A charter bus pulled into the parking lot by the San Antonio Induction Center. A sergeant from the center called our group of some forty men together. “Now, I’m going to be calling out names. As I call your name, you answer with "Here, Sergeant!" and get onboard that bus. The bus will be transporting you to Fort Polk, Louisiana, where you will undergo your Army Basic Training. You will have a couple of rest stops between here and there, so you’ll be able to use bathroom facilities and grab some food.”
Names were called in alphabetical order, so my friend, Joe, boarded the bus first. My name was finally called. After my name, Jim Warner’s name was called. “Just one minute, Jim called out to the sergeant. “Warner, James !” called out the sergeant again. Jim was busy bear-hugging his new bride with her parents and siblings-in-law crowded around him. Jim just would not let go.
“Godammit, soldier! Let’s go! You’ll have plenty of time to do that when you come back home on leave!”
Jim pulled away from his new bride and boarded the bus. He sat on the right side by a window still focused on his new wife blowing him kisses. As the bus pulled away, Jim began softly sobbing. I was sitting next to Jim. My friend, Joe, was sitting on the left aisle seat by me. “We’ve only been married three days,” said Jim. I said nothing.
Joe, Jim and I became friends during basic training. At one point at the Reception Station, all three of us were assigned to peel potatoes. We would put a bag of potatoes into a cement-mixer-type machine which was lined with rough abrasion coating. The Mess Sergeant directed us to turn the machine on for only five minutes to get most of the skin off. “Once you dump the potatoes into the buckets, just finish taking whatever skin the machine missed. Now don’t leave the machine on for too long, else the machine will wear away the potatoes and we won’t have enough potatoes for lunch and dinner.”
We were sitting around on inverted five-gallon buckets and begin chatting completely forgetting about the machine. After what seemed like a long, long time, Jim yelled, “Oh, shit! Turn off the machine, quick!” We took out the potatoes which were now about half the normal size. I suggested, “Let’s put some fresh potatoes in there. The Mess Sergeant won’t notice.”
We put about half a bag of fresh potatoes into the machine and watched it closely. Once we took them out, we began the manual clean-up of them. The Mess Sergeant never even noticed our screw-up.
On the road to Fort Polk, we were never offered a suitable stop where we could order suitable meals. Rest stop restaurants offered only greasy hamburgers and cold sandwiches Their bathroom facilities were atrocious. We grabbed what we could and got back on the bus rather than sit in dirty tables fighting off flies.
When we got within some forty or so miles from Fort Polk, the bus driver announced, “You folks will be changing buses here, so grab all your belongings and don’t leave anything behind. Just sit in the waiting area and take the bus going to Fort Polk.”
That transition bus stop was actually an old, dilapidated gas station with a run-down snack bar. The waiting room was a small area with some thirty chairs of different colors and styles. Some were wooden chairs, some were metal, some were folding chairs. They were nasty dirty and probably some forty years past their prime. It was the kind of place you would not normally stop, but this was the only game in town.
Some four hours later, another bus pulled in, and the driver walked in announcing, “All you men going to Fort Polk, get on the bus.” We gladly did as told eagerly thankful to be leaving the filthy bus stop behind. The quality of transportation was downgraded. Instead of a commercial air-conditioned bus with reclining seats and on-board bathroom facilities, our new mode of transportation was a school-type bus. We were dropped off at the reception station where drill sergeants greeted us with shouts, commands and inhumane treatment. It was what I came to know later in life as a "Shock and Awe" moment. It was at that very first moment that Basic Training and Army indoctrination began.
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