Statutes of Limitation

Surely the folks that were present have retired, have new secret identities, or will just shout huzzah, when they read this account. It is an account of a lesson that, back in the day, might have been considered a court martialable offence. In hindsight, no animals were injured, no real property was destroyed, no lives were lost, but a good deal was learned. Besides, lieutenants will be lieutenants. Since there may or may not be statutes of limitation in effect, I will not set the actual date, and any names that I use may or may not be factual – you know who you are!So, there I was, a brand new 2d Lieutenant -- a butter-bar -- assigned to a Field Artillery battalion in central Germany. One of my first assignments was that of target acquisition platoon leader. I was a survey officer, looking to prove my mettle, so I could eventually become an executive officer in a firing battery – the pinnacle job for an artillery lieutenant.

In the role of battalion survey officer, I was responsible for making sure that the firing batteries had good known locations, so that their fire on targets could be as accurate as possible. The state of the art at that time included various mapping techniques, known points on the ground, and the 30-meter steel tape. Imagine, if you will, two survey parties inch-worming a 30-meter steel tape from position to position, trying to keep up with three self-propelled weapons batteries. If we were lucky, we might get in a position or two, before the tasks became overwhelming. In the end the senior lieutenants and their wise battery commanders really just wanted confirmation that their own map reading skills were adequate. With that as criteria for success, my platoon did a fair job of keeping firing batteries pointed in the right directions.

One of those senior lieutenants was 1LT Big Ken. Big Ken was well respected. He had graduated from West Point, was the executive officer of a firing battery, and was wise beyond his years. All the 2LT’s wanted to be mentored by Big Ken. I was no exception. I made every effort to get Big Ken his unit’s location on the ground, as soon as possible. I went out of my way to do so, sometimes at the expense of the other units – they could just wait. This was my chance at learning from the master.

On one of those rare occasions during a live firing exercise, my team had caught up, and I farmed them out to be extra forward observers for the battalion. My driver and I headed to Big Ken’s unit, whose position we had surveyed-in earlier during the day. We pulled into the firing battery area and parked out of the way in a nearby tree line. My driver went on radio watch and probably went to sleep, as soon as I walked away. I went in search of Big Ken. It didn’t take me long to find him. There he was, standing in battery center, barking instructions and dressing down some of the gun crews that were not firing in unison. Between appropriate, constructive criticism and a few, choice, swear words, Big Ken was getting his unit to behave as he wanted. I was in awe.

Big Ken greeted me with a bone jarring slap on the shoulder and wide toothy grin. Sundown was approaching and Ken had something special planned. He instructed the fire direction center to direct all adjustment missions to one of the crews that needed a little remedial training. As a fire mission was coming down the wire, Big Ken invited me to join him at base piece, one of his top-notch gun crews. Base piece was going to perform the “something special” exercise. During fire missions, all the guns tracked the adjusting piece, so that each of the guns could fire en masse during the fire-for-effect phase of the mission. As the mission continued, Big Ken and I took a standing position near the side of the base piece and waited for fire-for-effect. It wasn’t long, FIRE-FOR-EFFECT crackled down the telephones to the guns. Five of the six guns fired the requested projectile-type, base piece fired a NO-JO. A ball of fire shot from the muzzle of base piece and flames pierced the evening sky for at least 200 feet beyond the howitzer. I saw the startling image from the prone position on the ground, where I had ducked for cover. Big Ken reached down and lifted me back to my feet, laughing like the mad-man he was. I had just been schooled in the art of firing powder without a projectile in the cannon barrel.

While prankish, it was a fine lesson to be learned – a lesson to expect the unexpected during the sometimes frantic pace of a live fire exercise. I was in awe.

Note: some 18 months later, I proudly became the executive officer of Big Ken's firing battery. I knew I had big boots to fill, and I am proud to say that I was well trained by 1LT Big Ken.

Rest in Peace, dear friend.