Military Officer - January 2007 - (Page 88)

encore Hog Heaven Despite the cold and rainy conditions, a group of young lieutenants is squealing with delight — but they’ll also learn a lesson about the privileges of rank. I n the fall of 1953, I reported to the U.S. Army’s Ranger School at Fort Benning, Ga. As a former enlisted man and a newly commissioned second lieutenant, I thought I had reached the pinnacle of prestige. The ﬁrst blow to that concept came when our entire class — all lieutenants — had to remove all insignia. We then were called ranger so-and-so by the entire cadre, both ofﬁcer and enlisted. We spent several weeks ﬁrming up our muscles, learning to rappel, and blowing things up with C-3. That was followed by three weeks in the Florida swamps and three weeks in the Georgia mountains on patrols or raids ranging anywhere from one to four days. Our last exercise was a small group raid of about eight or 10 rangers. It was now late November, deﬁnitely colder, and it rained most of the three days we were in the ﬁeld. Our objective was to “blow up” a real power plant connected to a dam. We “killed” the guards, placed blocks of wood where the explosives actually should go, and then moved to a safe area to detonate real C-3 with real blasting cord. After that we headed for the extraction point, a woodsy intersection of two dirt farm roads where we would be picked up by an Army truck. It was after midnight when we arrived, and we were a few hours early. During those three days and nights we had slept only a few hours and had nothing to eat except cold C-rations. It was raining, and we were cold, tired, and ﬁlthy. When we stopped walking we would shiver, but we could not light a ﬁre or go “non-tacti88 MILITARY OFFICER JANUARY 2007 cal” until the truck arrived. There was a farmhouse in the distance, and next to us, just on the other side of a split-rail fence, there was a large pig in a little building. She looked snug, warm, and dry on a bed of straw while we were shivering out in the cold rain. Surely ofﬁcers in the U.S. Army could not demean themselves by taking shelter in a pig house. Could they? We talked it over — for about 30 seconds. Then a former farm boy, knowing how to move a hog, grabbed her by the ears and pulled that porker — grunting and squealing — out of her shelter. We took turns standing guard, and the rest of us squeezed into that warm, dry, earthy-smelling pig house. We stayed there until we saw the the truck coming. When the truck stopped, two of us got in the cab and the others climbed into the back of the truck. The driver was a private, and since we wore no rank insignia, he assumed that we were all privates too. As the truck moved off, he glanced our way and sniffed a few times. Then, demolishing any last remnants of my illusion of commissioned prestige, he bluntly said, “You guys really stink!” MO — Thomas P. McKenna is a retired Army lieutenant colonel. He lives in Vermont. For submission information, see page 20. Tell Your Story ■ Share your servicerelated adventures (or mishaps) by e-mail to encore@moaa.org, or mail them to Encore Editor, 201 N. Washington St., Alexandria, VA 22314. All submissions will be considered for publication. ILLUSTRATION: ELWOOD SMITH

Table of Contents Feed for the Digital Edition of Military Officer - January 2007

Military Officer - January 2007 Contents From the Editor From the Chairman Your Views MOAA Directory Rapid Fire Washington Scene Financial Forum Ask the Doctor Chapter Activities Cover Story: Osprey Rising? Battlefields of the Great War I Resolve ... New Mission Pages of History Information Exchange Advertising Index MOAA Scholarship Donors MOAA Member Services MOAA Calendar Sounding Taps Member Books Encore

Military Officer - January 2007

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