Veterans Month
November 2003
NS Veterans Remember
Craig Wilkins
Budget Coordinator
Roanoke, Va.
As I look back on my time in the military my mind kind of wanders back to different memories and dates. The first one I'm sure that everyone remembers is his or her first day of boot camp. Mine was probably much the same as it was for everyone else.
I arrived at the train station in San Diego orders in hand and a number to call for transportation to the base. There were only two of us so I called and was told to go outside and stand at attention, someone would be sent to get us. We thought OK let's go and do what we were told. About an hour later a carryall and a lance corporal showed up. He told us to get in and turned around hand outstretched to welcome us to the Marine Corps, we thought. After a few well-chosen words that questioned our manhood and membership in the human race he said to give him our orders and not to open our mouths. At that point I was thinking what on earth have I gotten myself into this time.
Boot camp was tough but actually went by pretty fast as it had been shortened because of the demand for troops in Viet Nam and because the drill instructors kept us busy all the time. Toward the end of boot camp we were given our MOS or job description. The whole company would be 003 basic infantrymen except for two that would go into artillery and one to the Marine Band. I wanted to be trained in electronics and the recruiter said he thought with my test scores that would be no problem. Boy was I naive.
After graduating boot camp we were finally Marines and ready for the next phase of training, ITR or infantry training regiment. All Marines go through infantry training because they are all first and foremost, infantrymen no matter what other job they may be trained for. ITR was not what I expected. We weren't boots anymore but were pretty much treated that way and the training was more physically demanding. This was where we would learn the skills that would hopefully keep us alive. Toward the end of infantry training I was given my duty assignment, Viet Nam.
I have a pretty vivid memory of that day because of future events. In typical military fashion we lined up to get our orders and in single file approached a clerk that would stamp every ones orders with one of two rubber stamps. One stamp represented the First Marine Division and the other the Third Marine Division. As I got toward the head of the line I could see how it was going, the clerk would stamp two for the 1st Division, one for the 3rd, two for the 3rd, one for the 1st and so on, it seemed kind of random. As we waited in the processing line the solder in front of me and I talked about possibly being assigned together, it didn't work out. We went to different divisions. He would be killed just five days after we landed in country.
Being in a war is an experience that a person never forgets. There is the actual combat and the possibility of being killed plus the conditions we had to live in. Everyone dealt with dying in his or her own separate way. There was a lot of philosophical thinking and bravado going around but that was OK, everyone had a job to do and everyone wanted to make it through their thirteen months and go home. My tour in Viet Nam started in March 1967 and ended in December 1967. I was wounded just before Christmas and I've reflected on that day many times. Not for the fact that I was shot, but for the gut-wrenching feeling that overtook me as the helicopter flew over my fellow solders and took me to the safety of a hospital. It's hard to explain how bad that felt, it was like I was deserting them. However one day later I was out of the country and on my way to the hospital on Guam for surgery and recovery. Christmas day the families of the servicemen stationed on Guam opened up their houses to all of the patients that could walk. They treated us like family. Their generosity and sharing will always be remembered. During my time in the hospital I was also lucky and got to see the Bob Hope show. That was really a special treat and one of those things you don't forget.
After returning to the states and Camp Pendleton any duty would be OK as long at it wasn't in the infantry. In the infinite wisdom of the military they put me in a motor transportation company, I didn't even have a drivers license. They took care of that and within a week I could drive a five-ton truck. It didn't take long to figure out that state side duty wasn't for me so I signed up for embassy duty, got accepted and spent the remainder of my tour as a Marine Security Guard in Rangoon, Burma. This duty was as good as my first tour overseas was bad. It was a time when Americans were welcomed and appreciated in many countries.
I think I've rambled on to much here and will end by saying that for now and always I'm proud of all the men and woman I followed and preceded in military service. We were asked to do a job and we did it.
Bill Perdue, I thank you for encouraging me to start this as I may try and expand it to pass on to my children. Maybe they do need to know what their Dad did in the military.
God Bless America