RAFINO Report
ISSUE 22 - Summer 1999 - Return to Index

SERENDIPITY ?
UNEXPECTED TURNS OF EVENTS?
(Or How Unusual Twists of Fate Can Dramatically Impact One's Military Career)
By "Chick" Cecchini

(Ed's warning:  When input by members falls off to practically nil, zilch, zip, or nada, your editor gets seriously desperate for something to fill a page or two.  When he truly finds nothing at the bottom of the "in" or "hold" baskets he then seizes on the prerogatives of an editor and writes about himself!  The only resulting benefit of this, he is sure, is that it is a guaranteed way to stimulate input by members for future issues!  (Preventive measure.)  Inasmuch as he is going to retire from his editorship at the end of this year and must act now since the next Editor will have better judgment than to publish the following "desperation - class filler material".)

"I know that there is not one of you who cannot look back at your life and military career and realize that some seemingly unimportant, innocuous, illogical, totally unexpected event turned out to have a major impact on your life or career.  For me Baseball, Spaghetti Sauce, Scotch Whisky, Sight-Seeing Trip to Paris, Erroneous Medical Diagnosis, Ignorance of Disbursing Fundamentals, A Broken Pledge of the F.C. Personnel Office, and more fit that category.  I'll try to keep it to bare bones, but since you, the reader have the final control (you can simply skip over this and go on to better use of your time), that's up to you. Now to the substance of this 'desperation filler material':

As a kid in 1938 having just returned to my home in Buffalo, NY, after graduating from a Washington, DC high school, I enrolled at the neighborhood high school for some math courses I thought just might be useful some day.  My old baseball team-mates of four years earlier, when we won the 13-14 year old Buffalo city-wide baseball league championship, persuaded me to try out for the high school team.  They badly needed a catcher -- my position.  I made the team and did well enough to get good coverage in the newspapers.  My next door neighbor, a 2nd Lt. in the 106th Field Artillery Regiment of the NY State National Guard, who read those accounts -- was looking to recruit a catcher to play on his battery's indoor softball team -- approached me to see if I would be interested in joining the Guard and playing on his battery team.  I was; but realized that being under 18 years of age I couldn't yet join.  He suggested that I visit on a "drill night" just to see what goes on --"for the future consideration."  On that fateful Tuesday night we walked the short walk to the Armory.  He  introduced me to his Battery 1st Sgt. and then excused himself.  The all business-like, imposing 1st Sgt. took me into his office, plunked himself in front of a typewriter, inserted a blank enlistment form and started the question and answer session.  I was too timid to tell him I wasn't there to enlist.  However, when we got to the date of birth question I answered '1921'.  He pointedly repeated the question.  I answered the same.  He then said, 'right! 1920'.  I was sworn in that evening -- and even practiced with the softball team that evening.  Lots of fun.  I fully enjoyed the annual summer camps.  I also completed a lot of Army sub-courses, and in-house training classes.   My Battery commander, a WW 1 artillery spotter pilot, eventually took me under his wing stating his intent of sponsoring me for a commission.  However, President Roosevelt's preparations for eventual war changed that.  The 27th Division, NYNG, of which the 106th FA regiment was a part, was "Federalized" on 15 Oct 1940.  Off we went to the open fields of Ft. McClellan, Alabama for 'one year'. 

By this time I was a three-striper--specifically, the junior unmarried buck sergeant in the battery.  Late in December the entire regiment went back home to Buffalo for Christmas furlough on special chartered trains but, of course, there had to be some "custodial details" left behind to guard the tent city we had erected in the several months we'd been in the warmer climes.  I was "volunteered" to be in charge of the detail for my "F" Battery.  Only one mess kitchen per battalion was operating during those 10 days of furlough.  Of course, most of the mess personnel traveled back to Buffalo.  Besides, the only cook in our battalion left in camp had yet to pass 'Cooking - 101'.  A couple of the "F" battery guys in my charge somehow got the idea that I, being of Italian descent, surely could cook up spaghetti, and asked me to make up a meal of it. I telephoned my sister in Buffalo.  She sent me by 'special delivery' those items she figured I could not get locally, including a recipe for the sauce I had told her had to be for 50 men.  As luck would have it, (and I'm sure my guardian angel was working overtime) no one died or even got sick from eating it. I guess they were so hungry for a change in diet from what we'd been getting served in the mess hall that they were even complimentary about it.

Shortly after things were back to normal a notice was placed on the bulletin board of all artillery batteries in the division that an OCS was being set up at Ft. Sill, Okla. to commission 2nd Lieutenants in the F.A. reserve.  (Oops, one prerequisite was that applicants had to be 21 years of age to attend.)  I was interested, of course, but hesitant.  My battery commander (who did not know of my age impediment) counseled me to apply along with the other 70 (out of 140) or so in his battery and surely like numbers in each of the 12 batteries in our regiment (and presumably the same in the other two regiments) as well as the Artillery Brigade HQ of the Division.  There was to be competition at each level to select two to send to the next level.  I won't go into the details of how I survived the battery (automatic), battalion (easy) then regimental levels (really tough) but survive I did.  I was among about 8 or 9 survivors who would compete for one of two quota slots assigned to the division.  I had no idea of what the final tests and interviews would entail.  The division was in the middle of maneuvers in Tennessee in the late Spring of 1941when those of us still competing were notified to proceed to Camp Pickett TN, for our final screening.  All interviewees were gathered on the porch of a wooden general purpose building, awaiting 'the call'.  I looked over the men seated on that porch.  All were senior sergeants and clearly much older than I - not at all encouraging to a youngster of 20.  Each was called in turn, interviewed for almost an hour, and admonished to not disclose what he had experienced.   As you might guess, I was the last one to be interviewed.  (My nerves were almost shot by that time!)  When I entered the large general purpose room, I saw a line-up of senior FA officers sitting at Army field tables facing me with weary looking faces.  The president was a Brigadier.  On either side were 2 full colonels, they in turn were flanked by 4 LTCs, and at the very end to my left was a solitary major.  The questions ranged from current events (expected), general leadership (fully expected), specific FA questions and problems (guaranteed).  I wasn't sure how things were going but I did sense that I wasn't doing too badly.  It seemed that things were wrapped up when the board president announced to the other officers that he had no further questions and asked if any of them had further questions -- to which all said 'no' except for the major at my far left who had sat throughout the entire time with his head resting on his propped right hand, the only one who had not yet asked a question.  He said, 'Sir, I'd like to ask the sergeant a couple of questions.'  'Go Ahead, Major'.  The dialogue went something like this:  'Sergeant, your name is Italian, isn't it?'  'Yes sir, it is.'  'Tell me sergeant, do you like spaghetti?'  I was taken by this off-beat question, I acknowledged that, yes I did.  Then came the blind-sider:  'Sgt., do you know how to cook spaghetti, sauce and all?'  Of course, you now can guess what happened.  I did remember.  He said, as he picked up his pencil to write, 'Now, slowly, tell me so I can write it down.'  At this point I had to qualify my recipe by saying, 'Sir, the recipe will be for fifty servings.'  'Okay, go right ahead.'  At that point I silently blessed my sister who had written clear directions for my sauce preparation.  That night at the transient EM billet after dinner all of the interviewees got together to compare notes.  It turned out that the final part of the interview for each was a 'how to' question posed by that major on the extreme left.  (Obviously, this poor fellow had been tagged to conjure up some sort of off-beat question which required detailed explanation or directions.)  One of the others and I were the two reps of the 27th NYNG division to attend Field Artillery OCS #1.  The other selectee, a Master Sgt., also had the distinction of being the first of the 124 students reporting for that Class #1 to be cut and sent back to his unit.  Only 75 of us made it and were commissioned as 'shave tails' on 1 October 1941. Actually, it turned out that the 75 number was a pre-set limit by the War Department.  (Most of those classmates not commissioned then, were commissioned shortly after the attack at Pearl Harbor.)

My first duty station was Ft. Bragg, N.C. where I was first a platoon leader in a F.A. Replacement Training Center Regiment there. Shortly afterward, I was designated Regimental Small Arms Instructor (machine guns and B.A.Rs).  Due to a truly fortuitous turn of events (too much to be described at this writing) I was transferred to the Regular Army FA Board -- a wonderful assignment -- to be their test firing officer.  Through the kindness of my immediate superior who went off to become the Division Artillery Commander of the 89th Division, I was later transferred to that division and given command of 'B' Btry of the 914th FA Bn. in March of 1943.  We trained as mountain troops in what is now Ft. Carson, Colorado.  Then the War Department decided to transform us into what was then termed a 'Light Division'.  'Light' meant an minimum of motorized vehicles and a lot of strong backs and pack boards for carrying equipment and food.  We later went through maneuvers in Louisiana and the mountains of Hunter Liggett, Calif.  After a year and a half of physical agony the decision was made that the concept of a light division was not the answer to fighting the Japanese in the mountains of the Pacific Islands and Japan.  So back to configuration as a standard Triangular Division and retraining.  We did get to Europe in January 1945.  Crossing the Mosel was not too bad but our assault crossing of the Rhine River was pretty bad.  Many casualties.  Later my Regimental Combat team was temporarily attached to the 4th Armored Div. for a penetration dash across Germany attempting to capture the German Army Western Front High Command HQ (they had flown the coop) but ended up with the accidental liberation of the first Nazi concentration camp (Ohrdruf) liberated by Western forces.  Awaiting our withdrawal from our final positions close to the Czechoslovakian border, I had an unusual experience for several weeks -- as acting Military Governor of the city of Liechtenstein.  We were then ordered back to the Normandy area where -- due to our 'rookie status'-- we were assigned to operate camps for re-deployment of outfits back to the ZI. 

My assignment was as Mess Officer for my camp to feed 44,000 men and women daily (using German POW's).  Later an additional duty was to build and operate an officers' club for our camp.  I did that but nobody provided money for stocking booze.  So, I borrowed capital from the 37 officers in my battalion.  Profits came fast and furious due to the popularity of the club.  (Only attraction available!)  After my 'scroungers' came back from Marseilles having bought all sorts of beer, bourbon, scotch, gin, etc.  I paid periodic dividends to my 'investors' in the form of liquor.  A rule I had set was that liquor was not to be sold by the bottle -- just by the drink.  One morning in late October 1945, an aide to a division commander visited the club stating that he needed to buy a bottle of Scotch whisky for his CG who needed it for entertaining of senior visitors in his tent.  The general, understandably, was not inclined to visit the club for these purposes.  My club manager refused based on my rule.  The aide demanded to see me.  But I reinforced the denial.  However, as any good Aide-de-Camp must do, he persisted.  And I, not totally void of good sense, wanted to get him off my back without having a Major General crashing down on me through channels.  My solution was to give him a bottle from my own private stock of 'dividends'.  A happy solution -- at least I thought so at first.  But the return visit of the aide the next morning indicated a continuing problem.  I gave him two bottles the next day and another the day following, the end of my Scotch.  I told the Aide that.  My blood boiled when he came back the very next morning!  He saw quickly that I was not happy to see him expecting he was there to 'bum' Scotch from me so he hurried to tell me his CG simply wanted to thank me in person for my kindness.  We went out to a waiting right-hand steer, GI painted (liberated), beautiful Packard sedan.  The general asked if I had time to ride to the port of embarkation with him so we could talk.  Of course, I agreed (obeyed).  His conversation was that of a kind, fatherly gentleman counseling a young man about his future.  We soon pulled up to the gangway of the ship at the port.  The driver got out, handed the keys to the Aide, then went around to the open the door for the general.  The Aide handed the car keys to the general who turned to me and graciously thanked me for my (scotch whisky) kindness and HANDED ME THE KEYS!  Flabbergasted I stuttered my reciprocal thanks.  I then drove the Packard back to our camp.  Note that I quickly became the most popular officer in the battalion.  The Packard was kept pretty busy.  I probably used it the least.  After getting my orders to return home in early November four close friends and I decided to make a trip to Paris in the Packard.  One of these (Bernie) was to be transferred to Austria because he did not yet have enough points needed to return home.  Leave in Paris was a two-tier program-one tier was the daytime (shopping and borrrrring) and the other was the nighttime (fun!).  Bernie used his daytime hours interviewing for an assignment to which he could transfer in lieu of going to Austria. Bernie, an accountant for Standard Oil, Inc., wasn't very anxious to get assigned to a really demanding job.  He declined many attractive offers.  Out of sheer boredom I accompanied him on his quest.  An interview the morning of the second day looked promising because it was right up his alley.  The organization was the Accounting Division, Fiscal Section, Theater Service Forces, Rear.  The task was to set up and operate a vast Electrical Accounting (Machine Records) operation staffed with over 500 French and a small number of U.S. civilians plus a handful of junior Army officers, to record the inventory of all military surplus property left in Europe, the Middle East, and North Africa and account for the sales -- to any and all interested buyers-individuals (w/US$) and governments.  Bernie almost agreed but then backed down.  The major doing the interviews was kind enough to invite the two of us to go to lunch in the dining room of the hotel where he was billeted.  Wow!  What a difference between living in the field during combat and even after!  I COULD NOT BELIEVE THE LUXURY OF IT ALL!  The major must have sensed my reaction to all this when I asked if he always ate such good food.  He said, yes, and that most times it was much better.  He switched his target at that point to me.  I was willing but stated that I already had orders to rotate home and besides, I told him, I had already arranged to attend the University of Buffalo the next session.  The major pressed harder and even said he would get me billeted in his hotel (even though it was a field grade billet and I was a lowly captain).  So, I used a really dumb argument when I told him that I was interested (true) but was sure there was no way my orders could be changed in time to stop my boarding the homeward bound troop transport shortly.  He asked if I'd accept the assignment providing he got the orders changed THAT DAY!  Believing there was no possibility I agreed.  Of course, you know he did get the orders changed in a matter of hours and did present me with a stack of mimeographed copies the next AM.  On top of that he was a man of his word regarding getting me billeted at the elegant Pierre Premier de Serbie Hotel near the Arch de Triomphe - an attic-like room!

The rest of this story is to explain how I got detailed to the Finance Department and learned much about IBM and EAM accounting on the job over 17 months.  Due to a later development, I was further detailed to the State Department when the Foreign Liquidation Commission took over the accounting operation (and me) from the Army. A Congressionally directed audit of the Office of the Foreign Liquidation Commission combined with an undercover FBI investigation disclosed extensive sales bribery, falsification of sales records, and substantial illegal financial transactions.  As I turned out 'clean' this resulted in my assignment as the Auditor-In-Charge of the audit of OFLC with the included requirement that the basic records of the Agency be reconstructed for eventual turnover to the U.S. Archives in Washington.

I met and married Sjelja in Paris in February 1948.  PCS orders took us to Washington, DC. in May 1949 for an expected month or so for the records turnover to the U.S. Archives.  My days of detail to the Finance Dept. were soon to be over.  Than back to the Artillery.

The State Department's personnel office advised me to contact the personnel office of my Army branch for further disposition.  The first chance I got I visited the F.A. Branch to see what they had in mind.  I was thrilled to be told by the Major interviewing me that I would be sent immediately to a nine-month F.A. Officers' Advanced Course at Ft. Sill, and then be assigned as the Executive Officer of a line battalion somewhere in the Army stateside.  I was elated!  All was going great until a clerk told the major that I first needed to get a release from the Finance Department before the F.A. could resume control of this prodigal captain.  But that was just routine, I was told.  Simply request the Finance personnel office for a release from the detail and we'd be on our way.  I quickly found my way to the office of then Ejner Watten, Captain, FD, a very fine but totally unaccommodating gentleman.  Ejner informed me that the Finance Department had plans for me also.  I told him that I knew absolutely nothing about Army Finance.  His reply was to point at a schedule of classes at the FSUSA which he said would remedy that easily.  I was frustrated and insisted that I talk with his boss.  Soon, I met with him.  We, too, quickly reached a stalemate.  The stumbling block was that my OER upon leaving Paris was endorsed by the LTG in charge of the final days of the Foreign Liquidation Commission who wrote words to the effect:  "The extensive experience of this officer in the field of Machine Accounting and Auditing should be put to use in the Army."  In this regard, I was walked down the hall to the office of the then Chief of the Army Audit Agency.  (At that time the AAA was staffed by Finance Department military personnel.)  Colonel Reed, the Chief, was an understanding and sympathetic gentleman who counseled me regarding the facts of life in the Army at a time when all branches were in need of live, warm bodies.  The outcome of this interview was that I was assigned to the Army Audit Agency as the resident auditor of the Schenectady (NY) Army General Depot.

After several months there, following a chilly evening of gardening, I became ill enough to be shipped to the closest Army hospital at Governor's Island, NY.  Even though I assumed it was only a bad cold or pneumonia, the doctors there -- taking no chances -- put me in an isolation ward diagnosed as 'suspected Tuberculosis'.  After a month of observation there I found myself on a train in a Pullman bedroom in the care of two medical escorts (actually guards to assure that I did not spread theTB).  The destination was Fitzsimmons Army Hospital in Denver, Colorado.  Following five months there, (within a week of having a lobe of my lungs removed, followed by separation from the Army with 100% disability, and transfer to the VA for further treatment), I challenged the decision based on an observation of a mistake I had noticed when being tested for TB initially.  It turned out I was right! I was quickly moved from the TB treatment area (30 pounds heavier) and eventually discharged as a patient.  But, even though my medical record showed that my TB testing now read negative, the final entry read 'Pulmonary Fibrosis, cause unknown'.  As a consequence, I was placed on limited duty.  Before discharge from Fitzsimmons, I got a TWX from Colonel Reed suggesting that I agree to accept a branch transfer to the Finance Department and in which case he would order me to attend a five-month Accounting and Audit course at the FSUSA at St. Louis.  I did and he did.

Following graduation in late May 1950, my orders sent me to Ft. Meade, MD as the resident auditor.  Actually, I liked it and learned a lot.  After two years I was ordered to Korea - - but was pulled out of the pipe line in Japan for an assignment, ending up as Chief of Military Audit, Army Forces, Far East. My boss, COL. Albert Widmer, who previously had been an Assistant Chief of Finance, asked me what I'd like as my next assignment.  At this stage of my career, now a major of 4+ years, I was greatly concerned that I was masquerading as a Finance Officer, knowing absolutely ZILCH about the disbursing function.  So, I asked to be sent to the FOBC to remedy that.  COL. Widmer disagreed with my choice but did pass on my request to OCF.  The immediate reply said 'no way, he goes to the Finance Officer Advanced Course'.  The explanation was that my experience and background would preclude any possible assignment in the disbursing field.  Following graduation from FOAC my assignment was "Director, Department of Finance Training."  (Hmmm???.)  Well, I guess I was not a disbursing officer, per se. After my next assignment as Comptroller, Army Mission and MAAG, Iran, I received orders to report to the National Security Agency at Fort Meade, MD --- AS THE F&AO!  (So much for career management and Pers. O. guarantees!) 

Actually, though, each of the assignments in this tortuous story of my meandering through various and sundry assignments in the Army, turned out to be to my infinite advantage.  I learned a great deal, enjoyed all of the challenges, but mostly I appreciated the good people I met.  The culmination of my FC career was my final assignment (again) at the FSUSA as Director of The Department of Comptrollership training with additional duty as Assistant Commandant for the few months pending the delayed arrival of the designated assignee i.e., COL. Holt Blomgren.  The later payoff for all of these was that they gave me a unique background for my civil service job with the National Security Agency (sorry, sworn to life long secrecy) which used all of the aggregate FC experience during my 17 years there resulting in duty as the Associate Comptroller of that Agency attaining the grade of Senior Executive Service-Level 3.  (Just had to brag a bit, folks.  My apologies.)  Oh, and did I say I would be brief with this account?  Sorry, I lied.