It was an ordinary day. Reading my Sunday local newspaper's "Living" section. One story immediately caught my eye. Perhaps it was due to being on page 1 of the "Living" section, or maybe because the story was titled "Mothballs, wake-up call all part of basic training." The story was featured as the "I Know A Story" entry that is featured every Sunday in the Sunday News. At the top of the story was a color photograph of a pair of loosely tied tan combat boots in front of a blurred red, white and blue United States flag. The story was written by Dan Jerchau who was drafted into the U.S. Army when he received his notification on February 17, 1971. He reported he received a scary letter from the President of the United States that read: "Greetings, you are hereby inducted into the Armed Forces of the United States and are to report to your local draft board at 50 S. Duke St., Lancaster, PA, on March 2, 1971, at 5:50 a.m." His life was about to change. He got drafted into the U.S. Army for 2 years. He had just turned 19 years old and now had to notify people who knew him. People like his friends, relatives, his boss, his church and his girlfriend. The war in Vietnam was going on and he was pretty sure that's where he was headed. The day arrived and his mother dropped him off at 5:50 a.m. at 50 S. Duke Street. He kissed her goodbye for three months. He was told that he would be going to the New Cumberland Army Depot near Harrisburg and then to Fort Dix, New Jersey, for basic training. He raised his right hand and took "The Oath" and was officially in the Army. One guy refused to take the oath and was taken away, never to be seen again. Dan was put on a train to Trenton, New Jersey and arrived by 10:00 that night. They were put on buses and driven an hour to Fort Dix, where drill sergeants ran onto the bus screaming at us to get off the bus. He kept thinking, "This can't be happening to me!" They then were taken to a huge barracks about 200 feet long with bunks arranged in rows as far as the eye could see. The whole place smelled like mothballs. They were issued clothing; underwear, shoes, boots and a little cloth bag with a toothbrush, toothpaste, a razor and a tiny can of shaving cream. Next, they got into another line for sheets, a pillow case and a blanket. They were assigned a bed and shown how to make an Army bed. It was now about 11 p.m. and all of us were dog tired. We instantly dropped off to sleep. It seemed like an hour later when we heard a horrible crashing noise with men shouting at the top of their lungs. One drill sergeant shouted, "Get up!" Another one shouted, "If you're still in bed....you're wrong!" The crashing noise came from both drill sergeants. Each man had two metal garbage can lids being used like cymbals as they ran between the rows of beds. The noise was deafening, and it worked. Men started to scramble out of their beds and formed lines. It was 5 a.m. I woke up smelling mothballs. It took a few seconds for me to remember where I was and the most horrible feeling washed over me. I remember it like it was yesterday. Oh no. Two years of this! I actually thought we would be awakened every day just like this. I was in Fort Dix for three month and then was sent to Fort Gordon in Augusta, Georgia, for another three months of military police training. After basic training, we were treated much better. MP school was actually fun. I did get sent to Vietnam, but as a policeman and not an infantry soldier. My time in the military was not nearly as bad as I'd imagined, and the experience shaped my life. Now, fast forward 10 years, and I was married with a 3-year-old son. I was now a local police officer. I was napping after a long day at work and just before supper, my dear wife woke me from my nap with a kiss. I told her, "You know, being awakened with a kiss is SO much better than garbage can lids." Oh, and to this day, I still hate the smell of mothballs! The author lives in East Petersburg, PA. It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.
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