MACDONALD : Exploring careers in the military services (előszó)
Once upon a time, a young man I knew well was sitting quietly in a room, listening. The room was just far enough from the chaos of the main processing center that he could understand ordinary conversation without straining. So, he listened. Quietly, without appearing to be hearing anything.
It was warm in the room, and the air was full of the stink of mothballs from the wrinkled olive drab uniforms that everyone wore. But it was good. The young man had been cold for the past four hours as he was shunted from office to office, building to building, and handed uniforms, forms to fill out, tests to take. Cold, and hungry. It was good to be warm. He listened quietly to the talk of the other men down the row of chairs.
"I'm going to OCS at Benning," one young man confided to his neighbor. "I'm a college grad, you know. What about you?"
"Me? Well I've been shanghaied, that's what," the other man said. "Already enlisted for the Navy but the stupid draft board sent me here anyway. Look, I got the papers right here. See?" He held up an official-looking envelope.
"You're shanghaied, you'll get out of it," another bright-looking kid chimed in. "I'm a fourth-year ROTC cadet. Damned if they get me as a private. Nothing less than second lieutenant, I say."
"Fourth-year ROTC? What do you know? I put in two hitches in the Marines," said another. "China," he grunted, as if that explained everything, then he shut up and stared into space. "Damn," he muttered after a while. "I want out of this pansy Army."
"College kids!" An older-looking man had been listening but saying nothing. "Listen," he said now, "I got a license as a tugboat captain. I done my time in the Navy, too. Think I want to be a footsloggin' rifle-totin', mud-eatin' dogface? Not on your life."
The young man listened quietly. And he heard everything. One by one the others were called in for interviews behind closed doors. One by one they came out smiling. When the tugboat captain came out, he walked over to the two college boys.
"Gotcha!" He grinned at them. "You college kids! Wet behind the ears, you are. Second johns get their heads blown off too," he roared at them, from behind a big grin. "Me, I'm going to drive a tugboat. Right in New York harbor. Be home every night for supper with the ol' lady." He rolled his eyes at the college kids. "Now, what d'ya think about that, college kids?"
The man suddenly sobered. "Well, I feel sorry for you guys," he said. "Next week, you'll be crawling through the mud under barbed wire, while I'm drinkin' a coupla beers with me buddies on the docks."
"Master sergeant!" he grinned. "That's what they're gonna make me. Master Sergeant Eddie Finnegan! Nice ring to it, no?"
He turned and walked out of the room. As he passed, the young man could hear him muttering to himself: "Second looies! Think they own the world!"
Then the young recruit had his turn. The prearranged assignment to the special unit that was just being formed was confirmed. He was satisfied that it had worked out. But as he walked out of the room into the din of the main processing hall, he was also puzzled.
Some of the new words he had heard puzzled him, that is. What did the college kid mean by ROTC? What was OCS? And, then, why did an old ex-Marine expect to get special treatment? Why did the Army need tugboat captains? Or tugboats? What was a second john, anyway? The young man decided that he had a lot to learn about the Army.
And, eventually, he did learn. The hard way. Basic training, advanced individual training in communications, noncommissioned officer's school, and a jump to sergeant. More training.
The officers in the unit came and went. The new ones were mostly kids just out of Officer Candidate School at Ft. Benning, which he now knew was the Infantry Center, in Georgia. Some others were college graduates who got their commissions through the Reserve Officers Training Corps program, ROTC for short. They needed a lot of help from the sergeant. But they eventually became leaders of men.
Then combat. As the Army harbor tug eased the troopship out of the harbor, someone leaned out of the pilothouse door and waved. Eddy Finnegan? Probably not. But Eddie knew something that our friend should have known. Well, our friend had learned a lot by now. The hard way.
A fairy tale? Hardly. I was the young man on that cold January morning many long years ago. I often think about those other men in the waiting room at the military processing center. Of course they knew something I didn't. A lot, in fact, that I learned the hard way—and made mistakes while I was learning.
This book should be dedicated to those young men, whom I never saw again. But it isn't.
The Army and the other military services have changed a lot since those days. But, as the French say, "The more things change, the more they are the same." You can learn a lot about the things that puzzled me after I enlisted in the Army. So, in another way, this book is dedicated to you and all young readers who may be wondering what military service is all about and whether they should take a chance and try it for a while.
Most of the changes in the military services in recent years have been for the better because they reflect the society that surrounds and nourishes them. Life in the military can be exciting and it can be deadly dull, but it need never be uninteresting if you know what you are doing.
Read the book. Ask questions of everybody—your parents, your guidance counselor, your teachers, maybe even the local recruiting sergeant. The more you know before you raise your hand and repeat the oath required of every newcomer to the service, the more you can gain from the experience. I know, because I have been there.
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| KATALÓGUS | TARTALOM |
