Reservists Wait and Wonder--Will They Go or Won’t They?

Chow has come and gone. Mail call is hours away. So the only thing to look forward to for this platoon of newly activated reservists is the latest bit of news--any news--about their future.

“OK, it’s time for the rumor of the day,” the staff sergeant tells his troops, assembled on a recent midmorning in front of the faded, World War II-era barracks that have been their home for the last three weeks.

“We’re going to Hawaii?” asks one soldier hopefully. The wisecrack gets laughs from his fellow mechanics, but there is disappointment too, as the sergeant passes along the real update.

The only news today: There will be some juggling of training schedules.

No, there’s no word yet on how long the 164th Heavy Maintenance Company out of Los Alamitos will be at this Army post in Central California. No word on what its ultimate assignment will be. No word on where the troops’ families may soon be sending their mail.

Staff Sgt. John Seitz of Buena Park, a middle-aged electronics teacher nicknamed Santa by the troops of the 164th, sees it this way: “We’re like a horse that’s been trained and trained but doesn’t know when it’s supposed to run the race.”

Or even at what race track. The unwavering assumption among the officers and enlisted personnel is that they will soon end up in Saudi Arabia in support of Operation Desert Shield. But officially, their destination remains unknown.

So for the last three weeks, they have lived in limbo, these 170 men and women from Orange, Los Angeles, Riverside and San Bernardino counties who make up the 164th. Like the roughly 900 other activated West Coast reservists who are undergoing “mobilization training” at Ft. Ord, they wait and wonder.

“Wherever we’re going to be, I’d just as soon be there now,” says Lt. Mike Lundgren, a 27-year-old mortgage broker from Burbank who commands the 164th. “I think everyone would. We’re ready right now.”

In the meantime, the days are filled with rifle-range practice, physical fitness training and chemical warfare classes, the nights with letters from home, Nintendo Gameboy sessions and chess tournaments.

Some seem intent on finding bright spots wherever they can.

“Hey, this is the one place I know where you can get spaghetti and mashed potatoes at the same meal,” says 20-year-old Darlyn Davis of Hawthorne. “And if it fits between a couple of slices of bread, you’re all set.”

Others find the military routine tedious and pointless.

“Weapons cleaning? C’mon,” complains Private Dean Kile, 20, of Trabuco Canyon. “All the weapons have already been cleaned.”

But nearly all agree that mobilization has been a time of frustration and tension.

“No one really believed until now that they’d be doing this,” says Seitz, a veteran of three tours of duty with the Air Force in Vietnam and member of the company’s electronics shop. “Before this, they all played Army; now, they are Army.”

There are no jet pilots, front-line infantry “grunts” or other high-profile warriors in the 164th.

These are the motor pool mechanics, the self-described “wrenchers” and “grease monkeys” who fix tanks and jeeps from a base that could be a few dozen or a few hundred miles behind the front.

Still, most of their time is not spent on mechanics or radio electronics; that, their commanders say, they already know.

Instead, the time is devoted largely to warfare--readying for the prospect of a chemical attack, or using live ammunition on the rifle range with massive .50-caliber M2 machine guns that would defend the company’s perimeter.

The irony here is that these are skills that these men and women will probably never use.

Lt. Michael Peeters of Burbank, a field artillery specialist and platoon leader in the 164th, would like to be in the thick of the action. “I want to be over there by the 15th (of January), when things kick off,” says Peeters, who talks of going to the Middle East “for God and country.”

But given his troops’ mechanical support role, he is confident that he and his troops will never have to test their rifle skills. Nevertheless, Peeters doesn’t want his troops to let their guard down. So the training continues, though the results are not always pretty.

During the 164th’s last round of training last week, an M2 specialist spent the morning reviewing the gun’s workings and wasn’t altogether happy with what he saw.

Guns jammed mysteriously. Shooters, still a little overwhelmed by the power of the machinery, repeatedly let off their triggers too early, getting just one or two shots out of a gun meant to fire half a dozen at a burst. And to the irritation of his instructor, one soldier pointed his weapon in the direction opposite of that ordered.

The thought of Iraqi President Saddam Hussein using chemical weapons is one that haunts all troops who think they may be going to Saudi Arabia.

Just ask Kenneth Wegner. A chemical weapons specialist in the 164th, the 35-year-old Cerritos man remembers asking superiors for more “NBC”--nuclear, biological and chemical--training in the time before the gulf crisis, but rarely getting it. These days, it is a priority, with classes and exercises scheduled almost daily.

But he is still not totally satisfied. “I think it was a mistake to let us go home (over Christmas); we should have been here training.”

Some of his colleagues fear the day their call will come. Others can’t wait. But all seem to share a wish to know what their future holds.

“That’s the military way--hurry up and wait,” quips 32-year-old Thomas Sanchez, a military police reservist from San Mateo with the 164th at Ft. Ord.