In 1966 I was taking Army basic
training at Ft. Leonard wood. It was just a wonderful time. (I laughed. I
cried. It became a part of me.) The Drill Sergeants were some of the sweetest
guys. (Their gruff mean looks were just cover.) A person couldn’t have asked
for better clothes or accommodations (and lived). The food was great! (If it
helps any I also like hospital food.) The days were just bliss times ten! (I
still have dreams about them.) Barracks life was wonderful. Every day we
learned new and delightful things about the world and people. Physical Therapy
was provided for those needing it. (As it turned out everyone needed it.) PT
was the perfect weight loss program as well. The trainers provided personal
attention along with positive reinforcement.
It was a reward-based system.
There were some difficulties that we
had to work out on our own.
A couple of weeks in my mother posed a
problem for me. The First Sergeant called me out in morning formation. “Private
Thomas step forward!” There were several other Thomases. He whittled it down to
just me with some thoughtful questions. As it turned out my mother had called
the First Sergeant. Seems that she told him that I hadn’t written or called and
she was concerned. The First Sergeant told me that I should call my “mama” when
we finished training for the day and before eating. Then he had me step back in
formation.
That was one brutal (I’m going to use
a grawlix here) #&*!% day. BRUTAL. At the end of the day I was still able
to get to the phone. I did call home and ask mom why in God’s name she would
call my First Sergeant. Turns out the Company Commander wasn’t in. Sweet Jesus,
that day could have been much worse.
It probably bears mentioning here that mom
had a history of calling the authorities on or about us. Me: “Mom you really
shouldn’t call the police on me. You don’t know what I might be doing!” Mom:
“You better not be doing anything illegal!” Me: “But you see the police think
that I must be up to something because you called.” Mom: “An even better reason
then not to be doing anything bad.” When the police actually show up at the
house. Sheriff: “Do you have a son?” Dad:
“I’ve got 3 of them. Which one do you want?” Me: Walking up the street
and seeing all the squad cars in front of the house, turning around and heading
the other way pretending that I lived somewhere else.
But the call-out in morning formation
exacerbated another problem that I had been dealing that had almost gotten me
into some fights. There was another Thomas in my platoon with the same first
and last name. Hence our bunks were close together. Our middle initials were
different. Compounding the problem is we both wore glasses, were about the same
size and dressed exactly the same every day. Green. What are the odds?
The problem was the other Thomas was
effeminate. He was effeminate in everything he did, walking, running, eating,
etc. Of course to guys this meant that he was a queer. They were merciless to
him. There were times that I would get caught with their teasing. I would shut
them down with, “Hey! It’s the other Thomas!”
One day I had been sent back to the
barracks for something. I don’t even remember for what but since I had a little
time I went to where my foot locker was. The other Thomas’ bunk was not far
from mine. He was sitting there hugging himself. Kind of rocking back and
forth. His face was tight and pale. He was grimacing. He had gone to sick call
that morning. So, I stopped to talk with him and see how he was doing.
Looking down I realized that he was
barefoot and his toes were wrapped in bloody gauze. (He had been limping prior
to that day.) I asked him what in the world had happened. He proceeded to tell
me. Both of his big toes had bad ingrown toenails. They cut them out. Not at
the hospital, at the medic’s office. No anesthetic. Cut and rip. They shoved
some kind of heavy duty doctor snips underneath his nails and cut. He showed
them to me. I could have thrown up. He said that he passed out. No kidding.
They wrapped him up and sent him back to the barracks with some APCs.
(Aspirin.)
Having been to the same aid office I
knew what he had run up against. Both of my legs had swollen up from the hips
down. They thought that it was funny. The medic wrote some snarky stuff in my
permanent record, gave some ace bandages to wrap my legs with and sent me back.
Oh my god! I sat down with him. I
realized that this guy had some sand. He told me his story. He knew why guys
made fun of him. Turns out that his dad had died while he was an infant. His
mom never remarried. He had 4 older sisters. He just had picked up their
mannerisms. He was working on changing his body language, but it was hard.
The other Thomas was in a lot of pain
during training the next few weeks of basic but he stuck it out. I spread his
story around and he got some cred for his toughness. Guys backed off him for
the most part. There were some that never did. That’s the way it was and is for
some people. I didn’t know whether he was queer or not. It didn’t matter to me
even then one way or the other. I do to this day regret saying, “Hey! It’s the
other Thomas!”
I did receive some payback when I was
stationed in Korea and was the barracks sergeant even though I was technically
a Specialist 5th Class (SP5). I became “the other Thomas.”
When I was in Korea I didn’t cheat on
my wife. The majority of the married men that I served with did. I didn’t make
a big deal out of it. I just didn’t do it. Guys tend to notice stuff like that.
Especially since I didn’t bother going out into the village and had never been
seen at any of the local…houses. When I went to the Enlisted Men’s club located
on base I didn’t bother the…entertainers and after word got around that I
wasn’t interested they didn’t bother me. They were good people.
Quite a few of the married guys took
my celibacy personally. At times they would go out and get drunk, return from
a…date and want to fight me while providing me the appropriate logic for their
actions. I would guide them to their bunk and let them sleep it off. They were
usually remorseful in the morning. Alcohol made them say things you know. It
bears mentioning that there were some single guys that I knew that also
didn’t…date.
One married guy in my section decided
that I must actually be gay to explain my not using the business women. So he
started spreading that defense around for his actions. He aggravated me. He got
under my skin and he knew it. Let’s call him Mr. Pious.
There were quite a few men in the
barracks one day sitting around and shooting the breeze. Mr. Pious was sitting
on a foot locker in the middle being very entertaining. So I walked into the
middle, bent down, grabbed his face in my hands and gave him a great big kiss
right on the lips. It was an eyes wide open kiss. No tongue. I wasn’t happy. After
I stood up I stayed there for a minute to see if he was going to do anything.
He didn’t. That ended the rumors for some odd reason. Perhaps they didn’t want
Sergeant Thomas kissing on them. IDK.
I often think that people respond in
fear, fear that they might be something that they believe they are, aren’t or
don’t understand. Fear of those that are different. They can’t be wrong since
they’re justified in what they’re doing so the other, whatever that other is,
must be wrong.
