OD Duty

At Kemper we ran a 24 hour Officer of the Day. This was before answering machines; and since we had kids from all over the world, we might get a call in the middle of the night. There was the Officer of the Day (OD); usually a 2^nd Lieutenant to Captain-maybe a Major.  A Sergeant of the Guard (OS), and two runners; usually New Boys or up to the rank of corporal.

Changeover was usually around 5 in the afternoon before 3^rd mess formation. The uniform was “C”s and you wore your white parade belt to indicate that you were working. Officers wore their sash and the sergeants wore the parade belt or white pistol belt if they were entitled to.

This was both a blessing and a curse. While on OD duty, you didn’t have to brace or sit up. But you also got stuck doing all the meat and potatoes jobs that helped Kemper run. You ‘ran’ after class sips to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be. If not, then you tried to locate them. You checked  their room, the Club Room, library, QM, wherever.  This was a 24 hour job. There were bunk beds that started in the OD office, then were moved to an adjacent office. This was usually where the runners slept, unless the Sgt or OD decided they wanted to sleep there. Then you could sleep in your own room, but you had better back when you were suppose to. That usually mean the crap time of either 12-2am or 2am-4am.  The OD usually pulled the first or last shift. The sergeant would usually pick the other one and the 2 runners had to decide which one they were going to get.

After 4 weeks at Kemper I was assigned OD duty. I was still terrified of what was going on, now more so that I’d screw up.  This was because this experience was so different, so raw to me.

Have you ever had your stomach hurt? Not from some food you ate or something you were worried about? But the hurt from holding your breath. Afraid that the simple act of breathing would bring down the wrath of God. Which in this case, was an Old Boy. That’s what I felt while I was a Phase I.  It was with me; more so when I was on OD Duty, as I would be visible to more than just my squad, platoon or company. But to the whole Corps.

That evening was fairly quiet. You got to know people as pretty much all you could do was talk. It was a Friday and everyone was getting ready for a home football game the next day. I went to my room and got a few hours sleep before being woke up to take my 2 hour shift in the middle of the night.

As I sat in the OD office, I found a paperback book, City of the Chasch by Jack Vance, and started to read. (Yes I remember the book; it became one of my favorites. It wasn’t until decades later that I learned that Vance was a well known author and that there were 3 other books in this series.) I learned that as long as you were awake and had your wits, you could read, study, shine shoes or brass.

When my shift ended I woke up my replacement, the sergeant of the guard, who had slept in the bunk bed in the next room.  As I made my way back to my room, I realized that I wasn’t sure which one was mine. It was all too new to me, I had been moved not too long ago and couldn’t remember which door was mine. I wasn’t going to turn on the hall lights, as you found that the cadre was light enough sleepers that would draw attention. And everyone still had at least 2 hours of sleep before wake up call.  Sleep was a simple pleasure which made most upset if they didn’t get any.

Since I lived in the barracks above the administration offices, I walked down to the hallway that had all our distinguished alumni pictures. The over head lights were always left on, so I read about our past alumni from their pictures. The famous and not so famous. I  found George “Goober” Lindsey’s picture and my grandfather’s picture (he was a representative for the state of Missouri).

As I sat on one of those long wooden benches, I thought about a story my father had told me about when he was at Kemper. He said you could leave your watch out on a desk and no one would bother it. If someone did take it, then the whole company would stay up, sitting on their beds until that watch was returned.

I laid there on that long curved wooden bench. It had been worn smooth over the years. There was always a distinct smell in the admin building of old age, old wood, cigarette and cigar smoke and the sweat and tears of many who had come before me. It was like no other smell. To me that was Kemper.

I laid there long enough, dozing, with my head on my arm. Glancing at my watch, it was almost time to be back at the OD office. I stood up, straightened my uniform and gig line. I looked around at the pictures of men, who had come before me; who had roamed these very halls.  I swear I could feel their presences wrap around me and become a part of me. They watched me. I think they watch me still.

Back to OD duty.  Not much to do as there was a home football game. We ran some calls. Everyone was getting ready for the game.  I remember almost reaching the officer’s porch; if you were on OD duty you could walk on the porch as it was quicker to get to places, when I heard “OD! OD!”

I saw it was the battalion adjutant, Major Gaskill. He was motioning me over.  I jogged over and started to explain, “I’m not the OD I’m just…”  he just waved that away. I forget who he had me go find; I just remember that he was over by the lower corner of D barracks; by the entrance to the barber shop. And when he spoke to me. it wasn’t in his parade field voice, but in a normal, though loud and excited voice.  It was the voice of someone in command. (To me, that was how you commanded men; with a voice like that.) I had never thought he talked any other way except when he commanded us to ‘Sit-Up!” in the Mess Hall or was calling “Ba-Talion, A-Ten-tion!”

Another thing about OD Duty; everything was written down in a giant ledger; a logbook, in the OD’s Office. It was a record of what happened. You could go back and read incidents that happened and also see how people wrote. It was where I truly learned that the truth was stranger than fiction as I read over some of the things had happened. Some things were common knowledge. Some things you only knew some of it and the log book helped fill in some details. And then there were other things; known and unknown, that happened.

But those are for another time. And for those with the proper clearance.

Kemper Names

38 yrs ago I was exposed to names of people that were vastly unfamiliar to me at that time and now are part of the blood that runs through me. Alzheimer’s would be a living Hell.

There was something called a ‘sound off’ for cadets. You were given a sound off, so when your name was yelled to sound off, you did. It would have gone something like this;

‘Herring Sound Off!’

“Sir my name is Herring; I am full of ball bearings, sir!”

A brother of mine in the same platoon, whose last name was Tandy, has to sound off with ‘bbzzzz-bzzzt. Tandy Corporation owned Radio Shack. Radio Shake sold electronics, so…

Then there was Woodle. Tracy Woodle. Young kid;7^th or 8^th grade. Short. Glasses. And a talker. His sound off was “Sir, Woodles wobble but they don’t fall down.”  Remember the toy Weebles? Their saying was Weebles Wooble, but they don’t far down.

I remember he roomed with Stuart Inglish and was 2 doors down from my room when I wa sin Delta Co.  I remember him telling us about his dad in the Army. He was going to fly down here in his helicopter to deliver his trombone. Us New Boys in the same platoon just looked at each other, like ‘yeah right.’

Being a New Boy didn’t leave you a lot of options on the weekend. I think it was like the 4^th or 5^th weekend, a lot of us were watching an evening movie in the auditorium when we heard a loud thumping. It was getting closer. It kept getting closer and closer. Everybody piled out onto the court when we were struck by a light from the sky. It was a UFO!

Nope. It was an Army Chinook helicopter coming in for a landing on the west parade field; traveling east to west. I can remember this like it was yesterday. It got lower and slower and did a slow rolling touch down. It was loud, and the search light and blinking red and green lights cast weird colors and designs. Suddenly a short kid ran out towards it. One of the crew, dressed in a green flight suit, helmet and carrying a trombone case jumped out of a side door. He met the small form, gave him a big hug, handed him the trombone case and then turned, ran back to the copter and the green machine slowly started to rise. It easily cleared the trees and hill and continued on its way west. The whole thing couldn’t have taken two minutes and the motor and blades never slowed.

That’s when I learned that just because something sounds impossible does not mean its not true. Woodle got a bit of street cred after that. Unfortunately Woodle was only at Kemper for one year.

Another thing; we called each by our last names. Even amongst your closest friends. At least until you got a nick name bestowed on, or sometimes your first name just felt right. Like Speidel. He could be Spidey… naah. As a New Boy he was Spediel. Later, when he became family he was George. Now remember the cartoon with the abominable snowman and “I will call him George and love him and squeeze him…”  At least for me, that’s how I started calling him by his first name

But what do you do when you have brothers going there? Simple. One was Big Kipper, the other was Little Kipper. And Karlskint, became ‘Skint.  Or you middle initial, couple that with your prowess with the ladies earned you ‘Luscious.’

And then there were just the plethora of names, that to my ears were exotic and memorable. Kahli, Tua, Hennefent ,Lowe, Lamb, Suarez, Selfridge, Kresin, Shehorn, Ulloa, Eehl.  Or you were just called by a rank. Captain, Sergeant-Major, Colonel. Maybe L-T or ‘Lootenant”.

At one reunion, the kind where we could actually go into the buildings and walk around the court, this man looked at me sidewise and sidled, sorry, that is literally the only way I can describe how he walked up to me, and started, “I bet you don’t know…”

I said, “Hold on.” I looked at him and said, “Reuben Makekau.”

He was like “Wow, even the first name.”  I told him there were some people who make a lasting impression; you just never forget, even after (at that time) 25 years.