After I graduated from Officer Candidate School (OCS), I was reassigned to Aberdeen Proving Ground, Maryland to attend the Ordnance Officer Basic Course. While at the Ordnance Officer Basic Course, I attended classroom instruction and practical hands-on instruction. Some of that practical hands-on instruction was in the form of a field training exercise (FTX). Other types of practical instruction included visits to vehicle maintenance shops at second level maintenance and third level maintenance to get an idea of what happened at those levels of maintenance. Second level maintenance was direct support maintenance, and most Ordnance lieutenants would be expected to fill a billet as a direct support shop officer in a direct support maintenance shop. Third level maintenance, also known as general support maintenance, typically occurred at the installation level. An Ordnance Captain who had already served as a company commander or a major awaiting assignment as a Battalion executive officer might be tasked to work at a third level maintenance facility. Our class also took a field trip to Letterkenny Army Depot to get a look at fourth level maintenance or depot level maintenance. The class did get to go out to the proving ground at Aberdeen to watch field testing on actual weapon systems and vehicles. So, the instruction wasn’t all boring. For example, the High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicle (HMMWV a.k.a. HUMVEE) was being put through its paces during advanced user acceptance testing prior to production and fielding. Selected members of my class, myself included, were allowed to drive the HUMVEE. First, we were given an overview of the vehicle and its capabilities. Then, we were given a safety briefing prior to being allowed to drive the HUMVEE. The master instructor asked for a volunteer to be the first driver. Naturally, my hand shot into the air. It is my firm belief that I can drive anything. Anything, that is, if it has wheels and a steering mechanism. Of course, this stipulation excludes your basic lawnmowers, wheelbarrows, toy wagons, and other assorted manual labor tools and implements. It is my firm belief that I could even drive an airplane should the need arise. The need has just never arisen. Mainly because I’ve never been on an airplane that insisted on crashing, or on an airplane where the pilot and copilot both decided to get sick and/or die. And believe me when I say this, my first option would not be to try to land a crashing plane if there is no large body of water around. My first option, in that case, would be to bail the hell out of that thing if I could find a parachute. What about the other passengers you ask? Hey. If they ain’t afraid to jump out of a crashing plane and they can also find a parachute they are welcome to jump as well. If not, well, they could always wait until it gets closer to the ground before jumping. No guarantees with that option though. Yeah. Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, driving HUMVEE’s. Since I had volunteered, I was selected to go first. Yay. The instructor pointed out the course to me, but we had been watching other drivers zip around the course already. As a result, I had a pretty good idea where to go. Besides, it’s not like you can get lost going around in a circle. Yeah. Sure. There are some hills and dips in that circular course. But still. Come on, it’s pretty hard to get lost when you’re going around in circles. The dude also said to keep it under 15 miles per hour. He didn’t know me very well, and it looked like there were a few places where I could open it up on that course. I had to see what this baby could do. So, I got into the driver seat and the master instructor got into the passenger seat. I think I scared the shit out of him on the first lap. After the second lap, he told me to stop the vehicle. He was not happy. Talk about a surprise drive. I had just delivered a masterful performance. Get it, master full? Yeah. I don’t think anybody else did either. I think the master instructor shit his pants. He didn’t seem impressed with my masterful performance. Chickenshit. He called for the next volunteer. When the next classmate stepped forward, the master instructor said to him, “If you pull some shit like that, nobody else drives. Do you get that?” My classmate answered, “Uh, yes sir.” I knew right then that I had scared the shit out of him. My classmate disappointed me by only driving 10 miles per hour on both laps that he attempted. In fact, all of the rest of the drivers drove in a reserved manner. What a shame. I wondered just how loaded with shit that master instructor’s pants were? A few days later, we went to another range where they were conducting field testing on the new M1 Abrams tank. Again, we were given an overview of the M1 Abrams tank and its capabilities. Then, we were given a safety briefing prior to being allowed to drive the tank. The master instructor for the tank range asked for volunteers to drive the tank. Everybody was really hesitant, but I had driven an M60A3 tank at Fort Benning when I was enlisted. I figured driving this one couldn’t be that much different. So, I said, “What the hell, I’ll go first.” I wanted to see what that baby could do because when they gave us a demonstration of its capabilities that baby was really humming along on that maneuverability course. I didn’t think I could make it play like a Stradivarius in my first attempt at driving it. But I would damn well try. I climbed up on the tank and entered through the driver’s hatch. The master instructor entered through the commander’s hatch. He told me to fire up the tank, and I acknowledged. Then he told me to put it in the forward gear and take off. I couldn’t remember which forward gear he specified, but I remembered that this tank had an automatic transmission. I figured it really didn’t matter. D for dumbass or drive should do just fine. I tested the handlebar steering and rather sensitive brakes before I started. Then, I put it in D for dumbass, or drive if you prefer, to prepare to move. I wanted to get a feel for the machine before I took it out on the course. Then, I let ‘er rip. I think I caught the master instructor by surprise. Let me rephrase that. I surprised the shit out of this master instructor. I don’t think he was blocked and braced or ready for me to take off when I did. Oh well. Life goes on. So, chalk that up to another master instructor who filled his drawers on a surprise drive. He told me to hold the speed down. But you know, that’s kind of like telling a NASCAR driver, not to speed. Once I got the hang of driving the old girl, I really gave her the gas. I was having a blast driving that thing. It was so much easier to drive than the old M60’s were. When I finished driving the M1, nobody else seemed to want to give it a go. I think they were a bit intimidated by the beast. Later, a few of my classmates approached me and asked me about my driving experience with the tank. They could not get over the look on the master instructor’s face when I first took off. Of course, they couldn’t explain the look either, which didn’t help much. All they could say was, “He looked like he had seen a ghost.” I said, “Well, maybe he did.” Thinking back on that experience, I remember that it was really a thrill to open that thing up and let it rip. That tank could really move. And the thing was, I wasn’t even giving it everything it had. Imagine tankers who operate those things for a living. They get to go out and really run those tanks through their paces in actual maneuvers. Meanwhile, my fellow classmates and I got to go back to a mundane existence, dodging dumbass exercises in futility.
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