University of Virginia Library

Stuart Pape

Life In A Summer
ROTC Camp

While most college and
University students left their
campuses at the end of May
anxious to begin work, continue
play or work for political
candidates, some 2,220 of the less
fortunate made plans to travel to
Fort Knox, Kentucky for six weeks
of training designed to qualify them
for entrance into the Army's
two-year ROTC program.

The Army had expected over
3200 cadets, as we were called, but
fortunately for them, other options
worked out. (Physical deferments,
high lottery numbers, plane tickets
to Montreal).

Fort Knox is, I suppose, typical
of most Army buses. The majority
of its barracks are old, very old. In
fact they were built in the early
1940's as temporary structures, a
fact now overlooked except as
relates to the barracks striking
ability to burn.

It takes a little more than seven
minutes for one to be reduced to
ashes. My company failed to hold a
single fire drill during the six weeks,
although we did have fire guards at
all times. More about that later.

Fort Knox is the "Home of
Armor" as numerous signs proudly
proclaim and accordingly one is
treated to daily sights of huge
armored vehicles travelling to
training areas to practice blowing
up old tanks, cars, and other
assorted items. You may recall that
the gold is also at Knox. Don't
worry though, its well guarded
from whomever would want it.

During the training you are
arranged in platoons (forty men)
and then into companies (at Knox
three-five platoons.) Everyone in
your company has a low draft
number; many are married and the
percentage of students in graduate
or law school is very high. So is
anti-war sentiment. While I was
there two peace demonstrations
occurred.

The first was the night prior to
our leave for July 4th. (This leave
was one of the more flagrant
examples of the preferential
treatment that we received as
future officers as compared to that
of the lowly trainee.) At least four
hundred cadets crowded into the
club provided for our use, drinking
beer and letting off steam.
Suddenly a cadet on the balcony
started flashing the peace sign,
Nixon style (both arms raised over
head). He was rewarded with more
peace signs from the cadets below
as well as numerous clenched first.

Soon the chanting began: "Hell
no we won't go," and
"One-two-three four, we don't
want your fucking war!" The
manager of the club was somewhat
shaken by these developments and
called out the MP's, who arrived
almost immediately. Many of us
had visions of getting busted but
that would have meant bad
publicity for the Army so nothing
happened. The second
demonstration was on our last
night at Knox and mixed with the
euphoria of leaving was quite an
enthusiastic affair. No MP's this
time.

Knox has an underground paper
called "Fun, Travel and
Adventure." Knowledgeable
servicemen know it as FTA, a
time-honored slogan designed to
show one's true feeling about the
military. There was a coffeehouse
near the base, but it was
unfortunately located in the town
of Muldraugh. Muldraugh is owned
almost entirely by retired officers
or soldiers on active duty.

Its outlook is somewhat more
reactionary than that of Ghengis
Kahn. As a result the operators of
the coffeehouse were generously
given two options: Leave town at
once or stay and face prosecution
and certain conviction on any
number of statutes, the contents of
which had little to do with the
likelihood of getting convicted.
Constitutional guarantees also went
by the wayside and the coffeehouse
closed, leaving the GIs to the base
clubs and the PX's.

One of the worst aspects of the
Army is guard duty, especially on a
stateside base. Some time before
our arrival a number of M-16's were
stolen by "the Black Panthers" as
one sergeant eagerly informed us.
Accordingly we had to guard the
weapons room whenever it was
locked, that is at night and during
the weekends.

When walking guard duty you
are supplied with a billy club and a
one minute cram course in its use.
You are also cautioned to leave
your money in the locker in your
barracks, for many of the guards
have been getting robbed recently.

"But," you say, "how can I
guard the weapons if I'm getting
robbed?" Never mind, remember
this is the Army.

You also pull fire guard, which
entails staying up for an hour in the
barracks in full uniform in case a
fire develops, although you are
never told what to do if that should
happen. Guard duty is brutal
because it prevents you from
getting sleep.

Imagine this: you go to sleep at
9:30, get up at 12:15 for duty from
12:30 til 1:30 and then sleep until
5:30, unless of course you have KP
which means that you will be at the
Mess Hall at 4:45 AM ready and
willing to peel, peel, peel!

Because we were future officers
we received special treatment. One
morning nine generals faced some
1100 of us for a question and
answer period. There was little
reticence on the part of the
cadets—the first question related to
brutality in training and Cambodia
followed quickly.

After an hour we split up into
company size with two generals
where I learned that the war is won
but we had to go into Cambodia to
prevent a "bottom of the ninth"
victory by the "defeated"
Communists Inquiries about free
speech in the Army were handled
thusly: "If you were employed by a
business company you would not
think of publicly criticizing your
boss well, just think of the
President and the government as
your boss." Military justice fared
about as well and most or us left
the encounter with the brass
somewhat more aware of what the
Army was all about and certainly
more disillusioned with what we
had seen and heard.

With a few exceptions, we all
managed to finish the course (if
you failed the physical training test,
your score was padded; if you
failed the test on general knowledge
you kept taking it until you passed)
and anxiously waited to turn in
equipment, which was done with
typical Army inefficiency.

Our last day included graduation
ceremonies and we were frequently
questioned as to the number of
visitors we expected. Of the 100
graduates, there were some 30
spectators, much to the dismay of
the cadets they came to see.

After graduation there was some
throwing of hats and so forth, but
most of us wanted to save our
energy for the flight to Louisville's
Airport, some 35 miles away and
plane flights home. As far as we
were concerned, 6 weeks had been
long enough, although we all knew
that drill and classes awaited us in
September.

So does another summer camp,
six months to two years of active
duty, and more marching to "I
want to be an Airborne Ranger, I
want to live a life of danger, I want
to go to Vietnam, I want to kill me
a Charley Cong."