Excerpted from We Don't Walk Nowhere
FT. LEONARDWOOD, REPORT TO THE C.O.’s OFFICE.
“Hey James, wake up, they want you in the CO’s office.”
“Why, hell it’s two a.m. why?” I asked as I stared up at Bud Gilkie, the on duty barracks fireguard.
“I don’t know mother fucker the CQ runner just came by and told me to wake your ass up and send you to the CO’s office.”
“Shit I hate fireguard.” Gilkie said as he walked away in his white skivvies, flashlight in hand.
We all hated fireguard though I’m sure it was necessary since we were living in wooden barracks at Fort Leonardwood, MO that were built for WW II inductees. These twenty five year old, wooden buildings were heated by coal furnaces…I guess fire would be a concern.
A fireguard was also on duty to be sure that no one broke the security of the barracks. In DI terms, “don’t let nobody steal nothin from inside the platoon or outside it.” The strongest weapon a fireguard had was how funny he appeared, one look and an intruder would laugh himself to death. The standard uniform for fireguard duty was a helmet liner, white GI issue t-shirt, extremely baggy, white boxer shorts, flip flops and a four battery flashlight. Not exactly the look on a recruiting poster.
I drug my weary young ass, twenty to be exact, out of the sack and hustled down to the latrine. I splashed some water on my face and stared at myself for a moment. I wanted to see the maturing look of a soldier but all I was seeing was the same boyish look that had been there for as long as I can remember. I had my Mom’s brown eyes, clear and welcoming without a hint of intimidation. Thin face that only needed to be shaved every other day at most. And the stubble of my brown hair was just reappearing on my head. I wondered what it would take to make me look more like a steely eyed American fighting man. I laughed to myself at the thought and wondered what the hell they wanted with me in the CO’s office? I’m totally squared away. I haven’t screwed up. I wasn’t supposed to be on any kind of duty. Forget it dipshit just tuck your fatigue shirt into your pants, lace up and blouse your boots, straighten your gigline and head for the CO’s office. At double time of course because in Company “C” we don’t walk nowhere. Granted I was never a star English pupil but even I knew that wasn’t proper but that’s how the Senior Drill Instructor put it on our first day here and for the time being he wrote our world.
We Don't Walk Nowhere follows Matt James through basic training, advanced training, his transit, time in-country and the challenges facing a young GI during his tour of duty in Vietnam.
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Author, Jim Longton (right) and good friend Randy Smith cleaned up and ready for R&R
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| Randy Smith & Jim Longton, Phu Bai 1966 |
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