And There I Was #13 A Lighter Convoy

 And There I Was # 13

A Lighter Convoy

“Excuse me, Captain, may I speak with you please?”

I turned around to see an Otero County Sheriff, complete with mirrored shades standing there looking concerned. “Yes, Sheriff. What do you need,” I replied concern growing? 

“Well, Captain. I was wondering if you could come with me.” My signal company was supporting Operation Roving Sands, a multi-national Air Defense Artillery exercise in central New Mexico. I had pestered my BN CDR, LTC Wendell McKowen, for the off-post deployment. I had wanted a chance to move my company by rail and convoy from Fort Hood to Fort Bliss. Supporting such a large exercise would stress my company quite a bit. Even though we’d spent quite a bit of time in the field at Fort Hood, we all knew the post quite well, and operating in a different environment would be good for us. Also, getting my company to and from Fort Bliss would make us learn new skills in rail-loading and integration with foreign forces. Eventually, he’d acquiesced and assigned us the mission. My 1SG and I went to Fort Bliss to meet with the other units to hash out the support relationships. 

During the meetings, we both developed concerns for certain aspects of the support arrangements. The field feeding plans seemed a bit weak, especially since my company would be spread out from Fort Bliss in Texas to the northern end of White Sands Missel Range all the way up in New Mexico. All the associated units wanted to do the right thing. We just felt that they had not done their homework. When we presented the maintenance unit with our list of vehicles, they were quite surprised. At any rate, upon our return to Fort Hood, I button-holed LTC McKowen for permission to add a field feeding and maintenance section to my deployment package. Mildly amused, he agreed but required that I make arrangements to sign for an MKT from a Fort Bliss unit. A series of phone-calls later and the arrangements were made. Once on the ground, the small mess section would sign for an MKT and I would take them up to the north end of the missile range where they would provide hot chow for the Signal Team there. So far, the plan had unfolded as I hoped.

We’d railed a Mess-Section duce to Fort Bliss, linked up with a sister Signal unit, and signed for a complete MKT. Signing for the MKT took quite some time…there are a lot of bits and pieces to an MKT. Drawing rations was a bit of an adventure (See #6); however, we managed to get the rations, the cooks, and the equipment all together in the same place. Early in the morning, my small two-vehicle convoy pulled out from Fort Bliss headed for Stallion Army Airfield at the north end of the White Sands Missile Range, a drive of about one-hundred-fifty miles or so. After an hour and a half or so, we trundled into Tularosa, a small dusty town about halfway there. I placed SPC Milmoe and SPC Jenkins and their duce in a parking lot across from the elementary school and told them to wait right there. Having been to this area of New Mexico before, I knew of a good place to get breakfast burritos and coffee. And that is where I was when the Sheriff found me.

Concerned, I returned to my HMMWV and instructed SPC Lilly to follow the Sheriff. Tularosa is not very large, so the trip did not take too long. In fact, thankfully, we returned to the place where I’d left the two Specialists, the duce, and the MKT, all of which were where I’d left them. The sheriff parked across the street out of sight and motioned for me to come over to his cruiser. I complied and without a word, he pointed across the street. 

There was SPC Milmoe. He’d shed his BDU top, donned some mirrored aviator shades, was wearing his flack-vest, had draped two belts of 7.62 blank ammunition across his chest, and was parading around with the M-60, doing his best imitation of Rambo. Meanwhile, SPC Jenkins had dug out some foil and cardboard from the back of the duce and constructed a tanning aid. She’d also shed her BDU top and was reclining on the hood of the duce, catching some rays. The Sheriff then pointed across the street to the elementary school, where all the kids were lined up at the fence ogling my two soldiers.

“Now Captain, far be it from me to tell you how to do your job, but I kinda don’t think that’s the best use of their time,” he drawled. Then smiling, he climbed back into his cruiser and drove off, leaving me to deal with my two soldiers. After SPC Lilly and I laughed and rolled our eyes. I went and squared away my troops…at least for a few minutes…passed out coffee and breakfast burritos and headed off to finish our convoy. The exercise turned out very well. We all learned a lot, and no one died. This was not the end of SPC Milmoe’s story.