John Delach

When I arrived at Fort Dix to begin basic training, I found that most of my fellow mates who I shared our barracks with were also National Guard or Army Reserve enlistees who had been members of their home units for one or two years. Most of us had joined these units to avoid the draft in 1965 and 1966.

I joined the 242^nd Signal Battalion based in Hempstead, Long Island in the spring of 1965 shortly before I graduated from college. My cousin, Bill, was already a seasoned veteran and had already served his six months in active duty at Fort Dix in Bordentown, NJ close to Philadelphia, PA. At the time I joined my unit, the reserves were operating in a relaxed peace-time mode.

Bill drove me to the armory where I met the First Sargent of Company C, Harry Coogan. Harry was a nice guy with an excellent sense of humor. He operated in that same relaxed atmosphere. He had several openings available and he signed me up. Harry welcomed me to the unit and said that I would go to basic training that fall.  

Little did we realize that coming summer of 1965, President Lyndon B. Johnson would turn our country’s advisory actions in Viet Nam into a full-scale war against the North and open the draft so he could send hundreds of thousands of young American men into that dirty little war.

Johnson and Co’s actions filled the Army’s training centers with as many draftees as they could handle and then some. All of a sudden, young men eligible for the draft flocked to join reserve units. The 242^nd Signal Battalion was no exception. Every unit filled their quotas and started turning away new enlistees.

We reservists were relegated to training units within our companies. It sucked and nobody liked the concept. We were a waste of time and resources. Over time, it became obvious that we didn’t have a place in the line to go away for training, so at least in Company C, the brass integrated us into the organization.

I joined Bill’s unit that was led by two sergeants, Freddie B and Mike M. With the call-up to war, the army tightened up on our operations and overnight, the relaxed atmosphere disappeared. More weekend drills replaced Monday night meetings and the enforcement of stupid Army disciplines became prevalent. One weekend up at Camp Smith in upstate New York, I got nailed for sideburns, the length that exceeded Army regulations. Stupidly, a sergeant actually measured the length! Mine failed and I was issued an Article-15 for punishment which meant absolutely nothing as far as I was concerned.

The Commanding Officer in charge when I joined the 242, called it quits and said goodbye to us all. His replacement, who shall remain nameless, was a total shit head. If we had ever had to do something serious like go into combat, one of us had to frag him before he killed us all. I knew it was bad when Harry Coogan called it quits and retired.

I finally got the call to active duty early in February of 1967. I reported to the corner of Park Avenue and Thirty-Third Street in front of the old armory to board a bus going Fort Dix. I was part of a small crowd of 25 to 30 reservists on our way to basic training. It was an unseasonable day.

We found our way to a barracks for transient troops for our introduction to the Army.

That night it snowed and it didn’t stop snowing for the rest of February.