rel="nofollow" href="#u8574f407-2240-5bb8-a561-84243fee2882">next chapter. But I first must tell you about one of the most unforgettable characters I ever met.
ALL OF US, I think, meet a few people in our lives who are truly unforgettable. I’m not referring to relatives or close friends, though some of them are indeed unforgettable!
One of the most unforgettable characters I ever met was a fellow that I knew for only a few months when I was going through the Counter Intelligence Corps School. I have not seen him since the day we parted in 1957. Nonetheless, I have never forgotten him. His name was Tom O’Hara. Tom, if you’re still living, I hope these stories don’t embarrass you. You were a terrific guy and took all the bad breaks with good humor.
Tom was a very pleasant Irish fellow who was part of the platoon to which I was assigned while I was at the Counter Intelligence Corps School. Purely by happenstance, our platoon was designated as the honor guard for the months that we were at the school. Once every week there was a review of troops by the commanding general, and it involved a parade and military bands. Our honor guard platoon marched at the head of the rest of the troops, resplendent in chrome helmets and bayonets, purple neck scarves, and white shoelaces in our boots. It sounds ridiculous, but we actually looked pretty darn good!
The famous cartoonist Al Capp created a wonderful character named Joe Btfsplk, who occasionally appeared in Capp’s Li’l Abner comic strip. Joe always had a little dark rain cloud over his head and was constantly beset with bad luck. O’Hara was the living, breathing Joe Btfsplk. Three incidents stand out in my mind, though there were many. The first happened when we were marching in the review parade one day. The boots we wore (called combat boots) had very thick heels on them—well over an inch. As we were marching in review to the stirring music of the military band, the guy directly behind O’Hara stepped on the heel of his boot and ripped it completely off the shoe. Now, just imagine Tom’s gait from that point on. He lurched from side to side in a very “non-honor guard” way. Even the stirring Sousa march couldn’t disguise this disaster!
The second incident would have been sad if it hadn’t been so hilarious. During one of the troop reviews, our honor guard was standing at rigid attention as the band began to play “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Then O’Hara’s little black cloud started to rain on him. Those of us in the line behind him saw a mosquito land on the back of his neck. He, of course, could not do anything to swat it—he couldn’t move, certainly not during the playing of the National Anthem. He did everything physically possible to move the muscles in the back of his neck without moving any other part of his body. Regretfully, it was not enough and the mosquito, who must have thought he was in mosquito heaven, made his strike! Tom told us later that it was one of the worst things that ever happened to him—and that covered a lot of territory!
The third is my favorite. O’Hara, like many of us who were married at the time, lived in private housing off the post. This meant that he needed to get up earlier and travel farther to make the early formation, which, as I recall, was at 8:00 a.m. He was constantly late, and the company commander became increasingly irritated. Finally, one day he told O’Hara that if he was ever late again he would be severely disciplined. That could mean a lot of things—none of them good! He said that he expected him to be on time the next day.
O’Hara was terrified and decided that the only way he could be sure of being on time the next day was to sleep in the barracks on the post where the unmarried guys lived. However, he wasn’t sure that even this would save him because, if he overslept at all, he would not have time to put on his uniform and still make the formation. So, he decided to sleep with his uniform on except for his shoes.
Early Army days. The warrior and his lady!
The Mechem ladies reviewing the “troops.”
Baby Melissa in 1958. Can’t believe I was ever this thin.
Our family in 1978. Me, Marilyn, Allison, Melissa, and Dan. Still together after all these years!
The next morning he managed to make it on time, though it was clear that he had only been up a few minutes. The company commander came up to Tom and said, “Well, well, how nice to see you here on time. But, you look terrible. Your uniform is a disgrace! You look like you slept in it.” O’Hara sheepishly responded, “I did, Sir.” In what I am sure was a severe breach of military discipline, we all broke down and laughed uproariously. Happily, so did the company commander!
I WAS A brand-new first lieutenant, and Marilyn and I were ready to leave for Charlottesville, Virginia, and the Judge Advocate General’s School.
CHAPTER VIII
Judge Advocate General’s School
THE JUDGE ADVOCATE General’s School shared not only some physical facilities with the University of Virginia Law School but also some academic and teaching resources. There was an amusing contradiction in my status as we moved to Charlottesville. On the one hand, as a part of the faculty at the JAG School, I was accorded many of the privileges of any other faculty member at the University of Virginia, including access to the fine university hospital where our first child was born. (I’ll have more to say on this later.) On the other hand, under the mysterious Army regulations, the JAG School was considered a “hardship post” because it had no Army facilities like a post exchange or a commissary. Some hardship post! A fine university located in one of the most beautiful spots in all of America. What made this all the more ironic is that, because it was a “hardship post,” I received an extra $180 a month to help me deal with all of these hardships! Marilyn and I have often laughed that we probably had more free cash in those days than at any other time before or since.
My first assignment at the JAG School was unusual. Although I would be attending the school itself, inasmuch as I had already been in the service for well over a year and had been through basic training and Counter Intelligence training, it was decided that I would “double” as a student and a faculty member. My main responsibility as a “faculty member” was to help “militarize” the other fellows coming into the Army at the school. That is to say, virtually all of the students coming into the school were coming directly from civilian life and had absolutely no military training. My job was to help close the gap. Sometimes this was amusing and sometimes a little scary. For example, it was funny to see a brand-new, young officer knot his tie in a Windsor knot that looked about a foot wide instead of the narrow, clean, and neat four-in-hand knot that was necessary in the Army. An example of the “scary” part was when we would do exercises in the field involving weapons. Some of the new officers had never held a gun and sometimes waved their carbines around in a manner that caused the rest of us to hit the ground fast!
Once again, I was in an environment where I met a lot of very interesting people and made some good friends. One fellow that I remember very well was Derek Bok. Derek went on to teach law at Harvard, became the Dean of the Harvard Law School, and then the President of Harvard University for twenty years. While it was obvious even then that he was a brilliant young man destined for great things, what I remember best is that he was a dynamite softball pitcher who made the JAG Law School team a major force on the local softball scene.
After finishing the JAG School I was kept in Charlottesville because I only had a little more than a year left in my Army commitment, and it obviously made no sense for me to be sent into the field. While I would have enjoyed actually practicing military law, it was hard to argue with the wonderful opportunity to live in Charlottesville for an extended