A Not So Remarkable Life: The Life of an American Soldier

By Matthew J. West Sr.

I am not sure why people have asked me to write my memoirs, as I feel I have not done anything spectacular with my life. But, on these pages you will find things I have gone through in my life, challenges, victories and losses as well. My rise through the ranks in the United States Army from Private through Sergeant Major. My personal life, my family, and my faults. As I continue to grow as a man, I hope that some of my lessons, will help others in their struggles.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781312020368

Book preview

Copyright 978-1-312-02036-8

Imprint: Lulu.com

Forward

Obviously, this book would not have been written without the life that was given to me.  To my Dad and Mom, Charles and Christine West, thank you for providing for me through my formidable years as I grew into the man I am today.  I was an absolutely rotten kid, that tested you at every turn, but you loved me and taught me good and bad things, that molded me into who I am today.

To my wife Dianna, who has been with me for decades, I love you and will always be grateful that you are part of my life.  We have brought four children into this world, who are all adults living their lives today, because you were the rock of the relationship.  I have said it before, and will say it again, you should have left me many years ago, but you chose to stay, and for that I am forever in your debt.

To all of the mentors, many of whom will be mentioned in this book, thank you for being a beacon of hope, courage, leadership and respect.  I have learned from you the most important points in my life, and tried to emulate you as best I can.  I have failed many times, but, I gave it my all, to represent you and your ideologies throughout my life.

This is not a complete history of my life, but some major highlights that provide the insight, to understand who I was, who I am, and who I want to be.

Matthew J. West Sr.

Prologue

It was early morning, the sun was starting to shine above the tree line.  The air was thick with the smell of cordite.  The Company, that was defending the city, had held the city from the imperialistic invaders.  On the fictitious Island of Aragon, in the city of Shughart-Gordon, the Cortinian Liberation Force was going toe-to-toe with two United States Infantry Battalions. 

The Commander of Operations Group, relayed his orders via radio, and told the Commander of the Cortinian forces, to withdraw from the city, and allow the American to enter, and conduct a transfer of authority.  Systematically, the freedom fighters withdrew into the surrounding wood line leaving behind their fortified positions.  Within ten to fifteen minutes, all of the Cortinian Forces had melted away, save a couple of individuals that had died during the fighting.

What I just described to you, was an actual event that took place at the Joint Readiness Training Center, during what is called a Rotation.  Units from across the Army come to the JRTC to be tested in this crucible.  They are observed, evaluated and provided feedback on the things done well, and those they did not.  There was a specific Rotation with the 75th Ranger Regiment, where, when asked about the training, a Platoon Sergeant stated, I hate coming to the JRTC.  Every time I come here I get killed.  I have deployed to actual combat, and the Opposing Forces here, are worse than any enemy I have faced. 

I started the book with this, as my four years with the Opposing Forces (1st Battalion, 509th Infantry (Airborne), were among the best years of my twenty-six year career.

Chapter 1

The Early Years

A story is just a recollection of events that transpire through time and space.  This is no different.  Over the years, I have had people ask me to write my memoirs, and to be honest, I thought they were crazy.  What do I have to offer that would intrigue a reader to want to know about me?  What have I accomplished within my life that would get people to sit down and think, Wow, I have to get this book?  Personally, I think, nothing I have done is extraordinary that would pique too much interest, but after much inquisition I have decided to throw my life out there, on paper.  The good, bad and the ugly.

My family lineage comes from the West’s, Stevenson’s, Murphy’s and Shaughnessy’s.  The West family traveled from Ireland, through England to British Columbia, and then to the United States.  The Stevenson’s are the oldest Americans, as they have been in the country since early 1800’s. The Murphy’s came from Ireland, and settled in Massachusetts.  Finally, the Shaughnessy’s came from Ireland to New York in the late 1800’s.  My Great Grandfather, Michael Francis Shaughnessy was from Ireland, and his friend had saved up money to purchase a ticket to go to America.  The day of departure, Michael took him to lunch.  His friend got really nervous, and said he could not go.  He gave his ticket to Michael, who replied, Tell me Mum, I will be late for dinner.  He boarded the ship and came to America.  My Great Grandmother Alice Mary Copely was from Ireland as well.  Her family lived on a small farm, with a small open concept house.  There was a hearth in the center of the house, for cooking and to keep the house warm.  One tragic day, Mary’s little brother, a toddler, was playing, and fell into the fire.  Her mother Alice Dillon Copely, tried to retrieve the child, but she too was consumed by the fire.  Mary saw the whole thing.  Her father Thomas Copely, saw the smoke from the house, but he was too late.  He was so distraught and realized that could not raise a little girl on his own.  He sent Mary to an orphanage where she spent the rest of her childhood.  At the age of seventeen, she was sent to America to be an indentured servant to a well-to-do family in New York, serving as their nanny and maid.  Over the next seven years, she worked her way to gaining her citizenship and also met Michael Francis Shaughnessy.  They married in 1906 and had four children, Michael F. Jr, Martin T., Alice M. (my grandmother) and Joseph C. Shaughnessy.  Joseph (better known as Mickey) went on to a bit of fame and fortune, as a comedian, and an American Actor.  Shaughnessy, who was six feet tall and weighed 210 pounds, became a character actor who played "tough, colorful character in films like From Here to Eternity, in which he played the amiable Sergeant Leva.  He also appeared in Jailhouse Rock and in Designing Woman (1957), playing a boxer who could only sleep with his eyes open. As a performer, Shaughnessy won critical praise for roles that might otherwise be overlooked. Writing in The New York Times, film critic Bosley Crowther said that his role in The Sheepman (1958) was the item to be most grateful for, and called him ''a slag heap of pot-belly, wounded dignity and scowls.'' His final roles included a part in Walt Disney’s The Boatniks. He also appeared in the 1971 series Chicago Teddy Bears, a comedy about a speak-easy in the 1920s. According to the Los Angeles Times, Shaughnessy once said that he always kept in mind the old Irishman--the guy who refuses the dentist’s Novocain. He sits there and takes out his rosary and offers up the pain for his sins.  In addition to his film career, he also worked in radio and television and had a nightclub act.

The West’s and Murphy’s became family when my Grandfather, Charles Albert West Sr, married Mary Ruth Murphy.  Charles Albert West Sr was born May 4, 1911 in New Jersey to Thomas J. West and Mary Chadwick.  He was raised in Jersey City and resided in Edgewater and Cliffside Park, NJ.  He has two brothers (Thomas Jr, 1907-1999 and Henry born 1910- unk).  He died 0n February 7th, 1985 in Cliffside Park, NJ at the age of 73. Mary Ruth Murphy who was born August 15, 1914 to William E. Murphy and Francis B. Murphy in Boston, Massachusetts.  She grew up in various locations of Massachusetts, Rochelle Park and Edgewater, NJ.  She had a sister Evelyn born 1905, brothers William R. Murphy born 1907, Robert F. Murphy born 1909, Edward J. Murphy born 1911-1981 and Walter T. Murphy born 1913.  She died on April 13, 2006 in Edgewater, NJ at the age of 91. 

My parents were Charles Albert West Jr, and Christine Grace Stevenson.  Charles Albert West Jr was born September 12, 1936 in New York, NY to Charles Albert West and Mary Ruth Murphy.  He was raised in Edgewater, NJ and graduated from Englewood High School in 1955.  He has twin brothers (Gary and Eric born 1945) and one sister (Evelyn born 1941).  He married Christine Grace Stevenson on December 22, 1956.  He grew up in Edgewater, NJ and joined the Army after High School.  He served from 1955-1958 at Fort Campbell, KY and Garmisch, Germany.  He was a Paratrooper with the 11th Airborne Division.  On April 21, 2016 in DeSoto, Texas, my dad and Uncle Gary, were fixing the mailbox, while my mother supervised.  My dad went into the house to get something, and my Nieces dog, ran out the front door.  My dad gave chase, at seventy-nine years old, and caught the dog.  He put the dog in the house, looked at my mom and uncle, and said, Wow, I don’t feel so good.  Immediately, he dropped to ground, and was dead on the spot.  Massive heart attack.

Christine Grace Stevenson was born August 29, 1936 to William H. Stevenson and Alice Margaret Shaughnessy in New York, NY.  She has two brothers William (1934-1985), and Peter (1941-2000).  She was raised in Englewood, and attended and graduated from Englewood High School in 1955. She passed away on January 22, 2021 in Fort Worth, Texas.   

I cannot tell you much about my birth, as I was very young when it happened.  However, from what I have been told, I was born a couple of weeks early, and made my entrance into this world on April 26th, 1966.  I was born in Teaneck, New Jersey, and was raised in the town of Saddle Brook.  My parents were practicing Catholics up to the first two and half years of my life, but they met a Baptist Pastor named Paul Gillette and that changed their lives, forever.  Both my Mom and Dad were smokers, they drank and partied like most late twenty and early thirty somethings did, in the 1960’s.  Nothing too outlandish but dinner parties and the like.  That all came to a stop when they accepted Jesus Christ as their Lord and Savior.  We became very active in our local church there, and my father became very close to Pastor Gillette.  We lived in a nice home in our town, of Saddle Brook, New Jersey, and as a child that house was huge.  Four stories including the basement and the attic.  First floor was the living, dining and kitchen area and den, second floor was three bedrooms and two bathrooms.  We converted the basement in to a large family room, and the attic into a bedroom for my older brother and me.  A funny story when I was about two years old, I used to sit at the window and watch my older brother and sister outside playing.  I wanted so bad to be out there.  I wanted to run around the yard and play in the street like they did.  So finally my parents allowed me to go outside and play by myself.  I walked to the door, and it was as if I was stepping out of a space capsule into space for the first time.  Gingerly, I put one foot in front of the other and made my way outside.  I walked down the steps, constantly looking back at my parents for approval, and then when I reached the walk way, I looked around my surroundings.  I walked over and picked up a stick out of the yard and began swinging it around, my dad quipped, Yeah, he’ll be just fine.  I learned a valuable lesson that day, sometimes you have to just let your kids, people, subordinates, whatever the case may be, to just step out of their comfort zone to see what they can do.

Another incident that happened, when I was about five.  My sister Melinda, my brother Michael and I, were riding on a pedal powered go cart.  Melinda was in the back of Michael and I was I was in front of Michael. Melinda was the pedaling, Michael was steering, and I was supposed to be using the hand break.  Well, as we were traveling at a pretty high speed, we were going right towards a tree in our front yard.  However, the way Michael was sitting, I could not pull the break up, Michael was pinned tightly so he could not steer, and we rolled straight up the tree.  Melinda and Michael went flying off the go cart, however, I was stuck on it, because I was partially under the steering wheel.  Then gravity took its toll, and the go cart and I plummeted about ten feet to the Earth.  I landed, then the go cart landed on me.  I got a cut on my forehead, which required stitches.  This would be the first of many stitches I would receive the rest of my life.

Life in Saddle Brook, NJ was very normal.  Kids rode their bikes down the street, people walked to the local store, families talked to each other like neighbors do.  It was the quintessential Norman Rockwell painting of America.  Now, this was all from the perspective of a three to seven year old boy, but if you could take a 1950’s era movie about Americana, then this could have been the setting for that movie.  My mother was a stay at home mom.  My father owned a trucking company and was a contracted Government Mail deliverer.  At one point in my life he had about eighty trucks delivering mail throughout the United States, but we will cover more about that later.  We were not rich, but we were well-off, in terms of money, status or whatever you want to call it.  We were not struggling, as they say, to make ends meet.  This will be proven in the next couple of chapters as we discuss life, vacations, and the move to Texas.

So let’s get down to brass tacks.  As stated, I grew up in a relatively religious home.  First Catholic then Baptist.  My father was a hard man.  He was hard on my mom, he was hard on the kids and generally he would be considered a tough guy.  His outer façade was that of a caring, nurturing and loving man, but those that were close to him, knew differently.  This stems, in my humble opinion, from his rearing as a child.  My grandfather left my grandmother and four kids when my dad was about twelve years old.  He knew, right then and there, that he was the man of the house and he had to help my grandmother to raise his siblings.  Obviously, my father has many great qualities, but for us kids we rarely were witness to those.  He believed himself to be a perfectionist and nothing was ever good enough.  Due to this idiosyncrasy, we were subjected to his wrath whenever something did not happen the exact way he thought it should.  As a young child, I did not really see this side of my father, but later in life I did. 

My mother, what can you say about Christine Grace West?  I will not give my mother a pass because of the way my father treated her, as she did cause a lot of the anger he displayed to come out.  However, generally speaking, my mother was a very Godly, classy, and thoughtful person.  No matter the situation, she would always come across as caring, and would do anything to help anybody.  Mom had the tendency, as did we all, to fear my father, so when confronted by him, she would lie about something, then when he found out, all hell would break loose.  My father was abusive.  Yes, I said it.  Physically, mentally and emotionally.  Both to my mother and all of us kids.  Lesson number two came from this.  I never wanted to treat my wife, nor my kids the way he did us.

Now to take some heat off of my dad, I will say that being a tough parent is not all bad.  One thing you could guarantee, the kids understood respect, honor, and task accomplishment.  He expected every child in the house to get straight A’s on their report cards.  Well that did not happen, but it forced us to strive to be the best in everything we did.  Additionally, the competitive nature of my family is unrivaled.  Ask anyone that has ever played sports, games or have been in an argument with a West, and they will attest to this fact.  This desire to be the best, has guided me in almost every facet of my life, as you will discover within these pages.

Going back to the family being well off, we were able to travel every year in the summer.  While living in New Jersey, we were exposed to visiting a lot of places in New England.  From Maine down across the Eastern seaboard.  Pennsylvania, Massachusetts and so forth.  We went on vacation every summer.  Remembering, that I was only a small child, but I do have recollection of some of those trips.  I remember us going to Cape Cod, Massachusetts, I remember us going to Plymouth, Massachusetts to see my grandmother Mary Murphy West.  She lived about two blocks from the Plymouth Rock.  As stated, I have small memories of these, but some do stick out more than others, and with photographic proof to back up my claims.  When I was about five or six, my dad purchased a tow behind travel trailer for us to use on our vacations.  We had an unwritten rule growing up, that if you drove through a State, then you had visited that State.  So driving through all of those States as a kid was a big deal, and you could say you had been there.  The camping experience was something completely new to us, and was exciting for the four oldest kids.  Melinda my oldest sister was the matriarch of the siblings.  She is six years my senior and to her credit, was the Valedictorian of her class.  She was the only child to actually achieve that level during her school years.  Michael, the older brother, was only two years her junior, but four years older than me.  My younger sister Melissa, is five years younger than me and we are the middle kids.  More to follow on that.  During these treks across America, we would stay at campgrounds along the way.  These were scattered all across the land, and my mother would meticulously plan our entire trip.  I mean the entire trip.  To the minute in some cases.  During these trips, we had some rules in the car.  Some were actually funny and others were just downright silly.  Who tells kids between two and thirteen years old that you can’t sleep in the car?  My dad.  Of course that was never achievable, as these were long road trips.  Another, was simply, no farting.  Now after being on a long trip with six or seven people in the car, someone is bound let one slip out.  My dad would smell it and then start yelling to all of us in the back seats.  Who farted, who did it?  I will stop this car and smell your butts!  The funniest part was, most of the time, it was actually my mom, who would let one slip out.  The Campgrounds were either KOA or Jellystone Parks, both of which had great perks for the kids.  Movie nights, swimming pools, playgrounds, and bicycles. 

On one particular trip, in June of 1973, we went to the Great State of Texas.  Prior to going, I asked my dad where are we going to park our car?  He asked what are you talking about?  So I told him I thought we had to be on horses and carriages in Texas.  He thought this was hysterical, but hey, I was seven years old, how was I supposed to know.  A particular humorous event took place in front of the Alamo.  My Mother was taking a picture of just the kids.  She kept telling us to backup so she could get us all in the picture, as I moved backwards, I ended up getting stabbed in the butt by a cactus, right at the moment of the picture snap.  During the trip we saw the Texas hill country, and after a week or so, we headed north.  We were riding on Interstate 35 heading into Dallas.  We were riding in a 1971 Country Squire station wagon, and were pulling a 30-foot camper.  That particular day, the winds were pretty strong and my dad was having a hard time keeping the vehicle straight.  As we crossed a bridge over Belt Line Road, in DeSoto, Texas, the wind took over and caused the vehicle and trailer to jackknife and basically wedging on both sides of the bridge.  This stopping all traffic for hours.  I was riding in the middle of the second row of seats, I was sleeping, even though I wasn’t supposed to be.  When we made contact, I flew up in the air, and just before my head hit the overhead light, my sister grabbed me and pulled be back down.  We ended up staying in DeSoto for a couple of days, then my dad decided to have us fly back to New Jersey, and he would stay in Texas until the car and camper were fixed.  So, off to the airport we went, flew back to New Jersey and waited for dad to come home.  That was my first airplane ride.

During those couple of weeks, my dad met two people that probably changed his life forever.  C. H. January, the gas station owner that came to our aid that fateful day, and a local Pastor of a Baptist church in the area, Clyde H. Box.  After meeting these two individuals, my dad began looking for a house in DeSoto.  The next couple of weeks were pretty hectic.  Packing our household of ten plus years, my mom was 8 months pregnant, and that was difficult for her to do all of this as well.  But, we moved to Texas.  My mother gave birth to my younger brother Mitchell shortly after arrival, and then four years later she gave birth to my youngest and their final child, Mason.  Now, for those of you that have not had the pleasure of visiting much less live in the state of Texas, you will find that Texans are very proud of their State.  Outsiders are just that, outsiders.  However, we were accepted like we grew up there, especially at Brook Hollow Baptist Church.  Over the course of the next eleven years of my life, this became my second home.  I also attended school there from second through twelfth grade. 

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My Siblings approximately 1967

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Just a kid, 1968 or 69

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Just a kid, 1968 or 69

Chapter 2

The Not So Early Years

Living in Texas was an awesome experience.  We lived in a very nice home, originally a three-bedroom, two-bath ranch style house, which was converted into a four-bedroom, 3-bath home.  We had a swimming pool, which was the bane of my existence for many years of my life.  I loved that pool, but not being responsible for cleaning it.  Texas summers were hot as you might imagine.  However, while growing up, there was very little humidity so it was what I called Sun Hot.  That pool saved us many a day from that heat.  As I said before my dad was very hard on us.  Even in the summer, there was no sleeping in on the weekends.  We got up around six-thirty or seven o’clock in the morning on Saturdays.  We had chores to complete and when those were done you go play, outside!  We did everything outside.  Rode bikes, played army, sports, tag, you name it we did it.  We had five acres of land behind our house that was bordered by 10-Mile Creek and a tributary off of it, going north and south.  The other side was a tree line, and closest to the house was the alley behind the house.  We used to go down to 10-Mile Creek and play in the water, fish, or just horse around as kids do.  Growing up I had several friends that I used to hang out with in the neighborhood.  My next door neighbor was a boy named Bobby Finta.  We used to play a lot up until I was about 12 years old.  Also, down the street was Lenny Moss.  Lenny and I used to do a lot together.  We would shoot hoops, play football, board games and so on.  We went to school together, church together and generally were in the same crowds.  He was our starting quarterback for the high school football team, my Junior and Senior years, and I played on the offense, defense and special teams.  So I got to know his work ethic, determination and most of all his skill as a quarterback.  Lenny was a year younger than me, and he had an older brother Lance who was two years my senior. 

I was generally a bad kid.  Even with all of the church upbringing and going to a Christian school, I was just a screw up.  Now, to my defense, I did the typical young boy stuff, that most boys do, but I knew better and should have worked harder to not do those things.  I am a compulsive liar, point blank, I lied about everything.  I lied to my parents, my friends and my teachers.  I cannot say it any plainer than that.  I