This is what Outpost Crampton looked like in 1978. It was a part of reserve Marine Corps
training at 29 Palms, California in the Mojave Desert. Any resemblance to civilization is merely
co-incidental. The wooden buildings are
permanent and are occupied by succeeding units that overlook the valley where
the armored battalions maneuver under live fire conditions. APCs reach 155 degrees on the inside. Where we were on the
mountain top it was only 120 degrees.
The first photo shows the ingenuity of Marines. Wherever two or three rocks are gathered
together, Marines will make their homes.
I remember we had no cots and slept in tents infested with rats. One discovered my unopened can of peaches two
feet from my head. He picked it up with
his paws and sniffed it, bit holes in the top, and sucked out the juice. Our Vietnam veteran corpsman had warned us by
relating the story of how the rats used to attack the eyeballs of Marines while
they were sleeping to obtain their body salt.
Standard amenities at Crampton included a 4-seat non-partitioned toilet they
called something else. Navy corpsmen
would burn off the contents only on certain days when we were down wind.
The next photo is when the planes and artillery opened up on
a target. One A-4 jet from El Toro streaked
up to us on the west side and fired his neon colored missiles upside down as he
crested above us. Captain Anderson in
white t-shirt looks on and SSgt. Vest (seated) enjoys the view. If I remember correctly, the guy taking the
picture in the middle is Pvt. Malko, soon to be the official photographer of
Hq. Co. 24th Marines, Kansas City. Note
the panorama and the smaller mountain ridge below the big ones. Our regimental S-2 shop had spent several
months making a terrain model of the area out of newspaper, sugar, and
flour. To our surprise it didn’t make it
to the Palms. Mice had eaten it in transit,
but still, preparing models are part of the intelligence function. Our shop was set up in one of the wooden
buildings and it was typical. Our desks
were olive drab blocks we had to unsnap and unfold. I suppose they had been that way since the
Civil War. Of course, we had the
situation map with red and black grease pencils and overlays. Today with computers, it’s all changed. I was the only divisional level trained
intelligence analyst, a rare bird.
The only thing good about Outpost Crampton was when flew back
to Camp Wilson. The first person I met after landing was from a New York unit,
a beautiful Puerto Rican girl near the wash racks. She teasingly sprinkled water in my face –
the nicest greeting I ever received in the Marine Corps and a real morale
booster. Sadly, I learned in 1980 when
we came back to the Palms for CAX80, she had been stabbed to death in a jealous
rage. The last photo shows a bunch of us
getting ready to catch the bus for the trip home. We had staged our gear and I hold my ever-present water bag. Sgt. Peak holds the
soda pop and SSgt. Williams is next to him milling about smartly.
