Harmon Drew is a friend from college days. We have a group that still corresponds – thank heavens for e-mail! This article came in right before Christmas. I have received permission to publish it after Harmon’s wife edited it in order to avoid any legal complications. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did; keep in mind it really is true. Hilarious!!! Cpt. Otis
To all:
Some 47 years ago at LSU I was approached at the fraternity house by one Harmon “Bub” Drew who asked if I would allow him to hang out with me so he could be “cool” and possibly pick up on some of my culls. He then proceeded to follow me around like a Shitzu dog for the next 47 years. That said, Harmon was called into the Army after graduating from the LSU ROTC program and assigned to the armor officer basic course at Ft. Knox. Upon his completion of the course he was immediately retired from the army after being told his services were no longer needed, whereupon he chose to seek his career in the law. He has been on the bench at different levels during the last 25 years and now sits on the Louisiana State Second Circuit Court of Appeal. Somehow, miraculously, this man married way over his head and his wife has thus far gotten him through life without him self destructing. One only need read the attached email to see what I have had to put up with for almost one-half of a century.
From: Harmon Drew
Sent: Tuesday, December 20, 2011 10:35 AM
Subject: Night-firing, Ft. Knox, August 1972
To: Big Cat / Lodi / My Favorite Yes-Man:
Just want to get the straight facts out about my military career, as there has been way too much misinformation circulating. Please pass this on to others who have expressed interest in my distinguished path through life.
For the record – –
Besides gaining a third-rate education for my fifth-rate mind, I somehow also secured a ROTC Commission at LSU-BR (as in The Ol’ War Skule). Was then sent to the Armor Officer Basic Course in the Blue Grass State. They were winding down Viet Nam, and offered me my choice of two years or 90 days. After reading this, you will know which of the options I chose, with the full support of the U.S. Army.
The class of about 80 officers was broken down into two main groups:
• about 1/2 were helicopter pilots being retrained to become tankers, for the coming wars in the sands of the Middle East; and
• about 1/2 were clueless ex-college/lawschool idiots like me – Slackers, Ingrates, Former or Present Dope-Heads, Malcontents, Misanthropes, Misogynists – you get the picture.
We were being trained by some very old Sergeants (some were even over 40 – positively ancient), each with at least two tours in Southeast Asia, and they quickly realized that most of us couldn’t find it with both hands.
Anyway, about day 75 of the 90 days, we had the traditional Ft. Knox “night-firing” so all the family members of the class could see what we had learned about waging war. Each M-60-A-1 tank had a crew of four. We would rotate (captain-loader-gunner-driver) and fire beautiful white phosphorus rounds into the night sky. On the second rotation, I became the “gunner” of my tank. Unfortunately, I had apparently not paid close enough attention to the earlier training, in that I somehow started aiming/looking through the wrong sight window. When we were told to “fire,” I rapidly and mistakenly elevated the huge cannon to an almost vertical position, and shot/fired/pulled the trigger/mashed the button. There was screaming. Intense sounds of scuffling and panic from old ladies and young children. People were wailing and crying. Grown men quaked. Unfortunately, I didn’t immediately correlate my “round” with the bedlam.
It became clear that there was some connexity, however, when the sergeant assigned to my tank DROPPED from the cupola to the floor of the tank (about eight feet), shouting: “GOOD GOD, L.T., WHAT HAVE YOU DONE????!!!!!!! Actually, he used other, more forceful, words to that effect. My weak and inadequate response was: “I think I nailed it, Sarge.”
Then the round hit the ground, as almost all of them are want/wont/have a want, to do. The white phosphorus (HEAT) projectile hit “less than 40 meters” in front of the line of tanks, much, much closer than any round had ever fallen before. Earth flew everywhere, most of it on fire. The brush began burning. In several places. Amid the bedlam, I clearly heard one hoarse voice scream: “INCOMING!”.
It may have been a coincidence, but night firing was abruptly terminated at that point. The shaken audience was evacuated on army green school buses. All 80 of my class members had to franticly egress from our war machinery and run to put out the blazes, using small fire extinguishers (only about 1/3 of which worked), brooms, and horse feed sacks (still were a few horses at Knox at that time).
One of my fellow officers barked at me, somewhat critically: “Drew, my grandmother drove from New Jersey – – to see THIS?” My flippant response, which nearly got me severely beaten, was: “How was her trip?”
Page Two: One General (#1) gave the main address at our graduation. You may have possibly heard of his father. As a cruelty joke, apparently, I was selected by the other officers to give the “Class Response.” It was, hands down, the finest speech I have ever given. Everything I touched turned to gold, oratorically – – it was HILARIOUS! I was like the Priest in Caddy Shack, but I made the putt on the 18th hole!!!! People were rolling. Never before or since have I put on such a presentation. It was the top of the mountain – the Extemporaneous Hall of Fame!
Page Three: Unfortunately, General #1 was not especially impressed at my jocular 15 minutes of fame. He chewed out the two Captains in charge of our training, wanting to know what kind of an army were they running?
Page Four: As you know: “Everybody likes Harmon.” As further proof of this fact, there was another General (#2) there that day on the stage with General #1 and myself. This brilliant and discerning General #2 thought I was great, unlike General #1. Stationed in Germany at the time, General #2 was one of the big dogs running the Army PXs in the Entire Free World. This learned general officer had undoubtedly not heard about the “problem” with our night firing. He warmly told me that:
I seemed like “his kind of guy,” further confiding that he would be “delighted” to have me on his staff, that he “could make it happen,” and that I “would never regret it.”
Though honored and mildly tempted, it seemed better for all parties that I just end my military career by doing my six years of reserve duty back home, hopefully as quietly as possible, and causing as little harm as possible. The collective U.S. Army seemed relieved.
General #2 really seemed like a superb, likeable, and talented man. He certainly was a good judge of talent.
And I still think back as to what might have been…………
Merry Christmas, Big Cat. Jean and I appreciate your service to the country, as well as that of your family and your brave comrades in arms.
Sincerely, H. Drew “SERVING THE PEOPLE”
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