This is the punch line in one of Father's few unclassified Army stories.
Father probably had a clearance I know nothing about. Classified stories are told only around the edge.
Back in the years prior to Viet Nam men went to Basic Training without a clue regarding where they would go next. Since then, if the promise was a mistake and the Drills knew it young soldiers were reassigned. Signed up for Cavalry Scout after 9/11 and your drills thought you were unsafe and you went to Germany rather than Afghanistan in the winter and Iraq the next summer. A good call in that case.
This is another tale entirely. After Basic there were orders. Infantry, infantry, infantry. Good enough for the infantry. Good enough.
One step lower, Driver.
Below that, Cook.
Combat Engineer. You have moxie.
Armor. Moxie and altitudinally under encumbered.
Chemical. Moxie and stupid.
Father got wait listed. Fort Detrick is not well known. Among the lower enlisted ninety percent of the men had Ph.Ds. Among the NCOs the population included rehab failures scared to death of the fence.
On a Saturday morning a young soldier arrived at the Slammer with obvious symptoms of Pneumonic Plague. A call was made. A few minutes later the main gate was closed and the telephone tree was activated. If you are at home stay at home.
As the story is told my father's friend was scheduled to marry the daughter of the Governor of Connecticut the next week. He called.
"Dad, I'm not going to be at the wedding and I'm not telling you why."
Governors of states are commanders of their National Guard and can call the Pentagon with questions. Bear in mind that the question is Pneumonic Plague and that the real question included Offensive Biological Warfare.
Two Bird Colonels arrived at the Governor's office the next day.
Sir, He's not going to be at the wedding and we're not telling you why.