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© Copyright 2002, Jim Loy
I flunked my first pre-induction physical; I had a hernia. I didn't want to have an operation, but the hernia got scary. A year later, I passed, and was inducted into the Army. Basic training was at Fort Lewis, Washington. It was winter, cold, and rainy. The whole time I was there, we only saw Mt. Rainier once. I forget what company we were.
I had been working in a sawmill, and was in great shape. I was especially good at the horizontal ladder, where you swung from bar to bar like a monkey, and then turn around and go back. I was probably close to setting a record every time. I could do push ups and chin ups and run forever. I ran a mile in seven minutes three seconds, in combat boots, which is not bad. I already knew how to march, as I was in marching band in high school and college. I did the 50 yard man carry pretty well, but when I carried a friend of mine (who was lighter than me), I couldn't do it, and fell down and cut my hand badly on a rock. The cut looked like a blister, and the doctor thought I was trying to get out of work.
I reupped (reenlisted) while in basic training, so I could get the MOS (job) of my choice, which was teletype (com center specialist, or 72B). I wanted to choose computer programmer, but that MOS was not available. We lived on the second floor of our barracks. Of course, we had to shine our boots, and make our beds. We sent our clothes off to be cleaned and starched. We ate in a mess hall, where there was good food and disgusting food. I stood in line to eat, which I had to continue to do for every meal for the next two and a half years.
We marched (or ran) everywhere, and did PT (physical training), and went to classes. We learned some combat skills, shooting a rifle, hand to hand combat, throwing a hand grenade, bayonet training: "There are two kinds of bayonet fighters, the quick and the dead." Nobody seemed to know that "quick" means alive, as in "quicksilver." We were gassed, I got my lungs full of the tear gas that makes you throw up. I almost threw up into my gas mask. Some guys ran away, but the drill sergeants grabbed them and pushed them back into the gas.
I had never fired a rifle before. And I did not score well with the M14. The day we were tested was rainy; the rear site kept filling with water, and I had to shoot without looking through the sight. The targets were so full of holes that the bullets went right through without knocking down the target. The only way to be sure of a hit was to shoot the ground in front of the target. And on every shot, my helmet hit the rear sight, and changed the sighting. I got a marksman badge, which is rock bottom. Later, with an M16 (I loved that rifle), I couldn't miss at any distance. I was shooting down the targets at 300 yards every time, with one shot; so I shot down my neighbors' targets.
One little guy from the Philippines was dangerous with a rifle, accidentally pointing it at people; they made him carry a broom instead of a rifle. One guy had joined the army rather than go to prison. Another got out of the Army, during basic training, on a medical discharge, because of drug use.
We graduated. My last day there, it snowed. They are not used to snow in western Washington, and there were hundreds of cars in the ditch. I flew back home to Columbia Falls, Montana, before reporting to Signal School in Fort Gordon, Georgia.