Army Days

by Frank M. Roberts

January 2017

I think we all choke up a bit watching those teevee spots showing servicemen and women returning home. The family awaits, the kiddies go happily bonkers as they leap onto the parent they've not seen for quite awhile. Next comes the meeting, the hugging, the tears and, then they are homeward bound.

Moi? Like most of my Army time it seemed sort-of divorced from the norm. I graduated h.s. in 1946, spent a month as a camp counselor run by a Harlem dentist. It was advertised as the first mixed race event of its kind. White kids had never cavorted with blacks, and vice-versa but, everyone got along just fine, thank you.

Although I announced I was going into the Navy with my best friend from school, Roland Glasser, I wound up in the Army for the dumbest of reasons - something about learning to tie complicated knots scared me off so, off I went to an Army recruiting office. Roland? He decided to become a shoe salesman.

I took basic training at Fort Dix, N. J. quite close to my NYC home. I was put in with a bunch of guys from Kentucky. We got along just fine. It was a two-month course, but the first three weeks we did our training in civvies - uniforms had not yet arrived. After basic we were given a choice of duty stations. I wanted Germany but, just before our assignments I came down with pneumonia and was sent over to nearby Tilden General Hospital. It was my home for several weeks. Penicillin had just become a fact of life and I had to have shots every three hours - night 'n day.

When health returned I was lone man out. First they sent me to Camp Stoneman, CA. where I lolled about for a month or so doing a variety of chores. Next - Fort Lawton, WN. where GIs were sent to ready for overseas assignments. Again, I lolled. Both places were just fine. In California I spent off-duty hours in Frisco. Lawton was close to Seattle.

I was in the Signal Corps and, there seemed a need for my special (non) talents in Alaska. I spent about two months in Anchorage - no special assignment. I was less than thrilled. All I remember is 4th Avenue - one long bar. I wasn't a drinker so I often spent time at the base movie theater and, most of my time was spent in civilian garb.

Finally, something was found for this wandering 17-year-old. Here's the background. Alaska was still a territory and that meant overseas pay. There was an opening in Nome, and there I went. The Sig Corps did the Western Union bit - telegrams, etc. I had a variety of jobs, more often than not going around town delivering telegrams like a Western Union boy. A lot of my work was done in civvie clothes. At the time, we worked out of the Federal Building. Since there was no base we, obviously, lived wherever. I shared a neat ramshackle old house with a guy named Doug Scott. Like most of the 16 or so of us he was from Seattle.

The commanding officer was a sweet, mild-mannered guy named Lt. Morgan and we all got along just fine. One extra job I had was - once a week - driving an olde, olde Army bus between the town and a small Air Force base several miles away. I spent my youth riding subways - never learned to drive. No license needed. I took 'gear-shifting lessons and I was off and running -- or -- driving.

Off-duty, and sometimes on, I was in civilian clothes. It was just about 'the uniform of the day.' I spent almost three years in Nome, loving almost every moment there. A Danish family (My unc, Soren Sorenson came from that country) took me in as one of their own. I ate a lot of meals there with son, Erik, daughter, Olga and their wonderful mom 'n dad.

And, I spent a lot of time with the lovely Betty Blakely whom I would've married - until - dear ole mom wrote to my commanding officer and told him I was too young. We spent most of our spare time together, often walking along the Bering Sea. To back up a bit - I had done some radio work when I was a kid and, when the local Armed Forces Radio Station announcer was about to leave, I stepped in. That was my night-time job. Also, during the day, I wrote a column for The Nome Nugget which was then a four-sheeter. I got 'negated' from that job - someone declaring a conflict of interests.

After a wonderful long spell I was given a choice. I could stay in Nome, or go to Sig Corps headquarters in Seattle. Being a city boy I made the stupid choice - off to the big city. After the first few weeks, I mentally kicked myself. I really, really missed Nome and my friends there.

Again, I was living like a civilian and rented a room from a policeman, his wife, and their little son and daughter. Nice, nice people - a neat arrangement. A few months later, mom and pop-cop divorced. I stayed with her and the kids. When it was time for discharge, I bought an old pickup truck, deciding to drive cross-country to NYC. The plans went kibosh when I got into an accident before I could get beyond the city limits.

I was going to take my discharge in that rainy town, but wound up 'plane-ing' back home -- with company. The Mrs. was from New Jersey and wanted her kids to go to grandma's house there while she closed up shop in Seattle so, off we went - me and the kids who were around six or seven.

My mother met me at LaGuardia Airport and looked aghast when I walked off with a young'un in each hand. I had to report back to Fort Dix and stayed there for a couple weeks while the discharge paperwork was being completed. I had k.p. duty once a week - otherwise, I lolled around, sometimes going into Bordentown, next door to the base.

Finally - time to hit the road or, in my case, the subway. I hitch-hiked into Manhattan - thru the Lincoln or Holland Tunnel - got on the train, came home to Sunnyside, L. I. The folks were working so, I went into the apartment and, when they got back I was greeted as if I had been away for just a week or two. Then, I resumed civvy life. Nothin' glamorous - no fuzzy puppy stuff - just a wind-up to an inconspicuous Army career. Cpl. Roberts was, again, Mr. Roberts. Life goes on!

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'Scuse me. Got that off my chest. Appreciate your indulgence. The rest of my life, as you know if you read my gems - was radio, teevee, newspaper and magazine writing. On Nov. 8 I hit the dreaded 88 mark - physically weak, but still going strong.

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Planning a trip to 'The Land Under'? Tread carefully. Australia has more than 600 species of snakes and, 10 per cent of them are venomous. Planning on a pizza? One-third of all of them contain pepperoni. This is true: My doctor recommends, for obvious reasons, eating veggie pizzas.

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Stoopie joke of the moment: "Where do you find a turtle without feet?" Exactly where you left it. Fool-o-sophy: This is a pessimist counting his blessings: "Six, five, four, three, two, one -- ."

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Piece of history: Congress passed legislation in July, 1862 authorizing President Lincoln to purchase land for cemeteries, "for the soldiers who shall die in the service of their country." More history: "What general commanded more men than any man in history?" Dwight Eisenhower. Still more and, this is a bit of a surprise: 'Georgia was the site of the first major gold strike in North America. The year was 1828.

Now, I go quietly into the good night.