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Stateside Service: Camp Cooke
About May, the Battalion was transported by rail to Camp Cook (now Vandenberg Air Base), on the California coast near Lompoc. There, brand-new, latest issue, tank destroyers were waiting for us. We all were pleased; these were real tanks with a completely revolving turret (although for some reason I never understood, there was no hatch to close on the turret when enemy fire got hot), sufficient armor, a good gun and a fully tracked, high-speed vehicle. We fell eagerly into the new training program and morale was definitely higher. Nothing about a transfer out for me was ever mentioned so, becoming wiser in the ways of the army, I settled in trying to learn the new TDs and earn a corporal's stripes as a gunner.
We went into Lompoc occasionally for diversion. I remember once there was a carnival in town and my tank commander and crew went into to see a "girly side show", my first experience of anything like this. Admission was low (although not for poor me), 50 cents I think, and the dancers exposed just enough to entice the audience. Then the hawker would announce another act, for only a doller, where everything would be exposed. We grudgingly paid it and it was an eye popper for me. Then the hawker overreached, for tank destroyer men at least, and asked for an additional two dollars to see an erroric dance between the two strippers. All five or six of us advanced on him and threatened dire consequences if the show didn't proceed promptly and without addition cost to us. He could see we meant business and the few civilian spectators didn't object, so the show went on promptly. I don't know which impressed me more, what I saw for the first time or what I did with my now buddies for the first time.
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Camp Cooke
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At Camp Cooke, an event happened that changed my army career and, indeed, affected my return to civilian life like nothing else could. I read in The Stars and Stripes (a newspaper published by the Army and distributed free to all troops) that eligible enlisted men could apply for participation in the recently created Army Specialized Training Program (ASTP) for education and training in engineering, medicine, foreign language and area specialization, military government and other fields important to the Army's wartime and occupation/post-war duties. I had attended a very good high school in Rockville Centre, Long Island, New York and, consequently, my Army IQ score (I forget what they called it) was higher than that required for Officer Candidates School (OCS) and entry into ASTP, even though it was taken at Camp Upton under the least optimum conditions possible. My Mother had insisted that I take the non-vocational track in high school even though going to college at that time seemed like an impossible financial barrier to overcome and therefore only a dream to me. I was called into the Orderly Room one morning after breakfast and informed that I had been accepted in the program. I had orders and train tickets, along with a Corporal in my Company, to report to Stanford University near Palo Alto, for refresher courses further examination.
Before proceeding with that stage, it is interesting to note what happened to the 775th TD Battalion. They continued training vigorously on the use of their new tanks and proper tactics. But then, in the inimitable way of the army, they suddenly took all their tanks from them, shipped the outfit to the Pacific and issued them armed amphibious landing craft to use in upcoming major Pacific landings. The "tiger" was sunk, so to speak. Certainly, it never caused me to regret leaving for other pastures.
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