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| Sgt. Bert Marshall 6280th CSG/366th Gunfighter Squadron, Takhli RTAFB |
I graduated high school in late May of 1970 and the Vietnam
War was still very much in the news. 1968 was the year of the most killed in
action, but 1970 recorded over 6000 servicemen KIA. Like most students, Vietnam was as
close as Jupiter and I knew about the same amount about both places. It was a
time when if you wanted to know anything about anything, you pretty much went
to the library to learn about it. At 17 years of age, I was more interested in
living day to day then worrying about Vietnam.
I moved down to Pasadena with
a friend from St. Louis
until my family could relocate here and stayed in an apartment near Southmore Street. A
few months later, my parents relocated on Red Bluff and I floated around a bit,
like flotsam in the bay. That pretty much describes me too. For the first time
in a long time, I didn’t have a job and was basically extra baggage for my
parents. I decided I had better enlist in the Air Force, but I would check out
the other branches before I signed my life away. Did you know the military is the one job that
they can ask you to sacrifice your life?
The recruiters were pretty busy back in those days, as the
war was raging and they needed new talent. I walked right past the Navy
recruiters, even though my dad was a sailor and we have a history of the sea in
our bloodline. I just couldn’t see the shore from a boat and that made me
uneasy. The Army was going to make me what was called a ground-pounder and even
I knew that, so why enlist for 3 years when I could simply be drafted for 2?
Well, I did not want to be drafted, that is for sure. That was a guaranteed
ticket to Vietnam.
Then I saw it! The
standing full-sized Marine display and they were looking for a few good men.
Well, I smoked cigarettes and talked like a man, so I stepped inside. There
before me were two Marines; a huge black man and a smaller white one and both
of them looked at me like they were cannibals and I was a pot-roast. “What do
you want?” the shorter one bellowed.
“I, I, uh, I was thinking of joining the Marines and I
wondered what they had to offer…sir?” Wrong question, as they both started
screaming, foaming at the mouth, and clenching their fists while saying
something about what I had to offer the Marine Corps. I barely made it out the
door alive.
I pushed open the door of the Air Force recruiter in a cold
sweat, which in itself was amazing as it was August and about 100 degrees
outside. “Back here!” I heard a friendly
voice call out. The room was empty and I walked down to the first office and
there behind the desk, eating a donut and drinking coffee was an Air Force
Staff Sergeant in what I would later learn was a 1505 Tropical grade uniform.
“Have a seat fella, what can we do for you?” he said and offered me the same
fare as he was enjoying. It was love at first sight!
There was a made for TV movie called “Tribes” that I watched
and it was informative in one area that I was totally ignorant about. It is or
was known as “Recycling” or “getting set back”. In the movie, the main character
never assimilates into the Marine Corps mentality and is not graduated with his
class. He is recycled to a motivational platoon
to do it all over again. In Boot Camp, this became our greatest fear and one
that none of us knew anything about prior to entering the service, despite the
movie.
Out of 60 airman basics, or “Rainbows” as we were called, we
lost an easy 1/3 to this practice. We picked up that third from other squadrons
that were set back. The funny thing is, in the remaining 4 years I was in the
Air Force, no one ever admitted to being set back. Now our TI’s or Technical
Instructors as the Air Force called them were meaner than rabid Tasmanian
Devils and most of them had been to war in the Army or Marine Corps. They were
preparing us for war and dangnabit, they were serious as cancer about it. Somehow
I graduated to join the war. I do not regret my time in the armed forces and
these men helped mold me to the man I am today.
Some of my brothers and sisters went from boot camp to a
lifetime of pain and suffering, while I walked away unscathed. The excellent VA
hospital in Houston
is a testament to their physical and mental suffering and that old demon Agent
Orange is still working its poisonous treachery. I was around the stuff for
almost 2 years and yet? Nothing so far.
Friends, November 11th is a day set aside to thank Veterans
for their service. The best you can say is a simple, "Thank you for your
service," and remember there are thousands of women who served in the
armed forces too. Fly your American flag and if you can, attend a Veteran's Day
service. As a Veteran, I know that behind each Vet is a whole multitude of
people who were affected by their time away while serving and for that, I say
thank you!
