Jarhead Jerry: Memoirs of a Career Us Marine in Times of War and Peace

By Gerald F Schuldt

Jarhead Jerry describes the life of a boy who chose to become a United States Marine.

All the emotion and pain, joys and achievements gives meaning to his life and relates to something common in all of us.

From puppy love to combat and then the inequities he had to endure. At the end, the consequences of his actions that are without escape.

Jarhead Jerry is a gripping life story of Gerald Schuldt, who above all considered himself a United States Marine.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 23, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514419670

Gerald F Schuldt

Gerald Schuldt is a career US Marine who rose to the rank of gunnery sergeant. His memoirs and anecdotal writings grew into a book all by itself. One day he realized he had quite a story and asked for people to help him to compose it into a book. He now lives with his wife and children along with a multitude of grandchildren in Virginia.

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by Gerald F Schuldt.

Edited by Hal Lammel.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015917481

ISBN:      Hardcover   978-1-5144-1969-4

                Softcover     978-1-5144-1968-7

                eBook           978-1-5144-1967-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 10/23/2015

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INDEX

SECTION I

Migrane Headache

The Beginning

Florida National Guard

US Army Boot Camp

Marine Corsp Recruit Depot Parris Inland SC

Platoon 304

Infantry Training Regiment

1st Battalion 2nd Marines

Promoted To PFC

Weekend Liberty

Saturday Parade

Norfolk VA

Getting Ready For The Cruise

Mediteranian Cruise

Spain - Steel Pike I

Piraes Greece – Liberty

Dominican Republic

Team Leader – ‘A’ Gunner

Army Hospital - Marine Barracks Liberty

MP & GD Company H& S Battalion

Jacksonville NC 1966

First Trip To South Vietnam

Da Nang / China Beach

H & S Company 111 Marine Amphibious Force

General Walt’s Beach House On China Beach

Rebellion - 1966

H & S Company 111

The Viet Cong Come To China Beach

Promotion To Corporal

Corporal Of The Guard

The Move To Hill 55

Patrols – Gutierrrez - Sniper At Well

Mistake

Bullets Dropped

Vipers

Bamboo Viper

R&R In Hawaii

Rifle Squad Leader

My Trip Home

Home At Last

Getting My Orders

Trip To MCRD PI SCGD Company MCRD PI SC

Trip Back To Norfolk VA

Marine Barrack Norfolk

SECTION II

RETURNING TO VIET NAM

Flashback

Return To South Vietnam

Vietnam Again

Operation Lam Xuan East

First Ambush

Desert Patrol

Mechanized Attack

Operation Task Force Kilo

Ambush

Operation Night Owl - Company Night Attack

Controlling Your Fear

Mai Xa Chanh

Battle Of Dai Do

Last Squad Out

Dai Do

The Battle On The Nerves!

2ND Platoon

Rough Rider Truck Convoy

Combat Patrols Around Khe Sanh

1st Platoon Hill 512

Wounded

Return To The Field

B-52 Are Coming

Landing Zone

Leaving South Vietnam

Casco

Pax Tran Man

SECTION III

RETURNING HOME

Return From South Vietnam

HQ Company RTR MCRD PI

Drill Instructor School

Drillinstructor

Rat Platoon

What A Lady

Training Recruits

Company F 2nd Battalion 7th Marines

Company C 1st Battalion 9th Marines 3rd Marine Division FMF

Company M 3rd Battalion 8th Marines

Enroute To Okinawa

Evacuatuion Of South Vietnam

SS Greenport

SS Mayaguez

Return To Training

Savannah GA

HQ Compoany HQ Battalion Fleet Marine Force

Career Planner

HQ Company 4th Mab

H Company 2nd Battalion 2nd Marine

Operation Northern Wedding And Operation Bold Guard

Operation Bold Guard

E Company 2nd Battalion 2nd Marine 2nd Marine Division FMF Lant Camp Lejeune NC

Air Alert Battalion - 1978

Command General Inspection

Bad Guys MCRT

Training At Fort Bragg NC

Sabana Seca

BLT 2/2 (2nd Battalion 2nd marines)

Caribbean Cruise 81

Defense Of The Ship

SECTION IV

A New Career In Law Enforcement

Fort Belvoir VA

PMO (Provost Marshal Office)

PMO Promotion To CPL

US Army Topographic Engineer Center

Federal Law Enforcement Training Center

Typical Days At Work

The Stranger

Blacked Out On I - 95

Blood Infection

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

Stroke

Why Me? Hard Times

Unknown

Way-Station Chapel

What Fear Means To Me

Final Chapter

Jarhead Jerry

This is the story about a boy who wanted to wear

The Dress Blues of a United States Marine

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Above all I thank God for saving my life on numerous occasions

To my wife Marsha - I love you more today than yesterday!

David B. Montgomery who inspired me and helped in editing!

And of course Cpl. Hal Lammel: Fellow 2/4 Marine and combatant at Mai Xa Chan and who spend endless time and resources in editing and rewriting to finally bring this book to realization.

The Marine Chat group: Lois and John Adams, Roy 22, Bill Conway, Vaught Howard, George Lipow

My Vietnam Buddies:

Lt John Doman, Lt Lon Lawson, Joe Gutierrez, Dave Adams, Dale Robinson, Dave Fournell, Edward Helm, Gary Newell and Roger Sargent US Army; Hal Lammel, Mike Castle, Edward Ruth, Jim Pierce, Mardi and Bob Nicklin

My Doctors: Doctor Timothy Powell, Lt Easton MD US Navy Quantico MCB, Lt Bebat K MD US Navy Quantico MCB, Lt Cmdr. Parks MD US Navy Quantico MCB.

Stafford Community Baptist Church Pastor Andrew L Hogan JR, Reverend Charlene Hogan, Deaconess N Smalley

Cover Picture: of Gerald F Schuldt G Company at Dai Do

L.Cpl. PL Schackmann; who took the cover picture of me leading my squad at Dai Do.

Deployments of Gunnery Sergeant Gerald F Schuldt

May 1, 1965 – April 1, 1983

Dominican Republic

Camp Lejeune NC May 1 1965- May 29 1965

L/Cpl Company D Weapon Platoon 2nd Battalion 2nd Marine Regiment

2nd Marine Division FMFLANT, Camp Lejeune NC

South Vietnam

Quang Nam Province February 17 October 16 1966

L/Cpl SU#2 HQ Company Security Platoon HQ Battalion 3RD Marine Division

Cpl H&S Company Security Platoon 111 MAF FMFPAC China Beach

Quang Nam Province October 16 – March 22 1967

Cpl Company A Weapon Platoon; 1st Platoon 1st Battalion 26th Marine Regiment

1st Marine Division FMFPAC Hill 55

Quang Tri Province March 12 – 7 September 1968

SGT Company G 3rd; 2nd and 1st Platoons 2nd Battalion 4th Marine Regiment

3rd MARINE DIVISION FMF

Camp Hansen Okinawa

Evacuation of South Vietnam March -April 1975

SS Greenport April 6-8 1975

SS Mayaquez May 1975

SSGT Company 2nd Platoon, Company Gunnery Sergeant 1st Battalion

4th Marine Regiment 3RD MARINE DIVISION FMFPAC

Puerto Rico

Camp Lejeune NC June 1978 – April 1981

Combat Deployment to Puerto Rico December 3 –December 27 1979

Combat Deployment to Puerto Rico March 6-Aril 6 1980

Naval Installations Roosevelt Road, Sabana Seca and Fort Allen

Gunnery Sergeant Company Gunnery Sergeant of Company E 2nd Battalion

2nd Marine Regiment 2nd Marine Division FMFLANT CAMP LEJEUNE N

SECTION I

MIGRANE HEADACHE

No one controls the wind, it blows and rages based on its own will and desire. Sometimes we think that like the wind we are the masters of our destiny. To our chagrin this only leads to disappointment, the best we can do is face into the wind and bear its brunt. William Henley put it nicely when he wrote these next few words in poetic verse: ‘In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeoning of chance my head is bloody, but unbowed.’

I feel like that at times, especially when those migraine headaches overtake me, what can I do but bear the pain? I have suffered from migraine headaches for decades, no one really knows why. The many medical examinations, though comforting, never totally resolved these dreaded occurrences.

This time it occurred on Sunday, June 1st 2003, I woke with intense pain in my chest, loud ringing in my ears, and pain in endless waves moving up and down my body. The pain started in the back of my neck continuing up the back of my head, and then over the top, making me grit my teeth. As it flowed down the left side of my face I felt as if a knife had cut behind my left eye leaving it numb, then it pulsated down my body reaching my feet. It was not the first time and would not be the last, and I had learned to accept it, I could not change or control these occurrences.

I usually attended Stafford Baptist Community Church on Sundays; I found comfort, support and friendship there. Just about the time I decided to stay home that day the pain started to fade, so I changed my mind and decided to attend the services. After showering and dressing I walked over to my dresser and took my usual medication. To say that I enjoyed taking my medication would be misleading, I was told it kept me alive, I took the staggering number of ten prescription pills along with two injections, one was Insulin, the other Latuda and Humalog. As I leaned over to kiss my wife goodbye, she said, ‘Just where you think you’re going?’ My reply was ‘I am going to church of course.’

I drove my pickup truck west on highway 610, over Interstate 95 until we reached the parking lot of Country Inn, where the Stafford Community Baptist Church was meeting. I was glad to see all the familiar faces and felt right at home, saying hello to a friend or two, I sat down awaiting the church service.

Reverend Charlene Hogan was preaching that day, her husband Pastor Andrew L. Hogan was sitting behind her. Andrew smiled at me as I came in. I had not allowed myself to make many close friends since Vietnam; I had lost way too many friends there and the way to protect myself from such pain of heart, though primeval worked. I just avoided forming real close relationships with anyone. Pastor Hogan though was different, we had many things in common and he knew what was important in my life. He had become a ‘very’ good friend. We had both served in the US military for over 20 years, he had been in the ARMY, and I had been in the Marines. But most important of all he understood how I felt and after all, he was my Pastor, I could talk to him.

As I sat there trying to listen to the sermon, something went wrong. I felt dizzy, my vision was fading, and then the room started spinning around in circles. I felt like I was falling down into a pit. My head hurt really bad! I tried to pay attention to Charlene’s sermon, but my headache was getting to the point where I could not concentrate.

Lights and explosions like Roman candles were going off in my brain. I thought to myself, Maybe I can make it to the end of the sermon. She finished her sermon, I was relieved, I wanted to get something for my headache but the room was spinning, everyone was talking, and my vision was getting worse I could not move. I tried to stand, but vertigo immediately forced me to sit back down. At first I figured even if my speech was slurred, I could still make myself be understood but now I doubted even that. I had wavy lines going from right to left across my vision. While I could still see I scribbled a quick note. I wrote that I needed help and that I was having a terrible headache. I thought I could give it to the pastor or his wife, I knew they would come over to see me soon, they always did.

Reverend Charlene came over and in a concerned voice asked, Is everything alright, how are you feeling Jerry? I shook my head, that’s all I could do. She knew something was wrong but did not know what and I could not tell her. In her concern for me she did the only thing she knew that would not cause more harm. She said, Let me pray for you brother Schuldt. She applied holy oil on my forehead while doing so. I knew I was having a bad problem now, I couldn’t understand what she was saying, so I handed her the note I had written earlier. It said, Call 911. I need help. She called for her husband, and handed the note to him. Brother Johnson moved over next to me and I could hear his voice. Sister Vann was behind me saying words of comfort, ‘God saved me when I was in bad shape, and he will do the same for you too.’ Deaconess Smalley sat next to me. The pastor’s wife came back inside saying something like (help is on the way) but I couldn’t understand it. Everything went quiet around me.

Things were bad, worse that they had ever been. I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t move, it was as if I was paralyzed. My sight was going to the point that everything appeared as a white sheet in front of me. I could not hear, it was like a dream and I was in it, dying! Nothing like this had happened to me in 20 years, at least not since 1982 when I was the 1st Sergeant of HQ Company at Parris Island, South Carolina. That time I ended up in four different military hospitals.

The emergency unit finally arrived, and they started asking questions but I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know anything, and couldn’t understand them if I had. Pastor Hogan handed them the medical fact sheet I had given him prior to this. It had everything on it, doctors and phone numbers, my prescriptions, my current diagnosis, etc. The pastor told them that I had provided this list just in case something like this ever happened. He said, I called his wife, and she will meet him at the hospital. I was slowly fading. Everything was turning black!

The ambulance left, taking the fastest route to Mary Washington Hospital in Fredericksburg. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear, and I couldn’t move any part of my body. I spent the next four days in that Hospital. Maybe I should have stayed in bed that morning!

While recovering I started to reminisce; it was not that my life was flashing before me, no not at all, but something else, something strange that had never happened to me before was occurring. It was like a vision in the night, everything that ever happened to me in my life came into focus, events from the past were now becoming crystal clear. I could remember names of peoples and places from my youth until the present. A short while ago these were a conflicting series of flash cards but not anymore. How did I get from there to here, all that I had done and experienced, the good and the bad, it all came back as if it were a revelation from God, and if it was not from God then it was an instinctive urge. The best way to put it into words is something like this; here it is write it down, don’t think about why for now, just write!

So as soon as I was able to I started typing, every little detail and event that I recalled was recorded for fear that this gift would be taken away. Like so many things that people do, I have no real explanation for my actions outside of an innate urge to finish this tale.

I feel that my life, though not extraordinary has meaning and purpose and I would like to share it with those that love me and cared for me through both the good and through the difficult times. Thank you for reading the story of my life!

THE BEGINNING

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There is no greater gift one receives than the gift of life. As wonderful as it is to bringing another human being into this world there is still the matter of what that life becomes. I need to lay before you the life that I was given and I leave it to you to judge. I did my best and lived in such a way it had meaning for me and I hope it benefited my fellow man to some degree. I thank the God of all creation for giving me the opportunity to share it with you!

Sunday November 4th, 1945, George Arthur Schuldt hurriedly left his home in Portsmouth Virginia with his wife, Mary Elizabeth Schuldt, who was going into labor. At 9:55 PM their first son was born at ‘Kings Daughters Hospital’. They named him Gerald Francis Schuldt. He was their third child; they had previously had two girls, Betty and Sandra Lee. I am that boy, and this is the story of my life!

There was also an older half-brother, George Arthur Schuldt Jr. Who live in Guttenberg Iowa with his mother Edith A H Thiese she married my dad on 22 Dec 1934 but later she married Vuegene Frederick Borcherding April 25 1947 at that time they were not in the picture as to speak. My father was originally from Madison County Iowa and my mother from the Deep Creek (Chesapeake) Virginia. At the time of my birth, my father worked as a Rigger at the Norfolk Navy Yard and my mother was a housewife.

As a child I recall playing alone much of the time and I preferred it like that, I let my imagination entertain me and I was never bored. My parents, not being able to understand the workings of my mind were worried that something might be wrong with me. My older sister Betty had been diagnosed with psychological problems and of course as any parent would, they worried that I would develop similar behavioral patterns. Over the years I was examined, probed and questioned by a series of doctors never really knowing why. I was left to wonder what was really wrong with me and I am sure that my parents did not want to arouse any undue concern in me. Deep down inside of me I knew I was a little different and I now realize that it was not good for the self-esteem of a young lad like me not to have things explained to him.

I had few close friends until I was 8 years old that’s when Tina came into my life.

Tina was special because she was my first real friend and playmate and I will never forget her. My father would take us kids on weekends to meet his friend, Buddy who had been a Marine and had fought in the Pacific and had been severely wounded. Buddy loved to tell us his war stories, and I am sure they affected me. They seemed so exiting and glorious and I hung onto his every word. Tina would be there every with us and I liked her, she was about my age and my first real friend. We had some good times and at times things did not go as well.

I recall one such day with regret, she was repeatedly calling me by my middle name, she knew I hated that. So I pushed her off the porch railing that she was sitting on and she fell severely cutting the back of her head. I was so very sorry and still wanted us to be friends; I apologized and was glad when she forgave me. Later in life, she would joke about that incident and she told others she had been branded as mine because of that scar on the back of her head that I’d put there. I enjoyed going to the movies with her and her mom.

There was one particular afternoon Buddy went to the Norfolk Naval Base where he met a friend of his stationed there with the Marines. Dad pulled up to the front gate in our Ford Station Wagon and stopped. I will never forget that Marine on Duty standing there in his Dress Blue Uniform asking us where we were going? Wow, he looks really cool I was at an impressionable age. I asked my Dad right then and there if he would buy me a uniform just like it. Buddy was amused and laughingly said, "Sonny, you have to join Uncle Sam’s Marines to get one of those." I replied, I’m gonna join as soon as I get old enough. They all laughed at that, and Buddy responded, You got a way to go Jerry. I was only 6 years old at the time.

Over the years I remembered all of what Buddy had told me all about the Marines, how hard they trained at boot camp. How it was the hardest and best of all the branches of the military services, and that only the best make it through. Time went on and I never forgot, it became my goal in life. The image of the Marine in his dress blues was imprinted in my mind and could never be erased; I wanted to be just like him it would take me thirteen years to make my wish a reality I joined the United States Marine Corps, on January 4th, 1964.

But let me regress to my younger days and share events in my life that led me up to that day.

I started school at Patrick Henry Elementary. Then we moved to a new house across town a ways, and I changed to Robert E. Lee Elementary. I remember getting into trouble there and the teacher hit me across the back of my hand with a ruler. I can still feel both the sting, and the embarrassment of being disciplined in front of everyone. I was shy and afraid of being rejected by others; as a result I never felt comfortable around my schoolmates. I was a lone wolf and I liked it.

The older I became the more I noticed a pattern to my fathers’ behavior, when he was in the bottle he would become physical and would beat both my mom and us kids. Life at home was no longer good, it became a living hell over time and of course his drinking got worse. Though physical abuse is terrible the shock of being abandoned surpasses even that. We came home from school one day and discovered that our mother had left, our world crumbled, she was gone! Apparently she had enough of the abuse and skipped town with another man! My father came home and not finding her there was really pissed off, and we were the ones he took it out on. We were scared to death, when he demanded us to tell him where she was and we didn’t know what to say, we did not know either. Being abandoned by our mother, our father would not be able to care for us, we were afraid that we were going to be put in an orphanage home. That had happened to our father when he was young and the stories he told about that were not pleasant.

Next day on Sunday, our two Uncles, George Waller and Rose’s son and their families, came to the house to pick us up. We were to go to church with them; (I didn’t know what church was back then.) After church was over, my two uncles started talking about what should be done with us kids. They informed my father that they were going to take us to live with them. Uncle George Waller told us he’d decided to take Rick and myself to live on his farm in Black Water Virginia. He was a farmer with two sons, Lloyd and Bennie. We were to stay there on that farm until Dad got settled and came to get us.

My brother Bob and our two sisters went with the other uncle, Roses son.

I liked living on the farm for a while, but it got old fast. After living there for a year, I was more than ready for a change of pace. Luckily for me, around that time my Dad came back to get us and I got my wish. For about six months or so, we all got together again and stayed with Dad and his sister Mildred, they were sharing a place at the time. Stability was not to be, and little did I realize that the succeeding years were going to be ones of constant change and turmoil.

Our mother came back briefly with a court order in her hand, she managed to get custody of my sisters, but we boys had to stay where we were, with our father. Eventually we moved into the home of a lady he knew, Hannah I think her name was, she had a house close to the Virginia Beach Drive-Inn. My Brother’s and I cleaned up the drive-in every morning. That lasted until Dad met another woman and married her. That meant moving again, this time into his new mother-in-law’s house. It was close to a railroad yard, and you could hear the trains all the time. The family grew; I gained two stepsisters and a stepbrother.

I liked to go over to the train tracks and jump on a train as it went past. It was exiting, I’d chase the ladder on the side of the car, and jump to catch it and then I hung on for dear life. I loved the feel of the wind rushing past me and the danger. I’d ride for a bit and drop off the ladder not too far down the line so I could walk back and then I would do it with the next train again.

We went to a school down the end of the street where we lived. As I matured physically I met my first girlfriend at that school and we would meet every Thursday night and go to the school dance. I recall that on one of those nights, on the way home, three boys jumped my stepbrother and started a fight. The three of us, Bob, Rick and me took off after them as they ran home. It was exciting to be strong enough to have others afraid of you; it was a new feeling for me.

We all affect the people in our lives, either for good or bad. Because my father drank it kept us low on funds, we were too poor for non-essentials like birthday parties. Right after he married, my new stepmother gave me the only Birthday Party in my entire childhood. I will never forget her for that kindness; I don’t think she will ever realize how much that meant to me, she threw the one and only birthday party I ever had as a kid, I loved it.

Dad never changed, he kept drinking and it was not pleasant for us or anyone else to be around him. He would hit us kids and my new stepmother just like he had my mother! We stayed away from him when we could.

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I guess you could say we all had a dysfunctional background; at least that’s what they call it now when you come from a broken home. My mother had married the man she ran off with and as is many times the case he was no better than my Dad, as a matter of fact he was worse. He was evil and wicked, the fact he did not drink mattered little. Our mother now had all five of us children again. We lived in Virginia Beach, VA on 19th Street, in a top floor apartment. We could see all round the area from there. We lived there for a year. In the winter we had to carry water from across the street and back up the steps to the top floor because the pipes would freeze. School was not too far away from our house. We were poor and knew it; we never had much of anything, to own a car was out of the question! If we could not reach our destination by walking we just did not go.

Another move, this time to 30th Street, and that was where we would stay for some time. It was right behind the drycleaner where our mother worked. It was two blocks from the beach! I thought that was great and I spent most of my time on the beach. Then in 1957 we moved to a hilltop home on 31st street.

I had a paper route and I was doing very well with it until one day my money started disappearing. I was not shocked when I found out that my stepfather was taking it so he could go play pinball machines on the boardwalk arcade! That’s the kind of selfish guy he was, he had no feelings for anyone but himself. I felt so violated since I finally had something that was my own, something I had earned! It really hurt; it hurt my innate sense of justice and of what is right, it made me physically churn inside, it was like bile collecting in my stomach, I did not know what to do about it. I was just a boy, what could I do, what should I do? I had no one to turn to, I felt so helpless.

My brothers and I had joined the Boy Scouts, and we worked our way up in the ranks. We were just poor kids and were treated accordingly the Boy Scout troop was the only place were we were treated just like everyone else. They gave us Boy Scout uniforms and I enjoyed going on camping trips and other Scouting activities, I was finally living and I never forgot it. Later in life this would be my most rewarding venue as I cared for other youngsters as a Scout Master. Edge Case and our parents were friends and Edge’s son was in our Boy Scout Troop. We were going on a camping trip that weekend and all the Boy Scouts in the area would be there. A Marine infantry unit had a display set up for everyone to see. Not only could we look but they allowed us to pick up the weapons and handle them. This was great until someone broke one of the 106RR’s.

Our scout troop leader became sick and they had to take him to get medical care, so they told us to pack our gear and we had to leave since no one was there to replace him. One of the Marine Sergeants said he would stay with us. We loved that idea! He was a 0311 a GRUNT from what he had said. I was struggling to put my tent up by myself, as I was alone this trip. He said I could share his tent with him and he was changing the tent around to make it bigger! He called it his command post! I asked him how long he had been in the Marines, he said over 10 years so far. I said I wanted to do the same and told all about my father’s best friend who was a former Marine, and how he had inspired me with his stories. He liked that very much and asked for my Dad’s friend’s name. We became good friends on that Scout camping trip. We would be taking our Hiking merit badge test in the morning. It would be a five-mile hike from the beach to a hilltop. If you made it, you would earn your badge. We lined up. Everyone was ready to go, and we started at 8:30 am. The pace stayed the same all through the march. I would stay right up behind the Marine for the entire march. He was very surprised that I could keep up with him. He told me I had done the best in the whole troop. He left that Sunday afternoon and even though I would never see him again, I would never forget him for what he had done for us, and the kindness he showed.

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Now I was thinking about going to the next level in Scouts, but I never made it, I discovered the high school band instead. We marched in parades and at football games and I liked that. I had a tendency to get into trouble with people in the higher grades. If they called me names or teased me, I just tore into them, it mattered little if there was one or three or four, I guess I had a lot of anger in me and I finally got into some serious trouble.

Involved in my own problems I did not have much time for other people’s problems but we did observe some odd behavior on the part of my sister Sandra, she changed into a quiet reticent person whenever our stepfather was in the room.

We walked to Church on Sundays and it gave some meaning and order to our routine. I had accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior as a young boy, but I did not maintain my religious fervor do to the abusive treatment my stepfather heaped upon us, he physically abused us boys.

I went to the beach every day. I liked to meet my girlfriend there. She lived on Atlantic Ave and 21st. She was poor just like me, so we got along just fine. If it rained or got too cold, we would go to her house. But most of the time we spent at the beach. I didn’t like to go home very much because of my stepfather. I hated the abuse, and the mental oppressive atmosphere he created. She knew the man who ran the lifeguard stands at the beach. She talked to him about me and got me a job! I started working as the 21st Street assistant lifeguard! I would put all the things out in the morning and then take them down again in the afternoon.

We went to the beach together, and I would stay there all day long. Her mother was a single parent, a much less common thing back then. She had told her it was OK to stay out there on the beach with me. We both had great suntans and were happy, even though we didn’t have material things like the rich kids. We were content in each others company. We never cared about what other kids said. They said nasty things like, Hey look at that White Trash! or called us good for nothing. We didn’t understand why people could be so mean! We stayed together as a couple until I had to leave. She was my first love!

One day my parents told us kids we were moving to Miami Florida! I was crushed. I had to tell her I was leaving! I walked over to her, dreading every step closer. Little did I know she too had bad news for me? I arrived at her place and delivered the terrible news. She hugged me and started to cry. She said she was leaving also! She and her Mom were going back to her grandmother’s place to live. We were terribly sad and clung to each other, we promised never to forget each other.

We left Virginia and moved to Miami Fla. We stayed with friends of my Stepfather’s until we got our own house. They lived in S.W. Miami. I liked going to the roller skating rink, and it was just up the road from their house. We moved to 142nd ST in the NW section of Miami. I went to Miami Jackson High School. I didn’t want to be in the band anymore and I started long distance running, something that benefited me for many years.

I made friends at our new church, the Northwest Baptist Church in Miami. I genuinely liked the people there and I decided to become very involved as a member of their teenage club. We had a summer camp up in Jacksonville Florida, and the church paid our way. The church youth group also played lots of sports; I really enjoyed being part of the church. Eventually, I joined the Cruisers for Christ Club. At this point, I worked hard at winning souls for my Lord Jesus. I took my folder with me to school and would witness to my classmates. I truly enjoyed playing softball on the church team. We always went over to someone’s house after the games. There was unity as all of us in the teen club hung out together, all of us - not just a few!

Something happened that changed my two brothers. They stopped going to the church youth activities, and developed different friends. Their new friends were nothing like mine. Now we each had our own friends. Rick started hitting me because he thought I was weak. I was happy and things were going great for me, so I was confused by their behavior. But I had just met a girl name Terry, and she was a good friend so I did not care so much. Shortly after that, I had a big disagreement with some people in the Church. What it was all about I no longer remember. In the end, I never went back to that church.

I started roller-skating in my free time, and I actually became pretty good at it. I met a lot of people at the skating rink, especially girls. At this time we moved to 828 NW 109th Street. One Sunday afternoon I met a nice Spanish looking girl at the skating rink. I was 15 or 16, and she was 14. She was a good-looking girl. I smiled and said hi to her and said some nice things about her and we became friends. She was having a 15th birthday party and she asked me to come! Of course I went to the party. I could not understand what they were saying, but we danced and had a good time. She was a very nice girl and I liked her, and then I lost track of her when she moved, I never saw her again. It’s hard to keep loosing your friends!

Bill and his wife were good people and they owned the roller skating rink. They gave me a job handing out skates I enjoyed doing that. I met Carol and Peggy there and Carol was the best skater I had ever seen. I started joined the skating club and took up speed skating which I enjoyed and I even won a few times. They told me there was a roller hockey team, so I joined that too. I got pretty good after some practice. Peggy told me she had a new girlfriend who wanted to meet me! Her name was Donna. She was 16 and a very nice girl. I was skating out on the floor during a men’s skate when she came in and smiled at me. I came off the floor and gave her some skates. We hit it off good right away, I was not shy around her and we talked about a lot of different things. We skated and eventually we started dating. She was my first High School sweetheart I was infatuated with her. To me she looked just like Mary Tyler Moore on TV and when I mentioned that to her she told me she was my very own movie star!

The beauty of being young and having your feelings for someone grow and develop could be compared to the blossoming of a beautiful rose. It is a slow process and as each pedal unfolds a new wonder or door opens and surprises you. It makes you glad that you are alive to experience such a wonderful gift from God. You look forward to each day and enjoy the company of the one you love more than you ever imagined would be possible. That type of love is clean and refreshing and usually culminates in marriage. It is clean and undefiled like a white summer dress on a virgin bride.

But take that away from someone, put a smudge or stain on that pure white dress, and no matter how often you wash it, it is no longer clean or pure. You always have a stain there and you are reminded of it for the rest of your life. The way you view the opposite sex is tarnished forever, and so is your life.

I don’t know how people become who they are and how one can have so black a heart. I really do not want to know how my stepfather became the person he was, I was too young and naïve to get into that part of his life, but this I know, he was evil. If he succeeded in luring them to his darkroom he would find perverted pleasure in touching these young girls, molesting them! Today he would be in jail but back then it was not something openly mentioned.

He manifested his wickedness in the way that he would punish us. The punishment was very severe and it mattered not that most times the infractions were minor. Once he told our mother we had done something bad, she never would ask to hear our side of the story. She took his side every time. Then he would make us bend over a chair, and while we were holding on to it, he would whip us with his belt at least five times with all his strength. One time, he whooped me 35 times just because I wouldn’t cry! After that I told him, never again, you ever hit me again, I’ll kill you!

One day I came home and found my brother Bob was beside himself, I had never seen him like that before. He revealed to me that our stepfather (Allen) had put his filthy hands on our dear sister. That was too much for me; he had broken a sacred trust and had molested my sister and I cared about her very much! I charged at him (Allen) and screamed that I was going to kill him! At that moment my mother came home from work, she did not know what we knew and it was hard for her to accept what happened with all the screaming and name calling going on then. To try to convince her we had Sandra herself relate what happened, still like in all the other cases she just could not believe it. My mother told Sandra, You don’t know what you are talking about! That is IMPOSSIBLE!

My sister began to cry. The pain of being molested, the courage it had taken to reveal that horrible event and then to have your own mother stick up for the man that did such an unthinkable act was devastating to her. God gave all of us a sense of justice that needs to be appeased or satisfied, when that does not happen we have a mental breakdown; our mind knows something is not working the way it should. She was never the same, to this day I don’t know if she blamed herself or thought she deserved to be treated like that, but for me that never entered my mind. You don’t do something like that to MY sister, there had to be retribution! To shield her from what was in my heart and what I planned next, I told my sister to get out of the house.

I gave no forethought to any consequences as I cried out in my anguish: I’m going to kill this Son of a Bitch! My mother pleaded, Please don’t! Her unwillingness to see what was happening around her had caused her whole world to fall apart at this moment. In consideration for her I told Allen to stay away from my sister and me, if ever I heard something like that again I was going to figure out a way to kill him without any regrets. That miserable Son Of a Bitch! Things were intolerable from then on and Bob and Rick could no longer live under the same roof as him, Bob moved out first.

My sister and I were very close, I felt like her protector and I had failed. We talked a lot to each other after that and whenever she wanted to go dancing I took her. At one of those dances we talked about what had happened, and she told me once before someone had abused her. An unnamed uncle (Roses son) had raped her when she was younger. [He was found guilty in court for molesting my sister and was told to stay away from the family] With tears in her eyes she revealed that our stepfather had done it more than once. What they did destroyed not only her self esteem but permanently damaged her emotionally, as time went on it didn’t get any better. She was damaged where it was impossible for her to heal, namely in hear heart.

In March I joined the military. I headed downtown where the recruiting offices were. I wanted to join the Marines but to my chagrin I somehow ended up with the Florida Army National Guard, all I wanted was to get away. I had to take a bunch of tests and I passed most of them, I was in the Army now.

My very first and only real girlfriend I ever had was mad at me, Donna wouldn’t talk to me for a while but she eventually returned my calls and we started talking again. She said she felt hurt because I hadn’t talked to her about joining up. I reminded her that I had always told her all about my childhood dreams of becoming a Marine and getting a set of Dress Blues. I told her I was to leave in July for boot camp, and we cried together a bit. It was a big decision I had made and I was looking forward to what would come next, I remember how exited I was!

The last few weeks Donna and I went to a lot of difference places like the skating ring, dancing, and I remember the walks on the beach and then we would go to a place to eat. We had been together for some time now and it was hard to part, she told me she would write me every day while I was in boot camp and she did. I left on July 2, 1963 for Fort Jackson South Carolina.

I had left home because of my stepfather one year later my brother Bob joined the Air Force.

FLORIDA NATIONAL GUARD

HQ Battery 2ND AW Battalion 265 Artillery

On March 26th 1963 I walked into the recruiting office of the Florida National Guard in Miami. I wanted to enlist in the Army National Guard. The recruiter told me to follow him. We went into the back of the next room where I had to take a writing test. I passed it. They told me I would be going to get medical exam next month. I was to meet the bus here at the office that morning at 0630 hours. I made sure I was there early. I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t miss the bus. I didn’t miss it.

Once the bus arrived in front of the armory we all got on obviously I was not the only one going to get a medical exam. When I finished the tests I was informed that I passed. We left there and returned to the armory so we could report to the Commanding Officer. The next morning they issued my US Army uniforms and told me to report to the front office where the Staff Sergeant NCOIC (Non-Commissioned Officer in Charge) would take care of me. He said, Private Schuldt, your orders are to report to US Army Basic Training, Fort Jackson, South Carolina on July 2nd 1963. Until then you are required to report here for drill once a month. I went to drill once a month, just as ordered.

Donna and I dated right up until I left for boot camp. We went skating, dancing, or went to the beach. Often, we stayed at her parent’s house and just hung out. Finally, the day came for me to leave for basic training, or boot camp. On July 2nd I arrived at the train station 30 minutes early. Much to my surprise, Donna was standing there with her parent waiting for me. When it was time for me to board the train, we hugged each other fiercely, and said our goodbyes. She said, I will write you everyday that you are gone. I was touched by this gesture of love from her.

Finally, I boarded the train and it started to pull away from the Miami train station, heading north. It was a long trip to South Carolina, I was excited, but melancholy thinking about Donna. After many hours, we reached our stop. I got off the train only to encounter my first Drill Sergeant. He was standing there rigid as an iron pole, and forcefully commanding. He told all of us recruits to get onto the bus in no uncertain terms. The bus then left for Fort Jackson. Boot camp was about to begin I thought to myself.

On March 26 1963 I enlisted in the Army National Guard. I passed all the tests and returned to the armory and reported to the Commanding Officer. The next morning they issued me the uniforms and told me to report to the front office where the Staff Sergeant would take care of me. He said, Private Schuldt, your orders are to report to US Army Basic Training, Fort Jackson, South Carolina on July 2nd 1963. Until then you are required to report here for drill once a month. I went to drill once a month, just as ordered.

Donna and I dated right up until I left for boot camp; she was there when the train pulled out and pulled away heading north. It was a long trip to South Carolina; I was excited but melancholy thinking about Donna. After many hours we arrived and I encounter my first Drill Sergeant. He was standing there rigid as an iron pole, and forcefully commanding. He told all of us recruits to get on the bus in no uncertain terms. The bus then left for Fort Jackson. Boot camp was about to begin!

US ARMY BOOT CAMP

Fort Jackson, South Carolina

July in South Carolina is sweltering, the sun and humidity combined take their toll on man and beast, the only thing more precious than shade is water. So it was when the bus stopped in front of a building on the base, A Sergeant ordered us to get up, exit the bus, and make sure our orders were held in our right hands. I complied. I turned my orders in to an orderly and went through the next door. Another Sergeant ordered, All recruits will get in the first line outside of the first door and get your hair cut! I got in line. I walked through the door and got in the next line. The Sergeant said, Next! I walked inside sat down in the empty barber’s chair. It was time to get my first military haircut. A few minutes later the barber was finished and I had no visible hair left. I was ordered to get into the next line. This time we were giving yet another medical examination, naked. After I was finished there, we lined up and were told to take a shower. After that, the next line was where we were issued uniforms. Everything we could not wear we put into a duffle bag and slung it on our backs.

When everyone in our group was finished processing, we were marched off to the mess hall for lunch then on to the classrooms. Other recruits were standing there waiting for us, we were told to sit down and take a classification tests to determine our jobs in the Army. After this test, the Sergeants told us to take our duffel bags outside and wait for trucks to take us to our barracks. It was my first introduction to an assembly line; we were part of a group, no longer individuals. The trucks pulled up in front of the building and we stood there until our names were called. When they did call, we would sound off loudly, Here Sergeant! Then we’d break out of formation and double-time over to get onto one of the trucks. The Trucks took us to our company, 1st Training Regiment, 3rd Battalion, C Company.

As we drove up the hill towards our company CP or command post, we could see a water tower on top of the hill called ‘Tank Hill.’ When the trucks stopped in front of the command post a Sergeant told everyone to get off the trucks and to make sure to take all our gear with us. Next he ordered us to get into a formation of four deep. By now our every move was being orchestrated, we did not do a single thing of our own initiative. More Sergeants came out of the CP, eight all together, as they approached they and started telling (yelling) us what to do, where to go, and who they were. They were the Platoon Sergeants and, the assistant Platoon Sergeants and so on, they were letting us know who was in charge. The first man to step up front and address us in formation was Master Sergeant Perez. He informed us he was out senior field leader. Next was the company First Sergeant, First Sergeant Reid. The First Sergeant is the senior enlisted man with command, a key leadership position and right hand man to the company commander.

Sergeant Reid welcomed us to Charlie company and then introduced our Commanding Officer, 1st Lieutenant Diaz, and the Executive Officer, or XO, 2nd Lieutenant Dasher. After brief introductions and welcoming us to our new home, we were given a pep talk about how exciting our training would be, the 1LT Diaz turned us back over to FSG Reid. He then summoned MSG Perez back front and center and ordered him to separate all the troops into platoons. MSG Perez barked out names and we double-timed up front and center to face him. Then he’d turn us over to a Platoon Sergeant who would lead each group away.

Charlie Company had four platoons and I was in the 4th Platoon. The 4th Platoon was lead by Sergeant Ford the Platoon Sergeant, and Sergeant Allen as his assistant. They marched us over to our barracks, to the 2nd floor of one of the barracks, and assigned us a rack (bed), a wall locker, and a footlocker. Now, our real Boot Camp was about to begin, but on that day, on the second floor, home of the 4th Platoon, there was nothing but confusion.

Basic Training officially commenced on July 12th, 1963 and completed on Sept 6th. There are always a few days of processing when forming a recruit training company. Our first training day started out chaotic. We were confused and none of us recruits were sure what to do, so there was a lot of yelling, they not only let us know what to do but how dumb we were when we did not do it right. Sergeant Ford taught class on the military way to make a rack and where to put our gear, how to fold and put uniforms inside the wall locker and how to stow our gear in the footlocker. A fire watch is something that is always necessary and even that first night we were introduced to that. At 2200 hours (10:00 PM) all the confusion stopped, the lights were turned off. Believe it or not, we were actually tired and ready for some sleep.

In the morning Master Sergeant Perez was the PT or physical training instructor, he told us how and what to do, and how our performance would be judged. In the beginning, there was a lot of confusion. The Sergeant’s job was to make sure we would get it right, eventually we would! Our first time running together as a company was difficult and confusing. Other more seasoned recruits laughed at us remembering when they were in the same situation. I have to admit we looked pretty funny. I remember running down the road in platoon formation and doing a lot better than what everyone thought I would, including myself. I guess my cross-country training in High School had proved beneficial after all. When we returned to our barracks hot and sticky we welcomed a shower, after that we cleaned our barracks, I had to empty and clean the GI (Trash) can. Then our first personal inspection, I was nervous about that but I passed. Afterward we had ‘Mail Call’ Sergeant Ford called my name and I received the first of many welcomed letters from Brenda. He told us to put the mail away until we were on our break time tonight. I didn’t listen to him and eagerly ripped the envelope open. I got into trouble for doing that. SGT Ford told me I would have Kitchen Patrol or KP duty for the next three days for, unauthorized mail reading. I restrained my ‘letter ripping’ impulses after that. I had the worst job, cleaning the grease trap all three days because I failed to follow orders.

We were supposed to have a short hike the second week of training. From what they told us it would be just a five-mile forced march. But the 4th platoon which was at the rear of the company had to run the whole way because the recruits in front kept breaking formation, some were dropping out to the side of the road. It took a long time to start or stop a column of men, as a result when they slowed down we were stopped, when they walked normal, we had to run to catch up. Those of us in back of the company formation were really upset because those in front just couldn’t get it right, it was torture and it lasted until 1600 (4 pm) that day.

The next morning we had another forced march. Once again, a lot of recruits dropped out. I was better off this time for I was assigned the job of road guard up in front of the company, the guys at the rear of the formation always suffered from the actions of those in the front; don’t ask me why, it just works that way. We started back at 1230 hours, heading for the company assembly area. Then we came to the bottom of a hill.

Many times the rite from being a boy to becoming a man is expressed by some extraordinary act. Many books and stories have been written about this. The one I recall involves a group of schoolboys sailing around the world, when they reached this certain tropical Island they had to climb to the top of a small mountain. Overwhelmed by the panoramic view it gave them a sense of accomplishment. The world was theirs that day!

The rite for us did not involve some exotic tropical Isle, It was neither pictorial nor romantic and no one bothered to explain anything to us, our rite was carried out in the middle of summer in a hot and humid Camp Jackson in South Carolina. The results, the sense of accomplishment though were ours. It was the rite from being a civilian to becoming a soldier; all we had to do was get to the top of that hill!

They said it was a long way to the top and they were so right! It was as if someone was mocking us, laughing at us, ‘so you think you accomplished something, well just look at me, they don’t call me Drag Ass Hill for nothing.’ It was heartbreaking; all we could do was let out a sigh and keep going. You had to reach deep inside yourself and find some hidden inner strength to ascend that distant crest. But boy did it feel good when you made it. I did