How A Left Wing, Wing Nut Infiltrated The US Army

I was not an individual that the Army sought out. I was a child of the 70s complete with long hair, a beard and a learned distrust for the man. If I had been issued a draft card I probably would have burned it just because I was stubborn enough to want to make up my own mind.

But, I made friends with Manny, Paul, Shah and eventually Bill and they were in this ROTC thing. As a lackluster Boy Scout – great in the woods bit lousy in the meeting – and had my fill of uniforms but these were great guys and where they hung out I hung out. So they invited me to join. I was invited to go out on some of the field exercises where I was happy in the woods (at this point I was still a Natural Resource Conservation Major). Plus Melody was in ROTC and she was cute.

It helped that the Army was desperate for folks. The draft had ended and pay scales were not yet adjusted so enlistment was very low. Having just suffered through Vietnam morale was even lower (FTA was a common enlisted greeting and graffiti– it stands for “F” the Army). Only in this environment would the Army not only welcome but desire a long haired hippy. They didn’t ask me to cut my hair or shave or make a commitment until the start of my Junior Year(s). Thus I looked more like Fidel Castro than Sgt York in the old green uniforms.

Still, I debated. My personal political views and operating philosophies did not mesh with the relative conservative and regimented viewpoint of this organization. Major Bobby (Robert E. Lee) Thompson and I had long conversations and I came around to realize that the Army was an institution that was necessary and I could not ask someone to join if I was not willing to. At least that was my argument. My friends were in and I got to do some cool stuff that I was good at. Plus, some of the girls were cute (Melody had disappeared). So, I signed my contract and I was off to Kill Commies for Christ.

Still, being somewhat more liberal than my comrades I did get in trouble almost from the start.

When I was at ROTC basic training (we called it summer camp) there was only one other individual from north of the Mason Dixon Line in my platoon. We soon established a close bond – if at minimum to fight the pervasive attacks of grits in the breakfast line every morning. But like most college students we began to discuss classes. We both had recently completed Political Science/Philosophy classes on Utopian Societies and one lunch we debated which Utopian Society was better (our initial stipulation was that no Utopian society could exist given human nature but ignoring that fact . . .). It was a pure philosophical argument.

Imagine my surprise when the two of us were instructed to go to the company commander’s office. Off we went to sit quietly in the day room until summoned. After a long delay we met our Company Commander (a man we seldom saw). He then informed us that we had been identified as “subversives”. We were shocked and could not respond. We were further told that we had been heard openly supporting Communism. We were stunned. Thinking hard we remembered our philosophical debate and started to explain ourselves. The Company Commander began to interrupt with a series of questions that turned more challenging and philosophical. It turns out our Company Commander was a Boston College graduate with a degree in Political Science and we spent a good portion of the afternoon having an animated discussion.

That was one bullet dodged but not the only one.

Having been commissioned a Lieutenant I eventually had to attend a delayed Military Intelligence Officer Basic Course. The course had no days off except one three day weekend between the Basic part of the basic course (how to be an officer without tripping over yourself) and the specialty part of the course (Tactical Intelligence). A three day weekend was defined as being off from noon on Friday and having to return on noon on Monday. That’s 72 straight hours off and 72 straight hours is three days, right?

A bunch of coastal guys decided that we had to see an ocean so we thought it reasonable to drive for ten hours to San Diego; crossing one of two shifting sand deserts in the US and the continental divide in an AMC Pacer. On the way up the mountain the thermometer broke and on the way down the brakes broke. In the days before bank cards this left us broke.

Still, we pooled resources and in a weird corruption of the current Army Slogan we decided to “Tour more before nine than most people do all day”. At both The San Diego Zoo and Sea World we were met by well tanned and buxom young lasses inviting us to a Sunday Lunch. So, on Sunday, broke and hungry (I was engaged by then so I was just hungry I believe my compatriots may have been horny) we headed off for our free lunch.

Imagine our surprise when we showed up to lunch and the buxom babes were not to be seen, just orange robed, bald headed Hare Krishnans. Still, we were broke and we decided to break bread. I have a fair guess that we were the only group of Intelligence Officers to go as a group to a Hare Krishna dinner. We had a great time, chatting, debating and eventually dancing.

A Hare Krishna dinner ends in a ever quickening dance/chant. The belief is that through the concentrated joy of the dance chat you achieve enlightenment. I suspect that through the aerobic workout and constant chant you achieve an oxygen deprivation buzz. However, we fine examples of manhood were running five miles a day in the high Sonoma desert (over a mile high) and there was no way we were going to be oxygen deprived at sea level. So as the Hare Krishnans began to drop out we continued to accelerate, chanting what had up to now been John Lennon Lyrics.

Fortunately I was blessed with two left feet and rather than trip myself and others I dropped out, taking one of my fellows with me. We observed that the remaining Krishnans were getting more winded as the remaining two officers were now adding a jig steps to their dance routine. We realized that the Krishnans were attempting to keep up with us now and despite their mellow nature were determined not to be out nirvana’d. With some effort we signaled the remaining two to politely retire from the floor. Everyone having caught our breaths we politely thanked our hosts, regretted our lack of a fealty to Krishna and left for one last prowl of the town before returning to Arizona.

Shortly after our return to more militaristic pursuits the four of us were summoned to our Company Commander and to sit quietly in the Company day room. We were told not to discuss the issue among our selves. Having not been told what the issue was we suspected that we were to be chastised for our unprofessional appearance on Monday at 11:59 in rumpled uniforms (we had changed into our Friday uniforms in the wide windows of the pacer as we negotiated a Tucson traffic jam).

Imagine our surprise when we were asked why we shouldn’t lose our security clearances after joining a subversive group. A loss of clearances meant a transfer – probably to the Infantry and retaking the Officer Basic Course and a further separation from my fiancée. We attempted to explain, defend and otherwise enlighten our Company Commander. Our attempts were falling on deaf ears when someone blurted out the truth “they had hot babes”.

Apparently, Army Intelligence officers are allowed to do rather stupid things if a potential capture and interrogation of the enemy sex is attempted or anticipated. The remaining discussion centered on a boy’s club discussion and our chagrined at finding orange robed Krishnans rather than disrobed women. We were told to be more careful and find saner women. We never told this officer that one of the four of us was a Buddist – a fact all four of us decided not to reveal based on the CO’s basic refusal to recognize any value in experiencing different cultures.

Oh, they reinstated the selective service registration. They caught up with me and I was instructed to register or face penalties. I do not agree with the selective service laws as written. I feel that selective service should register both sexes (I knew plenty of women in the military that were far more impressive than the men) and should offer an out for service that is non-military. I also don’t have a problem of two years of Service being required – we are a community and a community requires participation and vesting.

Still, I strongly object to the selective service registration rules as written and am stubborn enough to refuse to register. I tried to ignore the requests but they did not go away. So I wrote the selective service folks a letter and simply stated “I do not feel it appropriate to register for the selective service.” I typed the letter on company (HQ Co, 826 MI BN) stationary and signed the letter 1st Lt Robert D. Porell, MI, USAR. I never did tell them why I felt it inappropriate. And, come to think of it, they never asked.