Biography

In August of 1966 I had just graduated from and was admitted to Graduate School when I read in the paper that “September’s Draft Call will be the highest since December, 1944”. With four years of deferment, no deferred occupation or family, my dreaded “One A” classification when received was not unexpected. The controversial Vietnam War was not yet at the level it would reach though opposition on campus was a reality. For me, personally, being drafted seems to be a betrayal of the many World War II veterans who had been so important to me as role models and mature father figures who made my own family situation bearable. I decided to seek an officer’s appointment if possible.

After taking a battery of tests and passing an interview by active officers, I chose the “College Option” for Armor OCS. My choice was dictated by some romantic and mistaken views on Armored warfare. But, in October of 1966, I was sent to Ft. Knox, Kentucky, for Basic Combat Training (8 weeks) and Advanced Individual Training (scheduled for 8 weeks but early terminated for my OCS Class start of 6 March, 1967).

As an overweight and out-of-shape recent college graduate, who was neither an outdoorsman or an athlete, I found the Army regimen of physical activity very demanding. During Basic Combat Training I lost 40 pounds, and with the weight, what ever muscle mass I had. Advanced Individual Training (as an “Armored Reconnaissance Specialist) some of my muscle returned, but when I showed up at the OCS Program at the Armor Schoo,l I was in a state of shock after the first day’s formation when we were barraged by conflicting orders and “corrections” all delivered at breathtaking speed and in the loudest most aggressive tone I had ever witnessed. Because my entire Class (a “Company” of 80 men) was subjected to the treatment, it was chaos. My physical stamina was taxed beyond my personal strength by pushups and pull ups at the chinning bar.

I must have been the most hapless of candidates, at least that is what my Tactical Officer told me each time he had the chance. In fact, he told me “You are the worst mess (not a term of endearment) who ever entered OCS and I will get you.” My feeling of being a target was reinforced by my first one-on-one meeting with my Tactical Officer, himself an E6, before he attended OCS. He opened my file and said, “A College Boy?” Of course I answered in the affirmative. He then asked, “Why didn’t you take R.O.T.C.?” To which I answered that I went to a teacher’s college, without an R.O.T.C program. He then asked, “Would you have taken the course if offered?” My affirmative answer drew the next, “Why?” Having been indoctrinated with the absolute need for an Officer to be truthful, I answered “So I wouldn’t need to put up with this stuff.” That was probably the dumbest answer I have ever given.

Having displayed early on what my Tactical Officer obviously believed was a “poor attitude” I went through the next 23 weeks convinced I was to be washed out of the program, being made aware several times a week, that my Tactical Officer was “going to get you.” I began to see myself becoming an E5 recon specialist in Vietnam (the almost certain fate of persons dropped from OCS). Striving with the Sword of Damocles over my head was probably the best skill I picked up in OCS and is probably the thing that binds me to my classmates after 50 years, for I was not the only one exposed to the threat. One of my classmates, a former E7 (later a Distinguished graduate and after retirement from the Army would become Emergency Preparedness Director for the City of San Francisco) told me that at his first one-on-one with our Tactical Officer he had been told, “I am here to get rid of former NCOs.”

It was a pleasant surprise when I passed what I thought was the last hurdle to graduation, the dreaded “Military Stakes.” This was a unique remnant of old Cavalry OCS in which we, running instead of riding, were put through a 7 mile run stopping at varying intervals where we were tested on military subjects such as map reading, calling fire, tactics and communications. It was timed and each point deducted from our military knowledge cost us time. I was surprised at the relative ease I completed the course, a tribute to the academics and physical conditioning, at the core of the OCS course.

My last memory of my Tactical Officer is shortly after the exam, less than a week from scheduled graduation, he came into our Platoon bay waiving 3 pieces of paper and proudly announced, “I got 3 more.” With a smug air, he strolled around the assembled platoon members, all at rigid attention. He came up to several of us he had singled out to “get” and said, “No, not you.” I was relieved when my bunkmate (later to receive the DSC for valor in Vietnam) and I received the “No, not you.” He then did take the three unfortunates aside for appropriate counseling.

It took many years for me to realize that this was my Tactical Officer’s crude but effective way of conditioning us to be able to lead 30 men in combat, where you always feel “somebody is trying to get me” (and they are) but you must still perform to your best.

My own active duty took me to Germany rather than Vietnam but the training and conditioning I received in OCS was absolutely decisive in forming the character I would take into my Army service as well as my ultimate career as an Attorney. I shall ever be indebted to this incredible experience. Back