Home Front to Battlefront. Frank Lavin

      So Carl was inducted into active duty, joining millions of Americans who were being called up for war.

      The good news: the new soldiers were going to serve their country and join a noble cause. The bad news: the army was coming out of the Great Depression and wasn’t ready for a war.

      In 1940, the War Department had announced that the use of the sabers by officers on duty with troops “will be discontinued.” In 1941, the department announced that the army had just supplied itself with 20,000 horses, the most since the Civil War. The army had to sprint to grow from some 225,000 regular troops in 1939 to 1.5 million troops just two years later.¹ The incoming recruits had to sprint, as well—enduring basic training in the Texas sun as they prepared for combat.

      Carl was shipped to Camp Hood (now Fort Hood) for basic training. The base, located some 160 miles southeast of Dallas, had been established just one year earlier. Set upon 108,000 acres of converted farmland, Camp Hood was used to train soldiers, instruct anti-tank units and hold prisoners of war (POWs). When it first opened, 38,000 soldiers occupied the base; by the next year, 95,000 were there, Carl being one of them.²

      Basic training is not meant to be fun. It can range from physically demanding to tedious. The rules can be arbitrary. And the weather was downright unrelenting. Those were just a few reasons why Carl wanted to get out of the infantry. Camaraderie offered a bulwark against what one writer called “this drab khaki world” with its “boredom, cold, exhaustion, squalor, lack of privacy, monotony, ugliness and a constant teasing anxiety about the future.”³ So while making the best of Texas during wartime, Carl contemplated transfers to Officer Candidate School, West Point, or a college-based program called the Army Specialized Training Program (ASTP).

      Yes, Carl was keen to find a way to bypass the infantry. All he needed was time—and a little creativity.

      . . .

      May 31, 1943

      Dear Mom,

      This makes two weeks that I have been an active member of the armed forces, and tomorrow the activity starts. So far I haven’t done a thing—altogether about 14 hours’ work in 14 days. It’s just been like going to a boy’s camp with a bunch of college men, for that is all I’ve associated with so far. I’m still learning some more bridge. Oops—they just turned the lights out and I’m writing this in the dark. There are a few things I would very much like to have. First of all at least six to eight coat hangers as soon as possible. Very important—I also need some of that Upjohn’s foot powder.

      I have to take eight weeks of basic training before I can get into officer’s school or specialized training. I believe I got into something pretty good. It is connected with none of the 13 branches of the army and entirely new. In fact this camp officially opened the program.

      I may not have much of a chance to write from now on as I’m going to be very occupied.

      Love Carl

      . . .

      June 6, 1943

      Dear Mom,

      So far I’ve been writing you that the army is a vacation. Since last Tuesday, however, I have definitely changed my mind. Every minute of every day is taken up in either instruction or exercises. We are taking a 13 week basic training course and a Basic Unit Training Course at the same time in eight weeks, so you see we are pretty busy. Wednesday we took 50 minutes to march 3 miles in 90 degree heat with full pack. But I’m living through it good enough so don’t write any letters to my company commander telling him what a sensitive boy I am.

      In our barracks we have 11 E.R.C. men and 23 hillbillies from N. Carolina—all in their teens. And we really have some time together! We fight the Civil War over every day. Yesterday was a holiday and Ohio played N.C. in a ball game. We beat them 35 to 9! By the way, three days ago the banks were all closed in Texas—Jeff Davis’s birthday! But that didn’t affect us much because all new men are put in quarantine for two weeks. That means we can’t associate with anyone but ourselves—no PX, no movies, no passes.

      When I wrote last that I asked for eight hangers, and I presume you already sent them. However I’ve found out that I’ll really need twelve so please send the rest right away. I also need some cord and a few nails and a box to keep my stationery in. Just get me a dozen or so nails from the cellar and about 30 feet of good cord. And it would be a very good idea to send some fudge in that box. I don’t want a subscription to the Rep. but please cut out all articles that might interest me and send them along. I won’t need that foot powder because they have some here—G.I. and good. But I do need an electric plug—you know, one of those things you screw into a socket. You can’t get any around here and I can’t use my electric razor. Better send 2 or 3 of them. There aren’t any good candy bars here so if you can find some way to pack them so they will keep cool send me some Forever Yours and Milky Ways.⁴ By the way I suppose you know that I can get a 10 day furlough if the Canton Red Cross is convinced that there is a sufficient emergency at home. However, don’t get me one! I know you would have tried, but this training is very important and if I missed 10 days of it, that would very likely be the thing that would keep me out of O.C.S. So don’t try anything because I know what is best, and I will let you know if anything turns up. This is us—the Tank Busters.⁵ We are the toughest outfit in the army next to the paratroopers. I think I’m pretty lucky to get in this, because it’s new and growing. I can’t get into OCS until I’ve been in the army for three months and they’ve cut down the quota pretty much, but I’m going to try. If not that I’ll try A.S.T.P. which would send me to a college—Bye now and write.

      Love, Carl

      . . .

      June 13, 1943

      Tuesday

      Dear Mater,

      This

Скачать книгу