SIX-MONTHS ARMY TOUR OF DUTY 1959 1 of 2
ABERDEEN PROVING GROUNDS SIX-MONTHS ARMY TOUR OF DUTY, January 20 - August 20, 1959
TUESDAY, JANUARY 20. Reveille comes fairly painlessly at 6:45, since I got to bed at 10:30 night before. Breakfast is followed by falling into a bus and trip through blood pressure, hearing, EENT and blood test, when Bill faints. Everything is hurry up and wait, and by noon lunch we're not finished; dental exams revealed me Class I. After lunch Cliff and I take off to PX and get chewed by Cox and ride in auto to hospital for fetching exam, in which Bob Steiner reveals a physical beauty and appeal matching his face. Trip back to classroom for an afternoon of filling out all sorts of forms and getting things set for our three BOMOP weeks. I write many more letters and meet new people and get ready for my first day in uniform by buying boots and fatigues. Get to bed early again, at 10:30.
WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 21. Up painlessly again, but less so, at 6 for breakfast and a talking to by our Tactical Officer. Morning passes with more forms and I write letters there through married men's forms. Various personalities and getting endlessly involved: Mase Sisk, Joe Tomanocy, Bob Steiner, Shapiro, and other adorables, including too-much John Jones. Talk runs through ID pictures, lunch, processing, book getting; talk about BOMOP, M1 issuance, and a very long tack officer's time. After supper finds me busy with letters and reading and moving and unpacking and setting things up and talking and sprucing up for the next day. Get shower at 11 and stumble into bed at 11:40, much too late to get up fresh at 5:30.
THURSDAY, JANUARY 22. Shine brass and shoes and sweep area before running 6-9 miles in driving wind in poncho to Russel gym, where we are introduced to the "Army daily dozen." A painful hour later we gasp back to barracks, to clean up again and get only three minutes for breakfast, before being seated alphabetically in the classroom. The last of the forms pass and Pentomic film proves colorful. Two hours of talk by Lt. Reid and we eat to face Col. Smith, who tells about RA [Regular Army], a drivel of talk on security and RA, then a rousing, hilarious, defeatist orgy on Ordnance Corps by a blunt Major, and a screaming Club Officer. Trot out to pick up carbines, which I don't know, and then after dinner finds me still trying to arrange books, spit-shines and Brasso. Wrong trip to PX spends money, and I finish letter business. Another late shower and bed at 11:30.
FRIDAY, JANUARY 23. Again up at 5:30 and the run to gym, and a terrifying "Drop Dead" test on the 32, five repetitions. Day is lazy as we await pay, which we get, $300 in 20's at 10:30. Make trips to bank, post office and bookstore, then to PX, mess hall and QM sales store, where I stand two hours, reading Lovecraft's "Cry Horror," and spending $$$ for uniforms. Back to find I'm squad leader with a lot of stuff to clean. Still try to polish and shine, and impress squad with my generosity by not making them work at night. Get everything half-done, including shaving, and get to bed at 11:30, very tired.
SATURDAY, JANUARY 24. The horrid alarm clock rings at 4:15, and I jump up to awaken everyone and dress and clean arms room almost single-handedly. Manage to get a few people working and get some semblance of neatness into barracks. Dash out to place third squad and we march, thank God, to the gym for the PT test. I change quickly, only to goof up on a "Column of 2's, from the left," which is decidedly obscure. Get four pull-ups and many squat jumps and pushups, panting dryly to the point of exhaustion. Only get 18 sit-ups and medium squat thrusts, and I'm completely dead. Bob Steiner makes two series---has this fellow no end? Breakfast ends and we spruce for inspection; a complete riot. Free time starts after barracks inspection and talks, and I relax by studying chain of command and PT tests and continue for an hour writing this, until 4 pm. Out to supper and few people, then clean little brass and decide to see show at 6. Won't let me in without collar and I steal Joe's coat and he zips my sweater under his jacket so we can see "Gideon of Scotland Yard." At 8, we take off into Aberdeen for pizza and beer, and Ron Rausenburg and I get chummy and we talk to Jake and get back to camp at 10 and bed at 10:30.
SUNDAY, JANUARY 25. Up at 7 for 8 am Mass and I get to Confession and Communion, first time in long time. Back for breakfast and then I tackle "Cry Horror" and finish it by supper time at 4 pm. Eat and get back to polish brass interminably and button buttons on six sets of uniforms. Work to 9, when platoon meeting was held and plans for tomorrow discussed. Everyone gets settled and I shout lights off at 11 and take shower and flop into bed at 12, after studying in study room until then.
MONDAY, JANUARY 26. Up at crack of 4:45 and shave and up to contortions and get everyone into same uniform and form them for PT. Scream my way down rather well and fourth platoon distinguishes itself by being first in the rally race and first to breakfast. Have classes in Responsibilities of an Officer, Map Reading, First Aid, Troop Information, and Squad Drill. Very easy day all in all and evening ends with supper and messing around and writing letters and finishing this until 8 pm. Have promised to get to bed early, but with two demerits hanging for unpolished boots and brass to shine and stuff to read for classes tomorrow, I end up getting to bed at the rather expected hour of 11:45, exhausted.
TUESDAY, JANUARY 27. WRITTEN ON THE 25TH OF FEBRUARY. Well (and that's a good a word as any to start with---it's now 6:43 and I'm starting Phase I of writing in the longest sequence of missed days since I've started keeping a diary---and the length is quite easy to remember, exactly 30 days to write, and the last month has been so incredibly hectic I really don't wonder about it at all), here we go. Since I couldn't possibly remember, day by day, all that happened to me, and since perforce it would have been transcribed from a schedule of classes I seem to have lost somewhere in the shuffle, I'll just give a brief not-too-long-after-it-happened impression of this past month, which centered about BOMOP, 9AC1#5 at Aberdeen Proving Ground, Maryland. First, I'll go through any one of the 15 days of BOMOP, which were painfully the same. Rising time would be anywhere from 4:45 to 5:15, depending on how much I'd postponed from the night before, and how much was left to do in the morning. Sometimes I'd have shined my boots, polished my brass, swept my area, fixed my uniform, studied my lesson, and showered and shaved the night before, so all I'd have to do upon arising was lace up endless strings on the boots, complete the uniform, tuck and smooth out the bunk, and be completely ready to fall outside at 5:40. Other times I would sink into bed so late or so fatigued or so disgusted the night before that I'd have to polish my brass and tone up my boots as best as possible before even putting them on. No matter what the cause, 5:40 would see me, sneaker clutched under either arm, in the formation for PT. Once, early, it was in ponchos and we ran blindly in a rain, and a few blessed times we walked, only previous to the PT test, or because it was icy and we really couldn't run. The run to the gym, jogging legs which had hardly come awake after the too few hours of sleep, the sore and aching calves, the ill-fitting boots chaffing over the soft, sore feet. In complete darkness, we'd jog along, calling out after our leader BO-MO-P spell it, BO-MOP, BO-MOP, all the-way; up the-hill; down the---hill; through the---hill; to the---gym; every---day; P---T; alternating with the leader killing---now when I say black, you say white: black, white; blood, gut; R,A; P,T; and on and on, through black streets, throwing out road guards who sometimes never came back, pounding the way to the gym, passing the stragglers, dropping shoes and getting hollered at to keep in step and keep dressed, while the poor Platoon Sergeant, in the rear of the pack, getting the worst of the run, had to keep up a continuous, coherent, correct count of cadence for a platoon that really couldn't care less if they were in step or not. (Continue below, for here is a day I know).
SATURDAY, JANUARY 31. Gym and breakfast out of the way, we spruce for inspection, and, at 11:45, we're free. I rip out of fatigues and into civvies and seek ride to Aberdeen, eating lunch with Vernes who takes me there at 1 pm. Buy a bus ticket, but don't use it when I squeeze into a Baltimore bound Olds and hitch a ride to Washington with a uniformed soldier. Grab a bus and get a hearty smack from Jim as Marvin looks on in displeasure at 3 pm. Talk for awhile and fall to reading the paper and decide on the spur of the moment that I want to go to the New Staunten, again to Marvin's displeasure. Bus out to see "Cabinet of Dr. Caligari" and "Phantom of the Opera," quite good, and then cab to apt to change and walk down to Gaslight for a breathless drink while I gape at surroundings of rich velvet and nude waitresses. Stay while both compare dives and old times then cab to Sukrajah's, which lasts from 10 to midnight over tempura, fried rice, beef mukaji, and soup and ice cream. Don't eat the shrimp. Nothing daunted, we simply come back to apartment, and I push Jim away with the very real argument that I'm exhausted, which is certainly true. Fall asleep within three seconds after my head hits pillow, close Jim or no. Will continue that after awhile. It's over 7:43, been writing exactly 40 minutes. 8:15: finally the lit windows of Russell Gym loom up in front and you know it's just a few steps---and you curse the platoons ahead for double timing so far and you wonder when you'll bump into them. Then the blessed quick time, and the halt, swaying, sweating, waiting to go in. The quick change and dash into the gym that's as often cold as hot that early in the morning. Start at five repetitions and work up to 14, grunting and groaning through the Army Daily Dozen: the High Jumper, the Bend and Reach, the Squat Thrust, the Rowing, the Squat Bender, the Push-Up, the Side Bender, the Body Twist, the Squat Jumper, the Trunk Twister, the Stationery run and the eight-count push-up, broken only by the five pushups, if you gave yourself, on making a mistake, or one zero if a task officer reminded you. Was demonstrator, that for the easiest. I think I lucked out all the way along by using one simple dodge: I didn't tell anyone I was DMG, and undoubtedly they got the rough stuff, and I, thank goodness, never got above Platoon Sergeant. Sometimes, after everyone felt like collapsing, the platoon would relay race, in which we won three out of three, or practice pull-ups or sit-ups. Never a dull moment. Only once, when I was Mess Count, did I miss the run back which followed the PT. Skies then, at 6:30, varied from complete, starry black, to faint hints of first light. Drenched with sweat, sometimes seemingly too tired to even lift the sneakers to elbow level, we'd run back. Only one horrible time did I assume the position of guide and have to run back ahead of everyone, in front of the pack, with only gasped breathing to keep you in some semblance of step. Most other times it was simply the pack waiting first for the PX, then thinking I'd never get to the turn so I could break step as road guard and relax from the sweat-drenching, head-aching, glass-fogging, lung-fraying double time. Then the final plunge, the wonder if we'd ever stop, then, after an agony of run, the stop, the dismissal, and the desperate run to the barracks, to leap the stairs with almost held breath, and the collapse into the chairs. There wasn't a mile but that didn't feel the day was almost over when the run back from PT was over. Then the drag to change clothes, and either the mad scramble to get into the breakfast formation, or the bed-tightening, brass-shining wait until everyone else had eaten. Then the breakfast, with the slimy eggs only toward the last scrambled, the awful lack of juices, and the delightful pain, when, stomach full of cold liquid, you'd feel vaguely recovered from the run back. (Stop 8:32) (16 minutes) (Start 9:55) Since I retained my dubious position of being the slowest eater anywhere, I was usually last back to the barracks, with the result that more than once I had to dash out of barracks with books clutched under arm, buttoning field jacket as I ran, to pull out my collar studs (incidentally smudging brass with chin grease, how else did I amass the second largest (which would have been the largest had I reported myself, which I didn't, for Failure to Follow Orders, given me by Lt. Thomas at the Range) number of demerits in the platoon. Inspections inspected dirty brass, smudged, not-quite-mirrorlike boots, and usually skimpy knowledge of chain of command and general orders for guard. Back to KNOWN info.
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 1. Wake up about 10 and Jim and I fall to talking and we get up without anything being done. Jim's green eggs get sat over for what seems like hours, wasn't more than 1, while the two muse about old times and college pranks. Marvin continues displeased and leaves, and wickedly Nita sticks her foot in, and comes over, and we're off to Sabu, and rollicking wildly on the Alexandria shores with a real ocelot, I came down with pneumonia: or, who's allergic to cats of any sort? Just before Nita comes I romp in bed with Jim, and get rather hot and suggest we try it again. Nita gets a fancy brush-job and we do try, but revert to talking and I'm feeling completely soft until Jim simply takes things in hand and produces me an orgasm. We shower and he drives me to bus station, bemoaning fact he hasn't fed me, which he hadn't. I climb on bus with candy to quiet hunger pangs, and sleep most of way to Aberdeen. Stumble off bus, into cab, and into BOMOP, showing everyone my ocelot scratches, putting all my clothes into my snapperless suitcase, reading a bit for the next day, and falling quite physically exhausted into bed at the normal hour of 11:30.
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 5. To make Bivouac Day complete I was assigned the only existent two hour lesson, in Interior Guard, guess what I'm going to do THIS weekend? After the 2 pm class we ran back to barracks to load on our backs everything we'd packed the night before, which was everything. Stick pack over head, cargo pack with bed roll hanging down on back, and carbine on sling over arm we painfully walked to the busses and took minutes boarding with impedimenta. Cheery ride out to bivouac area and we satisfy Lt. Rind by making other platoons dress on us for forming for shelter tents. We pitch tent in actual puddles of water, hoping ponchos don't leak. Tent partner Stroud is almost as mechanically minded as I, so we're about last getting settled. It's over to eat in cold dark and back to the great fun of arranging everything in a too-small tent on a too-dark night too cold for camping out. A quick visit to the latrine revealed a steamy mess, and many spent the night there. We decided on bed early and I took longer taking care of his broken leg than anything else. A damp night passed coldly, making up over to adjust blankets, and being absolutely positive everyone else was already up about six times. A night I'd like not to repeat.
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 6. Up to a cold breakfast on a greasy mess plate, then back to go down into the pits to pull targets until the coffee break at 10, and up top to fire carbine for record. Lunch passes and we're back for rifle familiarization, then we pack up and start out for BOMOP. It starts out a brisk walk, but with Bill Veeck III striding out with the guide, the middle men double time 1/2 way and I'm jogging along behind, my pack wrecking my shoulders, my breath almost gone. Horrid range sores and I fall back, debating groveling on ground for mercy. Catch up just as platoon halts, swaying. Break for bunk and just lie there, living, for fifteen minutes, then the arduous task of cleaning, brushing, shining and folding everything. One of the low spots of my career and it's over? Back at MY DAY, after a mention that the weekend was spent sleeping, writing a 20 page lesson plan for Interior Guard, and cleaning up. Then, from 8 to 12, were classes, some with movies, others with practical exercises and pop G-2 quizzes, others with long sonorous talks, almost all with reams of handout materials, which had no end. Struck up a good relationship with Karn, who told me all the answers to one of the poorly G-2'ed quizzes and grades to the rest. Sitting in the last seat of the last row had its advantages, if I wouldn't have minded sitting next to all the birds and tack officers and handouts. Then, too, I was first out for the most welcome two donut and coffee break everyday at 10. Also it was fine for getting in front of the mail line at 12 and 3, which we had to attend, at which I got letters galore and New York Times by the ream. Most mailed to person in camp. Back to barracks, after checking bulletin board for latest scare notes on duties, to read mail and tick off my names on the demerit lists. Lunch was uneventful, save that it gave me time to notice how attractive most of the fellows I was in line with were, and how appealing they acted when they'd been away from women for a long time and were trying to take out a little of their horniness on the dolls in each platoon. Then out for another formation for class, maybe changing books, and back from 1 to 5 for more of the same as in the morning, except that the last hour, or TWO, in my case, was given over to the students to teach the elements of the drill manual that most of us knew anyway. Depending on the day, the afternoon might be fairly enjoyable---a welcome relief from the menial tasks of BOMOP, or it may be the most boring time, when the eyes close when you don't want them to and the note taking seems impossible, or the class matter is so completely unlike anything I'd ever care to know I couldn't care less. Then the final dismissal, when I usually thumbed through the paper (mostly for the theaters---who am I to read all the news?), and then to supper---the longest and the chattiest meal of the day, except that I usually ended up out of the conversation, or at least the last one sitting in a mess of dirty dishes. (Stop 10:28, 33 minutes, start 10:58) What came after what was usually pretty hard to predict. Maybe I would try the library (only to find it closed and have to phone for Tuchachefsky on later night) for the definitions for Lt. Thomas. Maybe it'd be the buddy reports---the first one of which I was 8th (hard to believe) in leadership by Rind and good by others, though indecisive and they thought me not as tactful or intelligent as I thought, though they thought I was enthusiastic and adaptable to military life. Got an over-all rating of about 18th and was told not to worry about anything---only don't let up. I guess I let up, since I slipped to 25th out of 30, not low enough to retrain, but low enough to get the idea that for some reason or other (as Joe Tomanocy said, I should come out of my shell more and talk---but why should I) the other people didn't like me. All this took place toward the end of the last week, along with the PT test, during which I started out grandly with 96 squat jumps, kept going good for 50-some pushups and only fell behind when it came to 46 sit-ups, which I could never do anyway. Four pull-ups seemed to be my limit, but astounded myself with 32 squat thrusts in the sixty second period. Then there was the tug of war, in which we lost to the winning team for a third, the barracks inspection, for a second, the drill, with and without arms, for which we got fourth (who ever drilled with fixed bayonets?) and second, to put the overall score three way tied for first just before the comprehensive on the last day of the competition, for which we got first. To get back to the nights, there was paper reading and letter writing and studying and boot shining and brass polishing and uniform buttoning and PX going and haircut getting until I was about ready to spit hatred. During the whole time the entire group was kept on post, yet some managed to go to the Annex for many hours every night and manage to get everything done. Maybe it was because I always tried to read the assignments the night before? Maybe it was because I was poor, plainly and simply, at shining shoes as effectively as quickly as Veeck or Yano? Maybe my brass wasn't good to start with, but also, could be that my brand of elbow grease just wasn't as effective as that dished out in jig time, but with better results, by the others on the floor? Particularly on the first floor, where everyone seemed to be asleep by the time I got downstairs for my shower (when I decided to take one, rather than simply put up with my dirty toes and itchy back) at about 11 pm, after the lights went out and I no longer could bring myself to continue shining brass and polishing boots. It seems my entire BOMOP evening was spent in the two aforementioned tasks. This may not have been so, but it certainly seemed it, since I never left the barracks, and I either completely wasted the time, used it poorly, or simply had a lot to do. Neglected to mention the platoon meetings, good for a half hour of bull excretion, and the G-2's, for the idiots who couldn't bear to even open a book, and I guess I was one of them. BACK TO THE FACTS, such as they are. On Friday Stroud decided to come out of his shell and practically dragged me over to the Annex for my first beer. He bought it and I promptly avoided the talking group at the bar, the singing group at the tables, and plunked myself down in a corner with a Life. I thought, at the time, this the most advantageous way to spend the time I was almost being forced into spending there. Got a too-small box for books and went back to the barracks and to bed. The next morning we packed, which I loved, and turned everything in, which made me delirious with glee (or would have, if I hadn't been so tired.) We heard about the results, just as we sat, being new and official and uncomfortable in greens and heard that we had won, no one uttered a sound. I personally was numb, neither impressed, sad, nor glad, simply numb. Getting out, maybe a bit of the feeling of it's being over hit me and I led three cheers for the fourth Platoon, which I probably couldn't have disliked, or liked, collectively or individually, much more. After a bad reception at the Annex we redrew our bedding, since we were to stay in BOMOP, and got our uniforms off. I went to bed and tossed in sheer mental exhaustion in the upper barracks. Feeling quite low I called a cab to the Officer's Club, had a solitary steak dinner, and started drinking the free vodka they were tossing around free by the jiggers and a half. Very soon I was high, soon I was very high, and then laughing for no reason, foggy visions, and the awful feeling of sickness, during which I remember vomiting gently into a sink, then washing my hands in the urinal. Have vague notions of Henderson walking me and leaving me to repeat my sickness in a chair in front of the Officer's Club. Almost everyone wondered who I was, and for the first time in my life I was too drunk to even care what anyone thought of me---I just wanted to get to bed. Carried into car, sick in car, aided up stairs, physically undressed and lay on mattress cover, got sick on floor and fell dead asleep. Woke Sunday feeling stupid as hell (reminds me, we got ashes on Ash Wednesday) and washed enough to be ready for church after we went to the Camp Drive-in for donuts and coffee, me feeling like I'm going to be sick again any minute. Disconsolately back after meal in Chesapeake and I'm again in bed. This takes me to 3 pm Sunday afternoon, and there I suppose I should stop being definite. The first week after BOMOP introduced us to the classroom (end 11:33, 35 minutes, 8:50 the next day), which I will also treat generally. We stayed in the barracks, and it fell into a rather happy state of disrepair as bunks were made, but not tightened, and suitcases littered the floor. I had moved almost everything out to Vermette's car Saturday morning, but Monday it was all back in, and I quickly arranged everything into a rather happy semblance of livability. Luxury of luxuries, we cold not sleep until 6:45, when we'd lazily rise, wash, dress and take off to the Chesapeake for breakfast. Vermette took me the first few days, and then it was catch as catch can. One of my most pressing tasks is finding someone to drive me where I want to go. Classes then, as before, from 8 to 12 and 1 to 5, unbroken by coffee, but made hectic by such things as checking on the mailbox, now distressingly far, in the graystone Det "C" bldg, twice a day, and finding out how I'm getting to lunch, or back to the BOMOP area. This night I helped Vermette and Yano move into their rather pitiful quarters in the 3400 block, and had to scrounge even more for rides to classes. My evenings were for the most part spent in the most pleasant activity of writing letters, getting off 12 on the 16th, 6 on the 17th, none on the 18th, when I helped Vermette move and got into such long conversations with Joe that I didn't get any done at all, then 6 on the 19th, to completely clear my correspondence file for the first time in ages. Thoughts of this came to mind, but I pushed it back, waiting for a better opportunity. I found myself enjoying the blessings of the end of BOMOP in a numb sort of way. By far the most interesting events of these days were Bill's letters, much too complicated to go into here, which resulted finally in Mr. Kovan's moving out of the apartment for good, leaving my furniture there, and Bill getting Tom to move in and start paying the rent. Jim also wrote that somebody has fallen in love with him, and through two phone calls, in which he insists his sailor and himself wish me to come for the long weekend, I decide to go down. Having originally made arrangements with Stroud, Seaman volunteers me the use of his car while he goes to Tennessee via Union Station. He's leaving early today, what more can I want? Friday morning we all get (Back to fact, on 20 (Fri)) assigned BOQ's, and I get BOQ O, Room 6. I see it and it's a three-room suite, all that I could have wanted, and maybe a bit more. Vermette leaves me off at BOMOP and I throw all my stuff together, taking care to leave a bag packed for the weekend. Vermette jealously takes me to the BOQ, and when I toss everything in the closet, meet Bob in his room, have supper at the drive-in, we're off at 6:45. We're there at 8:30, and he takes off for friends in Alexandria, and I change for the Hut. We stride down, my leg still hurting and in answer to everyone's concern for me have a long, tearful, faithful, heart-to-heart talk with Jim, and the same with him, and, in talking with Harry, ask him home with us. He's grossly too big, and I lie limply for awhile and then tell him long tales of my left love, and we go to bed to rub and try again, but I get away to the sofa about 3 and get to sleep. We wake at 10, have a rather painful breakfast until Jerry leaves, and I peruse papers and decide to see "Sleeping Beauty." Stand in line for about an hour after snacking lunch and see the rather interesting film. Out and back to Jim's at 8, to sit down to a cheese and tuna casserole under candles and I decide to go to the Hut alone. Unfortunately I end up in a neutral corner and see no action all night. Discouragedly back up to Jim's and get to sleep, listening to their kisses and whispers and groans after reading "Breakfast at Tiffany's" and practically every other readable in the place.
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 21. They leave for church and I wash dishes and read more and leave at 2, ignoring their meal partly for me. Walk through odd neighborhood to the Ontario Theater for "A Night to Remember," a picture I'll remember, and dinner and a cab to the National Gallery of Art at 8 pm. Wander through, finishing the last of the halls and standing in awe of Dali's "Last Supper." Out at 9:30, having exhausted it, and to Hut in hopes of seeing Cal, who said he'd meet me. A few quiet cruises and Frank talks to me about Jack, and again I walk back, thinking maybe next time I visit, it'll be Philadelphia. I just DON'T like to SIT. Talk for while and fall asleep.
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 22. Get up at 10:30, breakfast, and drive down to get Bob, who's returned to Union Station. He comes back to change uniform and we leave, both Jims urging me to come back, and praising me for my goodness. We get away about 3, after needing a push, since I never used Bob's car, certainly. Quick trip back as we both shine as mutual listeners and talkers. Eat in Aberdeen and come back at 7 in glory to fix my BOQ up. From here on in it will probably be referred to alternately as "home" and "apartment." I suppose I just like to feel I'm settled somewhere nice. Good hours pass as I arrange drawer space, jerk off poorly, and get things settled in general, catching up on the G-2's for the Organizational exam tomorrow morning. Get to bed about 11:15, dreading I won't wake up in time, since I have no alarm clock.
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 23. I needn't have worried, since I wake with a start at 3:45, again at 5:30, and dozed fitfully until 6:30, when a bugle blows. Oops, last night I also saw "Bell, Book and Candle." Wake up dazedly and almost flunk test (got 82) and after class at 4 I persuade Vermette to take me to the PX, where I can finally spend money, due to Bill's return of my last $140. Now I can breathe! Buy a lot, including sex pants, and traipse past "Man in Space." This I can't resist, so I don't. Eat in drive-in and study G-2 for a few seconds before watching "Hamlet" by the Old Vic on TV. Fall into bed quite tired at 11:30.
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 24. Up very nicely at bugles at 6:45, and get over to breakfast and classes, very anxious to get back to apartment to put more things away. Now I can finally start doing the things I WANT to do. End up reading the whole of "Island of Dr. Moreau," by H.G. Wells, and six days of New York Times until 10 pm. Discovered with a shock I have fallen 30 days behind in here, and take two whole hours to fill in 20 of them. Put things all away, too, but have no time for letters, cleaning up, or anything. Fall into shower at 11, and into bed at 11:30, putting everything into drawers. Very sleepy, and I prove it as I jolt awake at 7:15.
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 25. A mad dash for breakfast and get a ride to class in the nick of time. Free time at 11 and I get a haircut and get lunch and back to class, which drones on until 5, interrupted only by a quick smallpox and typhoid shot. Supper out of the way, I settle down with "The Glory Road," by Bruce Catton, my book to report on in a few weeks. Bill Zimmerman makes himself rather a nuisance as he insists on talking for hours on end. Tap dancing on the ceiling has me making a courtesy call upstairs in French, and at 9 pm I'm back to this, with a determination to finish, which I've carried through, since it's now 9:33, and I've written 45 minutes today, the longest stint of all, making the total time to catch up on the 31 days I'd fallen behind two hours and fifty minutes, truly a record. Then with a clearer conscience, I proceeded to (Written on the 2nd, really the quickest I could have done it, in view of the hectic weekend ahead---and it's probably lucky I have two extra spaces on the next side, I'll probably need them) write letters, long satisfying ones to Bill and maybe one other. Get to bed at 11:30 and up at 8:55, too late for breakfast, and dressed and over to 9 am class, what a luxury.
FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 27. Bob Seigal is going to NYC, and on the spur of the moment I decide to go too, tossing things into a bag at 5 and withdrawing $50 from the bank for Bill, who's out about that much at my hands. Get over to Bob's at 5:45 and meet Don Purrington, and take off. Stop at Howard Johnson's for supper and when conversation lags I napped for a bit in back seat. Bus to NYC from West New York, and call Bill, no answer. Subway to "my" apartment to find Tom in and sketching---a five-foot eagle over my bed to boot. He sketches nicely. Bill may be at 316 so we're off to there at 11, then to the Tic Toc for a bit, then back to the 316. Place is truly crowded, and some of the crowd is quite nice. Tom and I separate and I get looks for my straw jeans, but not much more. Wait and wait for Bill, and finally at 1:30 Tom leaves and I hold fort on my own. Not too bad (smells of money) fellow seems interested, so I let myself be talked to (don't I sound gentile?) and he comes over and puts arm about me and says "Shall we go?" I make known I've been trying to call someone and say yes. We leave and catch cab to E 71 St. and a rather mad, energetic session ensues. If only he wouldn't insist on such rough kisses. Tussle till tired and take cold shower, then go to bed about 3, to fall asleep quickly.
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 28. Up at 10 to call Bill and find he'd been out (more power to him), and was moving me at noon. I subway up and have pleasant reunion and I find epaulets and move stuff out of Bill's to Fred's car to 61st St., quite a heavy chore. Knocking bothers Mrs. McGeogh and I knock and apologize and get talked to by her for about an hour. Bill and I have lunch and back up to his place for pleasant tussle. Surprising how nice and chummy sex can be. Talked and then chuck steak for supper while I indulged in Bach and "Screwtape Letters." Supper over at 9, we strolled down CPW and through rambles, then caught subway down to Village. Place was very crowded as usual, though not so dreadfully full of good-looking fellows. We chattered a bit and I got engrossed in a paperback store, buying four good ones. Stroll around to find Lenny's closed and then subway back uptown at the early hour of midnight. Relax and have a snack, but cuddle very little, and we go to sleep on separate beds at 1 am. Up about 10 and have another go at it, quite pleasant, though, on looking back, Bill seemed somewhat cool and strange.
SUNDAY, MARCH 1. Talked on about this 'n' that and was subjected to another of his vitaminized breakfasts. Finished "Screwtape" and cuddled a bit, then quickly out to Riverside Park for a stroll until the bounding squirrels sent us for two pounds of nuts, which we spent a pleasant hour distributing to the squirrels and pigeons. At 4 we hiked up to the Shanghai for pork suppers, taking a good hour, and then back to Bill's to gather everything up and pay him off, and, after hectic return for forgotten suitcoat, a cab down to Port Authority, where I catch a bus to Union City and stand in front of Capital Theater, watching all the WONDERFUL creatures walk by (Note, NJ bears looking into from the trade point of view---boy!!). Bob comes by and we're southbound at 6:45. We josh among us three all the way back, impressing picked-up sailor with our nuttiness. Pleasant trip back, getting in about 11 pm and I plop everything where it is and fall into bed.
MONDAY, MARCH 2. Probably a good thing I'd brought my clock-radio back, since I'll probably not have gotten up at 6:30, to stagger about getting ready for class, breakfasting and nodding through first hour. Get first full month's pay ($314), getting $297 after everything's off, having a larger bank balance ($340) than I think I'd ever had before (Join the Army and get rich!). Then I get to draggy classes and lunch and classes again, getting back at 4:30 to fix assorted things up and read three days' Times. Supper with a disgruntled Shapiro and get back to spend a more reasonable half-hour (better than about three hours of last week) on this, until 7:15. Then, I sat myself down at the typewriter and dashed off eight letters, some early, some late, some long, some short. This kept me going until 10:45, when I staggered up and put things away, then studied while I ate a Heath bar and an orange, then decided enough was enough and got to bed at 11:30.
TUESDAY, MARCH 3. Hardly hit pillow before I fell asleep, to be awakened, feeling fairly decent, for a change (seven hours sleep might be just about right for me), fixed junk up and dashed off to breakfast and rode to class, feeling apprehensive about exam. I should have because I did badly, but everyone else did, too, so I'm not so bad by comparison. Free hour at 11 I did odds and ends, then over to lunch at noon. Classes and supper and afterwards I'm over to see "Watusi," a steal, literally, from "King Solomon's Mines," and then dash back to watch a spectacular on TV until 9. Back to get involved with finishing "Glory Road," and stop even after that to polish the shoes I'd loaded with polish earlier. Worked hard and tiredly and got to bed at 12:30, much too late, proven when I got up this morning with a rather furious headache.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 4. Took shower to get gook off, and about froze doing it. Back in to rejoice over the bookcase I'd gotten in last night---my luxury is complete. Classes drag on as classes will---alternating missiles and supply and ad infinitum. Call Slaughter but find he's sick. Get a G-2 off Siegal and type couple carbons for my share of the posterity of future classes. Write a few letters and try unsuccessfully to see "King Kong" and go back to letters then back to waste time with stupid, funny series, and catch the last of "Liebestod" and "Flamenco" of TV hour. Back to room for more letters, and with great determination take all brass off uniform and shine it, and then put it back on and actually get to bed at 10:45.
THURSDAY, MARCH 5. Toss and turn a bit, planning for tape recorder, and get awake very restfully at 6:10 and hop out of bed feeling good at 6:30. Put stuff away and get to breakfast and over to a six-hour PE on the supply system, myself being 1/4 of the Main Army Depot all morning. Check glasses and find I really don't need them, and in PM find my vaccination too, simply because I got a seat. Two hours of testing on English usage and grammar closed the afternoon early, and back to do odds and ends and out to supper at 5, back to watch the first part of "Captains Courageous" by Kipling, with Freddie Bartholomew, Spencer Tracy, Lionel Barrymore, Mickey Rooney and others for a stirring play about the sea fishers of the Grand Banks vs. a spoiled brat. Finish a bit after 7 and get back to read just a bit, and then get out at 8 for a half hour stand in a very long line to see Dean Martin, John Wayne, and Ricky Nelson in "Rio Bravo" a fairly good cowboy epic. Get out at 11 and fall straight into bed.
FRIDAY, MARCH 6. Get up and call Slaughter only to find there are no vacancies in DP unit. There go those plans. Meander through classes and arrange for awhile, and watch second part of "Captains Courageous," and get down to typing stuff for myself. I get so carried away in referring to what should have come before and what should come after that I toss typewriter aside and start scribbling over sheets of paper, getting things down for the sheer relief of getting them down, developing ideas and investigating definitions and ideas and bases of thought. Stop at 10 and take shower and get to bed early to be fresh for my waking up at 6.
SATURDAY, MARCH 7. Pack and dress and meet Jerry at 7:15, hearing birds for first time. Leave Aberdeen and get to subway at 9:30 and walk through bluster of Philly to 1903 Pine at 10 am. Talk with Laird and Jim and eat breakfast, then down to buy tickets to "First Impressions," and the symphony. Shop at Silo's and Goody's for tape recorders, eat lunch amidst slight cruising, and parade into the Forrest Theater at 2:15. Show is fairly good, with Hermione Gingold stealing show. Leave at 5:30 and make way to Allegro for the coffee hour, on Laird's recommendation. Decided that the fellow next to me would pick me up, which he did and invited me to his apt "for a drink." Have good start but poor finish as he insists on my coming and on getting me, but I come and he doesn't. I have to eat in Allegro and then get back up for the Philadelphia Orchestra and a nurse and Borodin's "In the Steppes of Central Asia," Nabokov's "Symboli Christiani," and Ravel's "Trois Melodies Hebraiques," and Tchaikovsky's Fifth. Out and back to Allegro to talk to a drunk and wander back with Laird and Ty for a long conversation until 3 am, when I fall into bed, having been up 21 hours that day.
SUNDAY, MARCH 8. Up at 11 to answer phone and lay till 12:15. Eat breakfast and get introduced to David Hunt (?), who's cute, and then out with Laird to his odd friends' and to the Pennsylvania Academy of Art and the Philadelphia underground. Back to see good books and Menotti's "Maria Golovin," fairly good opera. Out for steak at Black Angus and call Jerry late, to find that he's leaving at 8:30. Bit hasty goodbye to Laird and run back to apartment to throw things into a bag and say goodbye to Jim, then run to subway station, just missing train, and get out to corner just when Jerry does at 8:45. Both of us manage to keep talking for most of the way back, and we sign in and I get in at the very sensible hour of 11. Fall into bed.
MONDAY, MARCH 9. Get up at 6:30 to unpack everything and get things away before class. The work is made much more interesting by having half the class in artillery and rockets and armament and such, and the other half in conventional ammunition. Many of the classes are of the demonstration type, as all of us gather around an item of artillery or armament and try to listen through intervening heads and much noise in the room. Hop in a bus and travel some, and then walk some, and see very many buildings, but learn very little. After class we eat and then Vernes and I are off to "From the Earth to the Moon," a Frankensteinian mangling of the original Jules Verne story. Back to watch circus acts on TV, and finally get down to studying. By the time I've typed a letter for Bob Siegal it's time for bed, and despite all efforts, the earliest I could make it was 10:50, just in time for Taps.
TUESDAY, MARCH 10. Up at 6 to study for the test and make the rather poor mistake of getting an erection and working if off, for I have a headache for the rest of the day. Take the test and find to my surprise it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. In the PM comes a pop quiz which I get about 30% on, and am really sweating, but then the schnooky Lt. Roberts announces the test really doesn't count. Sure shook me up. Read a couple copies of the NY Times, including the Sunday one, and typed up a couple dozen columns of things for softball and Bob Siegal. Started writing a letter to Bill and it dawns on me that I want to go to NYC this weekend, so I write him thusly and settle down with "Flowers of Evil" before bedtime at 10:30.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 11. Up at 6:30 and feel pretty good after eight hours sleep. This still doesn't stop me from nodding and feeling my eyes closed during some of the classes, or finding a nasty scribble where some notes should be. There's just no equivalence between sleepiness and boredom. Find out that I drew Ammo Supply for the tech course from April 1 to June 2. This is the way my Army career's blocked out for me. Have taken to working the crossword puzzles in class, and they haven't stopped me yet---and neither has the instructor. Write letters to many people and check with Levitas to find I can get to NYC, and write and tell Bill so. Make new mailing list and shower and get to bed at 11:00.
THURSDAY, MARCH 12. Up at 6:45, trying it a bit later. Got off in good time and classes passed and in the afternoon came a rather interesting field trip to a huge sand table of an ASP, and a blow-outable $200,000 building for ammo renovation. So this is what I'm getting into. Mr. Osborn has joined the car pool and his looks are really something. Check on tape recorders at the long break and in the Consumer's Guide and make final arrangements with Levitas. Back to supper and finish puzzle and write just about a week in here, until 6:30. Then I write a long letter to Cesira and study a bit before going into TV to watch Hemingway's "For Whom the Bell Tolls," an excellent show with Maria Schell and Jason Robards, Jr, loving up a really tremendous storm. Back to study some more, and get to bed about 12, after munching on cookies and oranges.
FRIDAY, MARCH 13. Up to take a surprisingly simple test in the morning. Go wearily through classes, waiting on pins and needles for the interminable day to finish, which it does at 2:40. We all dash over to the gym for PT, the five repetitions tiring me surprisingly. Dress and sign out at 3:15, and back to the BOQ to shower and shave and pack and make a list of things I want to do in NYC. Over to Levitas's at 4:40 and we leave about 5 for Edgewood. Get underway with boring crew of four, and I take naps above blaring loudspeaker until we get to NYC at 8:30. Call Bill and wander through Times Square, ogling all. Get in touch with him at 9:15 and take subway to his place. Talk and bus for a bit, then down to Rikers for supper and back for more bussing. Start going and I'm very hot and so is Bill, so we pant and puff and go real great and finally come off and get to bed about 2 am.
SATURDAY, MARCH 14. Up at 7 and I try making a few phone calls, mostly unsuccessful. Eat Bill's apricot for breakfast and subway down to Cortlandt St. for shopping for tape recorders. Webcor holds the fort until two-way tape is shouted down, and then it's settled between Prntron Aristocrat for $148 at Master's and whatever VM the bookstore may offer. Bill goes shopping for books and I nose into odd corners, buying New Yorker Album. Walk all way up to 48th and enjoy every bit of it very much. Buy tickets and Cue and decide to see movie that night, "The Journey" and stage show at RCA. Bill leaves in disgust with me, and I eat steak in Maisel's and meet him at CPW on 73rd at 10:15. We wander through Park, looking at people on point, then enter Cork Club for two hours of awed watching. To the Bali for another hour and then we bus to apartment at 1. Go at it again and it's utterly overwhelming. I just don't know what to do with it and myself. Finally break off and get to bed at 4 am.
SUNDAY, MARCH 15. Wake up at 9:30 and hop out of bed very businesslike very quickly. Try to call Cinema 16 for ticket, but no answer. About to go at 11:30 when I find I've lost my ticket. Searching frantically for fifteen minutes produces nothing but frustration and ulcers, so finally we dash off for a cab and get to Beekman in good time. Cab for $1.50. Enter and persuade doorman to admit us, save ticket, to "Miracle of Lourdes," "Nice Time" and "Little Island," a truly remarkable animated genius written, religion, et al. Out to phone Tom and visit for a bit, and I call Mr. Vroom and trot down to Lunt-Fontaine to be let into its blue plush interior and "Les Ballets Africains" de Keito Fedova. It was pornography, all the way as spirited native girls clad in 6 denier net brassieres were clawed at by handsomely-abdominaled native boys. Back up to Bill's to find ticket, munch through a pound of chuck steak, and toss about for an hour in a frenzy of orgasm. Take shower and dress and shake blankets out and it's time to go. Leave at 9:40 and get to Port Authority at 10:30. Leave, six in a small car, at 11. Slumber through rain all the way back and sign in at 3 am. Get to bed at 3:40, and alarm rings at 6:40.
MONDAY, MARCH 16. Only three hours of sleep and it felt like it all day long as I fought to keep eyes open during lectures and closed them during every break. Read paper for a bit and get back to supper after perusing Cue for expensive eateries. Back completely drained out, and crawl into bed at 6:30. To sleep at 7, up at 2 to wee-wee, and up again at 3:30.
TUESDAY, MARCH 17. Off to sleep and up again at 6:40, feeling darn good, yet moving slowly to avoid the headache that's just below the surface. Classes go slowly and during the free hour at 11 I cop a haircut, which I needed---I should really get them more often. Back to a solitary dinner and walk, by choice, back to class. These drag, too, livened by two days of crosswords and the eight queens on one board chess problem. Back directly to supper and over to BOQ for an evening of relaxation. Plow through Sunday Times and catch up on them till 7, when I check clock and find it's actually 8:30. Write few notes and type Mom a letter and put everything in its place and get clothes sorted out for washing (such a busy day that I have to mention that), take a shower and get to bed about 10:45. Toss for a bit and get to sleep at 11:15.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 18. Up at 6 and lie till 6:30, fix place up again, and off to vehicle classes to learn something about engines. Grab a long G-2 and dash back during 11 am. Open Times to type up many copies of it. To lunch and back to class to clever skit by Swarthout, in spite of our efforts not to laugh we were mightily amused. I check Consumer Bulletin and write letter to Bill during dull sessions and we finally get out and I eat supper, and put clothes away while Vermette tried on his khakis. I settle down with my "Collected Essays" until I get tired of reading at 9:30. Set to work on novel notes, getting not much concrete, but a lot of clarifying down until 10:30. Catch up on this and fix junk up and get to bed before 11.
THURSDAY, MARCH 19. Up before 6, but still feel loathe to get out of bed, as if I were very tired. This is probably just a continuation of the old thing about boredom devitalizing life. Up at 6:45 and breakfast and classes and lunch and classes and free hour. PT in the morning a chore, since I grab stuff from Vermette in Wheatley's car to jump into Seaman's car and go to his BOQ to change, then wear his jacket and get caught by MP. Wander around in awful state of undress and get G-2's and mope while basketball went on. Finally get back to type eight copies of a laborious G-2. This happened all on Friday, though there was a sheet to be typed today, too. Three days in a row I did G-2's, to make it general. In evening settle down with Isak Dinesen's "Last Tales," rather entertaining fabiola, and studied G-2 and notes until time to watch second part of "For Whom the Bill Tolls," not quite as good as the first. Back to study more, until 11:45, and then to sleep.
FRIDAY, MARCH 20. Up at 6:15 and study more, and over to do very poorly on test---if I'm lucky, I got as high as barely satisfactory. Hope they grade on a curve. Two hours of open time sees another G-2, a rough one, and then another hour and it's all over. Back to read papers and change effect of my pornographic sketch. Read a couple more tales, then over to supper and to show "Sound and Fury," by Faulkner, not such a bad show at all. Then to library for an hour with tales, the "Last Day's of Pompeii," reserve myself for "Lolita" and take out "By Love Possessed," by James Gould Cozzens, a best-seller. Back at 9 to read until 11, being very favorably impressed by book.
SATURDAY, MARCH 21. Up for breakfast and settle back down to book, then over to lunch with Zimmerman, who says my Fire Marshall job should be a cinch. Walk over just before 1 pm to see what my buildings include. Hem and haw around for a bit, until Kensell calls me a driver and I'm off to the BOMOP area. It dawns on me to check boiler rooms, but not paper in butt cans. So what? Fairly decent job, and then around to 1st ETC, where Cpl helps me out, out of pity or joke, hard to say. Everything looks great, but then I hardly knew what to look for. Finish in about an hour and get back to write report at 3. Read book, relieve Oddi, and get back to be dismissed by the OD, getting a driver back. Settle down with my book at 7 and finish at 11:30, one of the best books yet. Flop into bed at 11:45.
SUNDAY, MARCH 22. Up at 8 to read Russell, eat breakfast, toddle back to finish "Unpopular Essays," by Bertrand Russell. That takes me until one, when I finally decide to catch up on this and get some things done around room. Out to dinner at 2:30. Back to watch Kennedy a bit on TV, and then get down to notes for the novel for awhile. Keep busy with odds and ends until 5, when I get set to go to library, pausing for Leonard Bernstein's "Til Eulenspeigel," and then to read Jean Kerr's "Please Don't Eat the Daisies," "The Prussian Officer," not half as good as I'd expected, and signed out "Remembrance of Things Past," Vol. 1, the Proustian tome I'd started before. Dash over to "Al Capone," with Rod Steiger, a perfectly normal little movie, infested with perfectly lovely, not-little young men, who drive me back home to write an agonized page about my desires when it comes to men. Read about ten pages of ROTP and get to bed at 11.
MONDAY, MARCH 23. Up early to fix room up and get to classes. They pass and during a free hour I call BRL, then Mr. Everngam, then Mr. Gardner, who says it would be OK if I came in tomorrow AM to meet some people in Computing. Back to more classes and get mail three times in one day, and get back to plow through three copies of the Times, which takes a good half of it (Time, what else?) and then study for a bit and watch "Green Pastures," with William Warfield, Eddie "Rochester" Anderson, and Earle Hyman, a good colored rendition of De Bible. Back in to study a bit more for the test---mostly the G-2, and then get to bed at 11:45, the room a complete shambles and the alarm set for 6 am.
TUESDAY, MARCH 24. I wake up even sooner than 6, study a bit, take a rather cold shower, study more, fix room up, and get to breakfast in time for the awkward presentation of myself to Seaman and Siegal to take me to class. Take the test and hurry rather shamefully through the only essay test so far to get out at 9 and phone a cab. After 10 minutes of standing the cab comes and I'm taken to BRL. See Dr. Sarris and Dr. Leser, who's very interested in Zolnierczyk. Gardner is reticent and I leave with the thought that they want me to work for them for four months. Cab back to 3D21 to find that I pulled down the highest grade of all, a 98, in the Effective Writing (English) exam. Classes in committee go slowly, but we're out early, so all's well. Read a bit of ROTP before supper, eat supper and read bit of ROTP after supper, neither part being very large. Send out bills and letters and from 9 to 11 write a very long letter to Bernie on my philosophies. Get to bed at 11 with very little but that done.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 25. Up to clean a fantastically dusty booth and wander around all AM and PM talking to Richards about spelunking and Joe about BRL and watching a DX unit being set up in the field. Back at 4 to a bit of ROTP before dinner, then dinner, and a bit of ROTP until my eyes refuse to focus any more. I toss book down and lie down "for a while" at 7:30 and rouse myself at 10:30 to turn lights off and get undressed and get things set for tomorrow, my head quietly pounding all the while. Lie a bit thinking odd thoughts and get to sleep by 11:30.
THURSDAY, MARCH 26. Up at 6:30 to struggle for thirty minutes with brass on my freshly cleaned uniform. I'm appointed a company CO early in the day and the AM is spent getting things in their right places. After lunch I find QM has two TW's my size and we're back to class for a few games of Jotto, a game of chess and more problems for the 1921th DX Co, and it's rookie CO. Tell Joe I DON'T want to go to Akron, but find I might go to NYC for awhile, or Washington, while Jim may not be there. I'll just leave it up to tomorrow---I'm very flexible. Out at 4 and down to ROTP, which goes a bit faster as I get used to it. Let Vermette get his stuff out and get supper and I'm back to ROTP. Read ploddingly on until 8 and start skipping a bit, but reading most at 9:30, when I catch up on this and then take a well-needed shower. After that I read ROTP until 11:15 and get to sleep.
FRIDAY, MARCH 27. Up and breakfast and class, still CO. Problems go in and out, we go to lunch and the problem ends with our Company 4th on the basis of problem solution alone. Not bad, and the course ends with a bravura epileptic fit by Lt. Mado. Bewildered to car and call Morgenstern to decide to go to NYC this weekend. Pack and ROTP takes time till 3:30 and I'm over to Han's and we take off for NYC in freezing car. Talk moves jerkily along and we get into NYC at 7:15. He leaves me off in Village. Subway to Times Square and try to get theater tickets at USO (not many), and box offices. End up at "Rashomon" with Claire Bloom, Rod (Al Capone) Steiger, Akim Tamiroff and Oscar Homolka. Impressive play, ending with the farce of cowards. Very interesting audience, too. I fail to get in touch with Bill OR Tom, so walk in driving snow across lilies of Rockefeller Center and to apartment to leave bag and over to 316. Lovely crowd and meet Tim and cruising goes along, refusing literally dozens and getting nothing. Leave at 3:30 and call Bill to say I'm coming over. Pick up bag and grab cab to 122nd and Bill's waiting for me and we clench and he grapples and I balk and finally get to sleep at 5:15.
SATURDAY, MARCH 28. Up at 11:30 for fancy tussle and eat breakfast at 1:30, just before rushing off to "Look after Lulu" with Tammy Grimes and Roddy McDowell and Adonis. A less interesting crowd, but a wild play. Out to wander to Cameo and "Russia Today," a $1.50 disappointment. Out in a hurry to meet Bill at 6:30 and have a tough steak and wander up to Capitol Building for a free amateur production for which we can't get reservations. Back down to 42nd St and down to the Big Dollar at 34th and 3rd, fairly interesting, and then down to the closed Bagatelle. Over to 8th and wait to enter the Old Colony, which is fairly indecent, where we stay until 12:30, when I suddenly decide to get back to Bill's. We subway up, talking lightly, and get in at 1. I get into bed, ready for him to make move, which he doesn't. I start talking and get fevered spinal feeling, we talk about communication, and my feeling obliged to go to bed with him, and our pasts lightly, until we decide it's 5 am, and we both come, and finally get to sleep about 5:30.
SUNDAY, MARCH 29. Wake up at noon for him to come again, and up about 3 for breakfast, while I read New Yorker and listen to Tannhauser overture. We eat and go at it again for my half the spurts, and the Zoo, Coney Island, and the coffee hour at the Met are forgotten in the general confusion and collusion. Out at 5:30 for lunch and Chinese food, but we're too late and have cheeseburgers at 96th and subway down to 42nd to see "Doctor's Dilemma" by Shaw, with Leslie Caron and Dirk Bogarde, a fairly interesting show, and "Cartouche" a most awful show. Out at 10:15 and wander about 42nd and down to stare at Port Authority terminal mess. Back to 42nd to talk about my book, distractedly, and he goes at 11:15 and I'm down to Penn Station to meet Hans at 12. We ride and ride and I feel as if I'm shouting at the top of my voice at him for the whole of the 150 grueling miles. Stop at Howard Johnson's for sandwiches and coffee, and then into snow for last tiring hours, getting very weary and almost desperate to think of something to talk about---plays, radio, life, Army, infiltration course, family, etc. Sign in at 4 and get back to bed at 4:15.
MONDAY, MARCH 30. Alarm rings at 7:15 and I numbly get out of bed and dress in time to walk to class without breakfast. An hour final exam goes by fairly smoothly---studying would NOT have helped at all, so I'm glad I didn't---hope I passed, that hope made more demanding by the notification and Joe and I are accepted by BRL. We both cheer it up merrily and I'm back here at 10:30 to listen to my grumbling stomach, sew buttons on, and catch up with four days of this schedule. Weather is just great for infiltration course this afternoon. At 11:45 I drop pen and finish this as I go over for lunch. Seaman and Siegal and I wait in car while stupes wait in rain at 12:45 for the infiltration course. Everyone feels absurd, and we herd into barracks for an hour, lots drawn, until Lt. Thomas (whom I thank for BRL) tells us it's called off. Are we happy---no? HOHOHO! Back to read papers and read "Sweet Bird of Youth" by Tennessee Williams, until time for supper. Eat with Osborn and we're over to see the "Naked Maja," with the doll Tony Franciosa and Ava Gardner. Pretty good story. Stay to see the US Army Band go through their paces with Kern, Sousa, Gliere, Suppe, and quartets and soloists. Good performance and I'm back exceedingly sleepy to take a shower and get to bed at 10:15.
TUESDAY, MARCH 31. Up at 7:15 and dress and get over to breakfast and thence to BRL, where I talk with Dr. Leser until Mr. Schlegel takes me to his section, shows me EDVAC and ORDVAC, on which I'll work and lets me read manual. 4:15 and we quit and back to supper and "Count Your Blessings" with Deborah Kerr, Rossano Brazzi and Maurice Chevalier, a great movie. Back to write letters and fix place up and bed at 11 pm. ((((ORDVAC is somewhat like the 704 in Programming, but enough trouble to make my first problem an awful chore. With a 3x3 matrix to work with, and three of everything to do, I naturally decide on loops to get things done. Coding goes slowly, since I'm in a loop, and when finally (Friday, after starting Tuesday) I get some coding to the keypunchers Joe's done and I've only started. Run it and it stops due to a silly error in miscoding. Silly errors keep on, and finally I lose everything; meanwhile I find (on Wednesday) that I had a Monday deadline, and Dr. Leser's getting anxious. I throw everything away at 2:30 Wednesday, and at 3:30 have nine pages coded without a loop. Get it back and on checking, it looks all right, but I get an odd stop. I check and check and look till I'm blue in the face, then Palan discovers a 404 written as 405. Everything goes well after that. On the next problem, which was "Improvement of Supersonic Axisymmetric Flow Computations" is assigned exclusively on the EDVAC, which undoubtedly is the easier of the two machines to code. Aerodynamics is complicated, and the formulas are complex and the loops involved, but I hope to be able to finish in three months and have much experience to take back to IBM. As of today (April 15) I've decided to write about the problem during the work days. Nothing else happens anyway)))))
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 15. Up early to get to work at the right time and Gene McCollum sets himself up as our permanent driver which is all right with me. Get a problem on the "Chemistry of Dosimetry," and Joe goes ahead in great leaps and bounds, writing final coding forms, beginning with the close assistance of his boss and co-worker. At noon we wander around trying to check out, get back later after eating at Officer's Club and set to work again. Back to check mail and supper at Chesapeake. Write a letter to Laird and settle down with ROTP and get a bit done, but am feeling tired, so I set things in order early and get to bed. Along about here I'm tracing again rather nicely and been getting back to doing myself fairly often. This consumes some of the time which I can't quite allocate when I write this a week after it happens.
THURSDAY, APRIL 2. Breakfast and work progresses along and we're out again for a long lunch hour, checking new mailboxes---I get 194, C3, Ui, and so have to write many letters to catch up to everyone. Read that the cherry blossoms are doing well down in DC, so I decide to go there, rather than Philly, where Laird seems happy to receive me and I'm only too happy to go and sponge off him. See "Tempest," sort of spectacular and get back to talk to Dave Marblestone for over an hour about the subject of NYC, Columbia and Russian, which he plans to take there in the summer. Back to read a bit, and get things set to pack, and to bed at 11.
FRIDAY, APRIL 3. Up at 6:30, as usual and to work, where Joe mortifies me by finishing his job at noon---with no errors in the first run, after Skeet looked at it, of course. I plod along, getting the coding down to the card readers and finally getting the cards punched, while Palmer goes around fixing up my binary deck. At noon I officially sign out of Dec "C"(SOD) and into Staff and Faculty (USAOS), a turning point of my army career. Get left off to change and pack, and Gene gets me into Aberdeen at 5:20, and I get a bus at 5:40, stand on the middle step for an odd view of the countryside, until it gets too dark to see and I sit down to watch the rain start. Call Frank and talk for 45 minutes, until 8:15, watching the dolls pass by outside the booth, and take off in the pouring rain to find the show at the Theater Lobby cancelled, by sickness. Too sodden to find what to do, and walk up to 1611 16th St, take off clothes and find "Tosca" at the Apex, which is a long crow's flight, out Massachusetts Avenue to the Maryland line. A fair show and at 11:30 I'm out to hitchhike in rain until cab pulls up and I venture into the Hut. Cal beckons me over by the mere act of grinning and ducking his head when he sees me, and I sit with him and Dick and two others. We talk and joke and I cruise and we all leave (after I get keys to Frank's) for the Kitchen, which is crowded, and the Wonder World, which is crowded, and finally "Coffee and Confusion," which isn't bad at all---beatniks from San Francisco, a rather tawdry imitation of the Village. To Karn's for waffles and sandwiches and then Dick volunteers to let me sleep with him at 3 am. We start talking (mostly about Jim) until 4 and then start cuddling and groping until 6, but both are tired and we do next to nothing.
SATURDAY, APRIL 4. Lou wakes us up at 11:30 and we have coffee and talk and I dress and talk to others and then out at 2:30 to take bus down to eat and the cherry blossoms around the Tidal Basin and the Jefferson Memorial. They are about unimpressive in their beauty. Get to the Washington Monument just too late, and walk up to "The Third Sex," fairly interesting, with cute people, and call Frank to find Theater Lobby out for another night. Grab a cab down to Constitution Hall and buy box seat, sitting regally aloof in my flannel trousers and striped pullover. Tres chic. A program of "Les Sylphides," "Taglioni," "The Bridge," "Dying Swan," and "Raymonda" well received, including the failing Alicia Markova. Dash very mad back to the Hut to get ticket 52. Upstairs I find a banged, Continental, white-bucked Jack the center of attraction. I manage to get him down to my level and we talk a while, grab some hamburgers and get to Jim's, whose tenant has gone to NYC for the weekend. We cuddle and caress and get the clothes off and we're in bed and I'm crawling about on him, and he's "writhing" as he wants. We talk and play around with tongue-twisters, and he leaves about 4:30 am.
SUNDAY, APRIL 5. I sleep till 12 and lie around to 1:30, when I call Frank, fix place up, drop keys off, and walk to Zoo. Eat lunch and see sights, both animal and animal, then a bus down to Lincoln Memorial and the red setting sun, then to the Wax Museum, very effective. Wander down for a steak, then ride back, getting back at 11 pm, and reading almost all of "Where Did You Go, Out. What Did You Do? Nothing."
MONDAY, APRIL 6. Bed very tired and up early for work which has already been described under ORDVAC. Get back and find no mail, but it's piled up so long I still have a stack left to catch up with. Get to work and get about six of them off, and then the strains of Rise Stevens's Carmen draws me to Firestone Hour for a delightful session of soup and music. Dutch Speidel gets me into his room and we listen to Rita Streich, Roberta Peters, Jazz, orchestras and everyone in general, talking like magpies all the while. Then at 10:30 get caught up in the incredible bevy of stars herding out to the Oscars for 1958. Most (9) of the awards went to "Gigi" a show which I undeniably enjoyed, but which was certainly surpassed in many fields by other shows. To bed at 12:30, understandably tired.
TUESDAY, APRIL 7. Up at 6:30 to get to work, described earlier. Back to try to write letters, but somehow I end up in a very elaborate system of figuring out for how long a time Mom will be twice as old as I, when Rita will be half as old as Mom, etc. this takes the greater part of an hour and when I'm through my head aches and I feel like a cold is coming on, so I lay down for a nap at 7:30. Listlessness overcomes me and I get up at 10:30 only to undress and plop back into bed, setting my alarm at 6:15, since I had to get up to take a shower, which I did.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 8. I then put everything away I'd left out the night before and made lunch, with groceries we'd gotten from the Commissary, using my finger to spread the ham salad. Work, lunch at PX, and work, out and pick up much mail and back issues of the Times. After supper I read them, then write many, many letters, leaving Cesira and Bill to last, and finally sending Cesira a completely unparalleled forty line poem, with every line ending in "ood." To bed at 11:30.
THURSDAY, APRIL 9. Up to make my lunch somewhat more in style. Fuss with laundry and get to work. Lunch at Officer's Mess with our own lunches, then back to make final arrangements with Serkin for my trip to Philadelphia tomorrow. There's just no use trying to keep a good man down. Back to read papers and catch up with a week and a half of this, taking until 7 pm. Wrote a letter to Bill and then in to watch the Telephone Hour and then a really tremendous Playhouse 90 production of "Day before Atlanta," with Timmy Everett. Pack a bit and fall into bed, setting alarm for 6, to begin a long weekend even earlier.
FRIDAY, APRIL 10. Bath and clean apartment and pack and off to work and out by 4 pm. Pick up mail and dash back to change and pack and out to sign out. Talk with Jerry until 7, when I land in raining Philly. Walk down to Schubert Theater and buy tickets for "Gypsy" and then to Allegro and buy drink which I don't drink and call Laird. Toddle up there at 8:30 for soup and toast and change to sex pants and off to Pirate Ship for blond bitches and to Maxine's for piss-elegance, and back to Allegro. Don't see anyone that I like so at 11:15 I'm off to Al's and Jim's to watch TV. Get followed by fellow and stop and he jingles keys and I round corner and enter doorway. Up to 4th floor and we kiss and I decide my "auntie's waiting for me." He frowns and "understands" and I'm down to watch "Hunchback of Notre Dame" with Charles Laughton, and then bid Al goodbye and back to Allegro at 1:45 am. Stand around and cruise and get cruised and leave just after tall fellow. Hear footsteps behind and I walk almost to Laird's before I stop and turn around. Coy comes up and creates very favorable impression and we're down to Downey's or something to eat and he debates whether he wants to infuriate his keeper and bring me to his place. I hope so and he finally asks me to a nice place off 16th on Panama, a private house occupied by Miss Lucy. We get started about 4 and have a pleasant, blue-eyed, he'd come set-to and I leave happily at 6. Back to Lairds and collapse and wake at 10 for breakfast and John.
SATURDAY, APRIL 11. Listen to music and off to John's exquisite house and then to Independence Hall in the rain and a lot of the historical sights and then walk back through a pleasant neighborhood where I pay for groceries. Get back to meet Fred, and I decide to go to a show before supper, seeing "Gidget" with cute Jimmy Darren. Back to eat chicken legs and then run off, the only one in khakis and a pullover, to "Gypsy," a rowdy, rollicking play. Out at 12:05 and to Allegro to follow Mike out and start talk and coffee and then call Jim and wander up to party to sit for awhile, and then I'm back to Laird's for talk until about 2, when we all get to bed, and I have no trouble getting to sleep.
SUNDAY, APRIL 12. Get awake at noon and shower in time for a leisurely breakfast. We talk, Fred and Laird and I, and then drive to see "I Want to Live," with a brilliant Susan Hayward, and "Desert Fury" with homo overtones between Wendell Corey and John Hodiak. Out to find it actually SNOWING, in the middle of April. Drive back talking and laughing and get to Laird's for a supper of dry hamburger and talk and music, with phones and visitors galore. Call Jerry and he announces we leave at 9:30, and finish eating at 8:30 and poke around and walk coldly down to subway station to get in car at 9:10. At 9:50 I arrive at an amazed Jerry and I don't blame him and we drive back in two hours of snow blizzards in April. Sign in at 12 and flop into bed at 12:45.
MONDAY, APRIL 13. Set alarm early but still don't have enough time. Get off to work to receive lots of corrections for ORDVAC and the finished program cards for the EDVAC. The rest of the day is spent reading manuals and trying to look busy. Mail finds much and the afternoon drags slowly by and I'm anxious to get out and see show and write letters. To PX and Chesapeake and change and get a ride to "Compulsion," with Dean Stockwell, Bradford Dillman and a good Orson Welles, and a gripping movie. Back at 8 pm and immediately sit down at a typewriter for a letter to Bill. It goes on and on for pages until finally at 10:45 and I've written all of nine pages, which I'm sure is some sort of a record, make the weekend out here while I'm munching on cookies and drink nearly soured milk until 11:15, when I flop into bed, tired. Nope, I stay up till 12:30 reading "Kids Say the Darnedest Things" by Art Linkletter.
TUESDAY, APRIL 14. Up at 6:30 and dress and rush out to breakfast, quite late. To work to finish ORDVAC production of data and test EDVAC program. Rest of afternoon I sit around trying to find something to do while I wait for time on the machine. Out and pick up mail and read papers and eat supper and get back to leaf quickly through the NY Times and make quite a deal, with lights and shadows and such, out of coming for the first time in 5 or 6 days, very pleasantly. Out to finish KSTDT and at 8 put completed book down and write another very long letter to Bill about our relationship---saying that it can survive anything I'd want it to survive. This lasts till 10:15 and then I complete a rather typical evening by cleaning up my drawers while guzzling cookies and milk. Get to bed at 11:15 after fixing everything up.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 15. Up at 6:15 for a shave and shower, which mysteriously takes till 7 am. Leave without packing a lunch and get to work to scramble onto EDVAC and find my program works all right. Compare values and find my program could stand correcting, especially after Palmer talks to us for an hour about the Ax subroutine. Get a new problem "Improvement for Supersonic Axisymmetric Flow Computations," a real mouthful, and a good three month's work. Flow chart and plan this and get mail and back to read papers before going to supper. Back to write letters to three people and then phone Mom and go to "Run Silent, Run Deep" with Clark Gable and Burt Lancaster. Back at 10 pm and take out laundry and wrote Cesira a nice letter. NY Times puzzle, I'd forgotten, took from 5:45-6:20 and letter took long, too, so I finally got to bed at 11:30.
THURSDAY, APRIL 16. Up at 6:30 and finally get a lunch packed. To breakfast and work, to fiddle around with flow chart for LOCOAFC and chew my fingernails till they're sore and the inside of my cheeks until they're smooth. Chewing gum just doesn't seem to help. Should start going out for a coffee break or a Coke break to break things up. Eat lunch and back to flow chart, getting about everything decided except the horrible values of x. Even get three words coded the last few minutes of work. Read papers and over to supper, arranging with Jerry to ride to Philly tomorrow afternoon. Back to spread salve on Dutch's knee and try on my fancy brown jeans and get down to writing letters at 8 pm. Continue till 10:30, finishing them ALL and stop to drink milk and pack and decide on clothes for trip. Bed at 11:15.
FRIDAY, APRIL 17. Up at 6:10 to take shower and pack lunch, and to work to rattle off pages of coding. Lunch and work and mail and back to hurriedly finish packing and get calls by Jerry at 4:40. We're off and into Philly just after it gets twilight. Have schedule down pat so I hop subway and ride all way out to 55th and walk about a mile to the Ambassador subway and see Charlie Chaplin in his 1940 satire on Hitler "The Great Dictator," an excellent movie. Wait for a cab for ten minutes and sweep down to Allegro, calling Laird at 10 and waiting for Coz until 12. Talk with him and with Ed, tall nice one, until 2:30, when everything falls apart, and I morosely leave and walk up to Rittenhouse, only to get chased out by cops. I very meekly get back to ring Laird's bell at 3:30 and get to sleep immediately.
SATURDAY, APRIL 18. Up about 11 to listen to music and breakfast, and then up on roof for an hour and a half for sunbathing, talking sex, what else, and then out to shop, giving Wanamaker's and Snellenburg's a workout and buying two pants and three shirts. Can't get tickets for concert so I'm back up to Laird's to change and help a bit with supper, rushing things through so I'm in line at 7:30, prepared to pay a scalper $2.50 for a $1.75 seat. To Allegro for a fair hour and back to the Amphitheatre of the Philly Academy of Music, to hear Berlioz's "Damnation of Faust," a very impressive work. Out at 10:20 and over to Allegro to cruise about, getting looked at and punched and shafted by many people, until I break the ice with Him, who takes me over and introduced me to Bill, from Dover, and Jack, a real live doll, and Jimmy, a bitch cutie. We talk pleasantly and have coffee at the Harvey House, where I invite Jim up to Laird's, after he pokes me in ribs and says Jim's nice and can be brought up. We talk pleasantly and get immediately into bed. Not too awfully unpleasant and he goes down on me and I on him until I mortify myself by farting in his face---twice! I'm almost in tears with despair, shock and embarrassment, but in his words, "I'm still myself," so I do him and settle down to sleepless, cold night.
SUNDAY, APRIL 19. Morning comes and I do too, and so does he, and then he goes to church and I lay till 11. Eat and I'm off to Philadelphia Art Museum and cruising and the Rodin and cuties. Walk back by way of Library and get back at 5:30. Meet Frank's friends and Laird's Fred and take off to "Intimate Relations," remake of "Parents Terribles;" and "Naked Night," Ingmar Bergman oddity. Back out to snack and follow a young jeans, only to lose him and gain Don Timbo, who I take up to Laird's in time to get a call from Jerry saying we're leaving then. Pack and get to station to meet Ray Kitcherman, whom I talk long with and make all sorts of progress in the subway with---he bears looking into. Jerry sees him and calls me over and we set off at midnight. Talked very pleasantly about car and his brother and trailer and Frank Lloyd Wright's Philadelphia synagogue until we get into camp at 2:30 in blinding fog. Flop into bed exhausted.
MONDAY, APRIL 20. Hardly believe ears when alarm rings at 6. Fix lunch and stuff things away in drawers and get to breakfast and work. Lunch and work without event as I continue programming for IOC on interpolation routine. Back with an armload of papers which I read before and after supper, masturbating to finish them off and get to "Last of the Wine," by Mary Renault, about 7:30. Read on until 9 and put it down to write few letters and get to work on laundry putting away, and drawer setting up, and brass polishing until 11, when I get just about everything put away and even get weekend written up and have no trouble at all falling asleep.
TUESDAY, APRIL 21. Awake at 6 to bell, under shower and worry a bit about itches on body---may I have a disease of some sort? Get to breakfast rather late after fussing too long with breakfast, and then to work to get cards back for first part and start computing test case, which takes absolute hours. To lunch and the commissary and back by way of the Ordnance Museum, for tanks and guns. To work and on test case of progressive interpolation, with my fingertips actually hurting and bleeding from the workout I give them, despite the pennies I spend on Dentyne to keep my jaws and teeth going and the apples I'm starting to eat at 3 every afternoon. I shall get cancer wherever I chew. Back to paper and a letter from Dave Somers and eat supper and back to settle down again with "Last of the Wine," a pleasantly gay, but not great, book. Write letters from 8:15 to 10:15 and then get this done and get to bed.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 22. Day passes exactly as usual, except that I'm feeling rather listless, as if I'm getting sick. Even the prodding urge to write this doesn't work, and I postpone it to the evening of April 29, leaving me again with over a week to catch up on. Coded all day and finished "Last of the Wine," by now fairly hopeless, probably went to bed early, to save up strength for the weekend.
THURSDAY, APRIL 23. Today is more of the same, and in the evening I take off for "Alias Jesse James" with Bob Hope, and back to watch "The Browning Version" (of Agamemnon) with Sir John Gielgud. To bed late, after packing few things away in preparation for quick escape tomorrow afternoon to Washington.
FRIDAY, APRIL 24. Work goes slowly on Friday, getting on machine for a couple of tests, and talking more than working, chewing on apple for last part of afternoon. Out and grab mail and rush inside to change and finish packing while Gene waits for me in car. Get to bus stop at 4:50 and buy ticket and get wistful glances from brown-eyed, windy-haired, good-looking fellow who turns out to be Bob Tyttle from Programming section down the hall. We talk on and on about Beatniks and the books we've read and the interesting places there are to go in big cities. He leaves and I talk my way into DC at 7. Call Dave and have him meet me at the Theater Lobby and call Cal and say to meet at the Hut, and call Jim for no answer. Walk up to M and 18th and eat steak and get to show for Ionesco's "Bald Soprano," a completely daft play, and Beckett's "All that Fall," a weird reading about Mrs. Romney: half a fairly competent cast. Out to drive around to "Pipe and Drum" for bagpiper entertainment and then I coax him to the Hut. On entering I see Jack and Bill and Jim and have long, lively, standing talk with them until they leave. Then back across room to find Cal and over to talk with him and his friend and Dave trails dejectedly along, then Don comes up with a hug and a kiss and I'm completely baffled. We talk, then Dave pleads work tomorrow, so we leave at 1, getting home at 1:30 and going to bed, while Archie munches.