Walt's Military Misadventures

This is a story about group identity and serendipity. It is not intended to be disrespectful of any persons or institutions. It is rather an attempt to describe my personal struggles to find myself, and in the process encountering some interesting and very unexpected circumstances. About how serendipitous experiences help to shape our understanding of ourselves.

In my teen years, I was very right-wing in my politics (also my religion, but especially politics). Our family’s religion was one of those with more “thou shalt nots” than “thou shalt dos.”

Politically, my parents were conservative, so I had to be radically conservative.

To complicate things, my dad was a civics teacher at the high school, and I would embarrass him by putting bumper stickers on the car, which he then had to park in the faculty parking lot, catching grief from the other teachers who were less conservative than he was. He would defend himself by insisting that this was just his errant son’s doing. A big part of this was probably my teenage rebellion against my father’s authority.

These attitudes initially carried over into college. My first college required two years of military science -- Army ROTC, which suited me just fine.

I had to wear a uniform and do rifle drills and all that stuff. For some reason, I also fell in with a group of students who took it to another level. It was a military fraternity called the Pershing Rifles. They had extra drills beyond the ROTC drills (rifle drills) and bivouacs (overnight missions in the woods). But the craziest part was the initiation, a sort of hazing ritual. Weird stuff like counting all the railroad ties between two roads, and memorizing and reciting on demand things like “How’s the cow?” “Sir, she walks, she talks, she’s full of chalk. The lacteal fluid extracted from the female of the bovine species is highly prolific to the nth degree, Sir.” and “What is the time?” “Sir, due to unforeseen circumstances over which I have no control, the inner workings and hidden mechanisms of my chronometer are in such disaccord with the great sidereal movement with which time is commonly reckoned that I cannot with any degree of accuracy state the exact time, Sir… but, without fear of being very far off, I can say it is …”

I think there were even more outrageous elements to the hazing that I’ve blocked from my memory. But I remember the answers to those two questions to this day, over 50 years later. They are so ingrained in my subconscious that I can bring them up at will.

I should never have gotten involved in this extra military stuff. It was too much of a distraction from my studies. But, a couple of factors were at play here, I think. One, I wasn’t academically prepared for this college, didn’t really know how to study well, and I was depressed. Secondly, I wanted to be part of a group which stood out, a group identity which elevated my self-worth. Maybe it had something to do with failing to make the college band, after being so highly regarded in my high school band.

In the end, I didn’t do so well at this college and I moved on to another one. There, too, military science was required for the first two years. After the two mandatory years, I decided to apply for Advanced ROTC. You had to apply and be accepted into this level (Junior and Senior years of college), leading to a commission as an Army officer upon graduation. It actually paid a little bit, too, $50 per month as I recall. Not a lot, but not nothing for the time. In the summer between my Junior and Senior years, I was required to attend a 6-week summer camp. This was like military boot camp, but for officers.

In my Senior year, I was mentally and emotionally preparing myself for the inevitability of being shipped off to Vietnam after graduation and branch training. One thing we had to do was apply for a branch assignment. Three choices. I put down military intelligence, signal corps and military police (MP). I got MP, my third choice. Not sure why I put that down as a choice, except that it was not infantry. Probably thought less likely to be on the front lines.

Now began a succession of events which amounted to the Army keeping me out of war.

Two of these had a direct impact on me. Another intervening event was notable for how it could have impacted my life if I’d made different choices.

Even though I was very pro-military and committed to military service, if I and many fellow cadets were honest with ourselves, we would have to admit that we were terrified of going to war, especially to a hot war like Vietnam. So, even though we were intent on doing our duty if called upon, we were relieved when diverted from the front lines. Our call to duty and service was in conflict with our fear (a very human emotion).

First, fortuitously, I learned from another cadet that he had gotten a deferment from start of active duty to attend grad school. I thought that sounded neat, so I applied to the Army for a deferment to get a master’s degree before going into service. I got it. This meant that I’d have 1½ years to get a master’s degree (for me this was in political science). I was thrilled. I could put off war duty for at least 1½ years. Later, I learned that my fellow cadet had gotten his deferment for a Ph.D. program, meaning about 3 years. I probably could have gotten a longer deferment myself. Just as well -- I wasn’t ready for that.

So, I graduated and had an Army commission as a Second Lieutenant. And went on to get a master’s in political science.

Another amazing event occurred during this time. On December 1, 1969, the first Vietnam War Selective Service Lottery was held. My birthdate of February 14^th was the 4^th number called. This means that if I hadn’t already been in the system, already a commissioned Army officer, I would surely have been drafted and gone to Vietnam. I felt great relief, but it was not as palpable an experience for me as for others facing this luck of the draw, as I never really had anything to worry about.

The next good fortune was that, in the lead-up to finishing my masters, the Army decided it had more than enough 2^nd Lieutenants, as the war was winding down. So, I was given the choice of either going ahead with two years active duty and 6 years in the Reserves or doing 90 days of Active Duty for Training (ADT) followed by 8 years in the Reserves. No brainer. Yes, I took the 90 days ADT, avoiding war and getting on with my life.

So, I went to MP branch school for 90 days. My class consisted of 50 young officers, 2^nd and 1^st Lieutenants. About two thirds or three quarters of these were new lawyers. The rest of us had gotten grad degrees (either master’s or Ph.Ds.). We were all just anxious to get on with civilian life, and that was reflected in our attitudes.

Now, MP school was mostly classroom work, but occasionally we had field exercises and training missions. I had very little confidence in my leadership abilities, so I dreaded the thought of having to lead a mission. But reality caught up with me. There was a nighttime recon mission and I was selected to lead it. I believe I was given a field rank of captain for the mission. I had very little idea of what I was doing but had a couple of platoon leaders and sergeants who seemed to know what to do. We plotted our course and kept our squads low along the road and into the woods. Maybe it was just in my imagination, but I sensed some grumbling (troops wondering if Captain Marston knew what the hell he was doing), but we kept going. We were re-conning the site of a downed helicopter. I mostly kept quiet and followed the cues of the training officers (the real soldiers).

In the end, it was my quietness (perceived by others as stealth) that won the day. We re-conned the site, got the intel we needed and successfully returned to base without being detected by the enemy. I was just so relieved it was over. But, to my surprise, the real commander announced to the assembled troops in our debrief, “Gentlemen, I just want to congratulate Captain Marston for one of the finest re-con ops I have ever experienced!” I was both shocked and pleased to hear this. I was still more relieved than pleased, as I just felt like an imposter who hadn’t yet been found out.

I successfully completed MP branch school and went back to my civilian life, going on to a Ph.D. program and a second master’s degree, then my career in urban planning.

Upon completion of my master’s in urban planning, I took my first full-time job in New Orleans. The summer I started this job, I received papers ordering me to report for summer camp for the Army Reserves. However, I got out of it because my boss in New Orleans sent a letter making the case that my job was essential to national security. There may have been one other time a couple years later that I was supposed to report for summer camp, but I managed to get out of that, too.

Along the way, I was promoted to First Lieutenant, and then to Captain. Shortly after my promotion to Captain, I received my honorable discharge, ending my commission as an Army officer. The final surprise was that I discovered my 8-year commitment had begun on the day I received my initial commission as a 2^nd Lieutenant upon graduation from college. I had spent about 5 years in grad school, so my obligation ended just three years into my working career. And I didn’t have to serve a single day of duty or even put on a uniform since my MP branch training.

To this day, I still have my auto insurance through USAA (originally for military officers only), and sometimes when I call them for service, they address me as Captain Marston.

The final irony is that I am now a Quaker and about the least military person you could imagine.