1971 SBNM March-June Part 4: The Guys in MPCO

The cast of characters. Continue reading

This entry contains my recollections of guys in MPCO SBNM. A few stories are from after the Air Force’s takeover.

I tried to determine what became of the guys whose names I remembered. In the footnotes I have included current information in 2020 about anyone whom I could locate on the Internet or otherwise.

The Second Platoon: I am not positive that Jim Anderson, who lived with his wife off-base, was in our platoon. I don’t have any recollection of dealing with him on duty. My only recollection of him was the visit that a few of us made to his house. It is described here.

I think that Marshall Anderson, whose home was, I think, in Minnesota, arrived shortly before the Air Force took over. I don’t remember seeing him in the barracks, but almost everyone in the platoon lived there. My only strong recollection of him is from the night on which Sgt. Hungate made me and the other guys on the police desk announce over the radio that the police station was “under duress”. This occurred after the Air Force took over. When it has been posted this episode will be described in some detail at a link here.

Charlie Antonelli1 arrived a few weeks after our group did. His room was close to mine, but he did not hang around with my close friends. Al Williams, who knew him better than I did, called him Mad Charles. He played a starring role in the Commander Commander incident, which is described here.

Sgt. Lorenzo Bailey was my boss when I worked on the desk for the second platoon. Those days are described here. He lived off-base. By the time that the Air Force took over he was not around. I don’t know where he was assigned.

Peter Baker was also, I think, from Minnesota. He definitely arrived a few weeks after we did and lived in the second platoon. His involvement in the July 4 celebrations will be discussed in the entry for that amazing day.

I think of Roy Banks and Dale Brooks as a matched pair. They both arrived a month or two after we did and lived in the second platoon barracks. When I was back on the police desk with the Air Force we often used one or the other of them for important tasks. They were both competent and reliable.

BedellAs I recall, Tom Bedell graduated from Kalamazoo College. He was a very good friend. His invaluable contributions to the Wiffle Ball games are described here. I also remember him as being the most enthusiastic performer in my manic attempts to bring to life an “air-chestra” to play the overture from Rossini’s William Tell. The July 4 incident occurred in his room.

He wrote poetry at MPCO SBNM, and he wanted to become a professional writer. He succeeded. He has published many articles, mostly about golf and beer. I read one in a magazine on a US Airways flight and got in touch with him. In 2020 he lives in Vermont. I follow him (@TomBedell) on Twitter.

BrownTom Brachna was from the Akron, OH, area, and I think that he lives in Akron in 2020. He arrived at the base a week or two after I did. His room was directly across from mine, and he was also a close friend. I remember him as being a big fan of the Cleveland Browns2. He had an intense dislike for the Cincinnati Bengals, the upstart team that adopted nearly the same colors as his beloved Brownies, and the treacherous Paul Brown. We went to at least one bar together, as is described here.

Russ Eakle was already on the base when we arrived. I think that he was the only guy from the group already in the platoon who was still around for the Air Force take over. He was also the only guy who rubbed me the wrong way. I kept my distance from him. His approach to police work is sketched here. He also participated in some memorable events after the Air Force took control.

Sgt. Glenn, our platoon sergeant, lived off-base. He hardly ever showed up in the barracks. In fact I have no memory of him ever being there. His attitude toward work was equally laissez faire. I am not sure when he shipped out or where he went.

Randy Hjelm also lived off-base. I think that he arrived at the base before our group did. Randy’s equipment was always in perfect shape. In fact, his whole appearance was exemplary. However, he always was, or at least appeared to be, stoned. I think that he was from Jacksonville, FL, and still lives there in 2020.

My time workin on the police desk with Randy Kennedy only lasted a few weeks until his ETS. Those days are described here.

Al Williams, Bob Willems, Ned Wilson, and Dave Zimmerman were with me in E-10-4 at Ft. Gordon. Ned lived off-base and worked in traffic. Bob and Dave were in other patrol platoons. I saw Bob all the time but Dave not as much. Bob also played a major role in the July 4 incident. I had many great times with A.J., as much as anyone. I have not kept in touch with any of these guys.

I have less clear memories of the following guys. I remember what they did, but I cannot summon their names.

  • The details about the guy living in the barracks from KC who told me that he stole a television and that he wanted to go to Vietnam can be found here.
  • When I started working on the desk I sold my portable radio to a guy from, I think, Minnesota. I offered a fair price. He made an annoying counteroffer. I should have told him to take a hike, but I accepted it.
  • El_CaminoOne guy from one of the southern states had an El Camino. When it wouldn’t start, he enlisted me to push it for him so that he could pop the clutch. This was not one of my finest moments. The same guy refused to use the clutch when he drove one of the MP trucks. He always speed-shifted.
  • I remember taking a newcomer from Chicago out on patrol and showing him the best places to hide the vehicle if you wanted to read, write some letters, or take a nap.

Headquarters: I did not know any of these people very well:

  • Captain Dean sponsored the timed mile described here.He also sponsored the first half of the 4th of July celebration.
  • Lt. Hall’s two unusual encounters with Al Williams are described here and here.
  • SP4 Orsini’s search for a competent typist is described here.
  • A guy named Roone was in charge of taking care of the grounds. I don’t think that he was an MP. Everyone called him Mr. Greenjeans. I hardly knew him, but I saw him almost every day.
  • A guy whose first name (or more likely nickname) was Rowdy was the animal control guy. He also was Doc Malloy’s doubles partner in tennis.
  • SSI am not sure that I ever knew the supply sergeant’s name, but he did me a big favor. I had noticed that a spare door with no handles had been gathering dust in the supply area in the basement. The supply sergeant was scheduled to ETS a few weeks after we arrived. On his last day as supply sergeant I asked him if I could have the door. He said “Take the m***** f*****.” I promptly carried it up to my room, and I laid it across two drawers that I had removed from my dresser and balanced on one edge. It made a perfect table for my stereo, books, and other items. The space in the dresser formerly occupied by the drawers was ideal for my records. Everyone was impressed.

Law Enforcement: Everything that I remember about the other three people in the Law Enforcement Office (Capt. Huppmann, Sgt. Edison, and SP4 Duffy) can be found here.

Other PlatoonsKolbitz: I was good friends who were assigned to one of the other patrolling platoons. Craig Kolbitz3, from Racine, WI, might have been in the same platoon as Bob Willems. If I had to guess, I would put them both in the first platoon, the one that we ordinarily relieved. They were definitely not in the fourth platoon, whose rooms were on the second floor of our building.

Craig hung around and philosophized with the guys on our floor quite often. I don’t think that he played Wiffle Ball with us, but one time his hometown honey (Mary?) dropped by for a visit and watched one of our games. Afterwards Craig kept telling everyone how much she was taken with Bob Willems. I knew that this was baloney because my sidearm sinker was really working that day, and I was almost untouchable. To any girl’s eyes the rest of the guys would have merely been scenery while I was working my magic on the mound.

Doc_TennisDoc Malloy4, who lived on the second floor of our wing of the MP barracks, the home of the fourth platoon, was one of the most amazing people I have ever met. His hair was MUCH longer than anyone else’s. He also had TWO jobs on the side. He was so good looking that he was able to find work as a model. He also gave tennis lessons. One of his clients, as I recall, was the wife of the base commander, General Nye!

I have no idea how he made these arrangements. We did not have telephones in the barracks, and, of course, there were no cell phones yet.

How, you may ask, did Doc get away with having long hair as an MP on a military base? The answer is “very carefully.” Doc had his hair cut so that the hair even with and below his ears was fairly short. The hair above his ears hung down and disguised this fact. When he got ready for duty he positioned his white MP hat on a chair upside down with the bill toward him. He then leaned over and with both hand stuffed his long hair into the hat. He then pressed the hair-filled hat onto his head. Sometimes a couple of attempts were required to perfect the look. On duty he NEVER took his hat off, which, as anyone who has been in the military can tell you, meant that he never went inside. Somehow he pulled it off, even after the Air Force took charge.

Doc represented the MP Company in the base tennis tournaments. He easily won the singles competition. The doubles was a little more difficult. Nobody in the company played at anything close to his level. He selected the animal control guy, Rowdy, as his partner because he seemed to be the best at taking instructions, and he had a passable serve. I think that they did win the doubles tournament. I remember that their basic strategy was for Rowdy to get out of the way after the first volley.

Doc's ideas were two years before Pong!

Doc’s ideas were two years before Pong!

Doc used to bug me to help him design a game based on tennis, ideally for a computer, but he was amenable to the idea of a board game. At the time I had taken exactly one programming class in a language that was used nowhere outside of Ann Arbor, and we had coded our programs on IBM cards! This was 1971: there were no video games, not even in arcades, and no personal computers. If I wrote something, it would need to be text-based with little back and forth. Playing against another person was inconceivable. Playing against a random number generator might be feasible, but how? Text-based terminals existed, but they were rare and expensive.

I had a fair amount experience at playing board games, but I had never designed one. I had no idea where to start. I was savvy enough to understand that ideas were a dime-a-dozen. Execution is key, and marketing trumps execution. This project was definitely not worth my time. I have often wondered if Doc ever did anything with his idea. Atari released Pong in 1973, but it was available only at arcades and fairs even then.

One other MP deserves a section of his own. Charlie Long5 was a legend when our group arrived at MPCO SBNM. Everyone already called him Crazy Charlie Long. He was a dyed-in-the-wiik Texan. My impression was that he was from a small town. He certainly was not from one of the big cities. A member of the fourth platoon, he lived on the second floor on the west wing of the barracks in one of the corner rooms near the parking lot. It was the only room in the whole barracks with a small balcony.

Charlie also had a temper. When he got upset, things tended to get broken. Disclaimer: I personally witnessed only the last of these incidents. So, please mentally insert the word “allegedly” somewhere in every sentence.

Don't get on the wrong side of Roy or Charlie.

Don’t get on the wrong side of Roy or Charlie.

Charlie had a friend in the fourth platoon named Ewald (pronounced EE walled). I am not sure that I ever heard anyone call him by his first name. Ewald had a motorcycle. One day after the fourth platoon had worked the midnight shift, Ewald, who must have had the previous night off, decided to do some rather loud figure-eights on his motorcycle beneath Charlie’s window. After a few minutes of this Charlie emerged on the balcony, leapt over the railing, and wrestled Ewald off of his bike in the same manner that Roy Rogers used to wrestle bad guys off of their horses by leaping from a tree. I never learned the result of this scuffle, but I also never heard of anyone trying that stunt with a motorcycle again.

During slow periods while on patrol Charlie liked to use his .45 to hunt jackrabbits, which were not uncommon out in the undeveloped area in the southern part of the base. I don’t think that he ever hit one. If he did, there probably would not have been much left of it.

An MP truck that he was driving on patrol one day did not meet Charlie’s standards. He got out of the vehicle and punished it by firing several roundss from his pistol into its side. I don’t think that this fixed the problem.

Aside from the time that Al Williams accidentally discharged his .45 at guardmount (described here), I never heard of any other MP ever firing his weapon in the ten months that I was in Albuquerque. I don’t know if Charlie ever got caught; I don’t think so.

Early one morning when I was working the desk with two Air Force guys, Charlie, who had been working the previous shift, stormed into the PMO, loudly vocalized some expletives, and stomped up to the solid wood police desk, which stood at least five feet high. Suddenly Charlie grabbed the edge of the desk with both hands and bit a small chunk out of it. He then spit it out and abruptly departed. The three of us on the other side of the desk looked at one another and then broke out laughing. Maybe we should have detained him for destruction of government property, but it never occurred to us. I should have written “tried to detain him” in the previous sentence.

Although he was also in the notorious fourth platoon, Homer Sandridge6, a graduate of the University of Virginia, was the polar opposite of Crazy Charlie. He was very calm about life and fate. Homer and I had a few philosophical discussions the details of which have escaped me. We might have solved the “troubles” in Ireland or the dispute over Kashmir.

I played golf with Don Beeson and Terry Burnett. I also played a little bridge with Terry. The details are here.

Paul Calandra came to Albuquerque a month or more after we did. He was a major player in the July 4 incident. I did not know him well.

PattonSgt. Suarez, the platoon leader of the third platoon, was a dedicated lifer. He participated in good-natured kidding about the real soldiers as typified by himself and the movie Patton as opposed to the rest of us slackers and the much more popular (in MPCO SBNM) M*A*S*H. When Patton won the Oscar for best picture, he was in his glory.

Sgt. Suarez’s favorite MP was named Kramer. If I ever knew his first name, I have forgotten it. He gave more tickets than anyone, even Russ Eakle. He also missed more duty than anyone because a fairly high percentage of the people that he cited disputed his action in court.

Kramer, like Russ Eakle, longed for more action. One day something occurred that induced Kramer to engage someone in a vehicular chase. Kramer was not able to overtake the offending vehicle before it exited the main gate. Kramer kept up the pursuit on the streets of Albuquerque. I am not sure, but I think that the chase ended in an accident without injuries.

Kramer got in trouble for this. Our policy was never to exceed the speed limit for a chase, and we were NEVER allowed to leave the base in an MP vehicle. What made it worse was that Kramer did not have a civilian driver’s license, and the Albuquerque police officers were not impressed by his MP armband.

If I ever met Jim Jacobson, I don’t remember it. However, when he came across a mention of MPCO SBNM in one of my blog entries, he contacted me by email. I asked him when he had been stationed in Albuquerque and what he did. Here is what he replied: “I worked various security positions till early 1971. Then became a base escort working out of the PMO on Texas next to the MP Co. I worked under Sgt Lezuski (sp) until he was promoted to 1st Sgt of the MP Co under Capt Dean. July 1971 I was promoted to Sgt/E5 and was a patrol supv with AF Sgt Carson and under AF Sgt “Tilly”. Being married and living off base I didn’t get a chance to know new people other than on my flight. Nov 1971 discharged from the service.”

Other guys whom I have only fragmentary memories of:

  • There was a guy named Ayers who came from a southern state. I think that he lived off-base. He called himself General Ayers, and I like to joke around with him.
  • The other guys with whom I played golf are described here.
  • We tried to put together a flag football team to represent the company against other units. The chief organizer was a guy from Florida. We definitely had some practices. We may have even played a game or two before the merger of the bases put the kibosh on it.

1. I have no way to verify it, but I think that Charlie died in 2020, just as I was beginning this project. The obituary is here.

2. The Browns moved to Baltimore in 1996 and became the Ravens. The current Cleveland Browns team first took the field in 1999.

3. I found Craig Kolbitz on the Internet. In 2020 he lives in the Seattle area. He and his wife owned a couple of bars there. He went back to Racine recently to give a speech. It is on Youtube here. Craig came to visit Sue and me once in Rockville in the late seventies or early eighties.

Doc_Beach4. Doc Malloy is now considered a legendary tennis instructor on Hilton Head Island. I located him on Facebook, where he has posted lots of photos of himself with nubile young women.

Long5. I found an obituary in 2020 for a Charlie Long of Kilgore (east of Dallas) TX. The age matches up and the face looks vaguely familiar. You can view it here and here. I have no way to verify whether or not this is Crazy Charlie, but I suspect that it is.


6. In 2020 Homer Sandridge is living in Arnold, MD. I think that he is into sailing.

1971 March: Getting Settled in MPCO, SBNM

The top secret base that welcomed the public. Continue reading

The army allowed us a few days before to transit from Fort Gordon to Sandia Base (SBNM) in Albuquerque. I flew from Augusta to KC and stayed at my parents’ house in Leawood, KS. At the time my sister Jamie was a freshman at Bishop Miege High School. I cannot remember anything that we did. I remember that a photo was taken of me and my dad standing on the patio in back of the house. It is probably in a bag or a box somewhere in our house in Enfield, CT, but I have not seen it in years.

Bob Willems drove his Volkswagen from his house in New Jersey to our house and stayed overnight with us. The next morning we began the 780 mile journey to Albuquerque. Riding with Bob was a big advantage for me. I could easily bring a lot more stuff than I could take on an airplane. I loaded my golf clubs, my set of posters, my stereo with the AR speakers, all of my record albums, and some books.

KC_SBNMBob did all the driving. Since we were required to report on the day after the morning that we left, we were in no great hurry. Nevertheless, we never considered taking the scenic route down from Colorado Springs to Albuquerque. The route we took offered no scenery to speak of. We took I-35 south to Oklahoma City and then I-40 west to Albuquerque. On the drive through Kansas we saw virtually nothing but farms on both sides of the road. Oklahoma was similar, but there were more oil “crickets”. New Mexico was mostly the parched landscape shown in cowboy movies. At least 90 percent of the drive on I-40 was uphill, not steep, but steady. At times Bob’s car seemed to be struggling.

We had a lot of time to converse in the car, but I cannot remember that we conclusively addressed any of the pressing issues of the day. We knew almost nothing about Sandia Base, and so we did not know what to expect when we got there. There was no Internet, of course, and so we had no way to get much information about it in the few days allowed for travel.

Perhaps we should have been alerted by the word “Base”. Most US Army installations are called forts or, less commonly, camps. The other clue was that our orders told us to report to “the MP Company”. Usually a military company is designated with a number as well as a number for the brigade and battalion. Neither the brigade nor the battalion was specified in the orders.

DNAIn point of fact, SBNM was not an army base. We later learned that it was run by a separate organization called the Defense Nuclear Agency (DNA). It was part of a large military complex that occupied the southeast corner of Albuquerque. Situated between SBNM and the Sunport, Albuquerque’s airport, was Kirtland Air Force Base. Kirtland had everything one would expect in an Air Force base, including runways. No one talked much about the other base, Manzano. It was in the southeast corner, and very secret stuff reportedly transpired there. Policing and a few other things at SBNM were assigned to the Army. The Navy and Air Force had their own assignments.

Why would anyone stay at this horribly overpriced motel in Tucumcari?

Why would anyone stay at this horribly overpriced motel in Tucumcari?

We decided to stop for the night at a ma-and-pa motel on Route 66 in Tucumcari, NM, 234 miles east of the base. At one time Tucumcari was rather famous for its motels. When I googled the town in 2020, it still showed a motel sign as the image for the town. We found one that neither of us could believe. We were smart or lucky enough to make our way from the interstate to Route 66. It was lined on both sides with motels with “Vacancy” signs. We picked one of them more or less at random. My recollection is that we only paid $6 to stay the night. They gave us a suite of two rooms with a bathroom that was accessible from both rooms. In the morning they brought a newspaper, coffee, and donuts. What an enchanting welcome to the Land of Enchantment!

The drive to Albuquerque was a little tense. We did not know what to expect. The city lies at the foot of the Sandia Mountains. Its elevation is 5,312 feet, a little higher than Denver. Sandia Peak, 10,679 feet, is just off to the northeast. You never lose your bearings in Albuquerque. If you feel disoriented, just look for Sandia Peak. It is almost always visible. Clouds are rare in New Mexico.

We found our way to the base’s main gate on Wyoming St., which is one of Albuquerque’s principal north-south arteries. I had assumed that SBNM would be a little way out of town. It was not. Residential Albuquerque was right outside the gate. Furthermore the soldier standing guard on the gate, who was wearing an MP arm band, just waved us—and everyone else—through.

Bob parked his car somewhere, and we made our way to the MP Company, where we were warmly welcomed. We learned that the company was horribly understaffed. We were the first group of new people that had arrived there in many months. The guys in some platoons were not allowed to take days off. If anyone got sick or injured, they had big problems. Fortunately a fairly large number of new people arrived within the next few weeks.

Four platoons did all the police work in shifts. A platoon worked the day shift (6:00AM-2:00PM) for three days, then the swing shift (2:00-10:00PM) for three days, then the midnight shift (“mids”: 10:00PM-6:00AM for three days), then three days off. There was also a traffic platoon, a headquarters platoon, and a platoon for guys with special assignments such as security escorts.

Al Williams, who had driven down from Boston in his Toyota, and I were assigned to the second platoon under Sgt. Glenn. Bob and Dave Zimmerman went to other platoons; I don’t remember which ones. In some ways Ned Wilson got the best deal of all. He was assigned to traffic duty, which meant that he worked only in the daytime and had weekends off. He lived with his wife in an apartment that was near the base.

The above image is the part of the former Sandia Base that functioned as a town center. I labeled the old MP building in area #21 with “PMO”. I lived in the west wing of that building and worked in the Provost Marshall’s Office in the center. The similarly shaped building across the courtyard and the tan building on Texas St, were not there in my day, but a much smaller library was. I think that the MP building and the similar building across the courtyard are now dormitories. The Air Force moved the police headquarters to the building labeled #11.

The library was a stone’s throw away. Within a few blocks were the mess hall, the commissary (grocery store), BX (department store), a small gym with all kinds of sporting equipment, the ANAF club for enlisted men and women (weekly bridge games), and a bowling alley. When we arrived a nine-hole golf course far to the south had just been completed well to the south.

This is a military base?

This is a military base?

I was astounded to learn that the largest buildings on the base belonged to a private company, Sandia Laboratories. They still do. Its facilities are a few blocks southeast of the above map. Everything done on the base was top secret, and so I may still be prohibited from revealing what they did there. I am allowed to tell you that the building in front of the Sandia Labs complex had a big sign on it that said, “Nuclear Weapons School”. Also, of course, all of the military personnel wore a Defense Nuclear Agency patch on their sleeves.

I did not expect the base to have so many permanent residents. Surrounding the business area depicted above were three nice residential areas. Most of the inhabitants were families of retired military personnel. Few were senior citizens; you could retire from the military after twenty years. So, nearly all of these people were under sixty. There were a lot of children. It felt like a suburb in which Beaver Cleaver would be comfortable.

The base itself was huge. It occupied 47,000 acres, which was over 73 square miles, over 39 percent of the total land area in Albuquerque. This did not include the 3,000 acres each contained by Kirtland AFB and Manzano base. Most of SBNM was several miles south of where we entered and consisted of undeveloped desert.

MP_HatAt some point we were also provided with MP arm bands and patches for our uniforms with the DNA symbol on it. They also gave us a little card with the ten series used on the police radio transmissions at SBNM, a nightstick, a holster with places for both a .45 caliber pistol and the stick, and a white MP hat.

Someone escorted me to my room, which was in the middle of the south side of the first floor on the west wing of the MP Company barracks. From the outside it looked flat, but there were two or three steps to the left of my door. I could hardly believe it. I had a room to myself. The door could even be locked! There was a dresser, a closet, a couple of chairs, a desk, and a bed. It was even air conditioned. By army standards of the sixties it was luxurious.

Everyone who lived on our floor was in the second platoon. When our group moved in there were quite a few empty rooms.

BourbonThe first night in my room was memorable. About 2:00 in the morning I heard a pounding on my door. I stumbled over to the door. Two guys were there. One, a guy from another platoon named Grandmaison, brought a bottle of Kentucky bourbon. They both had already obviously consumed quite a bit of it. They demanded that I take a couple of tugs on the bottle with them. I had never tasted bourbon before, but I was a little afraid to turn down their offer. They let me go back to sleep a few minutes later. I think that they stopped at Al’s room next.

Al and were I scheduled for duty on the midnight shift the next day. There was no orientation, no handbook, and no training. Before going on duty we had to report to the armorer to check out weapons. We each got one Colt .45 model 1911 and one clip with six bullets. If we faced seven or more bad guys, we would need to depend on the nightstick.

The gate shack looked pretty much liked this.

The gate shack looked pretty much liked this.

During the first night I was stationed at the main gate on Wyoming St. My instructions were to wave everyone through. That’s right; in those days Sandia Base was a top secret security base that was almost always open to the public twenty-four hours a day. My instructions had three other components: 1) If an officer in uniform was driving, I was required to turn the wave into a salute. 2) We were supposed to write down license numbers in a log. The guy who drove me out to the gate told me not to worry about it. If I missed one, I should just make up a license number. 3) For other issues I could call the police desk from a phone in the booth.

I guess that I should mention that the gate could be closed and locked. Someone would call to tell the guard to begin that process, which required about ten minutes. Such a call only occurred a couple of times in the ten months that I was at SBNM.

Gate duty on the midnight shift was extremely boring. Cars were few and far between. The only diversion was the police radio. I had only been there for a few minutes when the man at the police desk, Sgt. Lorenzo Bailey, ordered Al and his partner to deal with a domestic dispute. This had a big impact on me. I did not want to deal with things like domestic disputes. This was a military installation. The people who lived here were mostly lifers. Lifers love weapons. I was strongly motivated to do whatever I could to avoid going on patrol. I did not want to get shot, and I definitely was not going to shoot anyone.

Mine was three eggs with ham and Swiss.

Mine was three eggs with ham and Swiss.

At the end of the shift Al, who had stayed on patrol all night, and I walked over to the mess hall for breakfast. Because it was so early, most of the diners were from our platoon. They made omelets to order at breakfast. It was the best meal of the day. To tell the truth, the food at the mess hall was pretty good. Most guys only went out to eat when someone had a craving for Mexican food.

My first time on patrol was, I think, on a day shift with Russ Eakle. Most of the time there was not much to do on patrol. We occasionally had to escort a manager of the BX or commissary to the bank. If someone posted at a gate needed a break, one of the guys on patrol would relieve them. The challenge was to think of something to do for the rest of the time.

I doubt that the real Duke would have specialized in Mickey Mouse ticketing.

I doubt that the real Duke would have specialized in ticketing for such Mickey Mouse offenses.

Russ liked to drive south into the open spaces that were still part of the base. Some horses were fenced in out there. Maybe there was a riding stable. Russ had swiped an apple or two from the mess hall to feed the horses. I just watched.

Russ fancied himself as the John Wayne type. He asked people to call him Duke. He showed me how he liked to give tickets. His specialty was citing drivers for rolling through stop signs. He showed me where he hid the truck so that he could surreptitiously catch the desperados performing these heinous acts. That first day he issued a few tickets using this technique. Then he told me that I should do the next one. I refused; he was not in my chain of command.

I asked someone, maybe Russ, about room inspections. I was told that they never inspected the bedrooms. This was music to a slob’s ears.

After a day or two I began to think about what I would buy with my first E2 paycheck: a rug for the room and a radio for when I had gate duty. The latter was not technically legal, but as long as they were not visible or audible to those driving through, no one objected.

I purchased both of these items. I think that I got the radio at the BX and the rug at a discount department store that AJ or Bob drove me to. When we were not on duty, we were on our own. We could wear civilian clothes and leave the base whenever we wanted.

I had at least a dozen like this one.

I had at least a dozen like this one.

Our platoon had two sergeants. The platoon sergeant’s name was Glenn, who was an E6 (staff sergeant). He basically just went through the motions, which was fine with us. The other sergeant was an E5 (plain old sergeant) whose name was Chambers or something like that. He actually supervised the units on patrol. He was both a nice guy and quite competent. He had been stationed for a while in Vietnam, but he was reluctant to talk about it. The only thing that he told us was that MPs were often used as guards for convoys. He was “short”, which meant that he would be getting out of the army1 in a few months.

CreationAt the BX I obtained everything that I needed to decorate my room. Within the first week I put up my Russian posters on the walls of my room. The copy of Michelangelo’s centerpiece of the Sistine chapel was on the ceiling over my bed. It was the first thing that I saw when I woke up in the morning (or afternoon if we were working mids).

MeneI bought some green shelving paper and cut out twenty-one letters to put on the wall. I got the idea from Chapter 5 of the book of Daniel, the proverbial writing on the wall. MENE MENE TEKEL UPHARSIN: The days of your kingdom are numbered; your leaders have been weighed and found wanting; your kingdom will be destroyed by the Medes and the Persians.

It was beginning to feel a little like home. One thing was still missing: a table for my stereo and speakers.

At some point in those first few days we met Captain Dean, the Company Commander of MPCO SBNM, and Lt. Hall, who was second in command. There must have also been a First Sergeant, but I don’t remember him. Captain Dean liked to run. He held the company record for the mile, and he was proud of it. His best time was a little over five minutes.

The captain wanted all of us to run a timed mile, and he made sure that we could all attend. We were allowed to wear sneakers and athletic gear. This was a new thing for us; in Basic and AIT we always ran in fatigues and combat boots.

Ned Wilson, Bob Willems, Dave Zimmerman, and I speculated about how much Al Williams would beat the captain’s record by. He was the state of Maine mile champion in college, and his best time was around 4:20. Captain Dean himself held the stopwatch. When he learned of Al’s prowess he was giddy with excitement.

Al ran at a pretty good clip for the first three quarters. He was on pace for a 4:40 mile, which would have been a fair result for someone who had not been able to train rigorously for four months. By then he had lapped the rest of us.

The big question was whether Al would have enough left in the tank for that last quarter-mile. Captain Dean shouted out Al’s time as he finished the third lap. Al waved to him, and then he turned around and ran the last lap backwards, which slowed him down to something close to the speed of the rest of us. As he passed them, he waved cheerfully to the lifers in attendance. Al wasn’t going to give any of them the satisfaction of thinking that he cared about this activity. It was a classy move.


1. This process is called ETS, which stands for Expiration of Term of Service. It can also be used as a verb: “He is ETSing next Thursday.”