FROM YOUR ENTIRE MILITARY SERVICE, DESCRIBE ANY MEMORIES YOU STILL REFLECT BACK ON TO THIS DAY.
As a Military Policeman at Fort Carson, Colorado I had typical duties as an MP back in 1956. Patrol on post and in the city of Colorado Springs were just a couple of assignments at the 19th MP Co. in those ancient days at the foot of Pikes Peak
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| SP4 Charles (Jim) Westwick, military police |
in the High Plains.
On a chilly day in April 1956, however, Captain Jordan -- my C.O. at Carson -- called me into his office where he ordered me to go to Gate Three, normally only unlocked for tanks or special escorts. He told me that a "convoy" was arriving at ten-hundred hours and I was to unlock the gate shack and the gates on either side of the small building as soon as I saw the advancing special convoy.
I arrived at the gate, unlocked it and waited for the vehicles to arrive. Several minutes passed before I heard what sounded like thunder and saw a huge cloud of granulated dust rising into the air at the base of Cheyenne Mountain. And it was headed straight for me. I raced to the two gates on each side of the shack and unlocked them, swinging them as far out as possible. I looked in the direction of the dust cloud since the roar of rolling thunder was getting louder and louder.
I nearly dropped the gate keys as I gaped at a mighty stampede of 150 huge, excited mules galloping straight across the nearby highway to Colorado Springs. And they were bearing down on me!! These mighty mules weren't just running, they were racing like thoroughbreds at the Kentucky Derby.
Running to the gate shack I just made it inside as the first mule sped by the little building. A big captain was riding it like one of Wagner's Valkyries -- a wild gleam in his (and the mule's) eyes. I managed to salute him and he smartly saluted me back. Then the pack of rumbling, braying, snorting mules were at the gate shack, passing me so quickly I could barely make out the dozen or so mule skinners on each side of the sweating team, shouting at them, urging them on. It was all over in several minutes. I stood there for a long while, knees shaking and head throbbing from the incredible scene that I had just been a small part of.
Later, Captain Jordan told me that I had just allowed the 150 mules back on post for the last time ever. He explained that every year since the Civil War the mule team would be herded up to Longmont, CO, where they spent their winter in quarters probably nicer than the wooden barracks we had at Carson. He then told me that all the animals would be deactivated on February 15, 1957, when they would be sold or transferred to other non-military government agencies.
Later, I learned that the official auction was attended by more than 3,000 persons, and, as one newspaper wrote, "A farewell that few will easily forget." I never forgot.
