by Cosca, Paul
This is the journal of Private Kip Jenkins, as it says in faded handwriting on the cover.
The folks in charge said we couldn’t write home or call home or anything. But my superior officer said it’d be OK if I kept a journal, as long as nobody else saw it. I’ve never done this kind of thing before. But I guess since nobody else is going to see it, it doesn’t really matter if I’m good at it or not. My little sister Lizzie has a journal (I may have even looked at it once or twice!) but this will probably be a lot different than that. So...here goes!
I got here along with a bunch of other folks real early this morning. I’ve met guys already that live all over the country. There’s a guy named Parsons from Kentucky, which isn’t too far away from where I live. And another guy (I don’t remember his name) from Florida. He says it’s really sunny there all the time. Lucky. And one guy here is even from California! Lizzie’s always talking about wanting to go to California when she gets older, but I hope that the rest of the people from there are a little better than this guy. I don’t really like him. He smokes all the time. And even when he’s not smoking, he still smells like it.
Anyway, we all got here this morning. There might have been some folks who were already here, but it seems like the majority of us showed up today. I’m at Fort Hood. When I was training I hadn’t even heard of it, but I think that’s because it’s brand new. That’s OK with me, though. It means I’m probably the first guy to sleep in this bed.
At about 0900 they had us all in the main hall. It’s huge! I’ve never seen that many people all together in my whole life. I got a seat not too far from the front, where they had a stage. I remember going to a theatre to see a play when I was little, but I don’t think it’s that kind of stage. Someone yelled at us to stand and salute, which we did, and then right there in front of us was General Carpenter!
Oh my dad would have been so proud. When I started thinking about going into the Army, he talked a lot about his time in the service, and he talked a lot about General Carpenter. I don’t know if he actually got to work with General Carpenter, but I know dad really looks up to him. He talked about him all the darn time. And there he was! It makes me a little sad that I can’t talk to anyone from home, but I think I understand. General Carpenter gave a speech then. I don’t remember all of it, but I’ll try to write down what I can.
“Men, I want to welcome you to Fort Hood. This is the most advanced base on US soil. And that’s just in the few acres that are established. Over the next few years, this base will expand into a facility the likes of which have never been seen before (I thought that sounded pretty impressive, so I tried to remember that bit word for word). And it is all about you. You 7000 (holy cow that’s a lot of us!) have been specifically chosen for this job. And I will be honest with you, men. This job is dangerous. It’s top secret. The risk is great. But your work and sacrifice here are for the worthiest of causes.
War is coming. Right now it’s thousands of miles away, but it’s only a matter of time before someone drops this war on our doorstep. And when those Nazi bastards arrive, we want to make sure we have a boot to put right in their ass! (Everyone cheered right then. It was pretty neat.)
Now like I said men, the work we’re doing here is top secret. Everything is at the highest level. If word got out, it might get over to our enemies, and we can’t let that happen. So unfortunately, you can’t write or call home while you’re here. But whatever happens, your friends and families will know the kind of amazing things you did here. They will know. History will know. Because this is beginning of a brand new era, and you all are the ones beginning it.
Now men, your job here is to do as you’re told. You are soldiers, and I expect you to know that. But I also need you to trust. Your job is not to question your orders or what is happening. Trust that we know what we’re doing, even if it’s confusing for you. We need you to follow us no matter where the road leads. Because the road is long, men. The road leads to war. It’s hell over there, but we’re brewing up some hell of our own right over here. And when we’re through, that krout son of a bitch is going to wish he was never born!”
We all cheered and hollered when he was done. We shouldn’t have, because that’s not really the way you’re supposed to do things in the Army, but nobody seemed to mind. That seemed to be what the speech was about anyway, so it was OK to get a little loud.
For the next few hours we went to all kinds of different tents and had all kinds of different checkups. I remember my physical before Basic being pretty intense, but that was nothing compared to this! There were people poking me and prodding me. Measuring me and weighing me. I don’t think there’s a single square inch of me that wasn’t looked at and touched. If I’m real honest, I was thankful to have a shower afterward.
FEBRUARY 7TH, 1940
I realize now I forgot to put a date on that last entry. It wouldn’t be much of a journal if you didn’t know the date, would it? So, that was February 1st. It’s been about a week since I wrote all that.
This week...it’s been really weird. I’ve been waiting to have some more stuff to write down, but nothing has really happened. We wake up in the morning and do PT. We shower and then go see the doctors. On the first morning we all got shots, but they didn’t say what the shot was. I know the guy from California asked (his name is Buckley, but everyone calls him Buckles), but they wouldn’t tell him. So we go see the doctors all the time. But other than that, we don’t do a whole lot. We don’t go on hikes or run
drills or anything. I thought we were supposed to be getting ready for the war?
FEBRUARY 10TH, 1940
It’s really weird around here. I’ve been trying to make friends with the guys around me. You know, the guys in the barracks. But everyone keeps getting moved all the time! One night I’ll have one guy as a neighbor, the next night it’ll just be someone else. They haven’t moved me, though. I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing. The only guy I’ve really gotten to know at all is Buckles. Other than me, I think he’s the only one in our barracks that hasn’t gotten moved. He offered me a cigarette and I tried it, but I really didn’t like it. Those things taste pretty gross. But it’s just me and him so I deal with it. I wish I knew what was going on, though. Maybe they’re testing us?
I can’t really say I’ve got real complaints though. Everybody here is real nice, and we’re treated way better here than I ever was in Basic. We don’t have to run big drills or work real hard. And you know how they always say that Army food is the worst? Well not here! The food is actually really good. I wouldn’t ever tell mom this, but the gravy and mashed potatoes here are way better than what she makes. The stuff she makes is always too lumpy (both the mashed potatoes AND the gravy!)
FEBRUARY 15TH, 1940
The tests. Everyday it’s more and more tests. I don’t know what they’re looking for! They ask me the same questions over and over again. Day after day. Does this hurt? Can you look into this light? Can you read this? Can you lift this? If I knew what they were looking for, I would just give it to them so they’d leave me alone!
If I’m honest, I’m starting to get scared. They are all nice, and they treat us really well, but I just don’t know what’s going on. Buckles is gone.
About three days ago he started telling me that his head was hurting, but he didn’t want to tell the doctors about it. I said he should just tell them. What’s the worst that could happen? But he was real nervous about it, so I dropped the issue. But his headaches kept getting worse and worse. Yesterday, during PT, he...collapsed, I guess. Just keeled over. They took him to see the doctors, and by that night his stuff was gone.
They’ve been doing a lot of building on the base, and it seems like everything’s getting more and more sectioned off. There are big fences and what look like barracks on the other side. Now it seems like there is the section I’m in and two others. That must be where the other men go when they’re taken away. But why? Are they sick? Are they doin
g some other kinds of tests? Or maybe...I don’t like thinking about this too much. But maybe they’re testing our minds. Testing how we’ll react. I’m doing my best to keep calm. Just act natural. I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t want to get moved. I think.
FEBRUARY 21ST, 1940
I got moved. For a couple of nights, I woke up with pains all over, especially on my skin. I felt like I was getting stung by a hundred bees, over and over. I wanted to scream or something, but I didn’t. I just gritted my teeth and waited for it to pass. Eventually it did, but I was really scared. Then it was back to running the tests. Same tests over and over again. They were taking my blood, which they do every couple of days. The doctor, a young guy, poked me with the needle, then swabbed the spot with the cotton thing. Then he got this real funny look on his face. He poked me with the needle again, which I was pretty annoyed about, then he looked at my arm again. I asked him what was going on, but he just left the room.
A few more doctors came in. One of them was an older guy I hadn’t seen before. He opened up a drawer and pulled out one of those...oh darn I keep on forgetting that word. Scalpel? It sounds like spatula, but I’m pretty
sure that’s right. He pulls out that knife thing and says “This might hurt”, then cuts a little slice into my arm. It actually didn’t hurt at first. Maybe it was so sharp that I couldn’t feel it. But a couple seconds later it hurt like heck and I realized what had happened. I had to stop myself from yelling at him. But he wiped the blood away and looked at my arm, and I looked at it too. There was no mark there. Not a scratch.
Jeez, I knew right then that something weird was going on. He rolled up my pant leg and I saw that blade move across my shin. I couldn’t help making a little noise as he did it. That thing is sharp! And he stuck that scalpel in really deep. But he put a bandage on it and took it off a minute later. My skin was totally smooth. They made a bunch of notes and told me to go to the mess hall.
When I got there, it was just about empty. There were a couple of guys around, and they looked nervous. Pacing around. Some more guys looked really sick and out of it. I didn’t talk to anyone and they didn’t try to talk to me, either. I think we were all pretty much in the same boat. What exactly were we doing here? But even as I was thinking it, I knew. We were moving. I didn’t really want to think about where I was heading, but I found out soon enough.
They led me through a gate in one of the big fences and took me to a different barracks. My things were already here. And actually, this one is a little nicer than the one I came from. My bed is softer, and it’s not a bunk bed like I had before. This bed is all mine. The barracks are pretty big, but there aren’t too many people in here. Maybe a dozen or so. Nobody talks to each other. I guess we’re all pretty worried. But at least they haven’t done the tests on me in a couple days. I don’t know if I should be happy or concerned.
MARCH 1ST, 1940
I guess it’s just been a little over a week, but it’s felt like months. This has been the most horrible week of my whole life. I want to go home! I want
to get out of here...just...anywhere, I guess. Anything but this. Anything. But...at least it’s over. I hope it’s over, anyway.
They brought me in the first day and said they were going to start running some serious tests on me. They asked if I knew what my body was doing, and I don’t, so I said that. The doctor just nodded and said “We’re going to start figuring that out”. That first day was just the kind of stuff they’d already done. Poking me with needles. Cutting me with the scalpel. They poked and cut me everywhere. From the bottoms of my feet to my eyebrow. I must have done well, because they seemed happy with the results. I looked in the mirror and I didn’t have any marks at all from it. It was scary, but also kinda neat. Normal people can’t do stuff like that. I think that something they did to us, like the shots they gave us, is what made my body start doing this.
The next day the tests were worse. They cut me again. All over the place. And every time they’d make a cut, they’d take a picture. They made small cuts. Bigger ones. I could feel them going way deeper with the scalpel. Then the doctor said “Don’t move. This is going to hurt.” What, like the others didn’t? He put the scalpel at the top of my arm, near the shoulder, and made a long, deep line with it all the way down to my elbow. Holy cow! I could hear alarm bells going off in my head. I called him every rotten name in the book. That hurt! They wrapped it in bandages and waited a few minutes, then unwrapped it again, took a couple pictures, and told me I was done for the day. I looked down at my arm. Not a scratch.
The next day started off as more of the same. More cutting. More pictures. I thought he’d cut off one of my toes at one point, but it was still there. It was all starting to hurt less and less. I don’t know if my body was doing something about it or if my brain was just blocking it out. Either way, I was grateful. Still it was real hard not to wince when they used that scalpel on my lower lip. Split it right in half. I was real worried about that one, even
though all the ones before it had healed just fine. Truth is, I’ve never kissed a girl. And no girl is going to want to kiss a guy who has a lip that’s all messed up. But a few minutes later it was back to normal, just like all the others.
Then, right before they were done with me, the doctor told me to lie really still. I felt him take hold of my hand and turn it so my palm was facing up. Then he grabbed onto my pinky finger and I felt a real big pop.
It took a second for the pain to kick in...but boy did it! They held me down and told me to be really still and I felt another little pop. I tried being still. I really did. I want to be a good soldier, but this is way tougher than anyone said it would be. After a few minutes they let me up and told me to move it. I was scared, but I did it. No pain. It moved just fine. They told me they were done for the day, but I knew things were just going to get worse.
Yesterday, they brought me in again. No cutting this time. They had me lay down, then gave me a shot. They said it was going to paralyze me so I couldn’t move. I asked if it was going to take away the pain, too. Nope. “We need to see not only what your body does, but how you react to pain,” is what they said. I laid back and felt...everything. And nothing. It was really strange. I felt like I was frozen. Someone closed my eyelids and I felt what must have been tape. Keeping them shut.
After that I couldn’t move, but I could feel their hands on me. My arm was moved. My left arm. They put it on a table I think. One second I felt their hands on my arm, and the next second I heard...and felt this really loud snap. My heart was pounding. I thought I was gonna throw up. I knew right away that my arm bone, the upper bone, was broken. They must have broke it right in half. I couldn’t talk, but I could feel myself breathing faster and faster. Then I understood why they paralyzed me. There’s no way I would sit there and let someone do that to me.
They had it in a splint real quick. Maybe an hour later the paralyzing stuff started to wear off. I could feel my fingers twitch. I tried opening my
eyes, but they still had the tape on them. Someone took the tape off, and they’d put me in a different room. They said they were going to take an X Ray of my arm. I guess that’s when they take a picture of your bones. I don’t know how that works. Sounds like something out of a comic book. But it didn’t hurt, and I was grateful for that. By that time, nothing was hurting. It felt like it itched, way down deep. But that’s all.
A few hours later, someone came in and they took off the splint. I moved my arm a little and knew it was all better. But how can you ever really be sure how something like that is going to turn out? What if it hadn’t worked? I’d just have a stupid broken arm. I’m glad it’s not like that but...it feels like they’re just making it up as they go along. I just hope they don’t try taking my head off to see if it will grow back.
MARCH 5TH, 1940
I’m done. I’m done with the tests. I have to be. There’s just...there’s nothing else they can do to me, right? There’s just no way to do more t
han what they’ve done.
They brought me in today. They used the needles and the scalpel. I could barely feel it. All I needed to do was remember my arm breaking, and nothing else really hurt. I think they noticed that. This time they didn’t use the paralyzing stuff on me. They did strap my arm down, though. I wasn’t sure what they were going to do, but I really didn’t care too much. I knew it was going to be bad, but what did it matter?
I watched as the doctor made a cut all the way around my pinkie finger, at the joint nearest the tip. I won’t lie, it hurt. But not nearly as much as it probably should have. I didn’t make any noise. Just watched. They pulled back the skin around my finger a little. It was gross, but interesting. I could see where the bones met. Could see all the strings connecting everything. The doctor cut the strings. I wanted to move it...but I knew if I tried and it didn’t move I’d probably panic, so I kept still. I don’t even think I was breathing. He
slid the scalpel in between the bones of my finger and the tip fell onto the table. It made such a quiet little sound. I felt sick to my stomach, but I didn’t say anything. The doctor didn’t say anything either.
They bandaged me up and sent me out. It’s been a few hours now and my finger is itching like crazy. I know if nothing happened and my finger just stayed that way, the tests would end for good. But I also know it won’t do that. I can feel it growing back. If I close my eyes I can almost picture it, putting itself back together piece by piece. I don’t know much about that stuff. Physical science stuff. I never got much out of science class. But I bet if the people who wrote those textbooks knew about me, I’d be in all the books. Forever.
I wonder if my dad would still be proud of me. When I get scared, I like to think about him and how proud he was that I was joining up. They say that what we’re doing here is going to help win the war, but I can’t see that. I can’t see that at all. All I can really see is that I’m a freak. Maybe I’m a freak in a good way, like some of the other guys here, but I’m still a freak. And I’m scared. I’m scared all the damn time. I’m not scared about the war. Heck, being out there fighting might be a nice change of pace. I don’t think the Nazis would do half the crazy stuff that the doctors here do. They would just shoot me and be done with it.