Once a Soldier Always a Soldier
- GJ Durrschmidt
- May 8
- 6 min read
The road to soldiering began when I was a Staff Sergeant in the United States Air Force in the mid-70s. It was then I embarked on the quest to become a commissioned officer. When I first enlisted, I already had a year of college credits under my belt. I continued taking off-duty college courses over the next few years to accumulate the sixty semester hours needed to apply for the Air Force Bootstrap Program. The program allowed a successful candidate to be assigned on a Temporary Duty (TDY) status to a college or university to attend full-time, receive a degree, and then automatically enter Officer Commissioning School (OCS). Upon completion of OCS, the candidate becomes a commissioned officer. I repeatedly unsuccessfully applied until my promotion to Technical Sergeant while serving out a long tour in Germany. I mention this, because Germany plays an important role in this story.
For a variety of reasons, I always remained a day late and a dollar short getting accepted into the Bootstrap Program. This was highly frustrating as my scores and my service record were in the top ten percent of all applicants. I was told that my application packet was flawless for a candidate seeking admittance to the Bootstrap Program. Timing became my worst enemy.
Once I met the sixty-hour academic requirement for Bootstrap, the program raised the bar. It now took ninety semester hours, or already having a Bachelors Degree. So, I bucked up and forged ahaed taking night classes to meet the new requirement. Between my military responsibilities, and having a family, it took an additional year of night school. But as luck would have it, once I met the new goal, the Bootstrap program was suspended for another year due to funding constraints. So, I patiently waited. When it opened back up - surprise! - over the suspension, the Department of Defense had shifted toward an aggressive affirmative action posture, filling most available slots with non-white applicants. Okay.
I had no problem with the the services bringing on more minority officers, but did take exception once learning the entrance scores for the accepted candidates were significantly lower than my own. Sure, by all means, commission more minorities, but in fairness, their qualifications should equal or top those of my own. I thought that was fair. Don’t you agree? This leads into a whole different discussion, but I wish to keep this narrative focused on the topic of soldiering and getting back to the importance of Germany. You've come this far with me. Hang on! We’re almost there.
So, now a Staff Sergeant, married, with five mouths to feed, having been beaten down by a history of Bootstrap failures, having lost all hope of ever getting commissioned, I decided to throw in the towel, get out of the service, and seek out a real job out in the real world. However, my wife was extremely disappointed – no, addamantly opposed - by my decision. I told her that, as a consolation prize, if by some slim chance I got orders to go back to Germany, that I would re-enlist. But that was the only thing that would keep me in the military. I loved Germany. Berlin had been my first assignment right out of basic training.
By this time, I was a Master Instructor of Avionics Communications Systems Repair at Keesler Technical Training Center at Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi, Mississippi. I was being considered by the Office of Special Investigations (OSI) to become a Technical Services Agent (TSA), and with sights on returning to civilian life, I also responded to an on-base recruitment effort by the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) for a position as a new equipment technical representative/trainer. These two events triggered both agencies to initiate a preliminary background investigation to determine if I met the criterea to be granted the necessary security clearances/accesses. In hindsight, I believe that the initiation by them piqued the curiosity of an interested third party.
Concurrently, certainly not by coincidence, and seemingly out of the blue, I received orders from the USAF Electronics Security Command (ESC) to report to Germany with high urgency. After completing a Temporary Duty (TDY) assignment to San Angelo, Texas for specialized electronics training, our hold baggage was picked up the week I returned to Keesler. Our household goods were packed up and shipped off before the end of that month. We rolled with the punches of the whole whirlwind Permanent Change of Station (PCS) ordeal. What mattered above all else was I was on my way to back Germany.
Assigned to an ESC squadron attached to Hahn Air Base, the duty involved long hours and high stress. My area of responsibility was authorized seven personnel to cover twenty-four-seven operations. Shortly after my arrival, the lone guy I was replacing shipped back stateside leaving me on my own. Poor, frazzled guy! I can say that because I all too soon became that guy. Intended reinforcements remained only names on a dry erase board, one after another, they got erased. Unfortunately for me, they couldn’t qualify for the necessary security requirements.
I often slept over night on site in the equipment room, sometimes not getting to go home for several days at a time. To stay sane and de-stress as best I could, I began stealing away on weekends whenever possible to go Volksmarching. Sometimes the family would come along so we could spend more time together while getting to enjoy the beauty of the German mountains, rivers, and countryside. I needed to burn off frustration and kept a brisk pace. They didn't like my leaving them behind on mountain trails or the woods, so, mostly, I would go alone.
As fate would have it, on one such solitary Volksmarch, while hiking along a primitive, scenic path, I met up with a man at a check-in station. Learning that I was American, he asked if I minded if he joined along. Turned out, he was also an American and an Army warrant officer. We walked a brisk pace and talked a blue streak - about this, that, and other things. At one point he asked if I was an officer, adding it would’ve been his guess. So, there in the mountains of Germany I unloaded my tale of woe about my many unsuccessful attempts to become one.
He laughed, which, at first, I found extremely rude. But then he redeemed himself by sharing that he had also previously been in the Air Force, and he, too, had been a repeat failure at getting commissioned. Then he asked me a simple question that would soon change my life forever: had I ever thought about becoming an Army warrant officer. What? Is that even a thing? He went on to share how he had cross-serviced from an Air Force enlisted man to an Army warrant officer. I became a Chatty Cathy the rest of the march, peppering him with questions. I drove the two hours back home that morning plotting my next moves. Story short, one year later I was an Army warrant officer, WO1, assigned to 1st Maintenance Company, 541st Maintenance Battalion, 937th Engineering Group,1st Infantry Division (Big Red 1) at Ft . Riley, Kansas.
For the next five years, I was a soldier, and boy did I ever soldier! I quickly gained profound respect and admiration for soldiers, not because I now was one, but because they were soldiers - young, proud, motivated, and patriotic soldiers. I feel I did more in those five years in the Army than in all of my fifteen years of prior service in the Air Force. It was not as cerebral, or academic by nature, but nonetheless it was the most challenging and personally rewarding. I regret not having made the transition years earlier, but how would I have known. Until that fateful Volksmarch in Germany, I never had a clue it was a even a remote possibility.
The US Army Warrant Office Division gave me red carpet treatment coming on board. They had plans for my former Air Force training, experiences, and security clearances. I was privileged to have been assigned several unique and demanding assignments. I can honestly say my Army experiences never afforded much in the way of dull moments. My soldiering time flew by about as quickly as dropping and giving twenty.
At the twenty-year mark, I finally got around to getting out of the service. In fact, my wife's attitude by that time had done an about face. She began chiding me over getting out, asking when Mr. Top Secret electronics wizard Army warrant officer was going to get out and get a real job - one of those insane salaried Washington beltway bandit jobs. I caved, and did just that. Not surprisingly, however, I always managed to keep one foot in the foxhole. I remained tethered to the Department of Defense in some way, shape, or form. What can I say, once a soldier, always a soldier. Ooh-Rah!
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