Fort Devens - excerpted from my book BDUDays

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.

Élan School Thoughts

Some time ago, my son, Ryan, said he wanted to go see an old abandoned school in Poland which is the next town over from where we live. When I asked him why it was closed he said it was due to abuse.

Three days ago, on Sunday, he and I went. As it turns out, this place is less than 5 miles from my home. It was called Élan School. When Ryan told me about it, I just imagined a large brick building sitting alongside the road which would be a typical Maine school.

But Élan was anything but typical. It was a collection of several white wooden buildings set back into the woods at the end of a country road.

Ryan and I wandered around the grounds looking at broken, vandalized buildings with smashed windows. We found text books on the ground, furniture strewn around inside one building and graffiti. The atmosphere of the place was of dark melancholy.

I decided to do some research on it when I got home.

This is what I found out.

According to the American Bar Association's website:

"The 'troubled teen' industry is a network of private youth programs, therapeutic boarding schools, residential treatment centers, religious academies, wilderness programs, and drug rehabilitation centers and it dates back at least 50 years. The facilities are operated by private companies, nonprofits, or faith-based groups and they promise to help youth with problems related to behavior, addiction, and eating disorders."

Also from ABA:

"The 'troubled teen' industry is a big business. It receives an estimated $23 billion dollars of annual public funds to purportedly treat the behavioral and psychological needs of vulnerable youth.” 

***************************************************************

Élan School was founded in 1970 by Joe Ricci, David Goldberg and Dr. Gerald Davidson. Their publicly-stated goal was to turn self-destructive teens into productive adults, which in and of itself, is noble. However their methods and results are questionable at best.

In an oddly similar method to other such behavior modificaiton therapeutiv "schools", the teens targeted for admission by parents, a social worker or judge, are basically kidnapped in the middle of the night by 2 to 4 large men and taken away from their homes. This is with the parents' permission.

And with no explanation.

When at Élan, they are subject to intense hazing, food and sleep deprivation and, sometimes, physical abuse. Actual schooltime was from 7pm to 11pm and several of the articles I saw basically stated that the kids were given text books and told to read them.

Many of the staff are Élan graduates.

The following is a Reddit post from a former resident. This is a link to the post.

Reddit post

Even skimming this post once will blow your mind, most probably think thats its made up but you would be dead wrong

This place only still exist because so many people believe that it doesn't or that it can't. I believe that the internet is our #1 tool for exposing these horrid blind spots for what they are. Help me Reddit!

I was sent to a place called The Elan School in 1998 and I was only 16. The scary thing is that Elan is still open, kids aged 13-20 are there right now. Normal kids, many whom may have smoked a joint or two, or who swore at their parents. Of course there were also real criminals there, but they did not make up the majority.

The "school" accepted anyone and then held them as long as they possibly could depending on the age of the child. If you were sent at 14 (many were) you may have been looking at 3-4 years. This is because The Elan School collects $50,000 a year per child, either from the child's state, school, or parents. And, of course, money was the only motivation of the staff and directors. These were the people in charge of your "progress" in the program.

I could write for hours about it, instead I ask you to skim the following bullet points and to understand that I am telling the truth.

• We were forced to participate in staff-organized fight clubs, none of which were fair, all were designed to humiliate one child who would be put up against at least 3 others. So even the children who "followed the rules" were forced to fight: in the name of "good".

• Children who tried to rebel or be free-thinking were thrown into an isolation room where they had to stay for months at a time, they had to sleep at night on a dirty mattress on the floor of the isolation room The mattress was brought to them at midnight and they were woken up around 7am.

• We were all forced to perform in a ritual called a "General Meeting" where the entire house (60 or more boys and girls) screamed at one child who stood behind a broomstick. Many times they were forcibly held up by two other students so they would have to accept the punishment.

• Education was considered a right, but those of us who earned the right were still robbed of an education. School was from 7pm-11pm: no homework, no test, no projects. Ex: math class consisted of grabbing a math book and handing the teacher at least one page of work.

• The other 12 hours of the day consisted of constant conditioning and brainwashing. In the beginning you obviously rejected it, but then you would be "dealt with". You would not be able to rise through the ranks of the program to earn more 'rights' until you could prove yourself to be a good candidate for more brainwashing. Eventually it became your responsibility to begin indoctrinating the newer residents (basically you, six month earlier). You had Strength and Non-Strength. Non-Strength's were not allowed to talk, interact, or communicate in any way with other Non-Strengths. It took a minimum of 6 months to earn the title of "Strength". It took some kids years to earn "Strength". Some kids never did.

• Elan made money based on the amount of time it took for you to graduate "the program". You had to have a minimum of 7 promotions before you were a candidate for "graduation". Each promotion took a minimum of 3 months, and 90% of the kids never made it past the 5th promotion. These kids had to wait until they turned 18 and could legally sign themselves out. Other kids stayed past their 18th birthday, which is a true testament to the effectiveness of the brainwashing, I remember one dude was 23.

• Your level of high-school had no reflection whatsoever on your ability to leave Elan. I was forced to do my senior year of high school twice, even though I was technically done after the first senior year.

• The staff members were primarily former students who were hired by Elan after graduating from the program. Many arrived in BMW's and clearly made 6 figure incomes. None of them had degree's in psychology, education, social work, etc... Many of them never went to college at all.

• All outgoing letters to parents were screened, many of us having to write many different drafts until they were accepted. All phone calls to our parents were monitored, we were allowed about 15 minutes a week and the person who monitored the call would have their hand hovering over the hang-up button as a constant reminder of our reality.

• We were not allowed to write or receive letters until we earned the right (this could take 8 months or more). When someone found out where I was and wrote me, my unopened letters were ripped up in front of me as motivation to move up in the program.

I feel like I am beginning to write too much and I do not want to overwhelm anyone who made it this far. Because most of the bullet points honestly require further explanation to give the full impact of what Elan truly was.

The most important thing that anyone can do is to be aware of this place and make sure that nobody you know ever gets sent there for any reason. If you are a parent then do not send your child there. If you know someone who is there now then beg the parents to do more research.

The amount of suicides and tragic deaths of former Elan students is reason enough to take this post seriously.

The following is an NBC report done around 1979.   For The Childs Own Good - Elan

And this link is to a website made by a former resident who was at Élan from age 16 to 18. He created the website in the form of a comic book. It is a long read.

Joe vs. Elan School  https://elan.school/

There is a documentary on Amazon Prime  about Élan School.
You can watch it here. The Last Stop

There are many videos and articles about Élan that you can find using Google.

Joe Ricci died in 2001 from lung cancer. His wife Sharon Terry took over direction of the organization after and ran it until 2011. Then it closed for good.  The stated reason for closure was financial, but the reality was that the internet caused a lot of problems with people talking about their experiences. There are many aspects of that talked about in the Prime Video documentary.

I tried to watch videos and read articles with a sense of objectivity. I know how things can become hyperbolic in such things because they are all attempting to affect one's perception. I also understand the idea of discipline and breaking down of someone's will. I did go through Basic Training in the Army. But I was in my 20s when I did and it was totally voluntary. These behavior modification institutes will take kids as young as 13. Maybe younger.

One statement I heard in a video basically said that parents need to stop sending their kids off and start parenting and I would agree with that. But some kids are uncontrollable and get into drug and alcohol addiction early on and may come from abusive homes. I'm not so sure that these "schools" are the right answer, though.

Here is what we saw Sunday.