Day after day, I reported to Fort Knox's Reception and Placement Center right after breakfast with the hopes of being offered a job...
But with my Military Occupational Specialty being 11B20, which is Infantry, there was simply no need for a man who was trained in using an M-16 rifle and M-79 grenade launcher, or an M-60 machine gun.
I watched as other new soldiers arrived at the Reception and Placement Center, only to be picked up within a day or two by whatever unit needed their MOS. Mechanics went to one of the Post's motor pools. Cooks went to one of the many mess halls, and soldiers who were trained to fly or maintenance helicopters went to wherever there was work for them. But there was nothing for me.
Finally, however, in the middle of another boring day of sitting and waiting, in walked a noncommissioned officer who held the rank of Sergeant Major. Approaching the Placement Center's staff, he loudly announced that he needed a clerk typist because the one he had at present was going home in a week. While I just sat at the opposite end of the room, casually watching the interaction.
The staff of three looked up apologetically at the sergeant and said they didn't have anyone at this time. That's when the Sergeant Major looked across the room at me. He said, "Soldier, what's your name?" I said, "David Berkowitz, sir." He asked what I was doing here. So I briefly explained the situation to him. How I arrived from South Korea only to find the unit I had been assigned to had been disbanded, and how there was no work here at Fort Knox for an infantryman.
He then asked, "Did you say your last name is Berkowitz?" I shook my head up and down and said, "Yes." He then asked if I was Jewish, and I said "Yes" again. He questioned me further by asking if I knew how to use a typewriter, and if I ever did any clerical work? I said, "No, sir." He quickly responded, "Well, you're going to be my new clerk." He then turned to the Reception and Placement Unit's staff and announced, "He's coming with me!"
So into his jeep we went. His driver who held the rank of private helped load up my belongings, and I was on my way to what would become my new MOS as "clerk typist." I was given one week to learn how to type and do office work for the Sergeant Major and his staff. I was now a "new jack" at what would be the Battalion Headquarters of a busy basic training unit.
As funny as it may seem, the reason the Sergeant Major chose me was because, when he learned that I was Jewish, he was confident that I would make a good clerk. As he proudly told everyone at battalion headquarters, "Jews are good with paperwork."
Well, at least it turned out this way for me. I somehow caught on to office work and became proficient at using a typewriter. I was fielding phone calls, taking dictation, filling out all kinds of forms, filing reports, and issuing memos and orders as per the instructions of my superiors. Plus, the staff and my co-workers liked me. I was also promoted to Specialist 4th Class, which was equivalent to the rank of corporal.
But how was God in all this? Many years later, when I became a believer in Messiah Jesus, I was able to work as a clerk for several different prison chaplains. I did much of the paperwork and kept the files up to date. And as my own letter writing ministry and other literary projects, such as my online journal and writing articles for different ministries began to develop, all the skills I learned while serving as a clerk typist came in handy.
Looking back over forty-five years of incarceration, and all the many years I have since been serving my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, if not for the clerical skills that I first learned during the last half of my enlistment in the United States Army, I doubt if I would be doing the large amounts of writing that I am doing today.
Being an infantryman and foot soldier was a good challenge, and so was my having to patrol an area near
Korea's Demilitarized Zone. But working later on in an office while harnessing my writing and office skills has helped me to successfully run my own ministry even from behind prison walls.
The Lord knew this all along. So the Army's mistake at sending me to Fort Knox was really His doing. God was preparing me for what was to come.
D.B.
I watched as other new soldiers arrived at the Reception and Placement Center, only to be picked up within a day or two by whatever unit needed their MOS. Mechanics went to one of the Post's motor pools. Cooks went to one of the many mess halls, and soldiers who were trained to fly or maintenance helicopters went to wherever there was work for them. But there was nothing for me.
Finally, however, in the middle of another boring day of sitting and waiting, in walked a noncommissioned officer who held the rank of Sergeant Major. Approaching the Placement Center's staff, he loudly announced that he needed a clerk typist because the one he had at present was going home in a week. While I just sat at the opposite end of the room, casually watching the interaction.
The staff of three looked up apologetically at the sergeant and said they didn't have anyone at this time. That's when the Sergeant Major looked across the room at me. He said, "Soldier, what's your name?" I said, "David Berkowitz, sir." He asked what I was doing here. So I briefly explained the situation to him. How I arrived from South Korea only to find the unit I had been assigned to had been disbanded, and how there was no work here at Fort Knox for an infantryman.
He then asked, "Did you say your last name is Berkowitz?" I shook my head up and down and said, "Yes." He then asked if I was Jewish, and I said "Yes" again. He questioned me further by asking if I knew how to use a typewriter, and if I ever did any clerical work? I said, "No, sir." He quickly responded, "Well, you're going to be my new clerk." He then turned to the Reception and Placement Unit's staff and announced, "He's coming with me!"
So into his jeep we went. His driver who held the rank of private helped load up my belongings, and I was on my way to what would become my new MOS as "clerk typist." I was given one week to learn how to type and do office work for the Sergeant Major and his staff. I was now a "new jack" at what would be the Battalion Headquarters of a busy basic training unit.
As funny as it may seem, the reason the Sergeant Major chose me was because, when he learned that I was Jewish, he was confident that I would make a good clerk. As he proudly told everyone at battalion headquarters, "Jews are good with paperwork."
Well, at least it turned out this way for me. I somehow caught on to office work and became proficient at using a typewriter. I was fielding phone calls, taking dictation, filling out all kinds of forms, filing reports, and issuing memos and orders as per the instructions of my superiors. Plus, the staff and my co-workers liked me. I was also promoted to Specialist 4th Class, which was equivalent to the rank of corporal.
But how was God in all this? Many years later, when I became a believer in Messiah Jesus, I was able to work as a clerk for several different prison chaplains. I did much of the paperwork and kept the files up to date. And as my own letter writing ministry and other literary projects, such as my online journal and writing articles for different ministries began to develop, all the skills I learned while serving as a clerk typist came in handy.
Looking back over forty-five years of incarceration, and all the many years I have since been serving my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, if not for the clerical skills that I first learned during the last half of my enlistment in the United States Army, I doubt if I would be doing the large amounts of writing that I am doing today.
Being an infantryman and foot soldier was a good challenge, and so was my having to patrol an area near
Korea's Demilitarized Zone. But working later on in an office while harnessing my writing and office skills has helped me to successfully run my own ministry even from behind prison walls.
The Lord knew this all along. So the Army's mistake at sending me to Fort Knox was really His doing. God was preparing me for what was to come.
D.B.
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