My last blog was about General Colin Powell and the number of similar experiences we had (I forgot to mention that we both had our retirement parades at the Fort Myer Parade Field).  I mentioned that we both lived in senior government housing in Bad Vilbel, Germany (near Frankfurt).  Well, before General Powell arrived, we had to put one of the general officer quarters under a microscope.

There were four or five units designated as general officer quarters.  It housed the V Corps generals and generals from other units in our area.  We had one general and his wife and child move in, and immediately move back out.  They said there was something strange and unhealthy about the house.  It was “contaminated.”

The wife explained that both she and her child had been sick since they moved in.  Some of the wives from her husband’s command had brought some flowers by and as soon as they left, the flowers started dying.  There was more.  She saw a fly come in an open window,  fly around and then, drop dead.  A very large painting that was to be placed in the living room had been damaged in the shipment and needed to be touched up.  A German artist came out to the house to work on it.  But, he got sick and could not complete the work.

Not only did they move out, but they no longer wanted any of their furniture, because they now believed that it too was contaminated.  I was now monitoring the situation, because I was seeing down the road a pretty big claim against Uncle Sam.  I wasn’t disappointed.  We sent out our resident specialists to test the air, drapes and rugs.  We found nothing.  I suggested getting an exorcist.  No one saw the humor.

It was decided between the V Corps leadership and the general that V Corps would hire the best company in Germany at investigating contaminations.  It cost quite a bit, but it would be worth it to put this mess  behind us.  The German company came in and took scrapings from the fabrics, paint chips and gathered up the dust balls.  They had contraptions for capturing the air in every room.  They went at it with German efficiency and attention to detail.  No turn was left unstoned.

As we expected, nothing was found.  But, it is hard to prove a negative and the general’s wife came back and said that no one had checked the crawl space under the house.  We checked it and found nothing.  We were at loggerheads.

One of my dearest friends in the Army is Ron Holdaway.  When I was assigned to Vietnam as the Deputy Staff Judge Advocate (SJA) for the 1st Air Cavalry Division, Ron was my boss.  And as it turned out, now that I was the V Corps SJA, Brigadier General Ron Holdaway was the Judge Advocate for US Army Europe and again, my boss.  He called me about the “contaminated” house.  It was getting some attention through the “old boy net” in Heidelberg.  I briefed him on what we had found so far.  Finally, Ron said, “Jack, we are dealing here with a general officer.”  I paused. Then, I said, “Sir, Major General Curry (our Deputy CG) told me yesterday that he would be delighted if someone could find that the house was contaminated.  Then, we could level it and move on.  But, since we have done all the superb testing and found nothing, what are we supposed to do?”  I think Ron understood our dilemma. 

About six months later, our general was promoted to his second star and reassigned out of the Frankfurt area.  We assigned another general to the “contaminated” house and guess what?  No dead flies, no problem.  We were not surprised.

Our newly promoted two-star general was reassigned to Heidelberg and assigned to quarters right behind General Holdaway.  The family didn’t last a month.  It turned out that Bad Vilbel wasn’t the only place with contaminated general office housing.  The general took his family to the Black Forest and commuted from there.  The next time I had the flimsiest excuse to call Ron Holdaway, I was all over it.  He said, “Jack, I know why you are calling.”  I said, “Sir, we are dealing here with a two-star general.”

I am a little over half way through reading Colin Powell’s book, “My American Journey.”  I am loving it.  I’m embarrassed to say that I bought the book when it first came out.  It’s been on my shelf for over ten years and I just got around to it.  It’s nice to finally be retired.

Even though he had a meteoric career and I just sort of chunked along, we still had a lot in common.  I guess that is natural when we both spent a large portion of our lives wearing the green uniform.  Each time something popped up in the book, I would think, “Yeah, that happened to me too.”  Like buying a home in the Springfield/Burke area while working in the Pentagon.  Isn’t it a small world.

As his going away gift from Fort Carson, they gave him a Michael Garman statue.  When I left Fort Riley, I got the same.  I think his was a cowboy and mine was the old trooper, but let’s not quibble.  He didn’t mention whether he paid for his.  I paid for mine.  Our command decided that it wasn’t fair to have subordinates pay for a senior officer’s going away gift.  So, I selected my “gift” from a large number of options and paid for it.  Then, at the going away party, the general would present the “gift.”  It was hard to be surprised since everyone in the room knew I had purchased it.  I still display it proudly on my shelf.

Both Colin Powell and I received killer OERs (Officer Efficiency Reports) and survived them!  That is not easy to do and I am sure we realize how lucky we were.  His bad OER came when he was a brigadier general and an assistant division commander at Fort Carson.  He ran into a situation where the division was run by intimidation and both the general and his wife had a hand in it (Carole and I ran into one of those situation, but we survived).  Major General Hudachek, the division commander, rated Powell to be “promoted with contemporaries,” and was totally silent about his future potential.  For my military friends, I don’t need to explain, but promoting with contemporaries was the kiss of death.  One time, I checked with the Department of the Army and found that 80% of majors were rated “promote ahead of contemporaries.”  That means that if you are rated to promote with contemporaries, you are in the bottom 20% (math was always one of my strengths).

Lieutenant General Ross, the deputy commander of Forces Command, was Powell’s senior rater and he just repeated what General Hudachek had said and placed him in the third block, where blocks one and two were reserved for officers on the move.  My one experience with General Ross wasn’t any better, but he wasn’t rating me.

I always wondered if I could make it in the military, because trying to be funny can sometimes be inappropriate in the Army and I couldn’t seem to pass up an opportunity.  I am also short in height and on one occasion at the Fort Riley Officers Club, I mentioned to the chief of staff and other officers present that putting the tall soldiers in the front of the formation wasn’t fair to the short soldiers in the rear.  First, they couldn’t see over the tall soldiers and second, when marching the guys in the back had to really stretch out.  The chief mentioned the need for uniformity and I said put the short soldiers up front.  It will make the formation look more aerodynamic.  Everyone thought it was funny. 

About two weeks later at a social event, here comes the chief and Lieutenant General Ross (who is about 6′ 5″).  the chief introduced us and told Ross that I was the guy that wanted to put the short soldiers in the front.  Ross got right on top of me, leaned over and asked what I had against tall people.  It was an amusing scene.  He then lectured me on uniformity and appearance and that it was important.  I then mentioned that out in front of the formation we had the division G1, G2, G3 and G4 and that the G3 was really tall and that the G2 was short.  I suggested we needed a taller G2 or a shorter G3.  We were all having a good time and my comments were meant (almost) in jest.  However, at the next parade, the division staff lined up G1, G3, G4 and then the G2.  I guess I am glad no one got reassigned.

Getting back to General Powell’s OER, it appears that along with the formal rating system, general officers have an informal system.  In Powell’s case, General Cavazos, the FORSCOM Commander, was looking out for him and recognized that things were not as they appeared in the formal rating system.  General Powell ended up assigned to a two-star billet.

In my case, I was a brand new major working for a more senior major who couldn’t understand why I had been promoted so quickly.  The reason was we were in the middle of the Vietnam War ramp up and people were getting promoted more quickly.  He was forever competing with me.  You really don’t want to compete with your rater.  What made matters worse was that after he would insist on competing, he would lose.  It was my worst experience in the Army  He came into my office one day to talk about ratings.  He said he would never give anyone lower than a 92, because he wouldn’t want to kill them.  At that particular time, ratings were so inflated that anything but a 99 or 100 would be devastating.  He gave me a 92.  I am convinced that our earlier conversation was so that I would know that he was giving me his lowest rating.

At that time, the system consisted of a rater and an endorser.  What saved me was the staff judge advocate was my endorser and he gave me 100 and noted that I was the best major in his office.  Fortunately, I was not to be considered for lieutenant colonel for seven years.  The Vietnam War was winding down and few were getting promoted.  I had plenty of time to build up my file.

General Powell and I were both assigned to V Corps in Frankfurt, Germany and both lived in a senior housing area in the town of Bad Vilbel.  Not at the same time.  And, we both had our tours cut short.  I was selected to be the Commandant at The Army Judge Advocate General’s School and he was asked by President Reagan to be his Deputy Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs.  If I hadn’t come back early, I would have been his SJA.  As it turned out, he came down to The JAG School for legal orientation before he went to V Corps.  Along with the instructors bringing him up to date, I had a chance to brief him on what to expect when he arrived at V Corps.

I’m going to get back to the book.  I can’t wait to see how it ends.  I hope he gets his fourth star.

If you spend your life in the military, you will do more than your share of moving.  In 28 years, we had 17 PCS’s (permanent change of station).  That means you load up everything you own and ship it to your next assignment.

In my last three years in the Army, I made three major moves.  In 1988, we moved from Charlottesville, Virginia to Washington, DC.  Then, in 1989, we sold our house in Springfield, Virginia (never to return) and moved from DC to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas.  Then, nine months later, I retired from the Army and returned to DC (and bought another house in Springfield).

Making a lot of moves at the end of your career is maddening.  I can prove this point with a graph.  On the left hand side of the graph, you put down the amount of energy you have.  Across the bottom of the chart, put in the amount of household goods (HHG) you own.  When you are a young officer, you have lots of energy and very few household goods.  As you graph the energy and HHG lines, they will cross somewhere around major – energy is dropping and HHG is rising.  Of course, the children are at an age where they are a big help.  But, our last three moves were at the point where we had very little energy and had accumulated lots of stuff from all over the world.  Energy low, HHG high, and the kids are married or off at college.  You spend a lot of time looking at boxes.

Three moves is a significant number, because in the household goods claim’s business, they joke that three PCS’s equals one fire! 

However, we generally had good moves.  We worked at it.  First, we explained to our children how exciting it was to move and meet new friends and see a new part of the country or the world.  That worked until they were teenagers.  Then, they would say, “Knock it off, Dad.”

We tried to be friendly with the packers.  They were wrapping some of our cherished possessions and they were, in fact, impacting (no pun intended) on how they arrived on the other end.  “Would you like a Coke?”  “We are running out for hamburgers.  Can we get you something?”  Then, there’s the driver of the van.  We treated him like a long lost brother.  He had some control over what day he would arrive at our new “home.”  If we were there to meet him, all our possessions marched right in.  If he arrived before us, everything went into storage (which is also know as “lost and found”).

One time we were walking around the house with the driver showing him what was to go.  He started ranting about the dirty, filthy things that people ship.  When we got to the back yard, he pointed at my old, but quite serviceable grill.  He said, “You’re not shipping that, are you?”  Both Carole and I said, “No.”  One more little expense we hadn’t planned on.

I mentioned our last three moves.  The first was planned.  The second surprised us and the third almost wiped us out.  The first was a routine reassignment.  I had been the Commandant at the JAG School for three years and I was assigned to the faculty at the Industrial College of the Armed Forces at Fort McNair in the District.   After being there for a year, I contacted my good friend, Bill Suter, and told him that when Fort Leavenworth, Kansas opened up for a new staff judge advocate (SJA) in the Summer of 1990, I would like to be considered.  We agreed it would be a good fit, particularly since I would only have two years to retirement and I wanted to retire in the Kansas City area.

I hardly had time to bring my wife up to date on my discussion with Bill, when Bob Murray, the Executive Officer in the Office of The Judge Advocate General called.  He told me that the SJA at Fort Leavenworth had just announced his retirement and if I wanted to go to Fort Leavenworth, I had to go now.  Well, Carole and I decided to go.  We sold our house and arrived at Fort Leavenworth  in September, 1989.

During our discussions about leaving, Carole said, “At least I will never have to drive through the Mixing Bowl again.”  The Mixing Bowl is the junction where I-95, I-395 and I-495 all meet.  To get off on the Springfield exit, you have to fight your way across three lanes of I-495 traffic fighting to get onto I-95 South.  In 1999, the State and Federal government started fixing the Mixing Bowl.  It took eight years and $676 million.  Now that the project is complete, there are no traffic jams at the Mixing Bowl.  By expediting traffic through the Mixing Bowl, they have successfully moved the traffic jam three miles South on I-95.  Now, they are about to widen I-95 at the cost of many millions.  Your tax dollars at work.

About three weeks ago, we had really bad weather, including freezing rain which materialized right at evening rush hour.  There were all types of problems, including lots of accidents, on the ramps and flyovers at the Mixing Bowl.  The media was all over the State for not anticipating the weather problem.  Quite frankly, freezing rain and good old boys in their four-wheel drive pickups are not a good fit.  I think you just have to expect a bad day when the sky surprises you with freezing rain.

Four months after we moved to Fort Leavenworth, I received a call from one of my former bosses, Major General Jerry Curry.  President Bush had selected him as Administrator for the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) and he was calling me to see if I wanted to retire and become his chief counsel.  He thought I was still in DC.  After I explained that I had just moved to Fort Leavenworth, he said to think about it.

On June 1, 1990 (when I should have been getting ready to move to Fort Leavenworth), I had purchased another home in Springfield, Virginia (in the shadow of the Mixing Bowl) and was retiring from the Army and starting to work at NHTSA.  After a long day’s work trying to learn about motor vehicle safety, I would come home and cut open some packing boxes.  I should have put that skill in my resume.