OK. I wrote FM 25-101. Well, really Carl Vuono wrote it, but I wrote down everything that he told me to say. When we were done, he sent me a hard cover edition. Training was really serious business.
You were issued an Army serial number when you were enlisted or inducted.
If you were stationed at Fort Ignorance and you remember Dirty Alice.
Oops. I was *not* a 13B. I was a 12B.
Big difference. We went much lighter than 13Bs (see 12Bs, fire positions, bugs) and didn’t enjoy palatial accommodations.
Maybe I am getting old. ;-)
The link is blocked by the web Nazis here, somebody please post the list!
I didn’t see steel pots mentioned in the list?
Ditto for jump school.
And the NCO club allowed butterbars like me to drink there with my NCOs. Damn zoomie pilots were insufferable, plus there were more women at the NCO club. I dated a lovely and professional E-6 while at Hahn. We enjoyed each other's company, but we both knew it would never work. She was committed to her career, and had orders to the States within a year after we met.
We were the "curiosities" at Hahn, the only Army unit on base. It was a great experience.
You remember three of your four squad leaders being "acting jacks".
Of the three platoons I led, that was by far the most rewarding platoon. We had the most inexperienced platoon by far, yet ours was the only platoon to pass during a battery-level ARTEP. I loved those men, they made me look good. The other platoon leaders were either West Point or Airborne Rangers. I think they fed off the chip on my shoulder towards the ring knockers, and the other platoons with predominantly E-6 squad leaders.
One of your NCO’s came in the Army at a judge’s insistence, in order to avoid murder charges for killing his cheating wife. (True story!)
Driving a soldier to Rhein Main in the middle of the night, after a family member had passed away.
Living without TV for nearly four years after moving off-base. The signal for Armed Forces TV barely got as far as the borders of the base.
Watching the "Miracle on Ice" live, as it was shown on German TV.
Giving an after-action report on the weekend's wine fest to the Battalion Commander on Tuesday morning. Why Tuesday? The best night was Monday night, when all the townfolk were out, and the tourists were gone.
Unscheduled visits from the Group Commander and Deputy CG, usually on Friday afternoons. I was usually the only officer at the tac park, so I got plenty of quality time with them...lol. Our tac park was ten miles from the barracks, so it wasn't like you could suddenly populate it.
Finally, when the message of the Leader's Handbook actually meant something: As a leader, everything your unit does or fails to do is your responsibility.
Not in ADA...lol, ADA's motto was "We eat our young."
So a few years ago my husband made Sgt Major. It must’ve been about a month later and I was complaining to my mom that Tricare was sending me four hours away for a doctor’s appointment and that I didn’t think I could manage the drive. (Being sick and all)
She was so confused.
“Doesn’t your driver take care of that?”
Took about ten minutes for me to understand that she thought I now had ‘staff’ and for me to get through to her that we don’t do that anymore. (She was an old-time army wife.)
So then I got to hear about how it used to be. *sigh*
Way before my time.
No. I wasn’t given a nice, historic house to live in and housekeepers. No. I didn’t have a driver who ushered me to the commissary and carried my groceries into the house. NO. I did not have private guards.