Asbury Veteran: Ken Morton ( the full story...)

Ken Morton offers his full unedited story of military service that goes beyond the condensed one of his main page:

 

Military Service of Ken Morton

 

I reported to the Induction Center at Fort Dix in July 1966.  To say the base was over crowded is an understatement.  It took 6 days to be processed and be assigned to Boot Camp.  We slept on an asphalt parking lot those nights without blankets or insect repellent. I spent the previous weekend on the beach in Ocean City, NJ and was unlucky enough to get a bad case of Sun Poisoning. Great timing.

 

Originally I was assigned to Fort Bragg, NC.  Somehow the lists got mixed up and I stayed at Fort Dix for training.  That was one HOT summer.  The base closed down a few times because of the heat.

 

The barracks were only a year old.  Maybe less.  Since Fort Dix was an “Open Base” at the that time,

I made many unofficial visits back to Moorestown.  Some of my friend’s didn’t believe I was actually in the Army.  I eventually earned a Pass for getting the highest score of the rifle range.  Not an award I really wanted with the war in Vietnam in full bore.

 

After a few weeks, our platoon was called out into formation. As the Sergeant screamed “raise your hand if you can type” About 70% of the guys put their hands up.  As the Sergeant asked how many can type 15 words a minute then 25 wpm and got up to 45 or 50 only two of us had their hand up.  He asked both of us how many words per minute can we type.  The other guy said 60.  I said 88 on a manual typewriter, letter perfect, and 120 on an electric.  Thank you Miss Crispin and Mrs. Stoner!!

The Sergeant said come with me.  We went to Headquarters (air conditioned) Office, sat me in front of a typewriter where I performed many hours of my Basic Training.  As the temperature outside rose, one of the Sergeants asked me if the office was cool enough. Not a bad gig for a Buck Private.

 

Fortunately, all bad things have to come to an end. I was given my Orders and had to report to Fort Sill, Oklahoma.

 

I arrived on a Sunday.  A driver met me at the gate.  Showed him my Orders and he dropped me off at my new Duty Station.  This Company was preparing to be shipped out to Vietnam in 8 weeks.  These guys were actually looking forward to going.  What were they smoking?  I heard them talk about a new Company that was being reactivated by “Key Gate” It was closed down in 1944.  Their purpose was to support the Schools that taught War Intelligence.  Oxymoron?

 

So the next day being Monday, I was sent to officially sign in.   There  was a long line. Everybody handed in their Orders and Reported for Duty.  When it was my turn, I said, “I don’t have a copy of my Orders.  They were forwarded from my last Duty Station.   (This is not uncommon.  Many times orders are not hand carried but mailed to the next Duty Station).  The Corporal obviously couldn’t find them and was getting agitated because I was holding up the whole line.  Told him all I knew is I was suppose to be going to a reactivated unit to support the school.  He called for a driver and dropped me off by “Key Gate”.    I arrived on their doorstep just as they finished assigning quarters to the last inductee.  They were now out of beds.  Surprise Surprise they had no orders assigning me to this unit.  As this “Lifer” was screaming you don’t belong here!  I said, “Listen if no one wants me, I’ll go home.  Now everybody was leaving to their assigned buildings and I’m still standing there.  Just when I thought this place lacked Hospitality the guy (kid) said, “All the barracks are full; you will have to stay in the NCO (Non Commissioned Officers) building.  How about that.  Not only did I get a bed.  I got a private room.  God has always been watching over me.  So this Buck Private is staying in a building with all E6’s (Staff Sergeants) and E7’s (Master Sergeants).

 

Thought it was time for a shower.  No one can tell your Rank when you are buck-naked.  So to fast forward turns out the guy next to me had been a Buyer for Palmer’s in Chicago. I had been Buyer for Wanamaker’s.  We had a lot in common.    As the conversion continued I told him how I was assigned to the NCO Barracks and mentioned that I can type 88 words a minute letter perfect on a manual typewriter.   He acted like he had just won the Lottery, and then said, “stay in your room until I come to get you.".  We went to breakfast and asked if I would work for him in S-4 (supply).  Sounded great to me. The alternative was spending 10 hours a day in a tank without A/C in the middle of some hot dusty field.

 

He took care of my reassignment (he had been a Personnel Warrant Officer).  Another long story.  We had an agreement.  When anyone else walked into the office, I was to revert back to the Hunt & Peck method of typing.  By this time I am really appreciating Miss Crispin and Mrs. Stoner.

 

My assignment at this post was suppose to last for another 18 months, so I rented a house and my wife joined me a month later.  So now we are living “Off Post” without a car.  I made arrangements for the same cab driver to pick me up every morning.  Because I lived Off Post, I had to Sign In every morning.  Fortunately, my cab driver was a retired First Sergeant.  When I was late, he went in and signed me in.  Like I said, God has been good to me. 

 

Many months later, I found out that I was supposed to be attending “the Artillery Training School”.  I was not aware of this until I received a notice that Testing was scheduled for the next day. Showed this to my boss.  He said, “don’t worry'. Just show up. Like I had a choice.

 

This was an all day event.  All the Instructors basically answered the questions for me.  I got the highest score of the whole Post.    Keep in mind, all I knew about a 55mm Howitzers is they were big and they were loud.  I could hear them most nights and all weekend from my house in Lawton.

 

Along with the fantastic score came notoriety. Certain people finally found out I existed, especially the First Sergeant. So much for my low profile. It was noticed that I never pulled any Guard Duty or any Duty for that matter. First I had to pass the test for a Military Driver’s License.  Tried to tell them I can’t drive a stick shift.  They sent me to driving school.  Explained I had no coordination when it came to pushing in the clutch, letting off the gas, shifting and releasing the clutch.  I failed my driving test three times.  They finally gave up and forgot about me.  That’s a good thing in the Army. 

 

Several months later, I received orders to Report for Duty Overseas. The destination was Germany.  My boss said he would have me deferred because I was classified as “essential personnel”.  That sounded very good.  My rented house and things were working out very well.  However, I’m thinking, I have an award for the highest score on the rifle range from Fort Dix, and received the highest score on the Artillery Test.  This is making me sound like some kind of soldier.  So do I take the ticket to Germany, the land of Porsche and BMW’s or the land of rice patties with people that want to kill me?

 

I thought long and hard. And within a New York minute I said forget the Essential Personnel stuff.  Send me to Europe with Autobahns that have no speed limit.  By the time the Army finds out where I went, I won’t have enough time left to serve in Vietnam.

 

Now, when you change Duty Stations, one has to be “processed out”.  Which means all the other Departments in the Company has to sign a release stating you have no outstanding debts and/or all your assigned equipment has been returned.

 

I pulled up in my neighbors 4 spd. German Sports car.  It was sharp.  My boss just had to come out to see it.  The first thing he noticed was the stick shift.   “Thought you didn’t know how to drive a stick”.  Said I’m actually a farm boy.  Started driving a 1936 Ford Flat Head 8V Stake Bed that had to be doubled clutched, at the age of 12.  After driving a 4 spd Farmall, I moved up to a 14 spd John Deer tractor with a 2 spd axle.  I just can’t drive an Olive Drab truck.

 

Off to Germany I went.  Arrived 3 days before Christmas.  Immediately started to sell my typing talents as soon as the plane landed.

 

Got off the bus in Bad Hersfeld, my new Duty Station.  As I was being processed in, I started my spiel.  They sat me down behind a typewriter and immediately assigned me to Headquarters.  Seems like it was just yesterday.  The following day, some of the other guys I served with in Oklahoma arrived.  You should have seen their face when they saw me sitting next to the coffee pot with my own desk and office.

 

Went to church the first or second Sunday. Had to thank God, after all. Met the Chaplain.  Asked if he ever needed as organist that I was available.  He started me the following week.  Mentioned to his wife, that the organ was built 1942 and really needed to be replaced.  A few days later, the Major asked me about it.  Said he would see what he could do.  Four weeks later, we had a brand new organ.  Rank helps.  A month or two later the Priest asked if I would play for Mass every Sunday.  This worked out very well.  Since I had to be available for all worship services on Sunday, I couldn’t be scheduled to pull any duty and the pay was great. It covered the rent.

 

The office was made up with a diverse group of guys.  Some were gun ho military.  Others were just counting the days.

 

 My duties were highly Classified (top secret in military language). They involved tracking all military personnel, their dependents, nationality of their dependents, weapons etc. etc. in Germany on a daily basis.  Even had to include “pets” Like in animals. A “Readiness Status Report” was included.  I made sure we didn’t seem too ready.  I know I wasn’t.  The Army’s way of dealing with a piece of equipment that didn’t work was to paint it.  We had a lot of tanks, personnel carriers and jeeps that had fresh paint jobs.

 

The Squadron’s mission was to Protect the Border.  Bad Hersfeld was the last train stop in West Germany.  I rented a house that was 4 miles from East Germany.   More likely, our real mission was to make the phone call to Anaheim to let them know we were under attack.  I was there when Russia invaded Checzivokia.  That was a little scary.  Convoys of tanks were going past our house in the middle of the night.

 

There was nightly exchange of fire between the East German’s and our troops.  Before I arrived, two of our soldiers were killed.  Two guys from our Squadron were hit but didn’t sustain serious injury.

Bet you didn’t hear about this back home.  It was considered an accident.  When the East German soldiers got bored, they would use our jeeps as target practice.  We (not me) were also responsible for a missile site.  They were pointed toward Russia and East Germany. Knowing the group that was in charge, it was a miracle none were ever fired.

 

 

In reviewing Personnel Files, I noticed the Army drafted a guy that was 30 days shy of graduating from Dental School.  His was assigned to the Motor Pool.  Couldn’t believe this.  So on my own time I looked him up and found it was true.  Got him reassigned to the Dispensary as a Dentist.  Needless to say, I never had a problem getting an appointment.

 

Allot of guys received “Dear John” letters while overseas.  Many would immediately request a transfer to Vietnam.  Most of the guys in our office would try to talk them out of it. If that didn’t work, I would fill out the Request for Transfer (6 copies using carbon paper) and let the guy sign it.   Place a copy in his Personnel File and throw the rest out.

 

If after 4 to 6 months later, he still wanted the transfer, I would redo them and just sign his name.

 

On the other side, there may have been a few Officers that were unaware they too had “Volunteered”

 

One final perk.  Since I worked in Personnel and handled all of the requests for Military Flights out of Germany via Frankfurt I dealt with a few good guys that actually scheduled the flights.  They arranged for me and 7 of my buddies to ship out 30 days early on a TWA Champagne Flight. Sure beat the heck out of Military Transit.

 

Oh and some of those pain in the butt Officers couldn’t get a flight out for three months even for an Emergency leave. 

 

It pays to have friends in the right places.

 

Our group has an Army Reunion every two years.  We travel to a different destination each time. Two years ago we went to New York City.  On the top of Rockefeller Center another tourist couldn’t help but pickup on all the different accents.  He came over and asked were we were from. Our Reunion Planner (happens to live in NYC). Said we were all in the Army together 40 years ago.  The man asked what we did.  As a jetliner was just passing in front of us, one of our guys said, we could bring that plane down in a matter of seconds.  As the man was leaving, he came over with his family said, “We just want to thank you men for keeping us safe”  He was so appreciative that I had tears in my eyes.  Then my friend from Louisiana said  “Well actually, you weren’t all that safe. We were drunk most of the time’”

 

SP5 Morton