“I’ve been a Democrat all my life,” wrote an angry Army reservist to his Congressman, “but I led the booing when Kennedy’s picture came on the newsreel.” Last week other Congressmen were receiving scores of similar letters, and newspapers across the U.S. bloomed with headlines about the unhappy lot of reservists and National Guardsmen who have been recalled to active duty since the Berlin crisis began boiling. What was going on? The answer: nothing more snafu than usual in times of rapid military buildup.
Last summer, when Russia began to threaten war over Berlin, the Kennedy Administration decided that there was no time to beef up the armed forces with a draft or a recruiting campaign, turned instead to the reserves and the National Guard as the only available source of trained manpower. Since then, the Army has called up 119,000 men, the Navy 8,000, and the Air Force 28,000. The Air Force and the Navy have had relatively few gripes, mostly because they could recall men not as individuals but as members of well-trained units that needed little preparation for combat.
Falling Back on the Fillers. But the Army was different. Reserve units averaged only 61% of authorized combat strength, National Guard units 70%. To bring recalled reserve and National Guard outfits up to snuff, the Army had to fall back on some 40,000 “fillers”—stand-by reservists, who belonged to no particular unit and did not really think that they would ever be summoned short of actual war. From the fillers have come most of the squawks about the recall system. Of the 17,000 Army reservists’ applications for deferment, fully 80% have come from the fillers.
When the fillers reach camp, they get even unhappier. The Army, after dislocating their lives, seems unprepared to get them back into uniform—if a uniform is to be had. Last week at Fort Lewis, Wash., a filler wearing slacks and a black jacket complained: “I’ve been here since Nov. 3, and I don’t have a uniform yet. I’ve been down to supply several times, but they just don’t have it.”
Indeed, the Army has not had on hand the materiel to equip many of the recalled reservists. The lack of sheets, field jackets and cutlery touched off a rash of complaints. Asked Pfc. Jack Powell in Fort Polk, La.: “Have you ever tried to eat your corn flakes with a fork?” Wisconsin’s Republican Congressman Alvin E. O’Konski charged that the 32nd Infantry Division of Wisconsin’s National Guard had been mobilized at Fort Lewis without adequate food, clothing, bedding and fuel. Cried O’Konski: “The gallant 32nd has been betrayed and demoralized.” In fact, most men of the crack 32nd were embarrassed by O’Konski’s bleats, which had resulted in Fort Lewis career men calling the outfit the “crybaby division.”
Little on the Shelf. By far the most legitimate complaint was the Army’s lack of weapons and heavy equipment needed to bring reserve units up to fighting strength. As an example, the 15 2nd Medical Air Ambulance Company at Fort Ord, Calif., has none of its authorized HUiA helicopters, is trying to make do with a pair of less adaptable H-igs.
Specialized outfits, such as battlefield salvage and post office units, which had no immediate job to do, were often unhappy. Interviewing men from the 321st Base Post Office unit at Fort Dix, N.J., the New York Herald Tribune gleaned some sullen quotes: “The President says we have a million unemployed youths. Get them in here. Let us out.” But the paper neglected to point out that the quoted soldiers had been restricted to their barracks for disciplinary reasons.
No Retort. Actually, by last week, when the Great Gripe seemed to be getting louder, the bulk of the recalled reservists and National Guardsmen were learning to live with the Army again. Materiel shortages were rapidly being filled—although there was still a lack of heavy equipment and weapons. For most units, the dull three weeks of indoctrination—immunization shots, close-order drill, getting dog tags—were about over, and the 13-week cycle of heavy training was about to begin.
“No one here is really happy about this,” said Lieut. Colonel Lester N. Fitzhugh of the 49th Armored Division, a Texas National Guard unit at Fort Polk, La. “But most of us feel the President was right, and we’re making the most of it.” At Fort Ord, Calif., First Sergeant James Poole, of the 431st Ordnance Field Supply Company, listened impatiently while some of his men lamented their fates to a newsman, then burst out scornfully: “Listen, I don’t like being back in uniform any more than you. But when I signed my name on the line to defend the country I knew I might have to make good on that promise some day. So did you guys.” The gripers walked away and went back to work.
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