I was privileged to do something this week that my parents never could: watch my son graduate from Basic Training.
Thirty years ago in November, I arrived at Fort McClellan as a nervous young private for Military Police One Station Unit Training, or OSUT, assigned to Charlie Company, 795th MP Battalion. I had an Airborne contract as well, meaning I was supposed to go on to Fort Benning for jump school after. I wasn’t guaranteed to be assigned to an Airborne unit, but it would have been likely.
Although I received a “Go” at all of the skill testing, I experienced a lot of trouble with Physical Training, or PT, and ended up getting “Newstarted,” or moved back several weeks in training to a new company. I actually had troubles right off the bat, and didn’t even start training with Charlie. I spent a week at Fitness Training Company in an effort to bring up my PT capability, and then transferred to Delta/795. But I didn’t improve enough at Delta, and transferred yet again, this time to Charlie Company, 40th MP Battalion.
At that point I was four weeks behind my original schedule. But the extra attention and training time helped me pass my End of Cycle PT test. My parents though elected not to come to Basic Training graduation. They felt at the time that flying down to Alabama from Ohio twice in nine weeks would be more travel than they could handle. They said they thought my graduation from MP School would be a bigger deal, so they’d come down for that.
As things turned out, I didn’t participate in Charlie/40’s graduation either, so Mom and Dad never saw either ceremony.
There was no question in my mind when Adam enlisted that I was going to his Basic Training graduation. I would have moved heaven and earth to be there. I refused to deny him something like that, especially when we didn’t get to see him off due to Army confusion about his reporting date.
I didn’t want to deny myself something like that either.
We planned to drive from Oklahoma to Columbia, S.C., and even though Fort McClellan was BRAC’d in 1999, I was glad our route would take us by the only US military installation I spent much time at.
I’ve been reminiscing about my military career ever since Adam enlisted. I shared tidbits with him in person before he shipped out and in letters after. More and more memories surfaced as my mind reconnected threads of memory. Drill Sergeant Spagnolo and the tuna-filled gas mask during the ambush on our road march. DS Atkins waking our platoon up early by playing the entire beach assault scene from Apocalypse Now over our PA system. DS Bowen convincing everyone that he was a little psycho and might snap at any moment.
Oddly, the only recruits I recall come from Delta/795, my first company. Kroes wanted to put in for armorer’s school as soon as he got to his first unit. Schreiber, my squad leader, was going to be a lifer. Doyle, my battle buddy, practically dragged me up Bain’s Gap to the Land Nav course. Wait, I just recalled one other. his name escapes me, but one of the guys I met in Fitness Training Company later showed up in C/40.
When we drove past Anniston, Ala., the shadow of Bain’s Gap shook loose dozens of snapshots in my mind from those twenty weeks of Basic Training and AIT. Disjointed and disconnected images boiled over, swamping me with waves of emotions.
The schedule at Fort Jackson let us see Adam for an on-post pass after a morning event that included the naturalization of thirty soldiers. Yes, some 3 percent of the battalion volunteered to serve a country they weren’t yet citizens of. Outstanding. Here’s the video I shot from Wednesday. Watch full-screen for the best effect.
I wasn’t ready for the emotions that followed.
We met him out on Hilton Field in the middle of his company, in the middle of his battalion. The girls found him first, and by the time his mother and I caught up with them, his baby sister had her arms firmly locked around her bubby’s neck.
A swirl of thoughts burbled through my head as I stared at him for a thirty-second eternity. He stood taller and more confidently, but still acted like the same loving brother. We spent the afternoon getting reacquainted as a family, and I was (sort of) happy to see that some things never change.
Everything hit hard the next morning.
I stared at the battalion in formation and listened to the 282d Army Band play, and the anger brewed up stunningly fast. I was pissed that my parents chose not to come to my graduation. It was a big deal to me that I had finally graduated, and it hurt that I got to stand around while everyone else hugged their families. I wasn’t the only one in that boat. But it still sucked.
The anger mixed with the guilt and shame to make a foul sludge that threatened to drown me. Why the guilt? Because I was angry at dead people. I was angry with dead people over something that happened thirty years ago that no one could do anything about now.
And I was ashamed because it was my fault. I failed the PT tests even though I had opportunities before Basic Training to get better prepared. Instead I overestimated my capabilities, and grossly underestimated the physical demands of Basic. I failed all three of my end-of-cycle PT tests with Charlie Company and three more attempts with Delta. I came within days of being discharged when I somehow earned a training waiver from the battalion commander. I still missed the graduation though, and lost my Airborne slot.
All of that was bouncing and tumbling around my mind as I walked the length of the parade field. More than once I felt the ghosts of the family veterans in step beside me. It’s not necessarily an encouraged tradition, but since the Muellers arrived in the US, almost every generation has had someone serving in the armed forces. My brother (Navy) and I. Our father (Air Force) and his brother (Army). My mother’s brother (Army) and her sister’s husband (Air Force). Diana’s side of the family has its share of veterans as well. Her dad was in the Army and two of his brothers (Army and Marines) served, as well as her grandfather.
When we caught up to him after the graduation review (the girls found him first again – how do they do that?), I stared at him for the longest time, trying to imagine how my parents would have felt thirty years ago.
Then I came to attention and saluted my son. I’m proud of you.
15 Comments
Robert Cunningham says
Check out you tube! There is a 787 or 797 OSUT graduation posted from 1988. I graduated A CO 40th MP BN in March of 1990. No video of mine but brought back a few memories.
Tammy Foss says
I graduated Delta company 787th. 1988. Brought back good memories.
Michele says
I was there from July-November 1988. Trying to remember my Company and Battalion! Almost 31 years ago. I had DS Damron and DS Thomas. Who were yours?
Tom Postell says
DS Adkins was my lead in May ‘87. Charlie Co, 40th MP bn. He was with DS Medland, I cannot recall the third. Adkins was tough as nails!!
Bob says
You were two cycles behind me then. Was DS Bowen still around by then? And DS King (short female with a very distinctive voice when calling PT)?
Michele says
Wow! I have not read your whole article yet. Just saw that you started in November 1988! That’s when I graduated!!! Seriously trying to remember what company and battalion I was with! Almost 31 years ago! What DS’s did you have? I had DS Damron and Thomas.
Steve Williams says
I was there Aug 11990 at Ft McClellan and watched my youngest son graduation at the same field Ft Jackson last summer.
Robert Hoffman says
I graduated from C Co 795 in 1994. Similarly I had issues with passing the initial PT test, spent a few weeks in the FTC before heading “down range” to C Co. My parents also missed my graduation, so I feel your pain. Reading your article brought back a lot of memories, I had to google earth Ft McClelland and watch the youtube videos. Its sad to see it in its current state. I would love to go back and walk the terrain one more time before I retire from active service. Thank you for posting your article.
Darin Carlin says
I was 1st squad leader for the 3rd heard for quite a while. There is a 100% chance we went through basic together. Drill Sgts Spagnolo and Freeman were the best. The very best. After 795 I went to Germany with Lehman (moonpie) and Chapman. Chapman and I ended up at Bragg but at different units. I hope you are happy and healthy. I am in Tulsa, reach out if you want to take a walk up Baby Banes metaphorically. darincarlin@gmail.com
Bob says
Duuuuuuude.
Chow hall line.
Hope you’re well. I’ll be in touch.
James Lavery says
Nice story!! Similar to mine, but I was t recycled to the PT platoon…and I was a smoker (covertly) in OSUT!! lol…Big Banes and Baby Banes hold a memorable place in my mind. As does the Pistol Palace!! B-795 3rd pl. DS’s Lockett & Steve “Recon” LeMay!!!(He was a cool dude!! Huge body builder type). As hard as it was, I loved it and still consider it one of the best decisions of my life.
James Lavery says
Bravo Bulldogs 7-9-5,
Committed to excellence,
That’s no Jive,
Assist Protect Defend our Own,
“BAD TO THE BONE!!!!”
Paul M Baxter says
I was in C-795, 3rd Platoon in 1999. In fact, I was the last graduating class. I am P Baxter. Ft Mac has a long history. Many great careers started, brother and sisterhoods were made, and many dreams were ended. I will forever hold it as one of the greatest memories and accomplishments of my life. It’s awesome you got to see your son graduate. Hooah! MPs 4 life. Of the troops, for the troops.