Why a Soldier?: A Signal Corpsman's Tour from Vietnam to the Moscow Hot Line by

Description: Why a Soldier? by David Fitz-Enz He was one of the best, Airborne, proud to serve his country and fight its toughest war—in the hell that was Vietnam.Known to all as "Fitz," Signal Corps officer David Fitz-Enz served two tours in Vietnam. He was a soldier, combat photographer, and platoon leader, fighting America's cruelest war—from the VC-infested rice paddies of the Mekong Delta to the dreaded Ia Drang Valley, where the enemy ruled the night.Dispensing with traditional, sluggish chains of command, the Signal Corps developed a rapid-response system based on greater flexibility, cutting-edge communications technology, and interdependence between the branches of the military during the war. Now commanders in the field were able to call in artillery, air strikes, and reinforcements at a moment's notice. Fitz-Enz himself orchestrated the first-ever hook up over tactical systems between the President in the Oval Office and a general in the Vietnam jungle. The only book of its kind, WHY A SOLDIER? gives us the inside view of the Corps as it launched an exciting new era in strategic and tactical communications that set the groundwork for all future military operations."From the Paperback edition." FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description He was one of the best, Airborne, proud to serve his country and fight its toughest war--in the hell that was Vietnam.Known to all as "Fitz," Signal Corps officer David Fitz-Enz served two tours in Vietnam. He was a soldier, combat photographer, and platoon leader, fighting Americas cruelest war--from the VC-infested rice paddies of the Mekong Delta to the dreaded Ia Drang Valley, where the enemy ruled the night.Dispensing with traditional, sluggish chains of command, the Signal Corps developed a rapid-response system based on greater flexibility, cutting-edge communications technology, and interdependence between the branches of the military during the war. Now commanders in the field were able to call in artillery, air strikes, and reinforcements at a moments notice. Fitz-Enz himself orchestrated the first-ever hook up over tactical systems between the President in the Oval Office and a general in the Vietnam jungle. The only book of its kind, WHY A SOLDIER? gives us the inside view of the Corps as it launched an exciting new era in strategic and tactical communications that set the groundwork for all future military operations. Author Biography Col. David G. Fitz-Enz was a regular army officer for thirty years, retiring in 1993. Among his decorations are the Soldiers Medal for Heroism, the Bronze Star for Valor with four oak leaf clusters, the Air Medal, and the Legion of Merit with three oak leaf clusters. He is a graduate of Marquette University, the Army Command and General Staff College, and the Army War College. He is published in Military Review, the armys professional journal.Colonel Fitz-Enz is the national president of the American Military Retirees Association and vice president of Cannonade Film Works, Inc. Excerpt from Book Why Not Join the Navy? It was New Years Eve, 1963. I was seventeen years old, and Bill Swanson, a high school classmate, and I were out roaming the streets of Rockland, Maine, trying to find somebody who would buy two underage boys some alcohol. Our goal was Gluek Stite, a rank but strong malt liquor that came in small six-ounce cans. The stuff would gag a maggot, but it would get us drunk in minimum time. All of us who drank for the sole purpose of getting hammered used it. Earlier in the evening, as I left my house in Spruce Head, I had asked my mother for some money so I could get something to eat and go to the movies. Needless to say, I did neither that night. Bill knew a Coast Guard sailor called Reb who would buy kids beer. We found him in his room, above the Oasis Lounge in Rockland. We walked up the outside stairs to Rebs room and gave him the money. He went to the market across Park Street to make our purchase. Reb came back to the room, handed us the brown sack, and we drank down the malt liquor and waited for the buzz that would signify the first stages of adolescent intoxication. Reb just lay back on his bed reading a magazine, every once in a while looking at us with a big grin as we drank. A few minutes after having downed our six-packs, we left Rebs room for our first stop, the barroom downstairs. The operators of the place didnt question our ages. I proposed to one woman that she might dance with me. She gave me a quizzical look and impolitely declined the offer. We then strode valiantly, however unsteadily, out into the street. I was walking toward Park Street along Main when I was overcome by nausea. Right in front of Phils Corner, a small luncheonette, I felt the immediate urge to throw up. To steady myself, I grabbed firmly onto a parking meter (a long since discarded fixture on Rocklands Main Street) and proceeded to spray yellow Gluek Stite all over my shoes and the surrounding sidewalk. Just then a Rockland cop, Officer Hanley, walked up and asked if I was all right. Bill had seen Hanley walking down the street and had put some distance between us, and he shouted at me to run. In an alcohol-induced haze, I ran as fast as I could south down Main Street. Figuring Hanley was hot on my tail, I ducked behind Phils and then back out onto Park Street. Of course it wasnt the brightest choice; Phils Corner was only about fifty feet square and there were no buildings around it. As I ran around the building, trying to look back and see if Hanley was following me, I blasted around a corner and ran directly into him. He hadnt moved an inch. "Better come with me, son," were his next words. We drove to the Rockland Police Department, where I was placed in a cell painted therapeutic green. It had a hole in the floor and no mattress on the bed. My mothers cousin, Bruce Gamage, was on duty that night and he saw some degree of humor in my situation. I knew he had done more bad shit when he was young than I ever had, so I was quite sure I was not the first adolescent to have this experience. My father and Sonny Drinkwater, a lobsterman friend of his, came to bail me out. It required some surety to obtain my release so Sonny put up his house for bond. In those days, drinking as a minor was quite a serious offense. I was unceremoniously dumped into the back of Sonnys car and we drove to Spruce Head. I made some comment to my father about never being thought of by anybody as much more than a waste. That drew a hard slap across the face. That was the last time I ever gave him reason to hit me. At the time, I lived in a rented house in Spruce Head with my mother, stepfather, and two sisters, Heather and Cheryl. My parents divorced when I was ten years old, and I had lived with each of them for a while as they still lived in the same town. That way, I did not have to change schools. My father shoved me through the door with a comment directed at my mother that he had brought "her little boy" home. I went to bed with thoughts of impending death running through my mind. The next day I got up early and my mother ordered me to saw a cord of firewood into stove lengths, and then split and stack it. The legal system in those days was not as understanding as it is now. I was fined thirty-five dollars, given a suspended fifteen-day jail sentence, and placed on one years probation for my heinous crime. And I had to visit my probation officer every week. I had visions of never being able to get a job or vote or do any of the other things people take for granted, and in my own mind I felt like a convict. When I returned to school after holiday vacation, word had spread about my run-in with the law. The Key Club (junior version of Kiwanis) had taken a vote and expelled me from it. To get to my probation officer in the Post Office building, I had to pass by the military recruiters offices. Most of the time the recruiters were not in and a sign on the door announced when they would be. One afternoon, a few months after my "conviction," the Navy recruiter happened to be in, a first class boatswains mate in a blue uniform bedecked with ribbons and gold hash marks. A sign on his desk read "BM1 Allen, USN." I kind of liked that. A title in front of your name. A uniform and that look in the eye that told others you had seen things they could only dream about or see in movies. I walked in. He looked up from filling out some forms and asked if he could help me. I told him I was considering joining the service and wanted to see what the Navy had to offer. He asked me if I was still in high school. I said I was for the moment, but that it might not last much longer. He pointed to a chair and said he would be right with me. I looked around the room. Posters from the World War II era were all over the walls, one showing an attractive girl and another a girl in dress blues saying her man was in the Navy--that sort of thing. I didnt know if she was making an offer to other sailors who werent at sea, or if she was just a prop to attract dumb high school kids like me into signing on the dotted line. Around a recruiters office there is always the implication that you are going to have more fun, get laid more, and see more exciting places and things in the military. They always seem to leave out information about fighting wars, getting your ass shot off, scrubbing pots and pans, and cleaning heads. After a few minutes Bosuns Mate First Class Allen looked up from his paperwork. He stood and with a smile reached out and shook my hand, and we introduced ourselves. He asked me what I meant about not being in high school for long. I told him I was fed up with the place and going to quit. He said that was not a good idea because he could not guarantee me a school if I did that. He said that he would enlist me if I passed the Armed Forces Qualification Test, but it would be much better if I didnt quit. Also, the Navy would give me E-2 (Airman Apprentice) out of boot camp if I had a high school diploma. I didnt know what that meant, but I figured it might translate into more money. I looked over the brochures he had that described navy career fields and told him I would like to be a photographers mate. I was interested in photography and diving, but I understood the Navy didnt enlist you and send you directly to diving school. Allen told me to talk my decision over with my parents and then come back in a couple of days. Even though I would be eighteen when I joined, it was always good to have the approval of the parents. I knew my chances of going to college were just short of nonexistent. Even if Id had the financial means, I hated school and would never have graduated. I wouldnt have been able to bring myself to go just to keep from being drafted. In the 1960s the draft was in full swing and many of my schoolmates were discussing ways to avoid serving their country in the military. The next time I went to sign in with my probation officer, I stopped by the Navy recruiters office. Allen had some papers laid out on the desk. He asked me to fill in the blanks so he could start the paperwork. I would not be obligated to join, he just wanted to lay out the groundwork. Then he gave me the Armed Forces Qualification Test. The test was multiple choice and made up of questions about mechanical things, electricity, math, language comprehension, abstract thinking, and so on. I finished it in rapid fashion and was told I had scored a 94 percent out of a possible 99, which seemed to impress the recruiter. He told me that once I got in I could go to any school I could physically qualify for. He then asked if I was on probation or anything like that. I told him I was--for drinking under age. He smiled and said that wouldnt be a problem. He would get the judge to erase my record and it would be as though it had never existed. That happened a lot in those days. Many young men who might otherwise have ended up in jail joined the service. The vast majority of them never had trouble with the law aga Details ISBN0345482255 Short Title WHY A SOLDIER Pages 432 Language English ISBN-10 0345482255 ISBN-13 9780345482259 Media Book Format Paperback Year 1995 Author David Fitz-Enz Residence US Imprint Random House USA Inc Subtitle A Signal Corpsmans Tour from Vietnam to the Moscow Hot Line Country of Publication India Illustrations Illustrations, black and white DOI 10.1604/9780345482259 UK Release Date 1995-01-03 Publisher Random House USA Inc Publication Date 1995-01-03 DEWEY 959.7043092 Audience General We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:97778719;

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