So, it came to pass, one
day, that they had us standing in formation, after a not too long
march, outside of what I would describe as WW II style barracks. (A lot of
buildings had that appearance. ) I can still picture the trees and
the structures themselves very vividly. We weren't there long
before myself and several others were told to “fall out” of
formation and report to one of the buildings directly before us. (I
remember Shelby, who became our platoon leader later, being one of
the recruits.)
We entered the building,
which had at some time in the distant past, been converted into a
class room of sorts. There were desks, like high school, and what
appeared to be a teacher's desk at the front. I believe there may
have even been a large chalk board behind the “teacher's desk.”
It wasn't long before, I
think, an NCO appeared at the front of the room and began explaining
to us why we had been singled out from the rest of the platoon. I
wasn't quite sure if I was in trouble at this point, but I was
terribly curious.
As he explained, we had
been brought there because we all had done exceptionally well on our
ASVAB, (Army Services Vocational Aptitude Battery) test. I felt
special! We were now going to take another test. Oh, boy! This test,
as it was explained further, was required before being able to attend
a military language crash-course that Special Forces
candidates were required to attend if they didn't already speak a
second language. (Yes, Green Berets are required to be able to
communicate in a second language.) He continued that we would spend
the next couple of hours learning a mock language, that we would then
be tested on and, if receiving a pass, we would be allowed to move to
a special forces M.O.S. (Mode of Service.) Yipee! He also explained
the scoring process, which was something to the effect of a required
116 out of a possible 150 or 160. Anyway, it seemed weird.
So, the test soon
commenced and we studied made up words and made up grammar and made
up sentences. It was not uninteresting or unchallenging. I suppose it
took at least two hours and my brain felt a little
fried when the entire process was over.
They then took up our
tests, promising us an answer post haste. We all waited with
curiosity and bated breath.
When I received my
results, I couldn't help but laugh. I had achieved the absolute
minimal score required to pass. Still, I passed. (I remember Shelby
passed too.)
It was all a very
fascinating experience and gave our small crew something to chat
about and, perhaps,even, a small amount of more or less merited
pride. Being singled out, as we were, not to mention actually
passing.
Still, I thought it was
funny in other respects. I was pretty sure SFC Johnson, my
recruiter, had told me that I had done well enough on my ASVAB to
do any job I wanted as long as it didn't include the Airborne. It
seems flat feet and jumping out of planes don't mix. The Army
obviously had my medical records, so they knew about my little
deformity. So, I did find that entire scenario mysterious due to
those little facts. But, hey, as I was too learn, there is sense and
there is Army sense.
All in all, it was fun and
curious, but it was to no avail. Airborne? Special Forces? Rangers?
Green Berets? Not me! I've always heard there were two things that
fall out of the sky: Fools and bird shit! I had already decided I was
neither.
