Chapter III

Army: Camp Roberts

After a brief stint at Fort MacArthur, California for orientation, testing, classification and issuing of uniforms, I and 61 other draftees were shipped to Camp Roberts, California near Paso Robles to receive 13 weeks of basic training in the Infantry. I was assigned to a 37mm anti-tank battalion. The 37mm weapon was mounted on a two-wheeled carriage that had already been superseded by the more efficient and powerful 57mm weapon. For training purposes, however, the size of the barrel was less important than the mechanism for aiming and firing it. We did not fire 37mm shells. The barrel had an insert which reduced the size to that of a .22 rifle. The shells expended were the same .22 shells that a lot people had around the house to hunt rabbits and other small game. There were two small cranks which had to be operated at the same time by each hand to bring the barrel sight to its proper firing position at paper targets marked with the black outline of a tank. It was a little bit like patting your head with one hand and rubbing your stomach with the other. Despite the difficulty, I was one of the fortunate ones to master the art and was awarded the Sharpshooter medal.  Upon completion of the basic training course, instead of being sent overseas with the rest of the trainees in my class, I remained at Camp Roberts as part of the camp training cadre as a drill instructor (DI) with the rank of Corporal.

For additional training I was first shipped to the very back end of Camp Roberts in the hills - we called it 'Little Siberia' - for one month to receive non-commissioned and pre-officer training. When I had finished the course, the Lt. Col. in charge of the training school told me that he would like to have me serve as one of his drill instructors at the school. He suggested I discuss the transfer with the First Sergeant of my anti-tank battalion. I couldn't figure out why he couldn't just cut orders for me. But, when I returned to my battalion, I did broach the subject with my First Sergeant. It seems that the Pre-officer training school had no Table of Organization of its own. It was dependent on robbing other units of their slots in order fill its training cadre. My First Sergeant looked me straight in the eye, laughed out loud and told me to begin my duties as one of his taskmasters whose job it was to turn raw recruits into battle-ready soldiers.

After completing their thirteen-week of training, most of these soldiers were shipped overseas to the Pacific Theater of Operations to fight the Japanese where our casualty rate was extremely high. It seemed the Army couldn't train recruits fast enough to replenish the pool of replacements needed to carry on the war effort in two theaters of war.

The first group of raw conscripts consisted of what we referred to as our own version of Dead End Kids from Chicago. The term originated from a gang of five young actors and one ex-plumber's assistant, from New York who appeared in Sidney Kingsley's play Dead End in 1935 on Broadway. They were then imported en masse to Hollywood by William Wyler in 1937 when he filmed the play; it proved to be so popular that it remained as a more or less viable entity until the final film (as the Bowery Boys) in 1958.

Our "Dead End Kids" were a lot of fun to be around primarily because their Chicago accent was something most of us had only heard in the movies. They were terribly out of shape and making foot soldiers out of them was a daunting task. I can remember the field exercises when we took them out at a double-time trot into the barren hills behind Camp Roberts in close to 100 degree heat. I had to run back and forth from the head of my column of tired dog-faces to the rear to prod the slackers to step up the pace. It helped to remind them of the constant danger of rattlesnakes that thrived on those who strayed from the pack. Suddenly, they increased the pace looking around them very carefully to spot anything moving which wasn't human. Some had added to the already-heavy field packs they were sporting by adding large rocks they could use to kill snakes. Despite our reservations, the vast majority of them did 'graduate' and were sent to an uncertain fate overseas.

From the second class of 'Okies' and 'Arkies' I learned to appreciate country music. With the Dead End Kids the juke box in the Rec Hall (recreation room) played music that was really the popular genre for most of those in my age bracket - the Big Bands and singers like Frank Sinatra whom most of just referred to as Frankie. But that changed with the new arrivals from Oklahoma and Arkansas. Whoever was in charge of loading the juke box had obviously done his homework and had a sympathetic heart. Country music became the order of the day. After a grueling training day was over, these homesick kids needed a little bit of something to make them feel better. Lyrics like, 'here she comes rollin along, here she comes singin her song' among others are indelibly printed in my memory. The new GIs loved to sing and dance to these tunes while drinking their weak three-two beer. Three-two stood for 3.2% alcohol content beer which was the only beer available to soldiers in the rec halls and the PX (post exchange.) Only officers were presumed to be able to handle something stronger and were allowed a hard liquor ration they could purchase.

Our Okies and Arkies were in much better shape than the Dead End Kids when they arrived. They were for the most part good old country boys who had learned to shoot, hunt and live outdoors very early in life. But, there was one notable exception. He was a tall gangly, pimply-faced eighteen-year old kid who simply refused to bathe. The other recruits were constantly complaining about the way he smelled. I don't think he knew what toilet paper was for. The guys sleeping nearest his bed, moved theirs away at night and back in time for morning inspection. The day inevitably came that his fellow barracks dwellers had had enough. After evening mess, they carried him into the shower room, stripped him and scrubbed him with GI soap and bristly brushes. GI (government issue) soap is a very strong and ugly deep yellow-orange soap bar about the size of a brick which was used to scrub down the wood floors of the barracks every week with GI tough-bristled brushes. Word got out to the staff and shortly thereafter a commission of officers determined that he should discharged under Section 8 of Army Rules and Regulations. The term Section 8 refers to a discharge from the United States military for reason of being mentally unfit for service. I often wondered how anyone could stand his own stench for so long a time. Perhaps, he was the wiliest fox of all by finding a way to ride out the war safe and sound at home.

After helping to train and graduate two successive classes of recruits for 13 weeks each, I felt the need to move on. I submitted a request for assignment to the Infantry Officers' Candidate School (OCS) at Fort Benning, Georgia to become a '90-Day wonder,' as Second Lieutenants created in an OCS were unaffectionately called by regular Army personnel. After 90 days of training at Benning, if one survived, a soldier was commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the Infantry. As a back-up, I filed an application for training at a college or university under the Army Specialized Training Program (ASTP) to further my premedical studies. The Colonel commanding my regiment at Camp Roberts sat on both the OCS and the ASTP interviewing boards that would have to act on my assignment requests. He indicated quite clearly to me that it was up to me which assignment I wanted - I could have either one. My wife and parents, naturally, opted for having a 'live Corporal' in the ASTP rather than an Infantry Lieutenant lying dead or wounded on some battlefield.