The world was defined by five long buildings all facing in towards a rectangular swath of grass sprinkled with a few large trees. Each building inhabited a side of the rectangle with one side sporting two of them. In the corner, there was another building squarer and smaller than the others.
That smaller building was the mess hall where meals were served three times daily.
This was the first battalion of the intelligence school at Fort Devens, Massachusetts.
Behind this battalion was Jackson Road. In front of it was MacArthur Avenue. To one side, beyond the massive parking lot was Givry Street. Peggy Street bordered the remaining side.
Across MacArthur Avenue was battalion headquarters, basically a little office building not much bigger than a small town post office. The commanding officer at the time was Lieutenant Colonel Worth A. Sweet. His executive officer was Major Meaney.
Seriously.
Colonel Sweet looked a little like Paul Newman. He had piercing blue eyes and was not unapproachable. During a NUG (new ugly guy/new ugly girl) orientation, he said a couple times, “I wear the glove.” I have no idea what he meant by that.
Down MacArthur Ave a little further west was the movie theater and across from that the enlisted club where you could congregate for beers, loud music and be puked on by a scrawny young soldier away from home for the first time in his life. That happened to me. He was nervous that I was going to do something to him because of it. I just looked down at the vomit I was wearing, looked up at him and left the building.
Behind Charlie Company across Jackson Road was Charlie Valley. It was a small depression in the woods where MilStakes was held. These were several soldier tests that required passing in order to avoid the pain of having to retrain and retake. I assume some partying took place in Charlie Valley as well. Partying took place almost everywhere.
Across from Echo Company on the corner of Peggy and MacArthur was a snack bar. In the snack bar you could buy nachos, a pitcher of beer for $2-3, pop a quarter into the juke box and listen to John Waite sing Missing You. Or you could go into the darkened back area and play video games. The snack bar was a popular hangout for those with no bigger plans for the moment.
Fort Devens was a pretty post with well groomed grass and tall trees. If you could overlook the camouflage uniforms, the institutional barracks and barbed wire fences around the intelligence school buildings, it would be easy to imagine it as a college campus.
Compared to basic training, the atmosphere was almost that of college as well. We were stationed there to learn our MOS - the Army jobs we signed up to do.
Because of the intensity of that training, some of the standard Army procedures were more relaxed. Not done away with, but easier than they could have been.
I had signed up to become a Morse code intercept and copy specialist. The Army designation for it was 05H. Even though it is a zero, five and letter H, we pronounced it as “oh-five-H”. And that was usually slanged out as hog. So we were “oh-five-hogs”.
Prior to starting the course, we were all required to take a typing test. The testers were looking for people who had the ability to type a minimum speed with all fingers and do it correctly. Those who didn't pass the test had to take a typing course.
I was a two finger typist. Because I typed a lot of papers for college courses, I could do it quickly and accurately. So I fudged my way through the test trying to look like someone who knew how to really type. When it was over, I took a breath of relief. I had succeeded.
The first part of the course was learning how to copy Morse code on a standard keyboard and build up speed in doing so. Once we were able to copy twenty groups per minute (each group containing five characters), we were ready to move into the second phase of training which allowed us to hear code that had been transmitted in real world situations. Some of it sounded like chickens clucking, some like watery bloops. There was all manner of background noise to have to listen through to hear the code.
• • • • •
Fort Devens was about an hour away from Boston. The commuter rail which services communities northwest of that iconic city had a station in Ayer, the town right outside the gate of Ft Devens. Cab fare to the station was cheap, so many of us caught the train to Boston frequently. I eventually bought my own car and drove instead. A college friend of mine lived in Quincy, so I would often spend weekends with him.
• • • • •
There was only one field exercise the entire time I was at Fort Devens. This exercise was a requirement for graduation. It consisted of a long march across post and into the woods where we bivouacked. There was a long night of being attacked by APCs, artillery simulators, grenade simulators. Blanks were issued for the M60s and M16s we carried. A few of us from Charlie Company had to go with Echo Company on their field scenario as our graduation date preceded our own scheduled exercise. Because it was Echo’s exercise, we didn’t feel particularly compelled to join in defending the position.
So we just sat up most of the night smoking and talking while listening to the loud booms and rat-a-tat-tats taking place nearby. I heard that some from Echo were ‘captured’ and taken to a SERE (Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape) camp where they were abused as a form of POW training.
C Co was supposed to defend the rear of Echo. Word was spread that there would probably be infiltrators through our area. While sitting against a tree in the dark of night and heat of battle, we were approached by a member of Tac Platoon. I knew the guy, knew him immediately as one of the infiltrators. As he crouched down near us to talk and ask about defensive positions, I quietly raised my M16 and pointed it at his face. It couldn’t have been more than a foot, foot and a half from it. Then I wondered what would happen if I pulled the trigger.
There was a blank adapter on the end of the rifle, but still the flash from it - who knows. He had no idea; it was that dark out. Then he took off with a loud hoot as if he had done something incredibly daring.
I never fired the weapon. Just finished smoking my cigarette and stubbed it out.
Like I said, it was Echo’s exercise.
• • • • •
There are other activities I could mention. The parties at Robbins Pond and Mirror Lake, some unit-sanctioned, others open free-for-alls. There was one such gathering set up in a field somewhere not far from the PX. Music was playing, coolers were filled with cans of beer.
There were three tents erected for the occasion, for what purpose I don't know. It was a nice, sunny day out.
A crowd of guys gathered around the window opening of one tent. I moseyed over to check out what they were looking at.
Inside the tent was a guy and a girl totally naked having sex. And by that, I mean they were in the doggy-style position with all the appropriate moaning sounds..There were catcalls and comments from the group watching, and I wondered about this brave, new world I had joined. Was everything going to be this wild and uninhibited?
After finishing, the girl, fully clothed, left the tent and didn't look at or speak to anyone nearby. The guy, however, emerged from the tent complaining about having an audience.
• • • • •
Because a portion of my training was self-paced and I picked it up pretty quickly, I was ready to move on to my next duty assignment a month or two sooner than what was considered normal. For that I received a letter of commendation which has long since been lost. My experience at Devens was such that I strongly considered making the Army a career.
When it was time to pass out the permanent duty assignments, we stood in formation listening as the Charlie Company First Sergeant announced names and destinations. Since my MOS training included a Far East component, I figured I was headed to Okinawa, Japan, or maybe even Hawaii. Others called out before me were headed to locations like that and some to Augsburg, Germany.
Then the First Sergeant called my name, “Specialist Howe!”
“Yes, First Sergeant,” I responded.
“You are going to Fort Stewart, Georgia.” Then with a wry smile, he added, “Garden spot of the world.”
Something inside me thudded and I knew right then that the Army life would not be for me. I would get out after my enlistment was over.
But before I could do that, I had to make my way through Camp Swampy.
Little did I realize at that moment how it would change my life forever.
