At
this time, in the U.S. Army and especially in Europe, drugs were beginning
to be a real problem. We had our share of dopers and slackers.
Contributed by Richard M. Potter, 2nd Armored Cavalry Regiment
I was stationed with the 2d Armored Cavalry Regiment in Amberg, in what was then West Germany, 45 miles from the Czech Border.
It was 1974, after the October War in the Mideast and tensions were still high. Alerts were a monthly thing then and we usually knew when they were coming. As a young Lieutenant, I had begun to settle into my first overseas assignment. I had a great CO and our First Sergeant was the stuff of legends. We were a frontline unit, with an ongoing mission to patrol the Czech-East German border. Along with the 11th ACR, we were also USAREUR's trip wire. We would be expected to delay any Warsaw Pact assault until the rest of the Allies got it in gear. Sometime later, I learned the U.S. expected over 70% casualties if that happened. Essentially, we were cannon fodder, and in the face of the mass of the Warsaw Pact expected to face us, not more than a speed bump.
I recall the weather was warm and the day bright. The officers and NCOs were gathered in the Old Man's office, just before lunch. We'd had our monthly alert, so we were all pretty relaxed. At that moment, the alert siren began to wail. We all froze for moment, thinking , "It's a mistake." Then with a near-simultaneous, "Oh, sh--!" we bolted for the doors and our alert gear.
Photo: 2nd Cavalry Association
At this time, in the U.S. Army and especially in Europe, drugs were beginning
to be a real problem. We had our share of dopers and slackers. But I couldn't
find any of them today. As I raced to my platoon in the motor pool, I saw
the same Troopers I counseled the day before running — running mind you
— with .50 caliber machine guns, barrels mounted, to their tracks. Troops
backed tracks up the barracks and threw down gear from the third story.
In what must have been record time, we hit the gate en route to our alert
positions.
Somewhere in the melee, we learned this was "no drill." Suddenly, it was all very real, and I hoped the ammo trucks would make it too because I knew we didn't have enough on board for more than a short firefight. On the road, I was trying to simultaneously remember everything from Basic, direct the track, and not think about my wife and daughter back at the kaserne. We were told a border OP had reported that over 300 PS Guards (Czech Border Patrol) with armored vehicles were headed directly for their position ( Three or four soldiers, small arms; one radio; no hope of escape). Now, it was here, we thought, this is the way it starts — or ends.
After what seemed to be a very long road march, we rolled into our alert position a few miles out of Amberg. The squadron went through the drill we had practiced so many times before. But now, we expected to be ordered to break the seals on the ammo boxes and lock and load. Didn't happen. We were called to the CO's track to learn the "rest of the story." Unknown to us, the Czech authorities were hot on the trail of some local thug whom they thought was headed for the West. The entire border area was on the alert looking for him. Apparently, in what was a monumental lack of communication, "somebody" in the West German chain of command knew, but didn't advise the U.S. Forces.
So, a Czech manhunt turned into a USAREUR-wide alert and lot of white knuckle rides on narrow German highways. We all had an uneasy laugh about it... later. Still, I was proud of the way my troops responded when they thought the real thing — the thing we trained for and feared the most — was upon us.
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