Vnuchka Memoirs, Part XI

Fort Hood

I was only at Ft Hood for 18 months. I got there as a Specialist 4th Class and left as a Staff Sergeant. We needed money badly, and that was the fastest way to get a raise. My first promotion was pretty much automatic, but to get promoted in one year from Sergeant to Staff Sergeant would require a lot of effort. First, my language score needed to be high. That was no problem, since I was studying in order to get the Foreign Language Proficiency Pay. I needed to stay in shape, and there’s my first funny story. I could run forever. Our company was not really very motivated, primarily because no Russian linguist wanted to be in Texas. But once again, I was over motivated (that description was kind of an inside joke). Anyway, our commander came to our morning physical training formation and said, “When PT is over, if anyone wants to run longer, they can report for duty later.” So, the next morning, I told the platoon sergeant I wanted to keep running. He agreed, and I proceeded to take a back road from the main post to West Ford Hood, about 9 miles away, fully intending to turn around and run back, hoping to report for duty after lunch. I was only about a mile from West Fort Hood when the CO drove up alongside me and signaled me to stop. “Specialist Smith, what are you doing?” “Running, sir.” “Do you think this is what I had in mind when I told you that you could run further after PT?” “I didn’t think about it, sir. I just wanted to see if I could make it to West Fort Hood.” “Get in the car, Specialist Smith. In the future, you may have an extra hour of running. You will not run to West Fort Hood.” I was actually disappointed.

Once I got promoted to Sergeant, I had to work extra hard to get recommended for early promotion. Since we were a tactical unit, we went on field training exercises a lot. Usually, our whole company didn’t go, just a small support MI team for a larger unit. Everyone hated going to the field. I went every time. Once, I got to be the Jeep driver for a LT Col who was the referee for a huge tank exercise. We were in the boonies of Ft Hood, driving around the simulated battlefield, observing so many tanks engaging in “warfare.” We had a small radio, and the colonel wanted to see if all the units were using secure communications techniques. He gave the call sign and frequency of a tank company commander and told me to try to establish comms. There are strict protocols to follow to make sure the enemy doesn’t infiltrate your comms. Anyway, I used a fake callsign, identified myself as an exercise controller, and told him he needed to take his company to West Fort Hood. The captain asked for the coordinates. The colonel was laughing as he checked the map, and I gave the coordinates for a parking lot on West Fort Hood. And just like that, one entire company of tanks was taken out of the battle. The captain caught hell the next day.

The colonel and I had a few adventures along the way. One night there was a thunderstorm, and a local creek that was in the training area flooded. I drove up to the water’s edge and stopped. There was a tank stuck in the middle of the creek. The colonel said, “We can make it, Smitty.” “Sir, there’s a tank stuck! How in the heck can we make it if a tank can’t?” “Drive right next to the tank, downstream side. Then gun it just as you pass the front.” I shook my head and said, “Yes, sir!” Away we went. I was able to make it to the side of the tank pretty easily, then hit the gas. When we passed the front of the tank, the current hit us and started to turn us sideways, but somehow, the front wheels got just enough traction to pull us forward and we spun our tires through the mud to the other side! I was pretty proud of myself.

Our final exercise adventure came on the final day. The colonel wanted to get to high ground where he could observe everything. He guided us to a hill with a slope that gradually got steeper until it was nearly vertical to the top, which was flattened like a little mesa. “Go there,” he pointed. I was honestly willing to try almost anything for the colonel, but this looked impossible. “You can do it!” So, up we went. The first part was easy, but as we got closer to the top, the wheels started spinning. “Gun it!” he shouted. I did, and the jeep responded till it was nearly vertical. It began to slip back down, sliding sideways. The colonel jumped out! I let off on the gas a little and was lucky enough to guide the jeep safely back to the trail. The colonel said, “That’s ok, there’s a little trail I can climb to the top. Just wait here.” He had a grin on his face, but my heart was pounding.

When it was over, the colonel wrote a glowing letter of commendation addressed to our battalion commander, who forwarded it to our company commander. It was used to justify my early promotion to staff sergeant. Not long after, Vanessa and I were rich and headed back to Monterey to attend Intermediate Russian at DLI.