Home Forums Hunting & Shooting Hunter's Campfire OK, vets, let's hear your enlistment story

In 1958 I had just graduated from High School in my remote little town in Wyoming. I was working a series of dirty-work temporary labor jobs, not getting anywhere at all , employment was hard to come by at that time. In early August I was working a ranch outside of town a few miles, putting up loose hay the old fashioned way with an overshot stacker. Hot, heavy work, in addition to working with the damnest bunch of ignoramuses you would ever not want to meet, alcoholic bums every one. By about the 4th day I was convinced there must be some better way to get through life.

They sent me into town with the ranch pickup truck to get parts or something. As I was exiting the store, I met up with the Air Force Recruiter whom I had met several times in High School. "Hi, Jerry, how ya doing? Want to join the Air Force today?" " I sure do, sign me up".

He followed me back to the ranch where I dropped off the truck and the parts, got in his car and never looked back, was at the Denver AFEES in about a week and off to Lackland.

Sometime now I drive by that same ranch, doesn't look much different, always makes me break out in a smile as I keep on down the road.

You poor, poor man.

I feel sorry for ya!

I slipped off a ladder and cracked bones in both heels in August 1967. I had already received a draft notice after flunking out of engineering school. When I showed up to board the bus to Army boot camp on crutches, they refused to take me. "Go home and heal up!" By late December I had managed to get a waiver for a reckless driving conviction and join the Air Force. ("Project 100,000") Ended up staying in for 8 years, lots of it in SE Asia.
Jerry

1970, senior in college, fresh out of deferments, 1st draft lottery, very low number. What hurt was my older brother drew a very high number...and he only had 1 leg.

Similar story, different part of the country. 1956, no good jobs available after high school. Choice was go to college if you could afford it, or enlist. Besides, military service was still respected, and a young man was expected to serve his country.

Just turned 17, graduated from HS on June 25, in the USAF two days later, along with three classmates. Can still remember the Norman Rockwell scene at the train depot about 4:30 am. The first time I ever kissed my girlfriend in front of my parents. Three day trip to Texas, several days without a change of clothes or shower. Basic training was a mixed experience, but you never forget it.

I have seen my AFSC (specialty) referred to as elite, but we never thought of ourselves that way and we sure as hell weren't treated as such. Never got above E-3 even though doing an E-5 job, so said "fuggit" and got out after serving every day of my four year enlistment. Missed Korea and Vietnam, so I guess I was lucky.

Some of my fellow airmen in my AFSC weren't so fortunate. Shot down over Soviet Armenia 2 Sept 1958. Families kept in the dark and lied to for 39 years. Cold War my ass.

Paul

Sitting behind a desk one morning after a good bong rip, enjoying a cup of coffee and said f it.

DCC what’s his name signed me up....... he was on his twilight tour and was cool and funny as heck.
He told me McDonald’s and bowling alleys were on aircraft carriers!🤣

He bought me a beer after I almost pissed myself laughing.

Dec 14th,1999, Great Lakes was my new home........

Best mistake I ever made.....

I graduated HS in 83, was working for Dad in the Salvage. I had it pretty good. Cars to work on and play with, a very nice and quick 72 Monte Carlo, guns and hunting, every thing a guy in his late teens could want.
Then I fell in love. I figured the military would give us a pretty good start, so I joined the Army.
Went through basic at Ft Sill, AIT as a wheeled vehicle mechanic at APG MD, and the two of us ended up at Ft Lewis WA.
It wasn't nearly as bad as it seemed, but I couldn't wait to get back to Pennsylvania and home. I got out in 89.
The only regret is that she didn't stick it out, she split shortly after the boy started his life, but I've got a better life and a better wife now.
I can only say that God's been looking after me. I never had to get shot at or endure long absences from home.
I don't know that I'd do it again for a million bucks, but I wouldn't trade the experience or the friends for ten million either.
7mm

Nothing Special.... grew up in a military household, Dad gad retired from serving 26 years as a Full Colonel...

it was expected....i kinda pissed off much of the family, after getting accepted the AF Academy my senior year in high school,
wanting to be a pilot, but my eye sight wasn't good enough.. so they were trying to put me in the missile program... no thank you..

went to college putting myself thru it, got a job in sales after college, was busy making $30K a year, which wasn't bad for 1975..
I was good at it... yet I still had a draft deferment from 1972...

so I left that behind for $400 a month...

based on two incidents while college, coming across two serious accidents, I had two people who died in my arms, and I didn't have a clue on how to try and save their lives....so instead of taking a commission I was being offered.. I went enlisted, and took 91B and 91C MOSs..... after getting off active duty, worked as a paramedic and obtained my RN license based off my Military Training...got married, migrated back into sales, as I could make more money and was good at it...later got into Medical Sales and did REAL good at that...so the military indirectly gave me what my career became....

Undergrad degree of pre law, didn't really get used, as I decided not to go to law school...

Aww no ones likes lawyers anyway....growing up in DC area, everybody and their brother was an attorney...

My old man was the local army recruiter .We got into a typical argument you know father and teenage know it all son!Firgured I,d show him,went down an joined the USMC,LOL that pissed him off alright.Nam 69-70 Joke was on me

$320 in '67 if memory serves...And free room and board...(laughing)

Tried to enlist in all 5 branches of the Military. My flat feet were a no-go in 1976.

This is an excerpt from an autobiography I am writing to leave for my kids . . . "My Heroes were Soldiers and Aviators"

In June of 1972, one year removed from my failed attempt at college, the first turning point in my life, the so called “door of opportunity,” met me at the gas pumps in the form of a Marine Staff Sergeant recruiter, whose office, I later learned, was right up the street on Pennsylvania Ave. across from Penn Square Mall. He would stop by the station periodically to fill up his olive-green government vehicle. He always looked impressive in his dress blue trousers with the red stripe down the leg, and the khaki short-sleeved shirt with the three stripes up, crossed rifles, and a single rocker below; a chest full of ribbons from his tours in Vietnam, and a spiffy and tightly stretched white barracks cap with the spit-shined bill. His black laced shoes were also brilliantly spit-shined. He always made me feel good as he would strike up a conversation about any news of the day.

It was during one of these conversations, when out of the blue, he asked me, “Have you ever given any thought to joining the Marines.”

I must have gone into a trance, momentarily, as my mind flashed back to a conversation I had had with my dad my senior year of high school. I vividly remember sitting on his bed, at home, and he was asking me if I had given any thought to what I wanted to do after graduating from high school. Of course, being a total dumb ass, I had not given that question the time of day. . .

I was too busy playing high school basketball and golf, and hunting and fishing in my spare time, outside of working for Bud at the gas station. My dad had even provided a very nice car for me to drive, starting the second semester of my junior year in high school, a 1965 Ford Mustang convertible, which I bought from him in 1983, and still own to this day, show room condition.

Well my dad was a very humble and patient man. He reminds me of the Bible’s description of the mighty man Moses “who was very meek, above all the men which were upon the face of the earth.” (Numbers 12:3) He also had the “patience of Job.” (James 5:11) He was the youngest of five siblings (two brothers and two sisters) who grew up during the Great Depression on his father’s farm near Foyle Oklahoma. He was the only sibling to graduate from college (Tulsa University) though his oldest brother Muriel attended Oklahoma A&M for a couple of years, before moving to California to seek his fortune. His other brother, June, stayed on the farm and worked in Claremore as a machinist, and his two married sisters helped him financially along the way to his Accounting degree. Dad met mom, before the war, and they were married shortly thereafter. Mom worked as a business secretary while dad completed college. After school, dad got a job with an oil company, Deep Rock, in Tulsa, then moved to Oklahoma City when Deep Rock was bought out by Kerr McGee. He finished his working career in Oklahoma City, as an officer of Kerr McGee, rising to the position of Financial Vice President and Assistant Secretary. We lost mom to cancer on 6 November 1968. I was at basketball practice in the 10th grade at John Marshall High School in Oklahoma City, when one of my uncles came in to the gym. I remember being in the locker room when he broke the news to me that my mom had passed away that afternoon. Mom had been very active as the Membership Chairman of the Oklahoma City Parent Teacher Association (PTA) Council, as well as an active teacher at the Wilshire Blvd church of Christ in Oklahoma City, and other volunteer groups associated with Oklahoma Christian College. Dad was a Deacon and an Elder in the church, and she met all the qualifications of a faithful wife (I Tim 3:11). I was told there were 400 cars in mom’s funeral procession from the church building to the cemetery, where she is buried next to my dad. That is a tribute to and evidence of how she was loved by so many. . .

My dad then asked me if I had ever thought about going to college.
“Duh . . .Nope,” was my insolent reply.
“Well,” he said, “have you ever thought about joining the military?”

(Now this, coming from my dad, who was part of the Greatest Generation and had gone off to fight the Japs in New Guinea, this must have sounded very logical to him.)

But to his dumb ass son, who replied . . . “Dad, I would never join the military!” . . . he must have been really proud of me. . .

My memory continued fast rewind to the early 1960s, where I clearly remember sitting at the breakfast table while my dad was reading the newspaper. The fighting in Vietnam was starting to heat up and I remember my dad stating, “Why don’t they just send in the Marines and get this over with?” Coming from an Army soldier, that reference to the Marine Corps had been filed away in my brain housing group for years, and when that Staff Sergeant asked me if I had ever considered joining the Marines, I replied, “Sure! I would be interested in that.”

The Marine Recruiter also asked me what I would like to do in the Marines. In another Nano-second, my mind drifted to visions of my childhood bedroom with dozens of plastic war-fighting airplanes hanging from the ceiling.

“I would like to be a pilot,” I enthusiastically replied.

Now the enlisted recruiter began to play me like a Stradivarius, and sounded impressed when he asked me if I knew that to be a pilot in the Marines, I would have to become a commissioned officer first. Now I was really starting to become enthusiastic.

“That sounds exactly like what I want to do,” I replied.

As I finished filling his tank, and was hanging up the nozzle, the Staff Sergeant leaned in with a smile on his face and asked one final question, which would seal the deal . . . “Now you know that to become a commissioned officer you have to have a college degree, right? Where did you get your degree?”

I was crushed. I had just flunked out of college after one semester, and now I was going to have to embarrass myself and admit my short comings to this sharp looking Marine Staff Sergeant who was trying to help me out of this career I was in, pumping gas. “Do you have a college degree?” he asked again, feigning hope.

“Well, no I don’t have a college degree, but I have attended college,” I meekly replied while looking at the ground.

“You have been to college?” he asked rhetorically, as if he had found a long-lost university scholar.

“Do I have a great idea for you,” he continued, with a broad smile on his face.

He now set the hook hard and started reeling me in.

“I can get you in as an enlisted Marine, then we can get you enrolled in a program where the Marine Corps will pay for your college degree while you remain on active duty, drawing full pay and benefits, and then when you graduate you will be commissioned a Second Lieutenant in the Marine Corps and then off to flight school and those wings of gold. How does that sound?”

Well my mind was racing with the possibilities. I gushed out that it sounded great.

The recruiter then told me some of the details of the current “deal” the Marines were offering to recruits like me. “We have the Combat Arms Enlistment Program, where you sign up for four years in either Infantry, Artillery, or Tanks and Amphibious Tractors and,” he emphasized, “we will pay you a cash bonus of $1,500.”

He, invited me to come down to his office that same afternoon, after I got off work. I was thinking, do I need to run this by my parents first? But I was 19-years old and living on my own. I made my own decisions. So at quitting time, 4:00 pm, I drove up the street a couple of miles to his office.

When I walked in there was an Army guy and a Navy guy who walked out of their offices and started fighting over me.

“Leave him alone,” a loud and gruff voice shouted, “He’s mine!” The Staff Sergeant walked out of his office with a big smile, and stuck out his hand. I gave him a firm hand shake, just like my dad taught me, “Don’t hand someone a dead fish when you shake their hand.”

I now had to make up my mind which segment of the Combat Arms Program for which I wanted to sign up. I first stated I liked Artillery the best. I asked the recruiter what I needed to know to be an artilleryman. He asked me if I was good in math and geometry. Well, the last geometry class I had was in the 10th grade, and I didn’t do so well. I then said tanks or amphibious tractors sound next best. He told me the story of how it works in real life. Tankers get up later than the infantry, and eat a leisurely breakfast, while the infantry is marching to the field in the dark . . . “long road, dusty road!”

Once it is light, the tankers man up their tanks and head off down the road to the field. Along the way they pass the infantry, who is still trudging along . . . “long road, dusty road!”

The tankers drive around all day, shooting their cannon and their machine guns, then head back to the base. The infantry starts back as well . . . “long road dusty road!”

“Now here is where it gets interesting,” the recruiter told me. When the tankers get back, for every hour they put on their tanks, they have to spend an hour of maintenance. So they are still working on their tanks till well after dark, and into the night. On the other hand, the infantry, when they get back to the barracks, clean their rifles, clean their bodies, get dressed, then out on liberty where all the pretty girls are waiting for them.”

“I’ll take the infantry,” I quickly replied.

Well one thing led to another, and about two weeks later I ended up standing on the yellow footprints at Marine Corps Recruit Depot (MCRD) San Diego on June 29, 1972.

The Vietnam war raged on, and little did I know that I was about to go through one of the most important learning periods of my life, as the Drill Instructors and others prepared us to go off to war and fight the “gooks,” those sub-human communist devils who needed to be totally destroyed, for the good of mankind. We were training to become “Hard chargin’ – low crawlin’ – steel case hardened – spring loaded – highly motivated and roguishly handsome – U. S. Soldiers of the Sea – Combat Marines!”

I became a man at MCRD San Diego. I also began to shave. I got in the best physical shape of my life, learned to sing Jodie’s about killing communist gooks, learned weaponry and marksmanship, like never before, with the Springfield Armory M-14 and the Model 1911 .45ACP. I personally fired virtually every handheld and crew served weapon in the Marine Corps inventory, including the M-72 LAW anti-tank shoulder fired weapon, the M-60 7.62mm crew-fired machine gun, the M79 40x46mm grenade launcher, and the M2 Browning .50 cal machine gun. I learned how to kill an enemy soldier with my bare hands, how to kill him with my K-bar knife, and how to thrust him through with my bayonet, or break his jaw with the butt stock of my rifle. I learned how to save myself and my platoon’s ass with a “Final Protective Fire,” which I first heard of from the fascinating Marine Corps history classes, and which had saved the outnumbered Marines fighting thousands of marauding and advancing Chinese soldiers in the Boxer Rebellion of 1900.

Enlistment my ass, I got the invitation in the mail. GD

Why do you want to know??
Did you serve? What is your story??

They called it the draft. Letter came, I went! Nothing special.

Did not enjoy my first quarter of college and my grades reflected that. Figured the best way to beat the draft was to join and have small choice of specialty. Was sworn in about the time that the Tet offensive started. There were 7 enlistees in my BT company which were assigned to a platoon of NG/ER wankers. That included a defensive lineman from the NY Giants and a college track star. The draftees made up the Texas platoon and the Cajun platoon. And the leftovers from both states formed the 4th platoon. They were quite entertaining.

Dunno why they picked on Texas and Louisiana like that.

Did you see jnyork's display line at the bottom of his post? Career USAF, six stripes, medals which appear to include the Distinguished Flying Cross to the left.

He doesn't need to explain himself to anybody. He just asked a simple friendly question of his fellow vets.

Paul

Was majoring in skiing and coeds at UC Boulder in 1966 and was afraid I'd miss my chance at war so I enlisted. Got what I signed up for and have been missing the rush ever since. My military experience opened a lot of doors and led to self knowledge that resulted in a fulfilling career and a pretty good life.


mike r

Mike, I was at CU the same time as you, but I was already a vet and 10 years out of high school, married. Graduated in 1969.

Called it the Berkeley of the Rockies, and it is probably worse today.

Paul

When my HS senior year started, my dad asked me when I was going to take the SAT's. Told him I was not. Told him college would be a waste of time and money, would have just chased girls and drank beer.

He told me since I wasnt going to college, when I graduated HS, the front door only opened one way. Out. So you better come up with a plan.

Enlisted. Took a bunch of night school when I was in. Got out, finished college. Went to flight school.

And I still chased lots of girls and drank lots of beer in college.

I just learned to prioritize my time.