I could not have been laid off more than a week from the rent-a-truck assembly factory and while skimming the help wanted ads in the Janesville Gazette, I happened across a feed mill in Milton, Wisconsin that needed seasonal help. It was the spring of 1980. The economy was in a shambles, our embassy personnel were captive in Tehran, the Russians were in Afghanistan, Carter was threatening to yank our athletes from the Olympics, registration for the draft was re-instituted, but, the corn still needed to be planted and the cows still needed feed - milk still flowed - the mill needed help.
It was only six miles to the mill from my parents' farm. The assistant manager was dour. I was hired without fanfare. I would rarely see the assistant manager again. The facility was without ornament. It was a utilitarian affair. People came in for cattle and goat feed. They brought their corn to be processed: or, we went to pick it up. Old time farmers were often abrupt, sanctimonious, condescending, and down right rude. Every so often a farmer would strike up a kind conversation. There was an obnoxious farmer I delivered ground corn to that always had a dead pig or two in his barn yard.
We delivered chemical mix to the various farmers; the Boss or his Third-in-command spread pot ash on designated fields. The Third-in-command was a shlub from down South who could not spell cat if you spotted him the "c" and the "t." One day the pot ash loading auger plugged and Third-in-command took a cutting torch to the cylinder casing. A wry old uncle of mine who was also an ex-farmer later reminded me Third-in-command could have blown us to kingdom come.
One day a huge flatbed trailer of animal food supplement came in. It was in one hundred pound bags. The mill crew flew into unloading the bags and putting them in a Quonset hut. I asked if anyone had asked the boss where he wanted the shipment stacked. Third-in-command just grunted for me to keep toting the bags. Boss-man arrived about the time we finished and said he wanted the load in the main building. Oh yah!
I remember waiting by the farmers' fields in the delivery truck for the chemical application sprayer to make its rounds. Ever so often I would refill the sprayer tank. I remember jotting down what I might like to study in another attempt at college. I still have the note somewhere in a box.
Boss-man had an old Cadillac. He liked me to drive him the 60 miles to his other feed mill over in Green County. "Tell me about the Army," Boss-man would say to me. In a few minutes into any given story, he always dozed off for the whole ride. One of the chumps at the other mill knew one of the guys I had worked with at the furniture store (Ninth Job of Bob). The chump said that the guy at the furniture store (who was a salesman) had regularly beaten him and his brother up back in school and stole his girlfriends on numerous occasions. Yikes!
When spring turned to summer and the planting season turned to the green fields of July, I finally met the assistant manager again. He headed me off one afternoon in the parking lot. "We got to let you seasonal help guys go," he said. "You will be first to go see'ns you ain't got no wife or children. I 'spect a guy like you don't need the money no how." He turned and walked off. In retrospect, I maybe should have told him where to jump off. But I was so stunned by his ignorance I could only just stand in disbelief. Not that I would be laid off; I knew that going into the job. I was overwhelmed by his ineptitude. Sure, I thought, will just pull money from that money tree I park my junk pickup truck under. I would buy a better vehicle if assholes like you actually paid me a decent wage. By the time I collected my thoughts, he had vanished. I would never see him again. The place is still there all these decades later, utilitarian as ever. I never set foot in the place again; nor, have I ever spoken kindly of the experience.
This week's Wisconsin soldier to remember is Lance Corporal Daniel R. Wyatt, 22. Lance Corporal Wyatt was killed due to enemy action in Anbar province, Iraq, on October 12, 2004. Wyatt had been in Iraq for a month as a U.S. Marine Corps Reservist. He was serving Company F, 2nd Battalion, 24th Marine Regiment, 4th Division, Marine Forces Reserve based in Illinois. They were activated June 1, 2004. The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel said Daniel was the youngest of three sons. He grew up in Racine. CNN has him listed as being from Calendonia. He signed up for the Marine Reserves after graduation. The Journal Sentinel went on to mention Wyatt wanted to be a police officer and was studying criminal justice at Milwaukee Area Technical College just before deployment to Iraq. Daniel Wyatt was the 23rd Wisconsin soldier to be killed in Iraq since the Spring of 2003.
3,773 Americans have been killed in Iraq since Spring 2003.
27,848 U.S. troops have been wounded in action in Iraq since Spring 2003.
78 Wisconsin soldiers have been killed in Iraq since Spring 2003.
112 journalists (several nationalities) have been killed in Iraq since Spring 2003.
Soldier of the week, military casualty, and journalist casualty information sources: Committee to Protect Journalists; cnn.com; and, Milwaukee Journal Sentinel.
