Fabulous! Who…Me? Aaaah, C’mon Now
Posted: Monday, October 31, 2011
by Joel Hendon
http://hebronics.org/index.html
When I saw this weeks article assignment, I thought …well, that’s one I won’t have anything to write about. But, realizing my lack of mastery of the English language and the meaning of words, I determined that I would at least, check out the meaning of the word and I’m glad I did. I might actually be fabulous in some respects. My head is already beginning to swell. Not that it isn’t big enough already.
1. Barely credible; astonishing: the fabulous endurance of a marathon runner.
2.Extremely pleasing or successful: a fabulous vacation.
3. a. Of the nature of a fable or myth; legendary.
b. Told of or celebrated in fables or legends.
You will see that I have underlined the two segments which may, or may not have meaning as to my fabulosity. (You see, my fabulous command of the English language? Fabulosity means a fabulous or fictitious story-Answers Dictionary). In other words, anything I say in the form of boasting would of necessity belong under the “barely credible” category. So anything great that I may tell you following, may or may not fit into the “of the nature of a fable or myth“. But since I am not a liar, you can give credence to these things as you see fit.
Korean War: I was drafted into the army on April 3, 1951. A draftee (one who is conscripted into the military) has no choice afforded him when you are in there. If they want you to be on a permanent garbage detail, you may as well get your masks ready. I held out hope that they might reject me for a number of imagined debilities, but that was not to be so I went (albeit kicking and screaming)(Naaaah…that is a little too mythical). I went peaceably and did the best I could, mainly because I was a coward and afraid not to.
I recall some incidents that took place in basic and advanced training cycles I went through which made Gomer Pyle and his Sergeant look like pikers. In basic, we had to learn about hand grenades and actually throw one. Our grenades had a handle, which as long as it was held down, it would not explode. (They come with a pin through it and metal holders on either side. So, with a firm grip holding the spring loaded handle down, you must remove the pin, and when the handle is released, six seconds pass before it explodes.
The scenario from where we were to throw the grenade was a semi-circular stack of sandbags approximately 7-8 feet high. Inside the half circle, was a deep hole with heavy steel bars spaced wide enough apart that the grenade would fall through if accidentally dropped. As I said I had Gomer’s sergeant (only this was when he was still a corporal). He was there with me instructing me in each move, even though we had been through it a number of times. I was to grasp the grenade, pull the pin, and then assume the correct army throwing position. (assuming the person is right handed, which I am) Carefully, raise your left arm, straight and with hand and fingers also straight and point that appendage towards the top of the sandbags. Then as a baseball pitcher, draw back the right hand and throw that sucker over the hand bags as hard as you can. I followed those directions perfectly. However, (You might have known) I threw so hard that I almost held the grenade too long and it only went over those sandbags by a couple of inches. The good corporal, was speechless, I thought because I did so good, but when he hurriedly turned away and smacked his forehead with his palm, I figured he must be upset. I thought I heard him say this was his last enlistment.
Then in advanced training, where we were assigned to and training for Anti-Aircraft Artillery service. We had 90 millimeter anti aircraft guns. The projectiles in those rounds were 3.5 inches in diameter and the weight of the round was somewhere around 30 pounds, maybe more. I have forgotten much of the stuff since that was only 61 years ago. In real action, each of these guns had a five man crew. One man’s job was to lay a round in the hollow place just below the breach. He was known as the “loader”. Then the “gunner” who was also the leader of the five man team, used his left balled up fist placed behind the round (which was normally at a hefty angle upward, and rammed the shell hard into the chamber causing it’s door to close behind the shell. Then using this same hand, almost in a continuing motion to pluck the upright lever which fired the gun. His right hand, all the time grasping a stationary handle which keeps him steady for the strenuous loading and firing process. Upon firing, the barrel (called the tube), the chamber and all recoiled somewhere around 3-4 feet…hard. If one should be standing behind it, it could seriously injure them.
In training, each one of us had to load and fire one of those guns, one time. Horror of horrors, I still had Gomer’s Sergeant. The team helping, performed flawlessly, using all the strength allowed a 145 pound fellow, I rammed that stinking shell home and plucked the firing lever, also flawlessly. But, that recoil slammed backward and missed my left leg by only an inch or two. The GS performed the exact procedure he had at the grenade throwing.
I tried to convince him that I was fearless and knew I had everything under control all the time. These are the only two incidents which I can recall which made me barely credible.
I actually served well and received several commendations from the brass during my two year tour. I made sharpshooter in firing most weapons, the carbine which the AAA carried regularly, The M1 rifle which the infantry carried regularly and the “grease gun” an automatic firing weapon with a thirty round clip. Only one which I failed miserably on, the stationary 50 caliber machine gun. It was too big to hold and fire, so it was fastened to a heavy stand and you had to aim by adjusting two knobs. You had to get the weapon set and oriented properly. The target was a series of 3 inch squares, there were about 5 in a horizontal line and then 5 more in a angled upward line. The point was to hurriedly fire a burst of three rounds, turn the horizontal adjusting knob two clicks and another burst of 3 rounds, on through the horizontal 5 blocks, then adjust it two clicks and the vertical knob two clicks and fire a burst of 3, on up the angled line. When I finished, I only had two rounds in the squares. My pattern was beautiful, the exact shape of the target but it was not properly oriented and was just above the target squares.
I told them to give me back my carbine and they knew what they could do with their 45 caliber machine gun. Well, I was so angry and disappointed that I think that is what I said. I might really have just thought that. It has been a while.
One more yarn which will certainly put me in the fabulous category. Our barracks on Fort Bliss was reportedly 11 miles from a training area where there was a “combat in cities” layout of almost a mile in length. At the far end there was a very steep but small mountain, on the left side. Remember these figures. Because they count.
After we had supper one evening, we were instructed to stuff our back packs with blankets water canister, eating utensils, and any clothing we felt we might need for the next 24 hours. Then (after a hefty days routine work) the entire Battery was marched to the “combat in cities” training area. As I recall, we were there around 10:00 P.M. Tired. So we all sacked out as soon as we could. We were awakened at daybreak…I was already awake, cleaning the sand from my eyes, ears and mouth.
Our Battery was composed of four platoons of 4 squads each. Each squad was approximately 10 men. After they had successfully fed us cold breakfast, we began to go into the combat in cities, carbines loaded with live ammunition. The course was mostly sand with large rocks and scrub brush with several sham buildings and pop up silhouettes. There was a solid wooden fence about 7 feet tall at the start.
The squads were to go through one at a time but they had to move quickly. I was leader of the fourth squad in the second platoon, so we had an opportunity to wait while our time came up.
When we were told to go, we had to get past the solid wooden fence, with our carbines swung on or shoulder and a pack on our back. As squad leader, I couldn’t afford to mess up so I took a flying run at that fence, jumped up and grabbed the top and slung my right leg over the top and pulled myself on across in a rollover. We had been instructed to do that in order not to form a tall silhouette. Now, we had to crouch and run flopping down behind any stone or bush with our eyes peeled for a target, we advanced like that in a sweeping row across the area. When we stopped under cover and examined the area, I would have to wave them on for another run. Occasionally a pop-up silhouette would appear and we all tried to riddle it. Now, as I said, this course was about a mile and when you run in a crouched position and pile down every few yards, then do it again, a mile is a long way. By the time we took that mock city, every muscle in my back and legs were aching. But the worst was yet to come.
When we reached the end, we had to run up that very steep hill because we could hear firing from the squad following us who had already entered the city and were firing. I thought someone must be insane to pull that trick. Those carbines would reach almost a mile. So up that hill we went, pawing with our hands and shoving with our feet. By the time I got to the top and out of bullet range, I felt I was about to die of natural causes. I was gasping for breath my throat and lungs felt like they were on fire.
As we sauntered back into the camping area, and fell down to rest, the Commanding Officer at least helped a little and commended us for the good effort. I thought about pointing my carbine at him and saying, now you go through.
Now, that our exercise was complete, all we had to do was get back to our barracks!! I thought to myself, surely they will furnish us with transportation back to the fort. No such luck. After all the squads had finished the course, we fell back into formation and began the long eleven mile drag. I really didn’t know if I had that much left or not. We started out, first platoon, second platoon (ours) and then third and fourth.
After about half of the distance back, I felt as if my feet were blistered, my calves were very painful and my knees and hips were also very sore. Two supply trucks and three meat wagons (army ambulances) had accompanied us and were following behind. About this time one or two of the men would stumble to the side of the road and say they just couldn’t go any farther. There were cadre (including our corporal Gomer’s Sergeant) walking beside the troops that would tell them to just wait and get a lift on a meat wagon. I thought to myself that I wished he had not said that. Now, hanging in there would suddenly be more difficult. But I was determined that I would make it all the way back unless I literally passed out.
Shortly here came a meat wagon coming up past us with men inside and hanging all over the outside. The longer we walked, the more men gave up. Soon another meat wagon came by loaded like the other. I began to be concerned, because if all the transportation left us, we would be forced to walk, even with a heart attack. But then we hit a paved street on the fort and we could recognize we were nearing home. If I had been able I would have begun to run. We made it. I went to my bunk, removed the pack and put my carbine away and flopped down there. Had they called us to do anything else that evening, I would probably still be in the brig. Instead, I felt fabulous.
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Top-level comments on this article: (2 total)Love your stories, Joel. You are a true storyteller and definitely fabulous!I thought I had already responded to this comment, but thanks anyway if I am late. I always treasure your comments.
I think you're pretty fabulous, Joel. And I don't mean, "barely credible"!Well thank you both. If you either get a chance, how about mentioning that to my wife. I'm afraid she is going to leave me before our 56th anniversary on Dec. 23. She just figured out why I wanted to get married on that day. I have gotten by with one gift all these years. I just put Merry X-aversary on it. I have to say she catches on quite slowly, but I can never accuse her of being dumb...after all look at who she married. A sure fire fabuloid.
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