Who's That With Charlie?. Charles S. Mechem
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу Who's That With Charlie? - Charles S. Mechem страница 11
Название: Who's That With Charlie?
Автор: Charles S. Mechem
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Маркетинг, PR, реклама
isbn: 9781578605330
isbn:
Another wonderful lesson in how the world works came one day when we were on the rifle range. One of the duties that fell to our group was to go to the area (called “the pits”) where the targets were placed and be responsible for pulling the targets up and down depending on how the shooter had scored. In other words, if a shooter got a bull’s-eye, you ran up a particular flag. If, on the other hand, he missed the target entirely, you ran up what looked like a pair of red underwear that was affectionately called “Maggie’s Drawers.” This particular day, when I was tending one of the targets, the sergeant in charge of our group came down and said, “Mechem, the commanding general of the post is firing at your target. No matter where his shots go, put up the bull’s-eye flag.” I did as I was told even though some of the shots merited a Maggie’s Drawers. This is when I grasped the full meaning of the phrase “rank has its privileges.”
Finally, an experience that I still can’t believe really happened. It was spring in the Ozark Mountains. This meant that it was freezing cold in the mornings and frequently quite warm mid-day. The result was that, by afternoon, you were overdressed and perspiring. This led to more and more cases of pneumonia, bronchitis, and strep throat. This was bad enough, but the real problem was that if you had to go to the hospital and stay for several days, you were “cycled back” and had to start basic training all over again. The result was that guys put off going to the hospital as long as possible and inevitably their conditions were even worse when they did go. I seemed to be getting along okay until my throat began to hurt. It got worse and worse and finally became so bad I could eat nothing except ice cream or something of similar consistency—which was not easy to come by. I was determined not to go to the hospital and risk having to start basic training all over again. Finally, in desperation, I bought a jar of Vicks VapoRub and literally ate large chunks of it. This was not great for my digestion, but unbelievably my throat got better, and I didn’t have to go to the hospital! I could have given Vicks a great testimonial, though I am certainly not suggesting this form of treatment.
I FINALLY FINISHED basic training and was sent to the Counter-Intelligence School at Fort Holabird, Maryland, where I entered an intense four-month program on how to become a “spy.” I’m kidding when I characterize it in this way. In fact, we were trained to be counter-intelligence agents and were drilled in subjects like interrogation techniques, profiling, surveillance, clandestine entry, and the like. It was a terrific program and I learned a lot. Much of it served me well as a lawyer in future years.
When I finished the school, they decided to keep me at Fort Holabird as part of the faculty of the school. Although I would have preferred to be sent to some exotic location, staying put was fine. We had a nice little apartment in the suburbs of Baltimore and were enjoying being close to Washington and New York City.
By this time, I had literally forgotten about my Judge Advocate General’s Corps application. But a big surprise was in store for me. Every Saturday morning the battalion commander, a lieutenant colonel, inspected the troops by walking up and down the lines and checking dress and overall military bearing. I never had any trouble in these inspections, but on this particular Saturday morning I was singled out by the battalion commander for several problems, including my uniform, my shoes, the shine on my belt buckle, and so on. I was puzzled by this and even more puzzled when he called me to the front of the formation and said, as I best recall, essentially the following: “Mechem, you are a sloppy soldier. You are an embarrassment to the enlisted ranks. I think the only thing for you is to become an officer!” He then produced from his pocket a set of first lieutenant’s silver bars and pinned them on my shoulders. He explained to the troops, who were as stunned as I was, that my Judge Advocate General’s Corps commission had come through, and he wanted to have a little fun awarding it to me. I was greatly relieved and pleased, and all of the guys in our company were excited and noisy. I spent another few weeks at Fort Holabird before being transferred to the Judge Advocate General’s school, which was operated in collaboration with the University of Virginia Law School in Charlottesville, Virginia. The few weeks that I remained at Fort Holabird—now as a first lieutenant—were amusing. Suddenly I outranked virtually everybody in the company, many of whom had been tough on me, along with all the other enlisted men, during our time there. They suddenly became my best friends!
So, the next move was to a very different environment—the law school at the University of Virginia. And that’s the next chapter. But I first must tell you about one of the most unforgettable characters I ever met.
ALL OF US, I think, meet a few people in our lives who are truly unforgettable. I’m not referring to relatives or close friends, though some of them are indeed unforgettable!
One of the most unforgettable characters I ever met was a fellow that I knew for only a few months when I was going through the Counter Intelligence Corps School. I have not seen him since the day we parted in 1957. Nonetheless, I have never forgotten him. His name was Tom O’Hara. Tom, if you’re still living, I hope these stories don’t embarrass you. You were a terrific guy and took all the bad breaks with good humor.
Tom was a very pleasant Irish fellow who was part of the platoon to which I was assigned while I was at the Counter Intelligence Corps School. Purely by happenstance, our platoon was designated as the honor guard for the months that we were at the school. Once every week there was a review of troops by the commanding general, and it involved a parade and military bands. Our honor guard platoon marched at the head of the rest of the troops, resplendent in chrome helmets and bayonets, purple neck scarves, and white shoelaces in our boots. It sounds ridiculous, but we actually looked pretty darn good!
The famous cartoonist Al Capp created a wonderful character named Joe Btfsplk, who occasionally appeared in Capp’s Li’l Abner comic strip. Joe always had a little dark rain cloud over his head and was constantly beset with bad luck. O’Hara was the living, breathing Joe Btfsplk. Three incidents stand out in my mind, though there were many. The first happened when we were marching in the review parade one day. The boots we wore (called combat boots) had very thick heels on them—well over an inch. As we were marching in review to the stirring music of the military band, the guy directly behind O’Hara stepped on the heel of his boot and ripped it completely off the shoe. Now, just imagine Tom’s gait from that point on. He lurched from side to side in a very “non-honor guard” way. Even the stirring Sousa march couldn’t disguise this disaster!
The second incident would have been sad if it hadn’t been so hilarious. During one of the troop reviews, our honor guard was standing at rigid attention as the band began to play “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Then O’Hara’s little black cloud started to rain on him. Those of us in the line behind him saw a mosquito land on the back of his neck. He, of course, could not do anything to swat it—he couldn’t move, certainly not during the playing of the National Anthem. He did everything physically possible to move the muscles in the back of his neck without moving any other part of his body. Regretfully, it was not enough and the mosquito, who must have thought he was in mosquito heaven, made his strike! Tom told us later that it was one of the worst things that ever happened to him—and that covered a lot of territory!
The third is my favorite. O’Hara, like many of us who were married at the time, lived in private housing off the post. This meant that he needed to get up earlier and travel farther to make the early formation, which, as I recall, was at 8:00 a.m. He was constantly late, and the company commander became increasingly irritated. Finally, one day he СКАЧАТЬ