I Couldn't Say No
by
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Pulling Together
When the second week rolled around, Jim Cavens and I began to feel more at home in " Bama." We knew we would never become close with some rednecks, but we did develop a close affinity with the Texans in our barracks. Harvey "Hutch" Henderson, Roswell "Ross"Butler, and Jack "Red" Davis, all enlisted together. They came from a small town, named Indian Wells, several miles northwest of Fort Worth. Because Indian Wells was just a speck on the map, they had to travel to Fort Worth to join the army. Hutch, Ross and Red grew up together, and all played football on the town s high school team where Ross was the star fullback. Ross dad was the local veterinarian and someday Ross hoped to follow in dad's footsteps. Red and Hutch came from cattle ranches. They could ride wild horses, steers or jackasses, but both preferred cow ponies. Jim and I took a natural liking to the Indian Wells boys, but I remember being especially close with Ross. For some reason, the Texas trio waited a couple of years after graduation before enlisting. Ross in fact, had entered Baylor and had completed two years. He seemed a bit more mature. He was a good 210 pounds, over six feet, with wiry brown hair. Crow's feet and laugh lines accentuating his deeply tanned face, and I'm sure his likable southern drawl charmed many a local belle. His shoulders were broad, and his waist was narrow. When he bared his hairy chest, exposing a chiseled "V," everyone near stood in admiration of his physique.
One night Travis, a local South Carolina backwoods agitator, started in on me. "Yankees! Can't see why we have to put up with Chicago trash. This is Alabama. Betcha Charlie here knows a few gangsters."
"Lay off, Travis," Ross said as he polished his boots.
"No, this is Dixie," Travis said. "We don't want the likes of them here." He pointed to Cavens and me. "Let them find a barracks with some of their big town dude friends."
It was only a couple of remarks, but Ross could see where this was heading. Without warning, he was in Travis face. He grabbed Travis undershirt so tightly that red blotches appeared from shoulder to scalp. "Look, just because you came from some moonshine hill and never learned to speak English, is no reason to start something with Charlie and Jim. We re here to make something of ourselves. The only way we'll do it is to pull together. So shut your trap! Sound off once more, and I'll split your jaw."
By now the room was dead still. Everyone had their eyes on Butler and Travis. The skinny Travis trembled. His eye's bulged, his Adam's apple escalated, and perspiration began to soak his undershirt. Ross, seeing that he made his point, said no more but quickly tossed the lanky rebel over his bunk into the wall. The barracks went into an uproar. Yankees and Rebels alike cheered. They smiled and shook their heads without comment. From that day forward, no one messed with Ross, his teammates, or his new Yankee friends.
In weeks two and three we found what PT was all about. Stretching, exercise and running were one thing, but physical agility tests were a real challenge. It was especially hard for me. No one in my platoon could believe that I had gone through twelve years of schooling without having a gym class. Wait, I take that back Fourth Grade, O.A. Thorp Public School. For one year, because Dad was irked with my parochial school performance or of Sister Bernadine's attitude, (I never was sure which), he had me transfer to public school. Thorp had gym, but for seven years at St. Pascal's, and four years at St. Mel High, we never had one hour of gym. It was simple. It was not required in all parochial schools, and at St. Mel, they substituted Reserve Officer's Training Classes instead.
The telephone pole toss was the hardest. It was by platoon squads. The cadre would size up the squad from tallest man to the shortest. Utility poles, originally being narrow trimmed trees, were naturally thicker at the base than at the top. The tall guys, skinny or husky, had the heaviest girth. Both they and the shorter GIs had to hoist the pole over their heads. Then on a given signal, the men had to toss the log to another squad. I'm reminded of Bob Newhart in his classic comedy routines when he might be calling his wife, long distance about the rigors of Basic Training, explaining this exercise and stating, "Can you imagine who thought up this one!"
By the end of Basic, we were quite adept at it, but in the beginning it was wholesale comedy. Lifting it up, cradling it on our hips wasn't bad, but swinging the pole to our shoulders and then extending it at arm's length above our heads was difficult. It might fall without breaking our shoulders, but when one link collapsed and the pole clunked a couple of recruits in the head, it was only funny to our sadistic cadre.
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About the Book
For people that know early on what they want to be in life, whether doctor, lawyer, engineer or accountant, their career pursuit is easy. But for the vast majority, the undecided, they must choose their slot in life differently. They do this through the experience of rejecting a host of jobs that for one reason or another just do not fit. Nobody learned this hard lesson better than the author. In I Couldn't Say No, the writer shows his often painful experiences going from apprentice field engineer to expediter, from a series of sales jobs, to milkman and from bartender to store manager trainee. Through a federal jury assignment and a stroke of luck his destiny changed. At age thirty-one with six years of marriage and a family of four, he finally found what he was looking for when he took a police officer's exam in Elmhurst, Illinois and passed. Originally it was to be temporary until he could land a Border Patrol job...instead it was a happy twenty-year career. The story also tells of his childhood growing up Irish Catholic during the Depression and WWII, of his devilish exploits as a teen-ager, his military life in the Army of Occupation in Japan, the dating years, culminating with meeting a sweet Irish lass from Chicago, their marriage and family, and their early economic struggles. Later, the author proves what can be accomplished by dedication. Unable to complete his college at night school because of interruptions by police department shift assignments, he finds by perseverance and the urging of his daughters, he is finally able to earn a college degree at age fifty-two. The truthful tale as he remembers it, with its characters and dialogue, reads like a work of fiction. With its colorful anecdotes, it has warmth and humor, but more importantly, it shows the dogged determination the author had in finding success, excitement and happiness both as a police officer and later as an international airline employee.
About the Author
Charles O’Reilly spent the first 29 years of his life as a Chicago resident – except for his military service time. Following WW II, he and countless other returning GI’s moved to the suburbs where they bought starter homes and began raising the Baby Boomer generation. Before this, however, he received fourteen years of education in Chicago Catholic schools. In 1950, he left De Paul University to take a manufacturing job with Motorola on Chicago’s West Side. It was there that he met Patt Ormiston, a charming and attractive executive secretary. After dating for only three months, he asked for her hand in marriage. She accepted. On June 27, 1953 they were married. Later, with a growing family pushing out the walls of their tiny city apartment, they moved out to Lombard, Illinois into a newly built home. But it was not all hearts and flowers. Chuck had struggled in the business world causing a strain on their finances. They were about to lose their home. Finally, after serious discussion, Patt gave Chuck a chance to fulfill a dream. She signed a mandatory permission slip to allow him to become a career police officer. Today, when asked how he contended with the frustrations and rigors of the job, Chuck is quick to reply, "This was the best job I ever had--very fulfilling. Besides, I always enjoyed playing cops and robbers." In 1979 following retirement, he began a second career with United Airlines. "I never had to ask a partner to lay down his life for me," Chuck said. "But over 15 years there were enough thrills and excitement driving between moving aircraft to suit me. The pay and perks were good and I had an opportunity to work with some great people." This is Chuck O’Reilly’s first attempt at a published work. However, writing lengthy case reports as a police officer, completing correspondence courses for his final years of college and as a member of the Writer’s Group at the College of Du Page for the past five years have sharpened his writing skills. Today, Chuck and Patt, happily married for forty-seven years, reside in Du Page County, Illinois. Their family includes four children and seven grandchildren.