CHAPTER 1
My introduction to life in the Corps
We started the year with forty-nine freshmen in A Company, Third Battalion, Second Brigade. My Aggie buddy Mike always said it was forty-four, but I am almost certain that I heard we had forty-nine freshmen, or "fish" as first year cadets are called, reporting in to Dorm 4 on that hot, muggy day in September of 1962.
I have a theory that might explain the difference in my count versus Mike's. In the uproar of that first day, sweaty freshmen were lined up, pressed against the walls of the long dormitory hallway like ducks at a shooting gallery. A handful of upperclassmen who arrived a few days early to indoctrinate the new cadets strutted down the middle of the hall as they yelled instructions. My theory is that there were five freshmen who had been assigned to Company A-2 who got to the front door of the dorm, saw and heard the tumult inside, and never even entered. I imagine they ran back to the car before mom and dad could drive off and scurried back home to Decatur or Dilley or Dallas or wherever they came from. They probably signed up with the local junior college rather than subject themselves to the ordeal that surely lay ahead as a fish in the Texas A&M Corps of Cadets.
I must confess that there have been moments that I may have envied those five guys.
"You signed up for what?"
My high school friend Charlie and I had gone up to College Station prior to the start of school for a two day orientation. One of the tasks during our stay was to sign up for ROTC at the Chemistry Building located in mid-campus. Just inside the door in the main hallway there were two tables. On one side of the hallway was a table marked "Air Force" and on the other "Army". Charlie got in line for the Air Force table and I got in line behind him. He was signed up for Squadron 8, nicknamed "Animal 8". I was assigned to Squadron "Seagram" 7. Upon returning to the car where Mom, Pop and my brother Jim were waiting, Pop asked which company I was going to be in. When I told him Squadron 7, he nearly went ballistic. He was Class of '40 and had been in Field Artillery, C-Battery. Didn't I know that the Air Force required a four-year active duty commitment for officers, whereas the Army required only two?
Actually I didn't know that. The guy we talked to at the Air Force table told us that the Army ROTC guys had to drill every Saturday morning with rifles, and then spend the entire afternoon cleaning the rifle. (The part about spending all day cleaning the rifle was not true.) He said the Air Force ROTC guys got to sit in an air conditioned hall and watch movies instead of drilling outside in the heat, and they had no rifle to clean. He was quite persuasive.
So I made a hasty trip back inside to the Army ROTC table. Soon I was signed up to be a future member of Company A-2. Pop was now satisfied since I was in Army ROTC, and I was on my way to becoming an officer and a gentleman someday. The pilgrimage was underway. I had no idea of the adventures, and misadventures, that the next four years would bring. All that mattered to me for the near term was surviving from one day to the next.
Freshman shock and awe
In a way, I was better prepared for the rigors of life as a fish in the Corps of Cadets than were some of the other freshmen assigned to Company A-2. My father had indoctrinated me, since birth I suppose, with tales of his days at Aggieland. I knew that I was free to enroll in any college or university of my choice, but if it was anything other than Texas A&M he would disown me. I say this not to be critical, but to note that his generation all served in the military and there was a certain expectation that their sons to also do so. In my case the expectation was unspoken, but the question of whether or not I really had a choice is for all practical purposes academic.
I determined to adapt as best I could and to embrace the path I was now on. But there were some fish who, unbelievably, did not even know when they signed up to attend A&M that it was a military school. I suppose when they enrolled they were told that, oh, by the way, ROTC was mandatory for freshmen and sophomores. So they signed up thinking it was just another course in their curriculum. Some of them did not realize that being in the Corps was a full-time affair. You could tell one of these guys by looking into his eyes. They had a look of panic, the kind that paralyzes a person and renders them perpetually unsure of what to do or say. The odds were that fellows like this were not going to make it. They needed some help, some mentoring, some words of encouragement. Most of them got none. This attitude did not bode well for what lay ahead.
Getting up to speed
The pace of those first few days was hectic. The first order of business was a trip to the campus barbershop in the basement of the Memorial Student Center where those beautiful duck-tail haircuts that were so much admired by the high school girls were left on the floor. Next was a visit to an ancient wooden warehouse that smelled of moth balls where we were issued khaki uniforms, fatigues, wool winter pants, Class A winter dress jackets, hats, shoes and combat boots. The poor guys at the end of the line had a choice between too small or too large. It was then off to the Exchange Store to buy our brass insignia, belt buckles, shoe polish and other personal items not already brought from home in our foot lockers.
After two days of orientation, provided by several juniors and seniors as our initial introduction to Corps life, the rest of the A-2 contingent showed up. Dorm 4 now was packed with students, as were all the Corps dorms. We actually had three fish in my room initially. There was a makeshift wooden bunk stacked on top of the regular bunk bed. I was the unfortunate occupant of the top bunk, and found myself with perhaps three or four inches of clearance to the ceiling when in bed each night. It was like being in a coffin. I quickly learned not to try to turn over or risk getting my shoulders wedged between ceiling and mattress. Since heat rises, my crypt was also the hottest space in an already hot room.
Only wimps need air conditoning
One reason that the cost of attending Texas A&M in the early '60's was so low must have been the lack of air conditioning. The only air conditioned dorm was the one the football team lived in. Many of my classes were in un-air conditioned buildings. The college administration apparently subscribed to the principle that molding young lads into scholars and warriors required hard work and sweat. They were particularly big on the "sweat" part.
So it was that one's chances of avoiding heat stroke was a function of the size and efficiency of the fan you owned. My dad found me a fan for several bucks down at our local...