Voices from the Korean War - Douglas Rice [163]
My oldest brother, Elmer, accompanied Fay and I to the White Star Lines bus station, in Maryville, Tennessee for my sixteen mile journey to the induction center in Knoxville.
At 8:00 AM, the bus pulled out from the station. Upon reaching the induction center, we were instructed to strip off all our clothes and then we were placed in a large, opened room. There we waited our turn to see a doctor. This room reminded me of holding pens for animals.
Around 7:00 PM, we were taken to another large room and ordered to “take one step forward.” We then took the oath that officially made us soldiers in the U.S. Army.
Just before dark, I would take my first train ride as we boarded a slow moving train bound for Fort Jackson, South Carolina. Even though it took all night to cross the Smoky Mountains, the “sand man” never came to my bunk. When we arrived the following morning, there was a little snow on the ground. I would have frozen if not for the wool overcoat loaned to me by my brother, Otha.
“FALL OUT!” rang out early the next morning, to start our processing. Standing in front of me, in the shot line, was Raymond Anderson—a pal from high school. For some reason the line got held up, and Raymond was shot in both arms—twice. We were then assigned to basic training companies. Luckily, I was assigned to Service Company for eight weeks training because we were chosen to be specialists, in lieu of infantry training.
You guessed it! About the sixth week of basic, our company commander—a World War II paratrooper, and tough as nails—called us to formation, and he told us he had bad news for us. He said our losses in Korea were high and we had been assigned as an infantry company. This meant six more weeks of advanced infantry training.
It would be May before Fay could visit me. Her first visit was when a brother, and his wife, brought her down. Later, she decided to go back with me on a weekend pass, and visit for a few days. However, she had no job yet and I being on a private’s pay, money was scarce. So, what do we do? We asked her dad to borrow thirty dollars and away we went. It was around midnight when she dropped me off at the base, and all the lights were out where she had hoped to stay. So, Fay being the brave, young, eighteen year old she was, parked the old ‘39 Chevy under a moss covered cypress and curled up in the back seat for some sleep until after daylight.
Not far away was a boarding house, owned by a Mrs. Seay. She had a vacancy for a week, but the rent was nine dollars for the whole week! Can you imagine that?
On the 30th of June, I learned through the Red Cross that my paternal grandmother had died. I received permission to go home to be a pallbearer—an honor for this young soldier. When I checked into the barracks, after returning to the base, I was told Service Company was headed for Europe—I started doing cartwheels. However, my excitement would be short lived. The sergeant-on-duty, Corporal Puckett, from Kingsport, Tennessee, told me I would not be going to Europe. I asked him why, and he said because I got to go home. I told him that I had permission through Red Cross to attend my grandmother’s funeral. He didn’t care. He said, “I’m sending your damn ass to Korea.” You guessed it! On September 19, 1951, I set sail for Korea.
I left Seattle, Washington, aboard the General M. M. Patrick and didn’t know a single person on the ship. A few days out, a trooper jumped overboard. He had told someone that nobody loved him, and he wasn’t going to fight for a country he had never heard of! One of the guys in the lifeboat found his fatigue jacket with his dog-tags in a pocket. The ships chaplain had a brief ceremony at sea, then the captain blew the ships horn and we set sail again.
One of the soldiers aboard the Patrick, was Richard “Dick” Salvatore, who was a soloist. His great singing helped shorten a very long, seasickness filled trip for this country hick.