falling. By the time we got to our destination, everything was covered in snow. 

I was in put in charge, but no one cared. Most of the guys, no girls back in the day, went straight to the lounge and started drinking. It was a four hour trip and everyone wanted to get hammered one more time before starting basic. Being in charge didn't mean a lot to anyone, especially to me. I was drinking with them, talking trash, getting braver and braver. No army was going to break us, not with all the liquid courage we were consuming. We were sadly mistaken.

By the time the train hit Ft. Jackson, we could have fought the Vietnam War by ourselves. Yes, the war was still raging and really, most of us didn't know if we were going or not. The draftee's were  sure to see battle,  as most were drafted just for that reason. Us enlistee's, meaning we who joined of our own accord, were put in the maybe box. Maybe you will, maybe you won't.

I need to explain about the shape of military after all those years in Vietnam. After fighting for over 10 years, winning every battle yet losing the war, the army was broken. The war had taken it's toll on the military. They were drafting people who did not want to be there, of course. Some straight from a courtroom, where it was either the army or jail. Rules made by old white-haired men  in Washington do not impress a draftee. What are you going to do, send them to Nam? By the end of that war, the military was in need of lots of new men and equipment.  Also, a lot of common sense.

We enlistee's had no excuse, but we were being trained by the same men who had fought and were wounded in Vietnam. The people who trained us were also broken. Every Drill Sergeant is supposed to be mean and I look back now ashamed of what I thought of these honorable men, who fought and gave everything they had for their country. They were the walking wounded. These men could no longer fight, yet could train other people in the art of staying alive.

I don't know what the world record for getting sober is, but when we hit the station at Ft. Jackson and our Drill Sergeants came aboard every man there sobered up fast. Hell haft no fury than a Drill Sergeant scorned, and they were furious that most of us were drunk. As soon as the train stopped, I heard obscenities that I had never heard before. We were in the Army now! 

These were the men with missing parts, arms and hands mostly, and faces that were sewn together in haste, to save their lives. Back in the early seventies, they had no medical treatment in the field as they do today. The men today who get wounded are 80% more likely to live than the men back then. The first hours of medical care are the most important and today they are worked on almost immediately. That's why the death count is not as high as in other wars, but the people with life-long disabilities has risen considerably.

 This was the first time I laid eyes on Sgt. Hook. He was a tall man who had seen many battles. He had "The Look",  that far-away look that a lot of Vets who fought and killed in battle have.  But the arm is what got my attention. There wasn't one. He had a two-prong hook and he was one mean S.O.B! He shouted out "who's in charge of you pieces of shit"? Oh my God. I had forgotten that I was. I spoke up and said "I am". I should have played dumb and shut-up. I didn't and I paid.

"You address me as Drill Sergeant you fucking piece of nothing". With that he raised up the hook and hit me square in the chest. The pointy-end went into my shirt and through a layer or two of skin. I had a small drop of blood on my chest. You could see the blood through my shirt. It didn't hurt at all, but I couldn't get my mind wrapped around it. That took only a few seconds. I learn pretty quick.

"Get off this fucking train you fucking maggots and give me 20, now. You, the fucker in-charge,  you do push-ups until I tell you to stop".  Motherfucker! Remember, I told you it was snowing. A freak snow-storm had came through the south  in  the winter of '72. It was getting deeper and deeper as a bunch of kids, mostly drunk and out of shape, were in the snow trying to do push-ups.

I won't tell you what happened in the next 10 weeks. Just know that I passed basic training by the skin of my teeth. Sgt Hook took me on as his personal fuck-up and I got every shitty detail the man could think of. If he ran out of things for us to do, "The Face" was also there to terrorize us.The Face, as we called him behind his back, had his face blown apart in the war. It was pieced together and not one of us had ever seen anything like it. He was ugly, mean and took out his hostilities on everyone he met.

I could write about a lot of things I went through during this time. Obviously, I didn't go to Vietnam. It was over eight months after I enlisted.  Someone suggested to Nixon  "lets declare victory and get the hell out of there". I guess he listened. I could tell more horror stories about basic training and running with full gear in the snow or doing push-ups at three in the morning in our underwear in the snow, but I won't.

I write this story because we have now been in Afghanistan longer than any other war in our history. We cannot do another Vietnam. We have two wars going at the same time, and we still don't know what is going to happen when we leave Iraq. Our military cannot keep doing this. Our military cannot continue to send men and women to a war with no end in sight. Our military cannot keep separating families like this. Our military cannot continue to lose our brave men and women to IED's. Our military cannot continue to lose our soldiers to Suicide! 

* Last year was the highest rate of reported suicides in the military since they started keeping track. This has got to stop!! 

  *Johnson gave the OK to attack Vietnam forces in 1965 and the fall of Saigon which signaled the return of US forces was in 1975. US involvement in the Vietnam war was 10 years '65-'75. 

*... the Vietnam era Republican Senator from Vermont, George Aiken and "declare victory" and get the hell out of there pronto 

* The U.S. Army will report Thursday the highest level of suicides among its soldiers since it began tracking the rate 28 years ago, CNN has learned.                        (http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/01/29/army.suicides/)

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