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Chapter 15: New Roomie
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Fifteen New Roomie IfI die in a combat zone, box me up and ship me home. - marching song We were always supposed [Q get rid of any training ammunition, either blanks or live ammo, at the end ofeach exercise, but somehow Trailer had kept a magazine full of blanks. His M-16 was on automatic, so he got off£wo rounds before he dropped the weapon. Even though he had been shooting blanks, the fire, wadding, and gas scorched and bloodied his mouth. At first I thought he had killed himselfand expected to the see the back of his head fly off like Kennedy's in the Zapruder film. It took me a fC\v minutes to realize that he'd used blanks rather than live ammo. In that instant most of the platoon had poured into our room. We got him alit and to the infirmary, put his things together, and sent them to Casual Company while he was gone. I never saw him again, but we heard that he'd been sem for psychiatric evaluation. With the loss of three members of the platoon came some shifting. Originally some rooms had four people; now we had few enough people that there would be three people to a room, so Budwell and ( got a new roomie, Shrode, an older guy with prior service. Even though we had been there for eight weeks, except for talking with our roommates during the required study hall, we hadn't learned much about other candidates yet. Most people were pretty quiet. The structure of OCS forced men to look out for themselves. The guy next to you might write you up if he thought you were a bullshiner, someone not serious about becoming an officer. So, most- at least for the first several weeks-kept [Q themselves. I did know that Shrode was older. He was one of those graying heads sitting in front of me in class when I surveyed the first class in Infantry Hal!. He was rather jovial, smiled a lot, and the TACs seemed [Q respeer him. They knew that he had been a Green Beret and knew more about Vietnam than they did. Shortly after he got his gear moved in, we had a study hall period when Budwell and I got to ask him some questions. We learned that he was thirty, married with three kids, and that he had spent two [Qurs in Vietnam, most of the time as a LRRI~ or long range reconnaissance patrol. The LRRPs were notoriously on their own. Out there withour contact with headquarters, they had to take care of themselves and live the jungle life. "Why'd you decide to go to OeS?" Budwcll asked. "Actually, my last eo got me interested. He knew that I was in charge of our last operation. J was a buck sergeant at the time, and I made less than $400 a month even with combat and Special Forces pay. He showed me that I could make more money JUSt being in oes than I could as an NeO, so I raid him 'what the hell,' I'd give it a try." "Do you have any college?" Budwell asked. "Naw, bur I got my CEO after I got in. I was one of those kids that the judge told either join the Army or go to reform school, so I took the Army. That was way before Nam heated up. After I got my CEO, I was stationed in North Carolina, at Fort Bragg. That's where I met Mary, my wife. We got married and had our fi rst kid while I was there. She was pregnant with the second one when I took my first tour and pregnant with the third one when I left on the second tOUf. Leave 'em pregnant and you don't have to worry about 'em fuckill' around on you." "I thought you had to have some college to go to oes," I said. "Naw," said Shrode, "that's only if you enlist. If you're prior service, all you gOt to have is your GEO and your CO's recommendation. They're dyin' for second lieuy combat platoon leaders over there. Those fuckin' ROTC boys last about three weeks in the bush." We would get to know Shrode better as the week wore on. Compared to the intensity of the eighth week, the ninth was a long breath. We'd lost twenty-five men to the...