There are two tangible yet priceless items my Daddy left me before his passing. Much to my mother’s chagrin (as she wasn’t ready to part with it yet), he gave me the walking stick he used to climb Mt. Fuji when he was based in Japan. At every station, the stick was stamped with the date, time and elevation. It’s truly a treasure. The other jewel was the autobiography he wrote for his children and grandchildren. Beginning with his parents, he told us his story … entitled, “A Simple Life,” as he called the book. I call it, “A Simply Extraordinary Life,” and I couldn’t be more grateful that he and Mom both put their lives in book form for us.
As Daddy started moving toward dementia, there was one thing he never forgot, and that was his army days. In fact, he would often say in those last years, “I am a soldier in the U.S. Army.” I heard the stories through the years and it is with great gratitude that I can still read about them with much detail in his book.
His first marching order was to report to Fort Benning in Columbus, GA where he took his oath of allegiance to the United States of America. From there the train took him to Fort Jackson in Columbia, SC where he was issued his fatigues, field jacket and boots … and where he got his first harassment: “down on our knees with a bucket of water and that famous six-inch brush for about three hours.”
Daddy wrote, “After a couple of days we were standing around with nothing to do but wait on some brilliant assignment when I heard a voice calling, ‘Soldier!’ Again, ‘Soldier!’ And then again, ‘Soldier!!!’ I glanced around and spied a sloppy looking Sargent staring at me. I pointed to myself and mouthed, ‘Me?’ He said, ‘Yea, you. What’s your name?’ ‘Charles,’ I said. Charles must have sounded like royalty to him because he said, ‘I don’t give G—D—- what your mother calls you, what is your last name?’ I had to laugh and he got so mad I think he forgot what he wanted and just walked off. I learned to use my last name from then on.”
Daddy was soon assigned to Company B, 13th Infantry Regiment of the 8th Infantry Division for his basic training. While other recruits were passing out like flies while receiving their shots, Daddy was able to remain standing. When he was given tests and interviewed for skills, they found out he had IBM experience and gave him a permanent MOS (military occupational skill) and assigned him to Headquarters Third Army, Fort McPherson, Atlanta, GA. Of his original company of troops, he was the only one pulled for Fort Mac … the rest were headed for infantry in Korea.
Daddy loved Fort Mac and said it was like being a civilian just with less pay. He had a good job and lots of free time because he worked the owl shift, as he called it … and he could park his car right in front of the barracks. [Some sixty years later, I took him along with Mom back to Fort MacPherson for an amazing tour and a great time of reliving the past.] But then came the orders for about ten of them to be transferred to the Far East Command and, for the most part, that meant Korea. So via Chicago, Montana, Seattle to Fort Lawton, when finally the Navy took over and Daddy and the other nine men boarded USS Freeman troop ship in February of 1952 — but not before they were all required to give a pint of blood.
It was an arduous trip across the Pacific that Daddy wrote about in great detail and often with much humor. He even had Crow’s Nest duty in the middle of the night atop the troop ship! But 21 days later, they reached the coast of Japan and Tokyo Bay for docking at Yokohama. However, upon arriving, the guys from Fort Mac were called in for a meeting with an officer who told them there were no vacant positions for their MOS in the Far East Command. So they were all issued winter combat clothing and a rifle. As Daddy wrote, “This thing was getting serious.”
One thing many people today don’t know about my daddy is that he was quite a sharpshooter. And so that’s the direction he thought he might be going. And so they waited. But on Easter Sunday morning as he and a friend were walking to the Base Chapel for the Easter service, his name was called over the loud speaker to report to company headquarters immediately.
Remember that little tidbit about Daddy being flagged for an MOS for IBM experience? Someone caught it and as Daddy wrote, “I didn’t get to church that morning but the good Lord gave me a local assignment to the Japan Procurement Agency stationed in Yokohama just a few blocks from where we docked in Japan.”
Daddy had gotten new marching orders.
Upon arriving in Japan, Daddy related that he had a real distaste for the Japanese people due to Pearl Harbor, but the hate for them gradually began to disappear as he got to know them better and understood their customs. It wasn’t long before he was showing them the tricks of the trade and wiring control panels which would make operations much easier.
Everything changed for Daddy that year he was in Japan. Yes, even his love for people.
Often times we are just going through life, doing the next thing … and then we hear our name called out over the loud speaker. It could come in any numerous of ways. While kneeling by the bed as a teenager, and hearing, “Preach the Word.” By praying for God to send someone to help the woman in need, and hearing, “You go.” The voice can come in any number of ways. “Trust me and write a check.” “Get out of your comfort zone and speak to that person.” “Go on that mission trip.” I’m not sure Isaiah was actually talking about a loud speaker, but he did say we would hear a voice behind us, “This is the way you should go. Walk in it.” Regardless of how it comes, there’s no questioning Who is giving the new order. And just like my daddy who had no choice but to obey the commanding officer, when it comes right down to it, though it might take us days, weeks, or months to get that point of saying yes, there’s really no option but to follow the order if we are to walk in obedience.
I remember a time when I got some new orders. I had been in a job for seven years, assuming I would be there at least twenty-seven more. And then I got the call, a literal one. And whereas I thought and prayed through the situation for some six weeks, I knew deep in my bones when I got the original call that it was new marching orders. In the end, if I was going to survive and thrive, I knew I had to surrender to that call.
Daddy’s new marching orders might possibly have saved his life, quite literally, as he was headed for combat, most likely as a marksman of some sort. And who knows if our new marching orders just might save ours.
Just an ordinary moment…
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