The Intimidators

By Keith Davis

This novel dramatizes the underdog’s fight for survival against an unjust system. It is about the brutal, shocking, and horrific world of Navy boot camp during the Vietnam conflict. The story’s protagonist is nineteen-year-old Carl Travis, an anti-war activist who flunks out of Kent State because he spends more time protesting the Vietnam War than keeping up with his studies. He then forfeits his student deferment and risks being drafted into the Army. He does not want to flee to Canada to escape the draft nor does he want to go to prison for five years, so he enlists in the US Navy’s hospital corps to avoid combat and the killing. He enters basic training and boasts to his shipmates about rioting at Kent State in May 1970, when National Guardsmen fired on protestors and killed four students. Carl’s Navy superior officers learn about his anti-war past and threaten to make his life a living hell if he stirs up any trouble with his shipmates. Carl endures the harassment and brutal disciplinary action against him for resisting Navy rules and regulations and for protesting the mistreatment of other recruits. He struggles to survive and regain his identity, freedom, and dignity in this vulgar, abusive, sometimes violent, and dehumanizing world of the military.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Sep 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662434020

Book preview

cover.jpg

The Intimidators

Keith Davis

Copyright © 2021 Keith Davis

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2021

ISBN 978-1-6624-3401-3 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-3402-0 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

Prologue

The whole world is watching! The whole world is watching! hundreds of Vietnam War protestors roared.

Eighteen-year-old Carl Travis joined the chanting and moved with the other students, like a human tidal wave crashing down over the hill as they drove back the seventy-seven Ohio National Guardsmen on May 4, 1970.

Nixon, no more lies! Bring home the troops!

A canister landed near the protestors’ feet and spewed out tear gas. They wavered when their eyes and nostrils began to burn. Carl picked up the canister and heaved it back. They cheered him, regained their ground, and advanced as they threw rocks and hit the retreating soldiers.

Hold your position and load your weapons! the National Guard officer shouted to his men. They’re closing in fast and going to overtake us! We gotta defend ourselves! Get ready! Now!

The soldiers, in olive-green combat helmets and fatigues, looked through their gas masks as they inserted clips of bullets into their M1 Garand rifles and raised their barrels with fixed bayonets.

Peace now! Peace now! Peace now! echoed across the Kent State campus commons. The anti-war demonstrators kept coming and jeering at the guardsmen, Run, you fucking cowards!

God, forgive me, the officer said then lifted the gas mask from his face and yelled, Fire!

The sound of gunshots mingled with shouts and screams from the scattering crowd. Students covered in blood moaned and fell to the ground while others ran for their lives.

Carl stood there, stunned. He stared at a boy lying facedown in a pool of blood. A girl knelt down beside the boy’s body and wailed in horror.

Carl cried out, My God, they’re killing us!

1

Carl’s heart pounded. He sat on the old shuttle bus rumbling in the fog-shrouded night. Its headlights strained to penetrate the darkness. The vehicle rolled toward a veil of lights appearing through the mist. The brakes moaned and screeched. The bus jolted to a stop under the floodlights outside the gate, flanked by a ten-foot-high chain-link fence.

The driver, in civilian clothes, heard sighs from his young passengers. He smirked while he waited for the sentry to open the gate onto the military base.

The boy beside Carl got up and approached the bus driver, saying, I’d like off the bus. I’m gonna be sick. The teenager turned his head, covered his mouth with his hand, and gagged.

The driver glanced up at the boy in short hair, a buttoned shirt, and jeans and said, Take a seat, son. You can throw up once we get there. You can’t pull that shit on me. Sit down.

I gotta throw up… Please let me off.

The driver shook his head, saying, I said get in your seat.

Hey, man! Carl got up and came forward. Can’t you see the guy’s sick!

The driver jerked around, glanced at Carl, and frowned at his shoulder-length brown hair and full beard. Sit down, hippie! Stay out of this!

Carl glared at the driver and said, You want to clean up his stinking puke? Let him off, man!

The driver scowled at Carl, hesitated, but opened the door.

Get off and puke. Hurry up! You better not be faking and take off running. The guard will get shore patrol after you!

Carl followed the teen off the bus and stood by him while he vomited on the pavement. After the boy retched and heaved, he started to sway.

God, I’m dizzy.

Sit down on the bus step. Carl took his arm and guided him back to the step. Put your head between your legs and stay there for a minute.

What, and kiss my ass goodbye?

No. Carl chuckled. You’ll feel better in a minute.

I don’t know if I wanna go through with this thing, the boy said with his head bobbing between his legs. The recruiter said, ‘See the world.’ Now I just wanna forget it.

Is this your first time away from home?

Yeah.

Me too, except for a year at college… There’s no turning back now. We’ll just have to get through this together.

After a couple of minutes, the driver leaned off his seat and called out, Hey, Doc!

Carl looked up at the driver and asked, You talking to me?

Yeah! Is your patient done yet? Or are you gonna be there all damn night?

He’s dizzy, Carl said.

Most recruits are. Look, I gotta get you guys to Receiving and Outfitting. It’s late!

The boy raised his head from between his legs and spoke, I feel better. He looked at Carl. Thanks, man.

That’s okay. You ready to get back on the bus?

I think so.

The boy got up and climbed the steps while Carl steadied him from behind. The boy dropped his eyes and didn’t look at the others. He swallowed hard and backed into the corner of the seat. He stared down at the floor, his head cradled in his hands.

The driver stopped Carl as he stepped up, saying, Hey, Doc!

Huh? Carl looked at the driver. What’d you say?

You gonna be a medic? The driver had a slight smile.

Oh, yeah… Well, I’m going to be a hospital corpsman.

Oh, a pecker checker! another recruit said halfway back on the bus. That’s all a corpsman is. He chuckled. Your patient have a good puke? He sure took long enough!

What the hell you talking about? Carl frowned at the guy.

You joined the Navy to check peckers, huh? The recruit grinned and snickered as he elbowed the person next to him.

I enlisted so I wouldn’t be drafted into the Army and have to kill. I had enough of that at Kent State last year when the National Guard fired on us. Carl choked up, and tears filled his eyes. In a strained voice, he went on. Four of my friends died for nothing, over a fucking stupid war.

Oh, you’re one of those peace, love, dove anti-war crybabies. Why didn’t you just stay there and protest the draft?"

We were protesting Nixon lying about invading Cambodia.

Well, what the hell’re you doing here, hippie, instead of Canada with the other fucking draft dodgers?

I’m not going into exile or to prison. The Navy’s better than being drafted and killing…or getting killed.

The Navy’s part of the killing too, the recruit said.

Not for me, Carl replied. I’m gonna save lives, like at Kent State. I stayed and helped the wounded. I didn’t run like the other cowards when the bullets started flying.

Oh, we have an anti-war hero, aiding the traitors. Is that when you wanted to check peckers? The recruit laughed.

Hey, get off that shit and shut your fucking mouth! Carl locked his eyes onto the recruit’s. They scowled at each other.

Why don’t you make me, pecker checker! The big boy rose, all six feet of him. He resembled a football lineman.

Not quite six feet, Carl clenched his fists and stepped toward him, saying, You’re cruisin’ for a bruisin’, big mouth!

The driver got up, reached out, and grabbed Carl by the collar.

Hold on, Doc! He looked at the other recruit. Sit down, redneck! Not on my bus! Jesus Christ, do you two want a court-martial before you start boot camp?

The big guy was slow to sit down. He still frowned at Carl.

Why don’t you check my pecker, he said.

Why don’t you kiss my ass! Carl glared back at him and slid into his seat by the sick recruit.

Hey! Knock it off, goddammit! The driver silenced both teens. I don’t want to hear no more out of you two! You can settle this at the recruit smokers and box the shit out of each other for all I care!

The driver returned to his seat, put the bus in gear, drove up to the open gate, and stopped by the guard waiting for him.

The sentry stood outside the guardhouse, no bigger than a phone booth. He pushed the oversized combat helmet up out of his eyes as he faced the bus. Dressed in a blue jacket and black trousers, the seaman recruit marched over to the bus window and looked up at the driver.

What’s your destination on base? the sentry asked.

Recruits for Receiving and Outfitting, the driver said.

Why didn’t you come on through when I opened the gate? You just sat out there. The guard pointed toward the gate entrance. Did you have some trouble onboard?

No… No trouble. I just let a recruit off the bus to throw up. That’s all.

Only half-listening to the guard and driver’s exchange, Carl remained quiet in his seat after his run-in with the other recruit. He looked past his seating companion who had nodded off. His eye caught the sign on the fence next to the gate:

United States Naval Training Center

Recruit Training Command

Carl’s eyes wandered from the sign and followed the tall chain-link fence until it disappeared into the blackness. He noticed the three strands of barbed wire bordering the top. A sharp chill embraced him, and a heavy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. For a moment he, too, thought he would be sick.

The sentry waved the driver on through the gate. The bus rolled past the fence and onto the base. Carl felt like he had crossed over into another dimension, far from the life he left behind. Thrust into an alien place, he thought boot camp seemed more like a prison, complete with guards and barbed wire.

He found it hard to believe that only a few months ago, he enjoyed college life, though he hardly studied. He devoted more time to campus anti-war protests, beer bashes, and pot parties. When he turned nineteen and flunked out of Kent State, it dawned on him that he would lose his student deferment, get drafted into the Army, and be sent to combat in Vietnam. He decided to stay ahead of the draft and enlist in the Navy, where he could control part of his destiny to avoid combat and the killing.

The silence broke on the bus, with some low conversations coming from other curious passengers. Carl paid no attention until the young man beside him woke up.

I must’ve dozed off. The boy turned and yawned at Carl. You got that right about no turnin’ back now. I reckon they ain’t gonna let us out of here till they’re good and ready.

Uh-huh. Carl nodded and looked at his first acquaintance. You feeling all right now?

Yeah, I don’t feel sick no more like I did…thanks to you. The young man sat up, wiped his mouth, and continued, I’ve been waiting a few months to get in. I was in that delayed reserve program, you know… You think I would’ve got used to the idea of coming here by now, but I sure freaked out back there… I even quit school to join. He looked at Carl. How about you? Was you in that delayed program too?

Delayed program? Ah, no. Carl shook his head.

The boy was puzzled, and he asked, Didn’t you have to wait to get in?

No, not as long as you.

How come?

I don’t know! Because I didn’t want to risk getting drafted into the Army, okay? Carl rolled his eyes and frowned. Didn’t you hear me before? Christ, I don’t want to be a soldier with Nam still going on. He shook his head. At least I have choices in the Navy. I told the recruiter to take me right away before the draft caught up with me.

Oh, I see what you mean, uh-huh, the boy whined and nodded as if the proverbial light bulb clicked on above him. Yeah, that’s a lot better than gettin’ drafted or bein’ one of those son-of-a-bitchin’ draft dodgers. He paused but went on. Didn’t I hear you say you wanted to be a corpsman?

Yeah.

My recruiter told me Navy corpsmen go with the Marines over to Nam. Ain’t you scared of that? I hear that red cross you wear makes a good target for the Vietcong and NVA.

Nah, I’m not real worried about that. Nixon’s winding down the war now. He’s not sending any more Marines over there.

Yeah, I reckon you’re right. Peace with honor and all that stuff… I thought of bein’ a medic too until the recruiter said they go with the Marines. Anyhow, I ain’t got a strong stomach, as you saw…especially for a lot a blood. So I’m gonna be a boatswain’s mate and get on a ship.

You’ll probably get seasick.

The boy looked over at Carl and said, Oh, I never thought of that.

No ship for me. I just want shore duty at a hospital to help save lives, not take them, Carl said. I don’t want any part of killing.

That’s great, Doc. The boy thrust out his hand to shake Carl’s. By the way, my name’s Ronnie Irwin from Georgia, but they call me Bubba back home. He grinned, missing a front tooth. What’s yours?

Carl… Travis. He smiled and brought up his hand.

Where you from?

From Pennsylvania, around Pittsburgh.

Glad to meet you, Yank! Irwin grinned. Never met a nice Yankee before, till you. We might as well get to know each other. I reckon we’ll be in the same boot-camp outfit.

I guess so, Carl said.

The bus arrived at its final destination: a dreary, four-story building. The bleak light from the windows on each story filtered through the dense fog. At the corner on the ground floor, someone in white stood in the lighted doorway. When the bus stopped, he walked out into the blackness.

Loud sighs and groans mixed with curses filled the bus as the recruits got up from their seats. While they shuffled out in a single file, Carl hesitated before he moved. The recruit Carl almost got into a fight with glared at him as he passed by. Carl glared back at him but waited for some others to pass before he stepped into the aisle. He walked