AWAY FROM
the course at Fort Leavenworth there was an awful lot of
extra-curricular activity going on, much of it thanks to
our civilian sponsors who took their volunteer jobs
seriously and made sure we were well entertained.
Kansas had, to European perceptions at least, pretty
extreme weather. The summer was hot, sometimes very hot,
and the winters freezing and with snow oftentimes up to
two feet thick or more. Every so often there would be a
tremendous storm with deafening thunder and dramatic
lightning accompanied by torrential rain. More eerily,
in tornado season the sky might turn green, indicating
the distinct possibility that one of these damaging
events might happen. Thankfully it never did when I was
there.
In the summer months I lost count of the number of
barbeques and “cook outs” I was invited to by my hosts.
Because the summer weather tended to be pretty
predictable and pleasant, they could be planned weeks
ahead and were great fun. Sometimes they were in a
neighbour’s back garden – sorry, backyard, of course –
or part and parcel of a bigger event, like sports or
other public occasions.
Talking of sports, I got full exposure to the complete
gamut of American sporting activities. American football
remains a mystery to me, but I enjoyed hugely the
razzamatazz that accompanies it, even at local level. In
these modern PC times I shall forego any comment on the
cheerleaders except to say they were lovely to behold.
Some are critical of the stop-go rhythm of the game, but
I found it most interesting. What I did enjoy immensely
was the whole feeling of occasion, and that it was truly
a family activity, which sadly we cannot claim for our
own football (soccer) which can still be blighted by bad
behaviour and hooliganism on occasion.
Cheerleaders
Baseball
I had a better handle on, having played rounders before
at school. Whilst I was never completely au fait with
the intricacies of the game I at least understood most
of the basics. It was great fun to go with Tom and
Barbara Brown, my great friends and military sponsors,
to watch their boys play and get a feel for what I had
seen on TV and at the cinema so many times before. I got
the chance to understand the context as part of the
American experience, which was most educational.
We Internationals also played friendly but always
competitive games against our US colleagues. These too
tended to be family occasions with barbeques and picnics
and always great fun. If I remember correctly we got
tanked at American football, scored a more-or-less draw
at rugby (I can’t remember the exact score), and won
comfortably at football (soccer in US-speak).
The footie rules allowed for a generous number of
substitutes, and the Americans tried a sneaky tactic and
subbed their entire team with ten minutes to go, knowing
that we were too few in numbers of competent players to
do the same. But we had a couple of South American
wizards in our side who were by far-and-away the best
players on the pitch. Plus we had a German goalkeeper.
You don’t lose if you have a German goalkeeper. It’s
just one of the basic rules of the game.
I also went to a couple of rodeos with my friends, and
they were just great. Everyone in Kansas seemed to have
a Stetson and pair of cowboy boots in their wardrobe for
such occasions, and they were present in abundance. Some
of the stuff – the bull riding for example – looked
outrageously dangerous to me, and I was surprised at how
few injuries the participants seemed to suffer.
Presumably there’s a knack to it. These rodeos were an
absolute carnival of colours, sounds, and smells, and if
you ever get the chance to go to one grab it. Just
remember to shout “yeehah!” occasionally and you’ll fit
right in.
Part of our remit as Internationals was to fly the flag,
so everyone took it in turns to host a party at home for
as many guests as they could accommodate. Such parties
had a national theme, with much bigging up of one’s home
country with flags and other symbols of nationhood,
especially in terms of food and drink. Particularly
memorable was the Italian’s officer’s supper party where
all the pasta dishes were in the green, white, and red
of the Italian tricolour.
Much as I might have wished it, I’m afraid I was unable
to source the ingredients for my favoured menu when it
was my turn, and so my guests were spared the pie ‘n’
chips and deep fried Mars Bar, all washed down with
copious glasses of Irn Bru, that I had hoped to unleash
on them, poor unsuspecting souls. In the end I had to
settle for something rather more quintessentially
British, and for the life of me I can’t recall what that
might have been. Nobody reported themselves ill
afterwards, though, so it must have been OK.
Occasionally we might travel into Kansas City for other
events, although in my case such forays were rare. I did
venture there once, though, with my Aussie chum John
Casey to see that well known Irish skiffle and modern
beat combo, U2, of whom some of you may have heard. Why
they named themselves after an early German submarine is
anybody’s guess, but that doesn’t matter right now. The
concert took place in a major stadium and the weather
was absolutely freezing. They were awful, as in
appallingly poor. Despite having front row seats we left
halfway through and went home. I should have asked for
my money back but forgot.
C & W Band - No, this is not U2. These guys were good.
Now, in
some circles, bashing our transatlantic cousins has been
a popular sport for as long as I can remember, whether
it be for their extraordinary dress sense, extraordinary
appetites, or extraordinary rendition – or perhaps all
three and everything else in between. But you’ll have
picked up that I’ve always rather liked Americans in
general terms, and therefore hereinafter a few words on
some of the positives that have come out of the good ol’
USA over the years. Here are a few things I think we
should be grateful to them for, in no particular order.
I had a good-natured argument with one of our colonial
cousins over this the other day, but in my opinion
nobody does breakfast like the Americans. Down to the
diner in downtown Leavenworth at some unearthly hour in
the morning, sit up at the counter, and immerse yourself
in the experience. Good coffee with endless refills
until you cry “stop!”, crispy bacon, eggs-over-easy,
pancakes with maple syrup, ye cannae whack it. Kippers
and kedgeree aside, it knocks spots anything we can
offer over here. Now, I haven’t had breakfast in
Timbuktu or Transylvania so maybe I’m just showing my
lack of travel, but I’ll take some convincing that
anyone does breakfast better than the
Yankee-Doodle-Dandies.
Next, Christmas. I don’t really know if it was anything
to do with the large number of Americans with German
ancestry – estimated at roughly 16 per cent or the US
population or 49 million people – but our hosts seemed
to do Christmas really well, and not in the schmaltzy
way you might imagine from the movies. Just across the
state border lies the small town of Weston, Missouri,
pronounced “Missoura” if you’re local, a lovely
historical and picturesque settlement full of antebellum
houses and once the furthest west town of the US until
Texas was admitted as a state in 1845. Buffalo Bill
himself was once resident here, and it was a major
starting point for settlers heading west to California.
I digress. All I wanted to say was that I spent some
time visiting Weston during the Christmas holidays on
1992-93 and it was almost magical so well was it decked
out for the celebrations. Even the cheerful Santa Claus
on the boardwalk was somehow entirely appropriate and
not in the least bit slushy or over-sentimental. It was
a lovely place to visit at that time of year.
And, notwithstanding our U2 concert fiasco, we do have
to thank the Americans for rock ‘n’ roll. Funny one this
one, because arguably the Americans, or white Americans
anyroads, didn’t really wake up to the fact they’d
‘invented’ rock and roll until we Brits repackaged it in
the form of the Beatles and their many imitators and
exported it to back to them. But invent it they did,
emerging in the southern states from a mixture of rhythm
and blues, country, soul, gospel, folk and jazz music in
the 1940s and 50s, espoused by musicians and singers
like Chuck Berry, Elvis Pressley, Buddy Holly, Jerry Lee
Lewis, Little Richard, Fats Domino et al.
Its development went hand-in-hand with the adoption of
the electric guitar as instrument of choice for the
young. Then the Beatles got hold of it and changed it
forever, in the same way as they changed more or less
everything they touched in that period in the 60s when
the world went from monochrome to colour. So hats off to
our US cousins for letting us have it to play around
with.
Finally, the biggest and best thing I want to thank the
Americans for is my daughter, who was born there. It
lets me tell everybody that “I own an American”, a gift
I am eternally grateful for and shall always cherish.
To come in Part 34; back to Britain, back to reality.
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