Captain Joe Hackett

“Welcome to Warner Kaserne.” The Adjutant met me. “Have a seat.” He handed me some forms. “You’ll be joining Company B. None of the companies have a full complement of officers. B Company has an XO, a weapons platoon leader and one rifle platoon leader. What they need now is another rifle platoon leader.  Company B is right down the street, second building beyond our regimental museum”. Regimental Museum?

Units had signed for their organizational equipment and by early spring were ready for major maneuvers at a training area called Wildflicken on the Czech boarder.

The 3rd Infantry Division had reorganized into the new pentagonal division, which was designed to fight the cold war any time it turned hot.  The 15th Infantry Battle Group was a part of the third division and had trained at Fort Benning until time for deployment to Europe. In the beginning of 1958 the whole division rotated into Germany. They were all pumped up and ready to fight– time to take over the serious business of maintaining security in Southern Europe.

 I came to Germany under individual orders to join the 15th on site in Bamberg.  Now in the month of May, I had processed into my first outfit, and about to meet my first company commander, Captain Joe Hackett. I marched smartly down the frontage street past the company barracks buildings.

The orderly room in Company B was a tiny little office on the first floor of the barracks. As soon as you stepped into the room you were immediately the center of attention.

“Oh, my god, a second lieutenant!”

I looked over at a lean wiry man with cold black eyes; maybe thirty–five. He didn’t stand up. His shirt sleeves sported three chevrons up and three rockers down and a tiny diamond in the center: the 1st Sergeant. Over his shoulder there was an orange lanyard designating him as part of the force that parachuted into Holland on D-day. His senior jump wings carried two bronze stars indicating combat jumps.

His eye quickly scanned the breast pockets of my blouse. I became painfully aware of my novice jump wings surrounded by nothing. He spoke. “The old man is over in the mess hall.  Go on over and meet him now … uh, sir.”

I was definitely intimidated. If this was the first sergeant, what must the company commander be like?