“Well, before I start the course, can you at least show me how to operate the bus?”
“Well, we close in an hour. I can show you a few things.”
He taught me the basics—how to work the gearbox, how to open and close the door, turn it on and off. This still wasn’t enough. There was no way that this would be enough to show for a license. There was so much red tape in front of me that I would have to figure out how to cut on my own.
“Thank you for showing me some of the basics, but I still need the license before tomorrow. Is there any way you can sign for my license?”
“Well, I can log you down for an hour of training, but I can’t sign off on a license. But if you go to your battalion maintenance officer, he may be able to do something for you.”
I waited until after lunch and walked over to the battalion maintenance office. I told the motor pool sergeant that I needed to talk to the battalion maintenance officer (BMO), and I was lucky that I got there when I did because it was a Friday afternoon and the BMO was ready to book.
“Sir, can you sign for my bus license? Here, I have this form from an instructor!” I said as I handed him the form.
I didn’t explain that it was only for one hour, but he was thorough and looked over the document. “Hell no, I’m not signing a bus license for you! You have one hour of training!”
“Sir, I need the license so I can pick up the bus before the transportation station closes at noon tomorrow. My mission is to pick up the troops coming home from the field exercise in Italy.”
“The only person that can waive the twelve-hour requirement is the battalion XO (executive officer). Major Hoople should still be in his office. Go ask the sergeant major to see him and see what he can do.”
I rushed to battalion headquarters and told the clerk that I needed permission to speak to the sergeant major for a priority mission.
He got up and knocked on the sergeant major’s door.
“Sergeant Bravo is here to speak with you. May he come in?” he asked on my behalf.
There was a brief exchange of words, but the sergeant major’s side was inaudible through the door. When the clerk was done speaking, he opened the door and allowed me through.
“Good afternoon, Sergeant Major.”
“What have you come to see me for today?” he asked me.
“I’m here to ask to see the battalion XO. I was assigned to drive the bus to bring the troops home tomorrow night at 7:00 p.m. I was told that I need a field officer’s signature to waive the requirement for the bus license.”
“Sergeant, I wouldn’t want to be the person that keeps the troops from coming home. I’ll contact the XO and tell him you need to speak with him right away.”
He picked up the phone sitting to his right and dialed a number. Another brief exchange of explanation takes place, and he let me know that I’ve been cleared to walk over to the battalion XO’s office.
“Come in, Sergeant Bravo, so I can sign for your license,” the battalion XO called out when I stood in front of his door.
My persistence had paid off again, and I had the signature for my license. But my mission was far from complete.
The next morning I headed out to the Stuttgart to pick up my bus, getting there a little bit before noon. I went to the transportation office at the entrance and showed the RAD my paperwork and license, then he gave me my logbook and the key to my bus.
“The bus must be brought back in the same condition as it was when you took it,” the RAD told me.
That was the plan, but I had a sneaking suspicion that it might not happen that way. I didn’t have much training. I didn’t even know how to turn on the heater!
“How do I turn on the heater?” I asked the RAD.
He gave me a concerned look and went out with me to turn on the heater, and I’m glad he did because it was cold as the wicked witch of the north’s tit that day. I took off for the Frankfurt Air Force Base, and when I got there around 3:00 p.m., I told the airman at the information desk my flight number and asked him when it would arrive. He pointed to the arrival/departure board on the wall above him.
I read that the flight would arrive at 7:00 a.m. the next day. That can’t be right. The first sergeant told me 7:00 p.m. Must have been a delay, or maybe I was just reading it wrong.
“Is Flight 56 really arriving at 7:00 a.m. tomorrow?” I asked the airman.
“Yes, sir.”
“In that case I need a place that I can stay tonight. I’m picking up the troops on that flight tomorrow.”
“Where’s your bus parked right now?” he asked me.
“Just outside there in the parking lot.”
“Lock it up and come back since you’ll be leaving it here overnight. Let me see if I can figure something out for you.”
“Let me go outside and lock the bus. I’ll be right back,” I told him.
When I came back, he gave me a key to a private room and told me that he had set up a place for me to sleep in the airman’s barracks.
“I called a car to take you to the barracks.”
“Thank you!” I said, then went outside to a blue military sedan.
The driver greeted me and told me he would be picking me up later to drive me back to the bus whenever the flight arrived. After I got dropped off at the barracks, I sat around for a few minutes looking over the room before taking a nap.
Later that night I went over to the airman’s club to enjoy some drinks and talk with some soldiers. I got pretty hammered that night. I was one of the only veterans around, so the more stories I told about Vietnam, the more beer the soldiers would buy me. This continued for a few hours until I realized I only had seven hours left until the troops arrived. It was less than a block to my room, but I was snockered, so it seemed like a mile.
The cold outside was unbearable, which made getting into bed under warm covers even more comforting. I closed my eyes and felt myself drifting into sleep. As I was beginning to slip into a deep slumber, I heard a sharp knocking on the door.
“Bravo, there’s a staff sergeant outside who wants to speak with you.”
“Hold on a minute…” I growled, rolling out of my warm sanctuary.
I went with the driver to the car, and when I got in, I was greeted by an older-looking sergeant.
“Sergeant Bravo, the soldiers and I are ready to depart and head home.”
Oh shit, I thought as I got into the car.
I looked outside and saw all the snow building up around us. To top it off, it was also pitch black because it was still one in the morning. It was just my luck that the flight came in early. There was no way I was going to be able to drive the bus in this weather, especially because I was still wasted.
“We can’t leave right now. The snow is getting too deep, and it’s pitch black outside. We’ll head out in the morning.”
I felt like I was being responsible, but the staff sergeant was not having it.
“These soldiers have been away from home for two weeks. They haven’t seen their wives and children. We need to get them home as soon as possible. I am the highest-ranking NCO here, and I say we are leaving now.”
I felt empathetic with the soldiers who missed their families. I missed mine. I hadn’t seen them in over two months. I also didn’t want to disobey someone who outranked me because then I would be going home whether I successfully drove the soldiers back or not.
I smelled like a brewery,