DAIWI. Chuck Pfeifer
football team as an end and defensive back. What was supposed to be punishment and/or exile, for my Dartmouth behavior, turned out, ostensibly, to be a two-year “football scholarship.” I absolutely loved my stint there, even though it was not all fun. A lot of hard work was involved, and I quickly learned discipline and respect. I can’t say that my wildness was over, but I had begun to grow up, but with still a long way to go.
After my stint at Fort Dix ended in 1960, I reported to Fort Benning, Georgia, and played football on its team, the “Doughboys,” again as an end and defensive back. A football scout from West Point saw me play and thought I would make a good team member for West Point. He vetted and recommended me. When my Father heard this, he called me. “Son, you are one lucky boy. You are considered a rogue student, and this is a rogue student’s ticket back into an Ivy League college. I will immediately arrange for the necessary recommendation letter.” He could not wait to contact a Connecticut congressman, who wrote the letter, and I was in. I reported to the United States Military Preparatory School at Fort Belvoir, where I studied until May 1961. I moved on to West Point Military Academy in July 1961.
I played on the West Point football team under the coaching of Paul Dietzel and Dale Hall. West Point had a big- school schedule, such as Pitt, Penn State, Syracuse and, of course, its all-time rival, Navy. An injured shoulder, badly injured knees, and subsequent surgeries, knocked me out of football. However, even though I was sidelined with injuries, I was dressed and still part of West Point’s team. The unquestioned highlight of my football career was the 65th Classic between the Army Black Knights and the Navy Midshipmen in November 1964. The game played out before a crowd of 100,000, including 2,700 cheering Cadets, in the John F Kennedy Stadium in Philadelphia. Carl Roland (“Rollie”) Stichweh, Army’s quarterback, was probably the greatest ground gainer in West Point history. Recently, he was inducted into the Army’s Football Hall of Fame. Every football fan knows that Roger Staubach, Navy’s quarterback, went on to become one of the NFL’s greatest. Both Stichweh and Staubach were seniors and badly wanted to go out as winners. Stichweh says of this 1964 game: “That win was the gift that keeps on giving for the decades that follow. It’s a topic of discussion every time our old team gets together - and each play becomes greater every time we tell it.”
In 1964, neither West Point nor Navy had ever won six in a row against the other. History has it at 30-30-5. Today, Navy leads the series at a 60-49-7. We all knew the 65th Classic would be hard-fought and tough, but we were ready. Staubach finished minus 22 on the day, and completed 12 of 20 passes for around 120 yards. A single deciding field goal told the tale: Army 11, Navy 8. “The Philadelphia Bulletin” reporter, Sandy Grady, wrote about that day: “Staubach joined the “I-Spent-The-Day-On-My-Back-Quarterback Club."
Have you ever heard the song, “There’ll Be A Hot Time In The Old Town Tonight?”
I had been a mediocre cadet at West Point, graduating at the top of the bottom third of my class. I was smart enough to graduate with a better record, but I had difficulty focusing on academics. I still wanted to have a good time within the confines of the West Point community, so I did just what I needed to graduate. The only people to whom I endeared myself were my cohorts in crime. Sometimes accompanied by my friend and fellow cadet, Bobby Jones, I spent a lot of hours walking back and forth with a rifle on my shoulder, called “walking the area,” West Point’s punishment for demerits and offenses against the rules. Some cadets were punished with confinement, except for visits to the bathroom, the library and for meals, so there were others worse than me. Because of my injuries, I didn’t have the opportunity to live up to my potential in sports, but it was great while it lasted.
I could never have imagined a time when I would realize that being privileged might be a mirage. I did not know that privilege does not, and cannot, provide insulation from the vicissitudes of life. I would not discover that until much later. Actually, I am not sure if my life’s experiences have been destiny, or if they simply hinged on the choices I made. Had I known what those choices embodied, I would have been a bit more discriminating and a lot more careful. I would have changed a lot of things and now wonder why I did them, especially mooning the housemother. I did not care about showing my butt, but it certainly was not a polite thing to do. I had been reared better. When my parents heard what I did, they were horrified. I chalked it up to adolescence.
I and several other West Point players got a letter from a West Point football player, which moved me. It read: “My name is Drew Hennessy (#73) and I am a firstie right tackle on the Army football team. I am writing to you today because we share the same home state, beautiful New York, and both represented the greatest team in this nation. One of the proudest accomplishments of my life was my entrance into the Army football brotherhood and being able to represent this nation and my brothers before me. Although you are no longer on the fields of Michie, (outdoor stadium on the campus of the U. S. Military Academy in West Point) your influence and spirit still lies within the heart of this football team. I firmly believe that there is no stronger bond in this country than the Army football brotherhood and the relationship we as players form both on and off the field. As my brother, and my fellow believer in this team, I promise to give my heart and soul to this team so that you are still represented. I vow to honor those before me and carry out the winning tradition that embodies this group and this institution. We as a team will no longer settle for anything less than success and when we finally attain that goal, we will have your presence in our hearts. I hope that you enjoy this season as we go forth and honor the values that this brotherhood was founded on. Please keep on believing in this team and this strong brotherhood.” (Parenthesis added).
This letter is the genesis for the instincts and discipline that make a good combat officer.
Chapter 2
RANGER TRAINING, FORT BENNING
As a West Point graduate, I was required to spend four years of my life in the military. After 60 days’ leave, I reported again to Fort Benning in 1966, to begin my Ranger training. I figured what the hell. I had a great time there before. It did not take me too long to find out this time would be a whole lot different.
Ranger School is widely recognized as one of the toughest combat training and mentally challenging programs in the world and the Army. Ranger training encompasses three phases: Camp Darby at Fort Benning, Georgia, Camp Merrill, in the remote mountains near Dahlonega, Georgia, and finally, Camp Rudder in Florida, at Elgin Air Force Base.
All three Ranger training phases are designed to test the physical stamina, mental toughness and leadership abilities of the candidates. Always testing and pushing myself to the utmost limits, I mustered up every bit of my mental and physical strengths. Still, there were a few times I seriously doubted if I had it in me. However, I was determined to be the best, and I was deadly serious about mastering all that was thrown my way. One of the most important mental things I had to learn was to think fast on my feet. Anything that smacked of either fear or acute anxiety might have eliminated me from Ranger school, so I was able to keep those feelings in check. The “Water Phase” was the most difficult for me. It consisted of various water exercises in conditions that are similar to actual enemy situations. Without a doubt, Ranger School is a tough nut, and I greatly respect all who finish the course. Estimates show that roughly 50% to 60% of Ranger candidates, despite their earlier training, do not complete the entire course for a number of reasons. Sometimes, it all comes down to a simple matter of personality, physical and mental stamina, or in-team politics.
My fellow soldiers comprised a varied background: Navy Seals, new recruits, and men from other branches of service. Some of us thought we were giving our Commanders a hard time. When they instructed, “Drop and give me 20 push-ups. On the ground,” we yelled, in unison, “Did you say give you 50 Sarge?” The Commanders pasted on an indifferent look that I later learned to master. Oh yeah, we were really giving them a hard time. Indifference was not the right word. Looking back, I realized the instructors had to be thinking, “I have to be hard-nosed as hell, because I know what these little bastards are going to have to face. No way am I going to show them my softer side.”
At Fort Benning,