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MN: But you got a transfer out of Fort Huachuca.

JM: It was miraculous. Like I say, I scored very high on the Iowa test when I was in school.

MN: That's the IQ test.

JM: IQ test. I figured out right away while I was sitting in there waiting for my next assignment to drive somebody, people, I'd read all the... since I was in the command structure office, I'd read all the regulations. So I read all the regulations on how to effect a transfer. 'Cause that's how they would stop every transfer of compassionate reassignment. They would stop it on a technicality. I mean, I used to read these heart-wrenching stories. "My mother is dying." "My kids are over there and we have no support. Please, please, transfer me to Fort Sill, Oklahoma," or something like that, "so I could at least be near them," blah blah blah. And the requests would be kicked back. "This is incorrectly (done)," blah blah blah. "It didn't have a forwarding letter from a," blah blah blah. Or it didn't have... but they would nitpick everything. It was done (wrong), it was incorrectly typed, something like that. They would stop every compassionate reassignment on incorrect clerical procedure. So I got to know exactly how it was done. And the first guy I sprung out of there was my friend who backed me up in that battle, whose marriage was falling apart. I wrote a letter to his congressman and said -- and I ghosted the letter. I said, "The army is doing the one, doing to me what I was sworn to protect, which is my family. That's why I'm in the army. Now my marriage is falling apart and I need to be reassigned in the Chicago area." And I typed it out, and I did everything the right way. All of a sudden, it was a miracle. He got, he got reassigned to Chicago, and he told me, "I owe it all to you, Jim. Anything I can do for you." I said, "No, you backed me up when I..." you know, "So it was the least I can do for you." So then I figured out, "Hey, if I can spring him, I'm next." And nobody knew I was doing this. And one day my sergeant major called me up and he says, "I don't know what the "f" you're doing, and I don't know what you're thinking, but if I ever get a hold of you again, you're gonna know you messed with me, Jim." I said, I just said, "Thanks, Sarge." But what he held in his hand was orders transferring me to Fort MacArthur, San Pedro. And oh, that was a wonderful place. [Laughs] but anyway...

MN: You beat the system.

JM: I beat the system. And the sergeant major was so pissed. 'Cause now he's gonna have to answer to the colonels, "How did our driver get away? What happened?" I was a celebrity. All those other guys that wished they were somewhere else, I mean, they literally held the door open for me. Because through me, they, I was the one guy that beat them. And so, like, yeah, "Us PFCs are not that dumb, you know. You could draft us, but we're smarter than you." It's sort of like this thing of us draftees never really reconciled to the fact that we were true army people. We were drafted, we didn't want to be there, we were smarter than you. If you volunteered, tough luck. You have, it's not our fault that your life is going nowhere, that you're a NCO, 'No Civilian Opportunities.' If you're stuck in this army, it ain't our fault. We're gonna go out there we're gonna get jobs, we're gonna do something, and we're gonna leave you behind. So don't put your misery off on us." So when they saw me beat the system, it just verified that us draftees were of a different class. In fact, one time, we heard of a guy re-upping, meaning reenlisting. We couldn't believe it. We even took a ride over to see this guy, and we pointed him out like he was some sort of freak. "Yeah, that's the guy that re-upped for another four years." We're like, "Oh, man." Even in the common room area, the first thing we wanted to know was, "Are you a draftee or are you a volunteer?" And if you're a volunteer, it's like, "Get away from us. You're too goddamned stupid to be part of us." We only hung out with draftees. So anyway, here I beat the system and I went to Fort MacArthur, which is a wonderful fort, golly.

MN: You mentioned earlier, NCO, which actually is Non Commissioned Officer, but you...

JM: Sergeants, yeah. That's what they call sergeants. But we used to call them "No Civilian Opportunities." 'Course, that ticked them off to no end. Lot of them were kind of sad. Lot of them were alcoholics, things of that nature.

MN: So seeing this, did it influence you? How did it influence you in terms of your own future?

JM: The army?

MN: Uh-huh.

JM: Oh, a lot. I said, "I will never ever allow myself to have to... you know. If I thought heaven was like this, I wouldn't want to go to heaven. The U.S. Army would mess up the pearly gates. They'd paint that sucker olive green or put a number on it, and it would be funky and it'd fall apart." It was sort of like, it kind of reminded me of being back in the camps again. Everything's substandard, barracks, I said, "I don't need this. I've been through this before," you know. So my whole idea in terms of the army was how to beat them. But I learned an awful lot in the army. I learned a lot. I said, "Well, if we went to war, I wouldn't know how to fight so much, but I'd know how to make a bunk." My locker would be spic and span, my shoes would be shined, and I can do a parade left or whatever, at ease or whatever. But other than that, I didn't learn a whole lot. [Laughs] Another thing, the army, they really tolerated alcoholism because so many of their NCOs were alcoholic. It was pathetic to see somebody come into our office that day, they just assigned to us, just to dry him out. And he would have all these service stripes on him, all these ribbons, and he would come around begging us for quarters. Isn't that pathetic? Like we said, "Sarge, they told us not to give you money, man, 'cause we know what you're gonna use it for." Then he'd go away, then he'd come back and he'd take a trash, wastepaper basket, then he'd go dump it out for us. Then he'd come back and he says, "Sure you don't have a quarter?" Oh, man, "Here, Sergeant. Here's some money, man." That one pathetic guy, later on I found out there was a fire up in the hill and they found him in the middle of it. He was alive, but he was surrounded by beer cans.

Then my sergeant at Fort MacArthur, he told me what to do and then I didn't see him all next week, he disappeared. Then I get this call and I said, "Oh, Sergeant, where are you? I got all these questions." He said, "Well, I'll answer them when I get around to them," and I can hear the music. The guy's in a bar. I said, "I got to get these papers signed by you, Sarge." "Well, come on down to the Hi Ho Inn or something," around the corner on Gaffey Street or Pacific Avenue. So I went over there, and he's right inside the bar, you know. "How about a drink?" I said, "No, no, no, Sarge, I got to go back." Then he says, "Let me pay my tab right now. I better go back with you. Let me pay my tab." So I thought he was gonna fish in and toss, you know... no, he's bringing out his checkbook and he's writing. Like, how much drinks did this guy have, for you to have to write a check? So we drug him back up to... but they tolerated all of that.

<End Segment 27> - Copyright © 2010 Densho. All Rights Reserved.