Page 84 - Firehouse Pond

Thankfully, we were retested during basic training. Suddenly, I was a lot

smarter. I took my time, scored well, and set the table for my twenty-two-
year career in the U.S. Army.

Basic training was just that: Basic. We marched, did physical training (PT),
marched a little more, ate great food; no kidding, “three hots, and a cot” felt
pretty good.

Because I was so skinny, I was allowed, ok; ordered to eat an extra meal and
a snack every day. This poor boy had struck gold.

Then we were at the range: A bit of teaching, I mean training, and we could
shoot; I mean fire our guns, I mean weapons. Wow, U.S. Army talk can get
confusing. “This is my weapon, and this is my gun.” You had to be there to

understand weapon vs. gun.

In 1967, for Basic Training, the U.S. Army used an M-14 rifle that weighed a

ton and kicked like a mule. I confess it made me tired lugging that thing all
over the place. The M14 weighed 9.2 pounds, unloaded. Try carrying a nine-
pound bowling ball around all day – get the picture?

It did kick and hurt until I finally learned how to properly use the thing. As
instructed, it became my best friend. I earned my Marksman Badge & Rifle
Bar. I was proud of myself!