HOW THE ASTP IMPACTED MY LIFE
by Raymond E. Kitchell
(April
1998)
RKitch3198@aol.com
I was with the 775th Tank Destroyer Bn. when we had just come off desert maneuvers and were transferred to Camp Cook, California, in mid-1943. We were issued new tanks (a marked improvement over the death traps used in North Africa) and commenced training with them. During this period I saw the announcement (in the Stars and Stripes, I think) re ASTP applications. I went directly from high school, to Sperry Gyroscope as an apprentice machinist, and then soon volunteered for the Army near the end of 1942. While aspiring to go to college, in my previous circumstances it never seemed a real possibility. That’s why I jumped at the chance. Truthfully, I also wasn’t too happy about stories of tank destroyers being wiped out in North Africa either.
I was accepted and sent to a STAR unit at Stanford University where all candidates were given a six-week refresher course before taking a final qualification exam. What a welcome change that beautiful campus was. While language specialties, pre-med and military government were part of the ASTP program, the vast majority of slots were for engineering. The story was that the Army would need a lot of engineers for the reconstruction period after the war was over. From what I’ve read since then, the principal purpose was to keep the US colleges and universities from going bankrupt given the current lack of male students because they were all in the services. Whatever, mathematics had not been my strong point in high school and I didn’t do so well on the exam. The officer interviewing me said that they expected about 2% of all admitted to flunk out the first semester and that it would be a miracle for me to make it. Nevertheless, my determination apparently impressed him and he passed me to go onto a regular ASTP unit (parenthetically, 25% or more actually failed to complete the first semester). I held out until they closed the program at the end of our third semester but was beginning to sink because, as stated, I wasn’t made out to be an engineer.
I was assigned to Oregon State College (now university) in Corvallis in the Willamette Valley, a beautiful spot. It was an accelerated beginning curriculum in engineering and related subjects, e.g., mathematics, physics, chemistry, etc. Unfortunately, while I was doing good in math courses as I took them (algebra, solid geometry, trig, and calculus in that order) other courses were relying on a level of math I hadn’t yet reached, e.g., in physics, which made it very difficult for me. However, there were a few courses such as speech and geopolitics, which were much more interesting to me and opened my eyes about what college work could encompass.
The living at OSC was good. Dorms were converted for soldiers but were relatively comfortable and the food was good. What was wonderful was to be sought by the female students for dances, picnics, horseback riding, canoeing and you name it. Life had improved considerably. We were there for three semesters or about nine months as I recall - quite a hectic pace. In the third term, my marks in math-related subjects were falling and it seemed more and more likely to me that I might flunk out but was saved by the bell - i.e., after the third semester the program was shut down because of manpower needs for the invasion of Europe. So much for reconstruction.
What a scene it was when we all boarded the train in down- town Corvallis for our trip to California. The girls were weeping and kissing us all good-bye. It was like a movie. Naturally, most of us were sad to be leaving and now that I knew what the army was really like, I was even sadder. Well, it wasn’t the Mojave dessert but it wasn’t much better either. We were off-loaded at Camp Roberts and trucked up to the Hunter-Liggett Military Reservation. I’ll never forget that scene. We were in a large field and, in turn, an officer from each regiment or battalion would read off the names of those us assigned to his outfit. I held my breath every time one came to the “K”s for the infantry and prayed when they came to the “K”s in the artillery (I had been a gunner in the Tank Destroyers). Naturally, I waited through the whole thing in a state of some anxiety and agony until they were finished as my name and others had been inadvertently missed. Fortunately, I thought, I was assigned to the 340th FA Bn, Battery B (Capt. Lightbaum commanding). It was quite a shock to suddenly be lugging pack howitzers up and down the mountains and scrubbing the dirt Battery Street clean, and the beauty of the area escaped me at the time. At any rate, then began my less than illustrious but memorable career with the 89th Infantry Division.