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One of the ways my father didn’t get along with the army involved acting in groups.
My father was always a loner. He had a few friends, I’m told, when he was young. But, for the most part he had acquaintances. I certainly never knew him to have friends over the last 37 years of his life I witnessed. Not one person he went out of his way to visit, spend time with or share activities. He had coworkers, car pool partners, family and neighbors. But, that’s not the same.
When we attended his 40th college reunion there was a guy that counted. He and my father talked for quite a long time about all the stuff they did in college and what a good time they had. But, they hadn’t seen each other in 40 years.

This loner aspect did not serve him well in the Army.

One day in the barracks, the men had nothing to do. The sergeant went up to my father.
“Hunt, I want a fox hole dug in front of the barracks. Twenty feet long, five feet deep. Get to it!”
So, my father got a shovel and began digging. He did not even mention this to the other folks in his squad sitting around the barracks with nothing to do.
A few hours later the sergeant came back and found my father in the hole digging and everyone else watching him work.
“Hunt! What are you doing?” he asked.
“Digging your fox hole, sergeant,” my father responded.
“I wanted everyone to help out so they wouldn’t be sitting around all day! Now, fill it back up.”
I’m sure you will not be surprised to learn the rest of the squad watched my father do that too.

My father was finally ordered to go to the Pacific for the invasion of Japan. The good news for him was as he was in San Francisco waiting to get on a ship, they dropped the bombs and Japan surrendered.
But, he had been drafted for 4 years, and only 2 had gone by.
So, he was still shipped off to the Pacific to be part of the military government in Korea.

The day before sailing, his squad was told they could go into San Francisco and have fun. But, one thing had to be done first. They had been given a supply of sports equipment to bring with them and it needed a shipping crate.
My father, and electrical engineer not carpenter, ended up spending the whole day building it while the others went to town.
When loading the ship the next day, the crane operator dropped the box into the ship where it shattered and all the stuff came out. So, no sports in Korea for them.

From what he said, there was little to do on the ship and a whole lot of ammunition that they now thought they would not need.
So, the major pastime on the ship was shooting things. Birds, fish, seaweed, waves, etc.
Again, not a joiner, my father kept his side arm in the shipping container in which arrived.
After all, he reasoned, if he took it out, he’d only have to start cleaning it.

It was on this voyage my father learned to play chess. His father had taught him checkers, but my father didn’t really like the game. One of the folks on the ship with my father was a champion chess player and spent time teaching my father to play so he would have someone to play against.
I asked my father what happened to that guy.
“When the ship landed he went one way, I went another,” he said.

When they actually arrived in Korea, my father was assigned to be one of the translator’s liaison and driver. As Korea had just been liberated, there was a lot of worry about Japanese agents still on the loose and who they might attack.
“He has no weapon to protect me,” the translator complained to my father’s captain.
“Hunt! Where is your weapon!” the captain demanded.
My father produced the shipping crate.
This was considered unacceptable and my father had to actually break out the weapon, clean it up and prove he could use it before he could continue with his assignment.

Having someone like my father as your liaison was too good of a deal for the translator to pass up. He apparently started his own business of skimming the profit.
One time my father was passing on what the army would pay to a village for supplies.
My father gave the offer, the translator passed on what my father was supposed to have said to the head of the village.
“That’s not what he said,” the village head replied in perfect English. “You’re ripping us off.”
My father ended up with a new translator from that village. I’m sure he was fair with everyone else, right?