For the next several weeks we experienced reentry to the real world. Welcome home parties were thrown in our honor. Several members of the police department held a well-attended gathering in my honor at a Mexican restaurant in Delray Beach. For those soldiers seeking employment or career changes after the war, job offers were plentiful, some of which were quite good. Discounts were offered to veterans from many service providers as well as retailers. We had returned in April and the good residual effects were still being experienced as late as December. I was invited to speak at a school where kids filled an auditorium to hear all about the war. There was even an appearance on a float during Boca Raton’s holiday street parade. Because there had been so few of us from the immediate area available to stand and wave from the float, an airman was brought from Homestead Air Force base, as well as an imported soldier. Although the soldier was in the desert garb, the Airman and I wore Class “A’s” as we had been advised. The desert battle dress actually made more sense, but the crowd yelled and waved anyway.
For the unit as a whole, there were no drills scheduled for three months, which was truly a welcomed break. Sadly, some returned to face major problems-some involved legal hassles, some financial, and some domestic. Those who were threatened with divorce returned to empty houses. Others were faced with bankruptcy. Still others found their jobs no longer available. Although there were laws in place to prevent this from happening, there were just as many loopholes. Now we were all once again standing around formation, but we stood on familiar ground in our compound.
As we inspected our footlockers, it was obvious someone had been through them. Items such as compasses, knives and such which had been bartered, purchased, or otherwise were obtained, were missing. Had these items been placed in duffle bags, the soldiers would have retained their mementos. Oh, well. For most of us, reestablishing the monthly drill and two-week summer camp habit was going to be difficult.
Things change over time. I was approaching my fifteenth year in the Guard, and I was simply attempting to make it to the twenty-year mark. But there were those who became disenchanted with various aspects. While we all came away with a variety of decorations for our participation in the war, there were those who received many of the same medals without leaving their desks stateside. We would be told by some of our support battalion that they “…really wanted to go, but the Army said no…” There were those who simply could not get back in the groove, including those who had upwards of fifteen years of honorable service.
After the 325tth Maintenance Company returned to the states, they were besieged with health-related problems stemming from the lead-based paint used on the vehicles. More personal were problems of our own people. Sergeant Al Fuller, who had been our snack-selling concession-running money-generating cheer leader soldier who was also with the NBC team, in addition to performing his regular job, had not returned with us from Fort Stewart. There were complications with the military hospitals incapable of dealing with his white pill-related problems. Even after his return to Fort Lauderdale, he was not well and eventually suffered a heart attack. Specialist Louis Berry, who had a hand grip that could remove lug nuts from wheels, was also suffering from health problems allegedly tied to these same pills. There were two females whose health was affected. One began losing her hair in clumps, and her biological cycles were unpredictable. At one time, she was thought to be excellent officer material. Now, her health appeared to be gone, along with her dreams for a military career. The other female experienced much the same symptoms, although not so dramatic. Both had taken the same pills. Suddenly there was a new item labeled “Desert Strom Syndrome”, which was being played down by the Pentagon in much the same way “Agent Orange” had been during Vietnam. Most felt that, as before, the military would simply ignore the whole thing until after most died from it, then admit yes, there was a problem. It was cheaper that way. After all, we soldiers realized that we are readily disposable.
We had veteran soldiers, some of whom had survived both Vietnam and the Iraqi war who wanted out. This was especially irritating as they were so close to retirement. One soldier had seventeen years in service and he threw in the towel. Although the financial aspect of the military reservist’s pay check is hardly rewarding, it could have some incidental value. Those who left were, for the most part, good friends as well as comrades in arms. But Sergeant Larry Bartlett explained to me that, for him, it was the right decision. He got a good civilian job after the war and didn’t need the conflict of schedules that always created problems for civilian employers.
Those who left managed to miss the next one. During the summer of 1992, a year after the Gulf war, Hurricane Andrew struck, devastating Miami and the surrounding areas. This was a month and a half of the worst activation I had dealt with. The many twenty- hour days in the office, with a ceiling and roof collapsing on a daily basis, were horrible. At the state level, the politics and lack of coordination was somewhere beyond irritating. I found myself in charge of the section, trying to employ the DAS 3system, which I knew nothing about. In that regard, I was not alone. Only two people knew anything about the system- Chris Allen and Mike Reno. Reno was a technician, who simply kept the thing running.
Neither of them could be reached. For several days, we were trying to work a manual system, with changes and procedures being implemented all the time. It was days later when, at the pinnacle of my frustration, Chris Allen was located. He was able to redirect our efforts and get us established as a working section, despite his reluctance to be there. He had been in Los Angeles when the storm had hit and had just returned to the area when he picked up the phone. Big mistake, as the call was from the National Guard, requesting his