Blowin' Smoke II

By Steve Carmichael

Blowin' Smoke II is written as a continuation, not sequel, of Blowin' Smoke, as the main characters are related to trapshooting in one way or another. Many of the stories intertwine with those of the first publication but will appeal to a much larger general readership which will include sports fishermen and general aviation amongst others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: Nov 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662928925

Book preview

THREE YEARS THAT SET THE COURSE

I think it’s fitting I dedicate a section in this publication to my time spent with the U.S. Army Marksmanship Unit as a member of the International Trap Team. Considering all the youngsters involved in high school trapshooting these days, there may be a place for a few of them at Fort Benning, GA. Especially if they have inclinations of becoming an Olympic Champion. I would recommend the Marksmanship Unit as the correct pathway.

I want to stress that any young shooters interested in the marksmanship program will have to dedicate at least three years of their lives, plus exhibit outstanding talent before a tryout period is likely to be granted. Though Fort Benning operates under the 3rd Army, the Marksmanship Unit itself is under Continental Army Command (CONARC) out of Washington D.C.

All special services program under CONARC are prestigious and reserved for the best of the best.

Basic

Being recruited to shoot on the International Trap Team for the United States Army Marksmanship Training Unit was a big deal at 18 years of age. Much bigger than I could have ever realized at that time.

During the summer following my high school graduation, I enlisted for three years. I started Basic Training at Fort Leonard Wood, MO, October 23, 1967, and was scheduled to graduate from basic just prior to Christmas. Perfect. I would be home for the holidays, then head to Fort Benning right after New Year’s.

It didn’t work out that way.

After five weeks of training, the base was plagued with U.R.I., or Upper Respiratory Infection. It was a nasty viral infection that was considered extremely serious. Unfortunately, I came down with a severe case.

There was such an extraordinarily high number of trainees that became ill so quickly, several emergency auxiliary Quonset-style hospitals were erected practically overnight. This is where I ended up for seven forgetful days.

I can’t remember much of what happened for most of that week due to my fever induced delirium. I eventually reached a point that required medical staff to place me in cool showers a couple of times daily. A decision was made by those in command to notify my parents.

Fortunately, by the time they arrived from Kansas City, I was improving and finally released on a Sunday evening. I returned to the dormitory of Bravo Company. I had started my training with them following Zero week and assumed it would continue forward with the same company.

I had completed the first five weeks of training with Bravo but had missed a week dedicated to firearms training and record range. I didn’t consider this a big deal as I was confident in my abilities with the M-14.

While working out on the PE field the Monday morning following my return, a messenger delivered a note to our drill instructor. He looked at it, called out my name, and directed me to report immediately to the First Sergeant at the administrative offices.

As soon as I walked in the door, I could tell immediately this man just didn’t like me. As a First Sergeant of a basic training company, and a cycle consisting almost entirely of draftees, it’s certainly possible he just didn’t like anyone.

What the hell do you want?

I told him my name and that I was instructed to see him.

He pulled out a file and reiterated I had missed a crucial week of training which included record range with the M-14. I mentioned I was very proficient with the M-14, and if allowed to demonstrate that, could alleviate any doubts regarding my abilities.

At this point his demeanor softened a bit. He said- Son, if something happened to you in ‘Nam that could in any way be related to training missed at this facility, there’d be hell to pay on my end.

I understood what he was saying. The war in southeast Asia was in full escalation at this point. Dozens of my friends had been drafted. I almost felt ashamed to complain knowing very well my intentions were to never see Vietnam. If my 90-day tryout period at Fort Benning went as I believed it would, my entire time in the military would be at that location.

I made a counteroffer to the First Sergeant. What if I set a company record with the M-14, would that make up for the missed training? I felt confident I could pull this off.

Nope, sorry son, we’re going to have to TRO you into another company to make it up.

I wasn’t even sure what TRO meant at the time, but it didn’t sound good.

As it turned out, I was reassigned to Charlie Company, and they were just beginning their 4th week of basic training. I should mention that Charlie Company was referred to as Chargin’ Charlie. This becomes significant a few weeks later.

This was a disaster. I was leaving the company I started with. Many of the young men in my original unit were befriended before we even left Kansas City. We rode the bus down from the induction center together. We had endured Zero week together. Had our heads shaved together. Any many in Bravo Company had enlisted such as I had.

Plus, I would now have to return to Fort Leonard Wood after the Christmas holidays and would not complete basic training until late January. This would delay my arrival at Fort Benning, and I was unsure of the implications that might have. Major Tom Gilmore, head of the moving target section, was expecting me to arrive on the heels of the holidays. I had spoken with him before I left Kansas City, providing him with the details. He would be working with Continental Army Command (CONARC) out of Washington D.C. to assure that the correct orders were in place following my graduation from basic.

At this time of my life, I had never seen an International Bunker and had obviously never shot at an Olympic-speed clay target. I needed all the time I could muster to practice and have a chance at making the traveling team for the first European tour in June.

I tried to call the Major but was unsuccessful. I finally sat down one evening and wrote a letter to inform him of the latest developments. The simplest forms of communication were much different then.

My new company, Charlie, was almost entirely draftees out of the Chicago area. It appeared this was going to be a whole new ball game.

I moved from Bravo’s dorm over to Charlie’s dorm. In those days there were eight trainees to a room, and I connected with two or three of my new roommates immediately. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as I’d anticipated.

The next two weeks were a repeat for me, then finally it was Charlie Company’s week for record range with the M-14.

I set a new company record and was rewarded with a 3-day pass.

Fort Leonard Wood was slightly over two hundred miles from Kansas City. The timing was perfect to combine the pass with the days provided for the Christmas holidays. I took the Greyhound to KC, spent Christmas with my folks, and girlfriend of this era, then returned to base in my prized 1962 Chevy Super Sport. I parked it in a convenient lot just off-base. It would be there waiting for me at completion of my training.

The only truly significant events I remember during the remaining two weeks of basic were the Confidence Course, and the Infiltration Course.

The Confidence Course was considered several notches above the usual military obstacle course due to its level of increased difficulty. Participation was on a volunteer-only basis. However, if you were successful in negotiating the different venues, the result was a bonus weekend pass.

After looking it over, I decided I would give it a shot. How difficult could it be?

Everything started off just fine, but it wasn’t long before I regretted my decision.

One of the deceptive structures on the course appeared to be a very tall ladder. At the top there was a cable that angled off towards the ground. The cable was your ticket back to the ground. Unfortunately, I was the first one in line and totally unaware of what was waiting for me. If I remember correctly, this venue was referred to as Slide for your Life.

I started climbing and everything seemed normal enough, like any other ladder, only much, much taller.

As I ascended, it soon became apparent what was happening. The uprights, and the rungs, were both gradually moving further apart.

I should have picked up on this while standing at the bottom looking up. A normal ladder would give the appearance that the uprights were converging the further up it went. It’s just a matter of perspective. Not this one. The uprights appeared to remain parallel for the full distance. That was the vital clue I had overlooked.

By the time I arrived at the final three rungs, I could no longer reach both uprights simultaneously, and could no longer climb to the next rung. It demanded a slight jump from one rung up to the next. Plus, there was no safety harness. Descending by the way I had come up appeared to be potentially more dangerous than continuing upward. It was terrifying.

An instructor shouted advise from below- Whatever you do, don’t look down.

I somehow jumped and pulled myself onto the final two rungs, clinging desperately to the one upright, grabbed hold of the lifesaving cable and began my descent. When completed, I fell to my knees and kissed the ground. Those in line behind me had observed my struggle and decided to pass on that one.

I’ve often wondered how long that structure remained in place, as it would have to be considered extremely dangerous and certainly capable of seriously wounding or killing young and unknowing trainees. I’ve been unable to find anything like it currently depicted in any online videos available today.

The Infiltration Course at Fort Leonard Wood was likely the same as about any other. The difference for us was the timing. It was mid-January and extremely cold. Many of the military personnel referred to Leonard Wood as Little Korea due to the weather extremes.

Word spread quickly that we would be maneuvering through the course after dark. We were trucked out to the location after 6pm, had dinner in the field using our mess kits for the first time, then briefed on what to expect. Rumors were confirmed, there would be multiple live machine-guns firing overhead. Stay flat on your bellies and keep crawling until reaching the very end. Do not panic, stand up and run in any case or you could easily become a casualty.

One by one, each platoon would enter the deep trenches at the far end then spread out. We were to hold in this position until given the order to begin.

When the order came, we launched ourselves out of the trench and onto the course. Unknown to us, the course had been completely flooded while having our evening meal and was now a wet and sloppy mess. It was also brutally cold.

There were areas along the course that required crawling under sections of barbwire. This required rolling over on your back and being completely submerged while negotiating the depression and deeper water under the wire. All the time you’re doing everything you can to keep your rifle out of the mud and water as much as possible. Your weapon was required to be fully functional when you emerged from the muck.

Thousands of tracer rounds filled the dark sky overhead, accompanied by multiple loud blasts and flares. Other obstacles presented themselves in the dark, forcing decisions to go around, over, or under. After 20 minutes or so, our group made it to the other end, wet, miserable, and extremely cold.

Once the entire company had completed the exercise, they loaded us back onto the transports and returned us to our dorms like a pack of wet and shivering dirty dogs.

I proceeded directly to the showers fully dressed, attempting to remove the mud, slime, grit, and everything else I had crawled through. It was well after 1am before I lay back and closed my eyes. A warm bed never felt so good.

The end was near. Graduation day was approaching.

The days following the Infiltration Course was very relaxed. A proficiency test was about all that remained.

Two days before graduation, one of our company NCOs (non-commissioned officers) asked that I make a quick trip to the supply building and pick something up for him.

The supply building was only a block away from the dorm. I walked along enjoying the blue sky and sunshine, noting in a couple of days I would be done with this place. Nothing could bother me now.

I was about to cross a street when a red Ford Mustang pulled up in front of me and stopped. It was a First Lieutenant, and unknown to me, the Company Commander of Charlie Company.

Where’re you going, soldier, and what company you from? I told him. He immediately reminded me that Charlie Company double-timed everywhere, and I was in violation. He ordered me to drop what I was doing and report to the First Sergeant immediately.

So, here I was again, reporting to yet another First Sergeant. Turned out he was another gruff old S.O.B. I believe they all are at that stage of their military career.

I explained what had happened, and the company C.O. had sent me. He reminded me graduation day was only two days away, how’d this happen? My punishment was to report to the mess hall the morning of graduation and be placed on K.P. for the entire day. I would be absent from the ceremony.

No problem, I could deal with it. The day after graduation, I would receive my orders to report to Fort Benning. I’d jump in my Super Sport and be gone once and for all. I could put up with anything at this point.

While everyone else was enjoying graduation ceremonies, I spent almost the entire time inside two giant stainless-steel cauldrons scrubbing them down. These must have been eight or nine feet tall. I couldn’t imagine how many cans of vegetables or stew might fit in one of these.

It was a very long day, and I missed all the festivities.

I returned to the dorm that evening. Everyone was packing and anxiously pondering the type of orders they were going to receive. As far as I knew, I was the only one with any assurance of where they were headed next. I had received a letter from Major Gilmore the previous week. He was aware of the changes that had taken place that would delay my expected arrival. I was confident he had my orders revised with the proper dates.

Everyone was up at 4am the next morning. This was ship-out day.

Our senior non-com was Sergeant First Class Ray, the E-7 in charge of training Charlie Company. He called everyone together at 5am to begin the alphabetical issuing of orders.

Two of the guys from my room were called out before me. They both received orders to Fort Polk, Louisiana for AIT, or Advanced Infantry Training. Undoubtedly, upon completion of AIT their next stop would be South Vietnam.

My name was called. I walked up, received congratulations from Sgt Ray, then handed my orders. I didn’t look at them at first. I was surrounded by a group almost exclusively heading to Fort Polk and felt almost guilty that I wasn’t joining them. They were all young men in the prime of their youth, same as me.

I finally stepped away from everyone and took a glance at the orders. I’m sure what I saw before me resulted in a distressed facial expression.

Fort Huachuca, AZ, for advanced training. Report to Fort Leonard Wood airfield for 08:00 departure.

What was this?

I was in serious trouble here. My car was sitting just off post, waiting to transport me to Kansas City for a week of leave. I would then pack up my personal belongings and drive to Fort Benning.

I waited for everyone to leave the room before approaching SFC Ray.

Sergeant Ray, I’m not quite sure what has happened, but I don’t believe I’ve received the correct orders for my next assignment.

At the same time, I was thinking about how every other man in the building that morning would have considered themselves blessed to have received orders to Fort Huachuca. I was truly conflicted.

If you believe there’s a problem with your orders, you’ll have to take it up with the First Sergeant.

Oh geez, he had just blessed me with K.P. on graduation day two days earlier. This wasn’t likely to go well.

I proceeded to run, not walk, to the administrative offices.

It was only about 6am, but the lights were already on. The First Sergeant was in his office early that morning. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Come in. His response was closer to a yell than a welcome.

I opened the door and peeked in.

You again, what the hell do you want?

I told him the lengthy story of how I had been recruited by Major Tom Gilmore at our national championships in August of 1967. I had enlisted and was to receive a 90-day tryout at the marksmanship training unit in Fort Benning, GA.

He listened than finally said, Well, I don’t know what to tell you other than your flight’s leaving in about two hours for Arizona. Orders are orders.

I vividly remember having a very sinking feeling come over me. It appeared I was stuck.

I stood up, thanked him for his time and turned towards the door.

He also stood up, then asked, Carmichael! Just one thing I want to know. Do you shoot with both eyes open; or use only one?

I thought this an odd question at this juncture.

Both eyes, all the time Sergeant.

Well, then I guess I’d better give you these. He opened a desk drawer, reached inside, and pulled out a new set of orders. To Fort Benning, GA.

He came out from behind his desk and extended his hand. The Major had very good things to say about you. Make us proud son!

I was speechless. It seemed I had been the only one not in on this little prank for the past three days.

I’ll say one thing, it certainly provided memories I’m unlikely to ever forget.

A Day in the Life

An average day for the shotgun shooters at the Marksmanship Unit in the late 1960s was not indicative of a typical military operation.

A few of the guys lived off base with their wives, but the majority of the trap & skeet team lived in an open 2-story barracks at MTU Headquarters. The bottom floor was exclusively shotgun shooters. The top floor was a mix of rifle & pistol shooters, plus a few support staff from supply and armory. Each floor had 5 or 6 sets of bunk beds and lockers on each side of a center aisle. At the far end of the first floor was a refrigerator. A slight dogleg to the right was the stairway to the second floor, the latrine and showers, and an exit door. Close to the main entry were a couple of small private rooms for the senior non-coms.

There was a separate building that housed a day room next door with pool table, snacks, and soda machine. We also used this room for public speaking classes. All the shotgun shooters of that period were trained to be public speakers and instructors of international trap or skeet.

Early morning hours were usually disrupted by a group of Gung Ho trainees running down the road on the way to the jump towers. You knew immediately who it was. Like clockwork. They were the only group chanting, Airborne, Airborne, Airborne at 4am in the morning.

We were typically