Things Never Change

23 Jan 1942
US Army Reception Center, FT Niagara, NY

Third day in the army and since 0500 (that's 5 am to civilians) I'm on KP in the mess hall. At 0645 I'm slinging some kind of gruel onto mess trays toted by 'faces white from the office light' - those with seniority as great as mine.

"There's one thing for certain, the army is not particular who serves food around here." I looked up and saw a friend for the first time since college graduation. We both exchanged broad grins and he passed on down the chow line and out of my life.


The Mess Sergeant must have out sized a pro-wrestler Man Mountain Dean. The 'Sarge' was huge. He puffed and waddled when he walked. When the GI's quit coming through the breakfast chow line, the Sarge put the largest skillet I had ever seen on the stove. To the skillet he added an equivalent slab of ham. As the ham sizzled he had a dozen eggs frying, sunny side up, in the bubbling grease.
Skillfully sliding the ham and eggs onto a tray, he placed the tray on a butcher's block; a stool squeaked as Sarge plopped onto it next to the block. We stood around watching the operation expectantly.

Then Sarge bellowed - "Whatcha lookin' at? Can't a guy eat in peace? Get yer
butts trew dat line and get some grub fer yerself."

How did that song go? "This is the army, Mr. Jones-"

Summer 1946
Binghamton, NY -Chenango Valley State Park Golf Course

After four plus years I'm finally out of military service and on the golf course.
On the the eight tee I realized that I had left the pitching wedge near the
last green. As I returned to the seventh green a voice called out:"There's one
thing for certain, they are not particular who plays golf around here either."

It was the college friend I had last seen at the Induction Station in 1942!