Old Soldiers Never Die (They Just Rot Away)

Chapter 1

We have been living our dream. Before retiring we dreamed of buying a motor home and traveling around this beautiful country. Five years ago we began our journey. We had come back to Colorado Springs in early April to spend the summer and then go to the Gulf coast for the winter. But our plans changed drastically one day in early May.

At 7:00 in the morning there was a knock on the door. I opened the door and damned near fell over when I found a couple of MP’s standing there. What in the hell are you doing here?

Mr. Johnson, a tough looking sergeant said. you failed to report to the recruiting office as directed. We are here to escort you for induction.

You mean to tell me that draft notice I got was real?! They can’t do this to me!

My God Ken what’s got you so upset? My wife said.

This! I exclaimed pointing at the MP’s.

They are trying to draft me back into the Army! They can’t do that. My God I’m 67 years old. There’s no way in hell I can go back in.

My name is Ken Johnson. I had served in the Army as a draftee over 45 years earlier. I didn’t like it then and the thought of going back in was enough to give me a heart attack.

Ken, calm down. Sherri said. I’m sure this just some sort of mistake. It wasn’t.

This is a bunch of crap. You’ll have to drag me by the short hairs to get me to go back in! At that I slammed the door and loose with a stream of cussing like Sherri never heard me do before.

I had put on more than a few pounds during the years since I last wore a uniform. Back then I was a trim and fit 140 pounds. Now I was scaring the hell out of the 200 pound mark. I’m 5’ 7 with a 40 waistline. Most of my teeth as well as my hair disappeared years ago. Not exactly a poster man for today’s army.

All I could imagine is of myself carrying a rifle and fighting an unknown enemy in some far off land.

The MP’s pounded on the door and demanded that I go with them.

There’s only one person that gives me orders around here I responded defiantly and she’s standing right behind me.

A year earlier the President introduced his new Senior Service Program. It was the idea of Army Chief of Staff General LaCross. The program was presented as a way for America’s senior citizens to serve their country on a voluntary basis.

However, hidden in the proposal is a provision that would allow men and women 65 and older to be drafted.

Since very few seniors volunteered the draft was implemented and thousands of retirees across the country were being inducted. Taken from their homes they were sent to Army bases across the country.

I already served in the Army. They can’t do this to me! It seems I was wrong about that. I could tell by the way they looked at me that they were not impressed. I asked if I would becoming back home today and the Sergeant said no. Then he he told me to pack enough clothes and supplies for a short stay. To me a short stay would be a couple of hours. They had different ideas though.

I packed a few clothes and toiletries and prepared to stay for a day or two until this mess was straightened out. I took my cell phone with me but wasn’t sure if I would need it or not. I kissed Sherri goodby and told her I would let her know what was going on.

When we reached the recruiting office I was greeted by a good looking woman in army dress uniform. She must have been in the army for a long time because she had more stripes than a zebra and ribbons on her chest that suggested that she had fought in every war America was ever in. Well, maybe not the war of independence. I got the feeling that she wasn’t about to take any crap from an old man. In fact she looked tougher than a three week old steak.

Sweetie, who issued the orders to draft me? This is the United States of America and I have a right to know.

By Presidential order older people are being selected from the Social Security rolls to serve their country in a administrative role. She said with a grin. And you will address me as Sergeant, not ‘Sweetie.’ At that she stood up as if to emphasize her authority. She was at least six feet tall and statuesque and I was sure some of the medals on her chest would pop off and do serious damage. I ducked down out of sheer automatic response.

Wait a minute. The senior program is strictly volunteer. I don’t remember anything that allows for drafting anyone. This can’t be legal. The draft ended a hell of a long time ago. I’ll bet the President is doing this to those of us who were smart enough not to vote for him. Does the AARP know what that idiot is doing?

I have no idea what the AARP or any other organization is doing and I don’t care. She replied with a smirk on her face. My orders are to process people like yourself into active service.

This is a bunch of bullshit. I won’t go and that’s final!

My show of defiance didn’t seem to be impressing anyone, least of all her. When I turned around as if I was going to walk out and came face-to-face with the tough looking MPs.

Get out of my way! I yelled trying to look tough. That didn’t work either. It might have been that my gray hair and double chin failed to impress them.

Mr. Johnson, you have no say in the matter. If you refuse to cooperate you will be detained and taken to Fort Carson and held in jail until you come to your senses. She replied firmly.

Sweetie, if you think I’ll go back in the Army without a fight you’re nuts. I replied. My face was beet red and I was ready pick a fight with anyone around me. On second thought that was probably not a good idea though. Taking on two husky soldiers was a bit ridiculous.

I shook my head and wondered just what the hell do these people think they are doing. Being drafted was not part of the President’s plan. At least I didn’t think it was. Sherri won’t believe I’m actually being drafted.

I called Sherri and told her what was going on. She was laughing and surprised me by saying: They probably need you to straighten out the Army.

She is probably right. From what I had seen on the news soldiers look more like something out of science fiction than real military men. Even their uniforms look more like pajamas than anything else.

The more I thought about it the more I thought I might be able to straighten out the army. I told her I loved her and said. I’ll see you as soon as I straighten out the U.S. Army.

I didn’t know that it would be nearly a year before the Senior Service program would be ended.

I approached the Sergeant’s desk, snapped to attention, saluted and said in a very smart ass way Kenneth J. Johnson reporting as ordered, Sweetie. The glare from her eyes could melted snow in Alaska.

I noticed that there were three other seniors there also. I looked them over and thought From the looks of these old farts I must look pretty good. The truth is that I don’t look all that great either.

One old guy looked like he had been already been through the war. He was tall and skinny with skin that resembled a badly wrinkled prune. He was dressed in blue jeans and a sleeveless T-shirt and didn’t have a tooth in his head. I thought he was trying to impress everyone that he was a tough old bird. If he served before it was probably in the Civil War. I concluded. His name is Mike and he is from the hills of eastern Kentucky. A former coal miner, he had the gaunt look of a man that has spent too many years under ground.

Another inductee, a woman that looked like everyone’s grandmother was sitting in a straight chair with a look of total bewilderment on her face. She had gray hair and was very thin, maybe 90 pounds soaking wet. She had on a typical granny dress and had brought her knitting with her. She was nervously trying to work on a baby blanket.

I trust the baby blanket is not for her. I thought.

She was the spitting image of the grandma on the old Golden Girls TV show. Her name is Edith. She is 66 years old, 5’ 3" tall and looked too frail for the rigors of Army life.

I didn’t know it then but she would cling to me tighter than a fly on dog poop.

The third inductee was a nice looking gentleman that exuded a I can’t wait to straighten out this army attitude. He was tall, physically fit and well dressed and probably believed that he was going to call the shots. His name is Dave and the former CEO of an electronics company. He is obviously used to giving orders, not taking them.

A couple of new MP’s came through the door. They shook their heads in disbelief after looking at us and announced that they had a van outside to take us to Ft. Carson for processing. Well, I thought, this could be interesting.

Fort Carson is a sprawling Army base south of Colorado Springs, Colorado. It is one America’s largest Army bases and known as the ‘Mountain Post’ even though it is not actually in the mountains. It is just across highway 115 from the Cheyenne mountain home of NORAD. Just north of NORAD is a subdivision of upper class homes referred to by many people as ‘Ground Zero Estates’ because NORAD is a prime target for those people that don’t exactly like America.

Our first stop was at the base hospital. The hospital was very large and my first thought was that it was probably full of people wanting a good excuse to get out of the army. It was located at the far south end of the main base. I wondered if the post cemetery was located behind the hospital for convenience.

We were given so many forms to fill out that I thought we could record the entire history of the world. By the time I finished they would know more about me than I did. So much for privacy.

Now, the thought of stripping and having some good looking nurse check me over was enticing but not likely to happen. And the thought of seeing grandma naked was almost scary. Even worse was the thought that they would laugh because of a portion of my body that hasn’t been used much lately. Remember the old saying about use it or loose it? Unfortunately it is true. My belly overhang doesn’t help much either. Most of my weight is above my hips and below my neck. Sherri says I could double for Buddha. Luckily we were not required to remove our shorts.

I was doing OK until one of the male nurses told me to bend over so he could check my prostate gland. This is done by inserting a finger up a persons backside and feeling the gland. Now, I’ve never been squeamish about having that done by my own doctor but this male nurse made me nervous. It seemed to me that the nurse lingered there with his finger up my butt a whole lot longer than necessary.

They talked about doing a heart stress test but decided not to because another old inductee died of cardiac arrest a couple days earlier on the treadmill. I told them it would be OK since I probably wouldn’t live much longer anyway.

By then it was lunch time. I remembered Army food as not being very good. In fact someone once told me that Army cooks are the best chemists in the world. They can actually turn food to poop without going through the human system. I guess that’s why they have so many fast food places around military bases.

We were taken to a mess hall not far from the hospital. I thought that was good since we would probably have to have our stomachs pumped after eating. Old people tend to have sensitive stomachs and mass produced semi-edible food doesn’t have much appeal. I was pleasantly surprised that the food really was quite good.

Maybe that’s why they drafted grandma. Old ladies usually are good cooks. Well, at least some of them are.

During lunch we got to know each other. It seems as if grandma wanted us to call her Edith instead of grandma. She admitted that she was very scared to be in the army. She said her late husband had served in the Air Force back in the 60’s and that he always bad mouthed the Army. Grunts he called them, all brawn and no brains. I assured her that that was not true anymore. God, I thought, I hope I’m right.

The tall skinny man was Mike. He looked so frail that I really didn’t think they would keep him. He seemed quite nice but it was apparent that he had a hair trigger temper. Anybody that screws with me will pay the price. he declared. Well, for someone that has to stand in the same place twice just to cast a shadow that sounded pretty far fetched.

The other guy was not very talkative. The only thing I learned of value is that his name is Dave and he came from Chicago. He seems like a good guy to stay away from. He’s got a real bug up his butt about something and we didn’t want to find out what it is. He got up and walked out the door. His body language told everyone to stay clear of him.

After lunch I walked outside followed closely by Edith.

She always looked close to tears, so having soft shoulders to cry on I tried to console her. That was a big mistake.

I she said with tears welling up in her eyes. don’t think I can do this. I’m too old for this crap. Besides, I never liked the Army.

We need to look at this as an adventure. I replied. Who knows, you could become the post grandma, loved by everyone and looked up to by these kids. At a little over 5’ tall it would be hard for anyone to look ‘up’ at her. I didn’t know it then but most of the old folks would become surrogate grandparents to a lot of the troops here.

Mike was standing by himself smoking one cigarette after another. He didn’t seem to care that he might he ruining his health. Well, from what I had seen of him his health was probably shot anyhow. Just another peg in his coffin. He seemed to be in deep thought and it appeared to me and Edith that he was very angry. We decided not to approach him. It would be better to let him break the silence between us.

Dave was nowhere to be seen. Probably walked over to post headquarters to straighten out the commanding general. I thought.

We were standing around wondering what we are supposed to do when a HumVee pulled up in front of us. I walked over and gave this monstrosity a critical look. A soldier in fresh pajamas got out and came over to us. How do ya like it. he asked.

Back in the ‘60s when I was in the army we had Jeeps. I replied. We never even had tanks this big. The vehicle seemed to be about ten feet wide and looked as if could hold half a company of troops.

I was sent to take you to your quarters. he said If you would climb aboard I’ll take you there.

Now this proved to be a problem. Edith was wearing a dress and couldn’t get up into the Humvee. I thought about giving her a boost but couldn’t figure out where to place my hands without getting slapped silly by her. The driver was one step ahead of us though and produced a step for her to use. The problem was solved and her vanity saved.

As we boarded the HumVee Dave magically appeared. Without saying anything he climbed aboard. He never said a word on the way to our new home. After a short drive we arrived at our new home. Someone had put a sign over the