The End of the Beginning

The End of the Beginning; Graduation Finally and On to the Army, Oh!

I have a belief that often nothing is easy. But I also believe that Adversity is often our best teacher. And such was the case as I approached graduation and commissioning at the academy in the spring of 1972. I had developed a persistent cough during the winter and no amount of anti-biotics or other remedies seemed to make it go away. The doctors at the academy finally sent me down to St Albans Naval Hospital in New York City to be evaluated.

My evaluation consisted of breathing into a tube to measure my lung capacity. As I was doing it as hard as I could, which made sense to me, the Navy corpsman administering the test told me not to blow so hard because it would screw my results up. I accordingly backed off. What I did not realize is that the corpsman assumed, since he was a draftee, that I did not wish to go into the service so I wanted to actually fail this test. And I did indeed fail thanks to my ‘helpful” corpsman and a finding of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) was placed into my medical file. When it came time for my commissioning physical, I was told that due to COPD, I was ineligible to be commissioned. Having never considered any other calling than being a soldier this placed me in a real quandary. I had never considered a civilian career and had not a clue on what I would do.

Not too long after being informed I would not be commissioned I was summoned to the Regimental Tactical Officer’s (RTO) office. I had no idea why I would be summoned to his office because I knew I had committed no crimes to warrant such a visit. My tactical officer told me the subject was my commission. I went as instructed and the RTO was exceptionally friendly. He told me I needed to apply for a waiver to be commissioned and that he had a “buddy in the Army Surgeon General’s Office who would grease the skids and get my waiver approved.” That sounded great to me and I readily agreed to apply for the waiver. My tactical officer had told me to come see him after I saw the RTO.

My tac was an infantry captain named Bob Higgins and was all soldier. I had (and still have) the utmost respect for him. He reminded me that I needed a two-part waiver. One part to be commissioned and the second part to be commissioned in the combat arms. He said he wasn’t really sure the RTO could get that second part approved even if he had a buddy who would “grease the skids”. He didn’t say the RTO couldn’t make it happen but advised caution before I submitted the waiver. Being naïve as hell, I took the RTO at his word. He had specifically said he could make it all happen, both parts. I applied for the waiver. We were to select our branch and first duty assignments that night over in Thayer Hall as a class and I was told by the RTO to select what I wanted because my waivers would be approved.

I went to the branch selection and to my surprise the RTO showed up and stood beside me when I selected Infantry and my first assignment to the 101st Airborne Division. He slapped me on the back and made a big deal about congratulating me and shaking my hand in front of all my classmates. I felt good about it all and was on Cloud 9. I was on my way. West Point, which was the beginning for me, would soon be over and I could finally get on with being in the Army as an Infantry officer, my goal from the first day I arrived at the academy.

Ah, but not so fast Grasshopper. About two weeks before graduation I received a note to go to the Adjutant General’s (AG) office up at headquarters. The note only said the subject was branch selection. I went as instructed and a young specialist told me I couldn’t go into the Infantry because the second part of my waiver had been disapproved. I had to pick another branch in the technical and administrative branches. I was required to see each and every branch representative before I made my choice. All the branch reps were officers assigned to the Academy as instructors or staff officers. I had 72 hours to complete my interviews and make a selection. I went directly from AG to the RTO’s office. I just knew there had been some mistake and he would set it right!

When I got to his office, I saw the RTO sitting at his desk. Following the proper protocol, I asked his secretary if I could see the RTO. He saw and heard me and got up from behind his desk and came towards his door. I faced the door in anticipation of him inviting me into his office and was stunned when he looked me right in the eye and closed his door in my face. His secretary was also surprised and for a moment said nothing. Her phone rang and it was the RTO telling her he would not see me. She passed his message to me and said she was very sorry. So was I.

I went down to Captain Higgins’ office and he invited me in. I told him what had just happened with the RTO and he was visibly angry. He reminded me that he had a bad feeling about the waiver from the very beginning which he had passed on to me. I acknowledged his earlier advice and asked what now? Could I decline commissioning? No, I could not. That waiver had been approved and I was stuck. Could I reapply for the combat arms waiver? No, I could not. That decision was final. I was well and truly screwed at this point.

I went through the motions of meeting with all the branch reps and asked such meaningful questions as what color was the cuff band on their blue uniform? I told these officers straight up that I did not want to go into the support branches. Some of them pitched their branches harder than others, but most understood and just signed off on my chit that I had seen them. I eventually picked the Adjutant General (AG) corps because the branch rep promised me after my first assignment in Germany I would be assigned to the US Virgin Islands. We both knew he was lying but I figured what the hell at that point. I was out of airspeed, altitude and options, AG was the last branch rep I visited. So, I was commissioned AG and was decidedly unhappy about it. Graduation was now about one week away.

Normally I would have consulted with my dad on all of this, but he was in Vietnam on a two-year tour. He was the senior advisor for Special Tactical Zone 44 which was the Cambodian and Laotian borders where the North Vietnamese Army (NVA) launched their Easter Offensive to finish the war on their terms. My dad had much bigger fish to fry to stem the NVA attacks led by tanks and heavy Russian artillery than to hear about my commissioning woes. That, and I had no real way of communicating with him other than by mail which took a while. (See link for more on the Easter Offensive if you’re interested: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Easter_Offensive)

The two-year tour allowed my mother and two younger sisters to be stationed at Clark Air Force Base in the Philippines. My dad could home once a month for a weekend, war permitting. He hadn’t been home much that spring due to the NVA offensive. Neither he nor the rest of my family could come to my graduation as a result. Dad couldn’t get away and it was too expensive for my mom and sisters to fly home from the Philippines. My oldest sister living in Maryland was nine months pregnant with her first child and was not allowed to travel. The girl I was dating at the time and her family would be there but nobody from my family.

About three days before graduation the CQ came rushing into my room to tell me I had a phone call from Vietnam! I went into the orderly room and an operator told me that I had a call from Vietnam through the MARS system (Military Amateur Radio Service I believe. Ham radio operators would take transmissions from overseas and link them into the civilian phone network back in the States). After I got on the phone, another operator came on and told me to use standard radio protocols when speaking; over, roger, say again and so forth. It was my dad. He told me he had just gotten my letter about the commissioning fiasco and he gave me the names of several general officers he knew in the Pentagon who may be able to help me get back into the Infantry. He had contacted these officers and they knew I would be at the Pentagon the day after graduation. He also told me that my Uncle Craig, his youngest and only remaining brother (his other younger brother Jack had been killed as an Infantry officer with the 1st Cav Division in the Korean War) would be at my graduation and would swear me in to the Army in his place. I was ecstatic that Craig was coming. He was one of my true heroes, earning the Distinguished Service Cross in Vietnam while in the Special Forces.

Dad told me how proud he was of me for making it through the academy when I hadn’t finished high school and his academy grad friends pretty much said it couldn’t be done. Dad apologized several times about not being able to come to the graduation and I told him I fully understood that his duty was to remain in Vietnam until the current battle was over. He said they were holding their own, but it had been a tough fight. The history books would agree with that assessment. The NVA went full out and still did not finish the war. They would not achieve that until all US forces and advisors had withdrawn in 1975. I signed off the radio call when Dad said he had to get back to the war and then called my girlfriend to coordinate Craig’s arrival and link up with her family for graduation. Her folks kindly asked Craig to stay with them and picked him up at the airport.

Craig swore me in and I was a brand-new AG officer. He helped me pack up my car, then we hit the road for Washington that afternoon. We stayed with my older sister in her one bed room apartment, sleeping on a couch and the floor. We got up early the next morning and headed for the Pentagon. Each of the general officers Dad had coordinated with were very cordial, very complimentary about my dad and me for graduating, but also unable to help. This added to a day that hadn’t started well to begin with.

I had a silver dollar in my pocket and was going to give it to the first enlisted soldier who saluted me, which is an old Army tradition. With my luck of late, the first soldier we ran into was in the parking lot of the Pentagon. Craig was a major in uniform and I was a 2LT in uniform and the little bastard walked right by both of us and failed to salute at all! I called him back, made the on the spot correction for him failing to salute, then showed him the silver dollar he could have gotten if he had shown the proper courtesy. He asked if he could still have it since he had just saluted me (after I told him to!) and I told him hell no! Cheeky little bastard.

So, the day in the Pentagon was a bust. Craig suggested we go see the Surgeon General to see if we could get anything done there. A very old and kindly doctor who was a colonel took the time to meet with us. He was very apologetic but said that he was “a bureaucrat and had made a bureaucratic decision” on my case. Now that he met me and saw that I was obviously fit, he regretted his decision, but it was irrevocable. I asked him who else had been involved in my case and he said just him. I asked if my RTO from West Point had contacted him and he said he not heard from anybody at West Point. So much for the integrity of my RTO who had a buddy, etc.! We thanked him for his time and departed. Craig then opined that the only thing left was to go over to Officer Personnel Management down by the Potomac River and see if we could get anything done with Infantry Branch. It was kind of a last-ditch effort at that point. We had nothing else to do so off we went.

We walked into Infantry Branch and the receptionist saw my AG brass and said, “Sir, you’re in the wrong branch. AG Branch is upstairs.” I responded that I absolutely was in the wrong branch and wanted to see if I could get into the Infantry. I explained that I had graduated from West Point the previous day. She asked us to take a seat and she would see if any of the assignment officers would talk to me. Craig was an infantryman so he was not out of place. I, on the other hand with my AG brass, got several odd looks from others waiting to be seen.

There is a saying in the old Army that goes like this, “Would you rather be lucky or good?” It pertains to mission accomplishment. A lot of folks discount luck as a factor in military operations but I can assure them it is often very much a factor. General Douglas MacArthur when he was in the Pacific during World War II would ask prospective commanders if they were lucky. If they hesitated too long or said no, he didn’t take them on. He very much believed in the luck factor in warfare. I would always rather be lucky than good if given the option and that was very much true that day in Infantry Branch.

After only a very short wait, a captain came out of the branch offices. He looked at me and I looked at him and he said, “Chamberlain, what the hell are you doing in AG?” I went forward and shook his hand and couldn’t believe that my old Beast Barracks company commander, Greg Foster was going to hear my story! My luck was in. Captain Foster remembered me from Beast and took Craig and I back into the branch offices and I told my tale of woe. As I was looking around while Captain Foster made a few calls to the Surgeon General and so forth, I saw that Infantry Branch had a new branch chief, none other than LTC Wade Hampton (great grandson of the famous Confederate Civil War General Wade Hampton).

LTC Hampton had been one of my dad’s lieutenants when Dad was a company commander in Germany in the late 1950’s. I told Captain Foster that I knew LTC Hampton and he was a friend of my dad’s. Captain Foster said that was great because LTC Hampton would have to approve my request to get back into the Infantry. My luck was definitely holding! Captain Foster said that if AG Branch would release me, I could come back to the Infantry. He said that might not happen because AG got almost no academy grads each year and may not let me go. On that somber note, Craig and I went upstairs to AG Branch. I was not hopeful based on what Captain Foster had just told us.

We went into AG Branch and I stated my case to the receptionist. She called back to the branch chief who came out to take me back to his office. As soon as he came out of the door, he lets out with a yell,
“Craig Chamberlain! Is that really you? What the hell are you doing here in AG Branch?” Craig steps forward and these two guys are shaking hands and obviously very happy to see each other. Craig turns to me and explains that Major So and So was his seminar seat mate at Command and General Staff College and were fast friends. Major So and So says that Craig got him through Tactics, the toughest course at the staff college! We go back to Major So and So’s office and he explains he is the acting AG Branch Chief, the real chief being on leave for a few weeks. Craig tells him about the Surgeon General admitting his mistake and that Infantry Branch wants me back, but AG has to release me.

Major So and So tells me I am the only academy grad they got this year and says that if I stay AG, I will be the two star Army Adjutant General someday. He strongly advised me to stay in AG branch. But, he says, if I really want to go, he out of loyalty to Craig, will sign the release even though he knew his boss ‘would be mad as hell about it”. He asks me to think about it overnight and come back in the morning with my decision. Craig and I thank him profusely and swing by infantry Branch to tell them what transpired. Captain Foster tells me the branch chief had called in and would be there tomorrow and wanted to pin on my crossed rifles once he heard about my case. If I didn’t mind that is. I said I would be honored for Colonel Hampton to pin on my Infantry brass!

I took Craig to the airport to catch his flight back to Fort Jackson where he was stationed at the time. I told him we had been lucky, and I couldn’t have done it without his help. Being friends with the acting AG Branch Chief was the key. Craig said no sweat, glad to do it and to say hello to my dad and off he went. Later in life I was to spend many happy hours on the phone with Craig after we had both retired from the Army. I had the honor of delivering his eulogy upon his passing several years back. Like my dad, I miss him every day. And like my dad, Craig was the epitome of what I believe a professional soldier and warrior should be.

I went back to AG Branch the next morning with my “decision”. The major had anticipated my decision and smiled as he handed me my release form already typed up and signed. He wished me luck in the Infantry. I can say after thirty years’ service in the Infantry that I have no regrets and that I never met another AG officer of his caliber and professionalism. I regret that I cannot remember his real name and I hope he didn’t get in to too much hot water over letting me escape.

LTC Hampton grabbed me as soon as I walked into Infantry Branch and told everybody about how I used to hang out in the company when I was a kid and even went to the field with them back in Germany; all true statements. He pinned my crossed rifles on me and promised he’d get a message to my dad letting him know that everything had worked out okay. My next step was to arrange for my schools and pick my first assignment all over again. I was turned over to Captain Major (his real name) to execute all of this.

Captain Major asked me why I had picked the 101st Airborne Division for my first assignment. I told him I wanted to serve in the airborne. He told me only one brigade in the 101st was still airborne and it was scheduled to come off jump status sometime in the near future. He said if I still wanted airborne, I’d have to go to the 82d Airborne Division. I said that was what I wanted to do. At that point Captain Major said my schools and first assignment were all set but he couldn’t give me a set of orders reflecting all of that. He explained that if he cut orders there in Washington, a copy would go to the Surgeon General and they would probably get my orders revoked and I’d be back in the AG corps. I was instructed to report in to Fort Benning, Georgia with my AG orders telling me to report in to Fort Benjamin Harrison, Indiana. And that is what I did. My real orders would be cut at Fort Benning where no copies go to the Surgeon General.

I reported in to Fort Benning with about a thousand other second lieutenants in early August. When my turn came to hand over my orders to the clerk, I handed them over. The clerk had been inprocessing hundreds of lieutenants that day and was clearly bored and tired. He glanced at my orders, started to enter them into a manual log he was keeping when he suddenly did a double take of the orders and blurted out, “Lieutenant, where do you think you are?” I gave him a dead serious look and said. “This is Fort Benjamin Harrison, ain’t it?” He went nuts. He started hollering for his sergeant. “Sergeant, sergeant! This lieutenant thinks he’s at Fort Benjamin Harrison! Sergeant!” All the while he’s hollering, I’m saying, “No, I’m really supposed to be here! I was just kidding you!” The sergeant finally comes up, looks at my orders and says, “Sir, why are you at Fort Benning and not Fort Benjamin Harris like your orders say?” I tell him that Captain Major had instructed me to come to Fort Benning. He looks at me and says, “Captain Major? Yeah right, sir. Could it have been Captain Captain who told you or maybe it was Lieutenant Lieutenant?” So, he wasn’t buying it. I get told to get out of line and go see the Infantry Branch representative in Building 4 which was the headquarters and the schoolhouse.

I go to Building 4 and after wandering around a bit, discovered the Infantry Branch representative’s office. I go in and explain to the receptionist the purpose of my visit. The Branch rep is out of the office but expected back soon. I wait. The Branch rep finally comes in and I stand up when he enters. He’s a captain and with no preamble says, “What the fuck do you want lieutenant? Why are you in my office.” I explain that I had just branch transferred into the Infantry and I needed new orders. He tells me bullshit and to stop wasting his time. He is not a nice person. I tell him he needs to call Captain Major up at Infantry Branch in Washington and he would give him the details for my schools and first assignment. He says bullshit again, he’s never heard of any “Captain Major” and if I am indeed in the Infantry my choices of first assignment are either Fort Jackson or Fort Leonard Wood, both basic training assignments. He summarily tells me to “get the fuck out of my office” at that point and be prepared to tell him which of the two basic training assignments I wanted at 0800 tomorrow morning. Since I had not been allowed to sign in, I could not have orders to check into the BOQ, so I slept in my car that night.

When I reported back to the Branch rep the next morning his demeanor had completely changed, and we were best of friends. He even offered me coffee and a seat in his office. He told me he had been just kidding about my first assignment. He knew I was going to the 82d Airborne Division and congratulated me on my choice. He then said Major Major had instructed him to call when I came in. He duly called Infantry Branch up in Washington and asked to speak to Major Major. Major Major talked to the captain briefly then asked to speak to me. The captain stepped away a few feet but clearly he wanted to listen to what I have to say. I congratulate Major Major on his promotion and ask if everybody is totally confused now that he is Major Major? He laughs and says it’s been fun so far. He then says, “That captain is a real asshole, isn’t he?” Knowing that the captain is listening I say, “Absolutely, sir. Without a doubt. He took good care of me!” Major Major laughs and says, “Yeah, when he called me he started off by saying some dip shit lieutenant had come in with a sob story about needing orders. When I asked him if the “dip shit” was named Chamberlain and that we’ve been waiting to hear from him up here he about choked. Anyhow, he’s clearly the wrong guy to have in that job so we’ll be removing him this week.” I said, “Thanks, sir! That would be great, and I appreciate that and everything else everybody has done for me this week.” The captain smiles. He thinks I mean him. I don’t. I say goodbye to Major Major and the captain tells me to come back in half an hour and my orders will be ready. He tells me there is a snackbar on the first floor if I want to grab a bite or I can hang out in his office if I want. I go to the snackbar instead. I get my orders and I’m on my way.

What I learned from this all, and every word of it to include names is accurate, is that even though we were steeped in the Honor Code at the Military Academy to wit, “A cadet does not lie, cheat or steal nor tolerate those that do”, it was not necessarily embraced by all those in the officer corps. My RTO stunned me when he closed that door in my face. As my tac suspected, there was never a hope in hell that the second part of my waiver would be approved. In a way he did me a favor by educating me on the real world and I couldn’t have sneaked my way back into the infantry if I hadn’t been commissioned. And if I hadn’t gotten back in the Infantry and gone to the 82d Airborne Division, I never would have met my lovely wife of 43 years with five kids, eight grand kids and 22 moves together to show for it! So, in a way I owe him. But it was tough to accept an officer not being truthful at the time but being too idealistic is also not a good thing, I guess. What I really learned was that I’d rather be lucky than good any day of the week!

Post Script: One day in 1980 when I was in graduate school at Duke University, I got a letter from AG at Fort Benjamin Harrison. (When you go to grad school your records are managed by AG at Fort Ben as they call it.) Some studious sort who had more time than sense had gone through my records and pointed out that there were no orders transferring me from AG to Infantry. Fortunately, there was an option in the prepared response letter they enclosed that gave me the out to say with a straight face that I personally did not have a copy of those orders to send them (since they had never existed in the first place!). They promptly cut orders transferring me to the Infantry with an effective date of 9 June 1972, two days after graduation. By that time, I had spent almost eight years in the Infantry with the first six of those years continuously in the 82d Airborne Division. I went from rifle platoon leader to company commander to acting battalion S3 in those six years. Then I went to the Infantry Advanced Course followed by graduate school and then off to West Point as a tactical officer. More to follow on those adventuresome times!