In November, 1945 Winter was making its frigid appearance felt in the Mississippi Valley in the general vicinity of St. Louis. Daytime temperatures had trouble in breaking the freezing point. Night time temperatures were somewhat colder. Cold in this region of the Mississippi Valley is made somewhat worse by the presence of high humidity.
So on November 8, 1945, a very cold and rainy day, it came my turn to present myself to the United States Army discharge center at Scott Field Army Air Force Base near Belleville, Illinois. My last assignment had been at Greenwood, Mississippi where we had been sent to prepare for the projected invasion of Japan. When Japan surrendered, this was a fortunate turn of events for me because it left me in the Continental United States as opposed to being on a foreign assignment. Being in the U. S. was a major step in getting out of the Army. My friend Harry Livermore, was on the Aircraft Carrier Ticonderoga in the Pacific Ocean. He had to wait for January, 1946 to get out of the Navy.
The Army brass desperately wanted all of us to re-enlist in the Army Air Force. There was a reason for wanting us to stay in the Army, and it had nothing to do with patriotism. Simply put, if all the enlisted men elected to be discharged and go home to civilian life, there would be no troops for Captains, Majors, Colonels and Generals to command and such Army brass would be out of work.
Consider the shoe clerk, for example, who served part time in the National Guard before the war. Enlistment in the National Guard caused the shoe clerk or the plumber’s helper or the filling station attendant to earn perhaps $20 or $30 extra each month. As we were in the grip of the Depression from 1928 to the start of 1942, that extra income was a major help to low wage earners. This money was earned by attending meetings which took place every two weeks. After 20 years, the National Guard also provided a pension. In the Summer, National Guard troops were called up for two weeks of marching and gunnery practice. In Missouri, for example, the National Guard went to the cool waters of Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin for the two week summer encampment. Many Guardsmen were allowed to bring their families along so the mid-Summer drills really became a vacation which many National Guardsmen could not have afforded without the Summer drills. So for many men, the National Guard was a good deal that offered extra money, a pension, and a trip to Wisconsin in July or August.
After December 7, 1941 when National Guard troops were federalized, many of the Guard troops walked into a rapidly expanding U. S. Army that had all kinds of officer vacancies to fill. The Guard troops often had first pickings and many of them wound up as Captains or Majors or even as Colonels with hundred of troops to command.
Now the former shoe clerk or plumber’s helpers were in a position to give orders. They no longer had to worry about whether their shoes made customer’s bunions feel better or whether that pesky leak in the kitchen was fixed. They were now giving orders.
At the end of hostilities, the shoe clerks and the plumber’s helpers certainly wanted to avoid going back to their former lines of work. So the solution was to get men to re-enlist so that they could continue to be powerful Army officers.
There was a mousy fellow who worked for AT&T and who had enlisted in the National Guard in the 1930’s. When war broke out, this fellow had never risen to the lowest level of management. This man was federalized and by the end of the war he was a Brigadier General in the Army. AT&T took him back at the lowest level of management to avoid the embarrassment of a Brigadier General now relegated to a job of very modest importance. It must be clear by now that many returning officers looked with dread toward returning to their former occupations.
As soon as it became clear that the war was over, enlisted men such as myself were called to individual and group meetings on Army bases where the intention was to persuade us to re-enlist. Failing that, the next objective was to get people to enlist in the Army Reserves. If that failed, the officers were to insist that the enlisted men at least enroll in the National Guard.
Most of the men at the Greenwood, Mississippi base where I was, were veterans of three years or more in the Army and nearly everyone had served substantial tours overseas. Under the point system announced after heavy pressure from wives and mothers on Congress, this meant that most of us in Greenwood had more than enough points to be discharged immediately. Medals and awards also counted. In my case, 60 or 65 points were all that was needed to qualify for discharge. If my memory is anywhere near correct, I had accumulated 105 discharge points and man, I was ready to go.
When we were called in to meet with Army brass, most of us, say 95%, laughed at the urgings of the Colonels and Majors and demanded to be let out of the Army. Whereas in the past the Army brass were giving orders, they were now importuning us to stay. Horse laughs were in order for enlisted men.
The war ended on August 16, 1945. I was on furlough at the time and reported back to Greenwood around September first. All of September and October were lost while the Army tried to persuade and bully us into enlisting in the Army, the Reserves or the National Guard. When it became clear that this old Sergeant rejected all three enlistments, the Army gave up and sent me in early November, 1945 to the Scott Field Discharge Center.
We were instructed to wear our uniforms and overcoats which was agreeable because it was cold. At 8AM on November 8, 1945, the harangue at Scott Field started all over about re-enlistment or joining the Reserves or the National Guard. This went on into the afternoon and it only made me more determined to kiss the Army life goodbye. After a particularly unpleasant meeting with a Sergeant, I was moved to say, “Sergeant, screw you.” That is the sanitized version of what I said, but my meaning was quite clear.
Late in the afternoon, the Army considered me a hopeless case and finally proceeded to process me for discharge. They announced that my overcoat had to be returned and that the Army would replace it with a rubberized slicker. Not very warm on a November evening, but what the hell, I was finally getting out. The overcoat return was fine with me as my plans for civilian dress did not include an overcoat with brass buttons.
Near the end of this very long day, say around 6:30PM, a seamstress appeared to take my jacket. She quickly explained that she had no plans to confiscate it; she simply wanted to sew a Ruptured Duck above the right breast pocket. This signified that the wearer was an honorably discharged soldier. That jacket has hung in various closets of my homes for pretty close to 58 years and the Ruptured Duck is still in good shape. (see Attachment 1)
Actually, the insignia is an eagle stepping through a wreath. Irreverent G.I.’s always referred to that insignia by no other name than the Ruptured Duck. If you ever have reason to ask about that insignia, kindly refer to it as the Ruptured Duck because if you use any other name, particularly to an old G.I., your question will probably not be answered.
Shortly before a Colonel bade us farewell, he presented each of us with a metal lapel pin for our civilian clothes. (see Attachment 2) It was the Ruptured Duck rendered in some metal that looked like gold. Every discharged soldier got the lapel pin. To my best recollection, I rarely, if ever, saw it worn. My former G. I. luncheon companions were Lloyd Rockamann, Gordon Gintz, Tom Laflin, Ralph Rauscher and one or two others. None of us ever wore the pin in our lapels and if we referred to it, it was done in a mocking laughing sort of way. In any case, I have been unable to locate my Ruptured Duck lapel pin for several decades.
All of that brings me to the flags that every male member of the Bush Administration wears in the left lapel of his suit. I have nothing against the flag, but there is something unseemly about it becoming part of the civilian uniform. My reaction to this blatant display of the flag is that if the flag wearer is so moved by patriotism, perhaps he ought to join the Armed Forces.
When it is said I have nothing against the flag, it should be acknowledged that I very much like flags. In our front coat closet are flags from perhaps 10 – 12 nations which we sometimes affix to holders under all the front windows. Until the lapel pin wearing came into vogue, I was the most exuberant displayer of flags in this neighborhood. There is also a United States flag and an Irish flag on seven foot poles which flank the bookcases in our family room.
Millions of Americans, males and females, are patriotic citizens. Millions of us served in the Armed Forces during war time. Very few of us are now flag-wavers. When Bush who reminds us that he is the Commander-in-Chief, had his chance to be a hero, he punted and fled to the Texas National Guard and never served a day in the Vietnam War. Cheney applied for and got five deferments during that same conflict, so he missed his chance to sing “Hurray for the Red, White and Blue.” In all of Bush’s cabinet, as far as I can tell, only Colin Powell ever served his country, but every member sports a flag in his left lapel to make certain that shirking is not in the vocabulary of this Administration. And to think that all of my colleagues from World War II , most of them combat veterans, declined to wear the Ruptured Duck emblem largely because it might say to other people that the discharged vet is somehow better than anyone else. It is sort of like a woman flashing a $900 Coco Chanel handbag while squeezing potatoes at the local greengrocers market. Most veterans of WWII did not want to call attention to themselves. When a neighbor of mine in New Jersey persisted in wearing his Army officer shirts on Saturdays after the war, it was widely frowned upon by the veterans among us. Most of us preferred to stay below the radar.
To be generous about the people around Bush, perhaps it might be that our fearless Commander-in-Chief may not be known to other presidents and major political figures abroad. Perhaps he wears the flag in his lapel to give people a hint that he is the President and Commander of all of American Armed Forces. If that is true, then it would seem proper that Jacques Chirac ought to have his administration wear the Tri-colour. And Tony Blair, whom even members of his own Labor party call Bush’s lap dog, might dress his administration in the Union Jack. Because all three countries share the red, white and blue colors, seeing those three leaders together would be a full fledged riot in color.
But Chirac and Blair do not make a show of their patriotism. In that respect, perhaps they are much like the WWII vets who had no desire to show anyone up. In Bush’s case, it may be that young George is covering up a large deficiency in his makeup. As I said earlier, when he had a chance to perform in a war, he punted. It may be that when he wears his lapel pin, his confidence receives a boost. I suppose that all this lapel pin wearing is why psychiatrists are in business.
Aside from the lapel pin flags, it is now obvious that when Bush makes a speech he stands in front of a flag draped scene. As an example, when Dan Rather got his interview with Saddam Hussein, it was broadcast at 9PM on Wednesday, February 26, 2003, in the regular time slot for “60 Minutes II.” Bush’s people insisted that they ought to provide dissent from Hussein’s responses, presumably by making Rather stop the tape whenever the Bush people wanted to dispute a point. CBS told the Bush Administration to get lost.
In retaliation, a Bush speech to the American Enterprise Institute was moved up to 7:30PM on that same evening to draw listeners away from “60 Minutes II.” As it turned out, the interview with Hussein was viewed by at least 17 million listeners, setting a record for “60 Minutes II.” The Bush speech was viewed by a small percentage of the CBS total.
Be that as it may, the Bush speech was delivered in front of four large American flags on poles behind him. Every shot of the TV cameras had to include the flag backdrop. I suppose that when Bush wears his lapel pin, and stands in front of a display of flags and speaks to an audience of right wing zealots, as in the case of the American Enterprise Institute, he must feel like a patriot in spite of his war time record. Maybe psychiatrists should prescribe this sort of therapy for all their patients suffering from depressed self esteem.
Well, I suppose times change and modesty is among its first casualties with Bush and his followers. Just by observing cars in parking lots and watching cars on the streets and highways, it seems to me, in a totally unscientific study, that the bigger the car the more flags it is wearing. Maybe this says that people who drive gas guzzlers are first rate patriots. And the SUV’s display the most flags, by far. Flags are hooked on to radio antennas. Some are pasted on the windows of SUV’s and others are placed on the paint on the rear lift up door. This week I followed an exterminating company van with an enormous flag on the rear door. I suppose he was telling us that as he wiped out nests of rats, he was somehow serving his country.
Flags are everywhere. I see cell phones decorated with the flag. Professional basketball and football players attach the flag to their uniforms. What does this say? This team is an American team, so prepare to get trounced? Not one of those athletes ever marched on an Army drill field.
It seems to me that such displays of the flag tend to make it routine and thus, irrelevant. Maybe I am not a good one to judge about the flag. The American Legion and the Veterans of Foreign Wars have always revolted me. They had the odor of professional patriotism. And that is how I view the flags on SUV’s and on the lapels of Bush administration flunkies. They are the chicken hawks, that is, let’s bomb Iraq, Iran, Syria and North Korea back to the Stone Age. Unfortunately, none of the chicken hawks have ever dealt with a war up close, as in the case of an enlisted Infantryman.
And so it seems to me that if the flag wearer is so moved by patriotism, perhaps he might express his support of the flag and join the Armed Forces. And if he is lucky and survives to earn an honorable discharge, he may get to wear a Ruptured Duck over his right breast pocket to go with his flag on his left lapel, the flag on his SUV, the flag on his cell phone and the wrap around flag on his pajamas.
E. E. CARR
February 25, 2003
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Those who are still curious as to the plight of out-of-work generals should watch “White Christmas” with Bing Crosby, which not only expounds about this theme but makes it a central plot point. There’s even a song. Now, this movie isn’t particularly good, but with some margaritas you can get through it; the Shepherd family this yearly.
The flag-waving discussion reminds me of the ever=popular injunction to “support our troops.” It’s incredible that millions of housewives across central Texas, for example, have decided that the best way to support our fighters is to put a bumper sticker on their SUV. These same housewives would not consider simply voting for a politician who seeks peace, even though keeping troops out of war is probably going to always be the best way to support them.