Memoirs of 2dLt W. B. Jackson, USMC
TRAINING AT QUANTICO
|
Some days later at morning company formation Jack and I were ordered "front and center" and told to report to company headquarters. There we were shown a letter which explained that the Marines did not have dispatch riders in France but that if we wanted it we could be immediately transferred to the 6th Machine gun battalion a Quantico, Va. Which was being shipped to France in 30 days. We elected the transfer.
The following Monday morning at formation we were again ordered "front and center". After a caustic comment on men who did not appreciate a home in the service, the Top Sergeant read us our orders. We were leaving the same afternoon for Quantico, Va. and the 6th M.G.B. We raced downtown and completed our prearranged sale of our motorcycles. I got $125 for the machine which cost me $300 the year before. Then back to camp and pack. I discovered our orders were for direct travel-no lay over. I pointed out my Mom was a widow living in Denver, through which we would b going and asked for a stop over. The Company Commander said the only person in San Diego who could grant the stopover was the Colonel in command of the San Diego base. I asked permission to see him. This was grudgingly granted. I raced up to Headquarters-was admitted to the Colonel's private office-and again requested a stop over, explaining my reason and pointing out the possibility of my non-return from France. The Colonel granted us a five-day stopover in Denver.
We left by train that afternoon for Quantico via Denver and Chicago. While we were in Denver our many friends saw to it that our free time was filled enjoyably and the 5 days passed in a flash. My farewell to Mom was rather tough but she took it bravely.
Then back on the train for the second half of our rather tedious long trip to Quantico. Everybody on the train-crew and passengers were lovely to us-two young Marines en route to France in a Pullman full of civilians. Patriotism was much in vogue at the time.
We left our Pullman at Richmond, Va. And took a local up to Quantico. At that time the base was quite new-still largely under construction-few streets or sidewalks and much, much mud. We arrived in the middle of the night-few outside lights. After our medical check-in we were ordered to go up the hill where there were several rows of unoccupied wooden barracks shacks to stay until morning. We had no blankets, so after slipping and sliding all over the place, we arrived at the barracks to finish the night lying on one cot mattress for a bed and using another cot mattress for cover.
The next morning we reported to Headquarters, 6th M.G.B. After some hours delay we were sent to the 77th Co. for duty. At the company office the 1st Sergeant assigned us to the company headquarters detachment and there we reported and were assigned bunks etc. It soon developed that the large majority of the detachment were doing duty as mule skinners with the baggage train. We did not like the apparent probability-mule skinners. So I again got up my nerve and trotted up to the company office and asked that we be transferred to a line duty platoon. After some discussion about these being full, etc. the 1st Sergeant granted me permission to take it up with the Captain who was adjutant. The Battalion Commander, Major Cole happened to come into the office and wanted to know what the difficulty was. I explained our offer to donate our motorcycles and be dispatch riders-that we would be most unhappy to wind ;up as mule skinners and that we desired line duty assignments. Why he ever listened to me I don't know but eventually he sent us back to the 77th Co. for line duty. We were so assigned but different platoons. I wound up as one of a two man team pulling an ammunition truck on a Lewis Machine gun crew.
A rather tedious training program began-many hours each day trundling that truck on two bicycle wheels all over the surrounding tree covered hills of Virginia-regular time-double time-up hill-down hill. I don't remember what the truck weighed, but it contained several boxes of loaded ammunition clips and uphill it was a heavy two man haul-sometimes a third man would help by pushing from the rear. The training was a wonderful conditioner and hardened me up in no time. The Battalion was originally due to leave October 10th but delays occurred until December 1st, so we had plenty of time to get in good shape.
Week days were filled with duties but Saturday Afternoons and Sundays were free time. Liberties were granted on week ends and many of the fellows went to Washington, D.C. or Richmond, Virginia but I had allotted all but $6.50 of my pay to Mom so I didn't have funds to travel. So I spent my week ends in such facilities as were furnished on the base by the Marine Corps, YMCA etc. There were frequent inter company football and baseball games and occasional stage shows by civilian volunteer groups. There were also rather limited reading rooms with books, magazines etc. Unless on liberty the camp personnel were restricted to the base which was enclosed by chain link fencing-sentries on all gates.
One week end Jack and I decided to be "bold bad boys" and take a day's hike through the surrounding hills. We scaled the fence and took off and had a wonderfully enjoyable hike. In the late afternoon we stopped at a cottage in the woods-bought a chicken-plucked and cleaned it-built a small fire and cooked it. Was it good? As darkness came on we were faced with returning to camp. We decided to re-enter near the gate nearest to our quarters. It so happened that a group of ;young officers was billeted near this gate. We scaled the fence and started blithely down the path toward camp. This path also served the Young officers' camp. Suddenly we saw a figure approaching from the opposite direction occasionally using a flash light. An NCO reached us in the darkness. He straightened up, saluted us smartly and said, "Good evening, Sir." We returned the salute-I said, "Good evening Sergeant", and we passed on. He had apparently assumed we were officers going into camp from the billets. Thank goodness for darkness in such circumstances.
One week the company was given a training course in building concrete pill box machine gun emplacements. We made forms back of the "lines"-selected the spots for the emplacements-then one pitch black night we moved up to pour the pill boxes. The "lines" consisted of officers of the company and battalion some 200 or 300 yards away from the sites. We mixed the concrete about a quarter of a mile back of the "lines"-brought it forward by wheel barrow-other crew members set up the forms and then we poured the concrete into the forms. If the officers heard us they blew whistles which represented the enemy machine gun strafing. After pouring the boxes, we camouflaged over them so they were not readily detectable the next day. As I recall our company only had one whistle blast all night. Twas different and fun.
|
|
