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During basic training at Ft Knox 1n 1966, our training company area was across the road from another, one of whose guys was about to become famous. In the 6th or 7th week of an 8-week training schedule, one platoon was detailed to pull repairs on a post ball field. There were replacement fence slats, and enough green paint to get them to match the others still in place. They had paintbrushes, and rags, but were limited to replacing one board at a time because they only had one hammer. The young sergeant picked one of the trainees he figured could understand simple instructions, and sent him back to the company supply room for more hammers. So off he went, whereupon the supply sergeant told him they had the only hammer he had, and to go back and tell his sergeant that. It was getting close to lunchtime, the workday was almost half over, and the ordered work nowhere near done; the sergeant responsible was NOT happy. When his chosen recruit came back wih no more hammers, he was REALLY not happy. *** YOU GO BACK, YOU FIND ME SOME HAMMERS. TRY THE MESS HALL. ASK THE FIRST SERGEANT. BUT YOU DON"T COME BACK HERE UNTIL YOU'VE GOT ME SOME HAMMERS. GOT IT? Yes, Sergeant....

So he went back to the supply room *He told me to ask again* Still no more. He tried the mess hall; no hammers there, they told him to try supply again. He went to ask the 1st Sergeant at the orderly room; he wasn't in but his clerk was pretty sure there weren't any hammers in his desk. So he left for the Main Post area, and asked at one of the PX barber shops. Nope. Clothing sales. nope. The Class VI liquor sales outlet. Nope no hammers, but you can GET hammered....

So he caught a shuttle bus for Louisville, looking for a hardware store. He found a Hallmark Card store, but no hammers. He found a drugstore with headache pills for all the hammering that wasn't going on, but nope, no hammers. He found a toy shop toy hammers, but he was pretty sure Sarge wanted the real thing. So he went back to the bus station-no hammers, first thing he asked when he went in- and got himself a ticket for the bus home. Late that night, he arrived in his home town. He called home, his dad came and picked him up at the bus station. Before they got home, he explained to his dad *exactly* what his orders had been...and had his dad open the hood of the car and take off the air cleaner cover. Nope, no hammer in there. Once he got home, he hugged his mom, and had her look in the oven for...a hammer! Nope, no luck there, either. Nor in the bathroom medicine chest, nor in the doghouse in the back yard. the Grandfather clock? Nope. The front porch light? Nope. Maybe in his bed? Nope, but it was the most comfortable he'd slept in the last 6 weeks.

Sunday, he went to church with his folks, and found to no great surprise there was no hammer in the collection plate. Monday he spent with mum and da, and that night went to a movie. He bought a box of popcorn, thinking there might be a prize hammer in the box. The rest of that Summer week he spent with his girlfriend, walking along the river, holding hands and talking, and looking for a hammer sticking out of the riverbank mud. They didn't find one, but vowed not to quit until one showed up.

The next Monday, the Army called. His commanding officer told his mother that the Army had *sort of misplaced him, and had they heard from him?* Why, he's right here, the nice Lieutenant was told- Would like to speak with him? Yes, he sure did!

***No Sir, I haven't been AWOL, I was just doing what the Sergeant told me to do. And I have a list of more than two dozen witnesses who can swear that I've been doing just that, plus the names of the guys who were there when Sarge told me not to come back without one. If you have any questions about that, you can ask my dad; he's the county attorney here.*** Two days later, he was back at Fort Knox. Two weeks later, he was in Armor AIT [Tank crew training] and graduated two months after that. Six months later, he was commissioned as a Second Lieutenant, Armor, and about five months after that, he became my tank platoon leader; I was his gunner. He saved my life twice, I saved his 3 or 4 times, it's all even. There's only one other little detail worth knowing, our tank's nickname, which was the source of his radio callsign.

See, in our outfit, tanks in A Company had *A* names: Archangel, Alleygator, AnnieMarie. B Company had Badboy, Brutus, Bentbananna, and so on, 17 tanks per company. But we only had 3 tanks in Headquarters company: Hummel [German for butterfly] and Hangman. And, of course, our platoon leader's tank:

[Wait for it!]

HAMMER! He finally found it!