So it came to pass that I and Equipment Operator 2 nd Class Tolbert were assigned to drive a 15-ton tractor trailer and a 30-foot box trailer, laden with ammunition, to Fort Hunter Liggett. This transpired because of a live-fire exercise.

My battalion was getting ready for deployment, so they needed to get qualifications done before we left. Fort Hunter Liggett is an army base located in the middle of California on the coast about 80 miles south of Monterey. The base stretches from U.S. Highway 101 all the way to the Pacific Ocean and is sparsely populated.

Fort Hunter Liggett’s mission is to allocate and maintain training areas, airspace, facilities and ranges in order to support reserve and active components’ field maneuvers, live fire exercises, testing and Institutional Training. Additionally, the installation provides logistical and quality-of-life support to training units. The base is open to civilian personnel, since quite a few cultural and historical sites are located on it for the public’s pleasure. There exists almost 200,000 acres of land that are completely open, save the ranges and base facilities.

Tolbert and I left at the crack of dawn, which meant that we would be the first personnel on site. There is nothing like waking up at 2:30 a.m., loading a 30-foot box trailer with enough ammunition for a 600-man battalion to shoot up everything from here to kingdom come. I am glad we did not carry the weapons also. An hour later we were on Highway 101 heading north.

Let me digress a tad. We departed our base, Port Hueneme, so early because Santa Barbara has laws that prohibit the movement of explosives and ammunition through its city limits between dawn and dusk. This is in fear of any mishaps occurring. Port Hueneme is located on the coast of Ventura County about 45 minutes north of Los Angles and 45 minutes south of Santa Barbara. There really is not much in this town except for tattoo parlors, bars and massage shops. Basically it is your run-of-the-mill military base.

With that done, let us get back on track. Tolbert was driving and I was his shotgun. Cruising through Santa Barbara without problems, we kept heading north, and just after dawn at about 6:30 I looked out my window and saw all the beautiful countryside. No human development anywhere, not even a dilapidated shack was within my sight, just gorgeous rolling hills, and groves of trees. That is what I love about California: here we don’t have that problem of urbanization outside of the larger metropolitan areas.

Both Tolbert and I were armed—nothing heavy, just 9 mm pistols. We arrived in Batteravia, a small Podunk town along Highway 101, to refuel. Before I jumped out of the tractor, I noticed a bunch of truckers staring at us. I told Tolbert. He said we should keep an eye on them, but we shouldn’t worry much since no one really messes with military in uniform. I kept an eye out and tried to let it pass out of my mind. Then I noticed the same truckers talking to themselves and pointing our way.

“Shit,” I said under my breath. At this point Tolbert had gotten out of the truck to start refueling. The tank was on the driver’s side, so he could not see what was going on with the truckers. These truckers got into a little group and headed our way. I was a little nervous, since this did not happen often, especially when we have ammo placards on our truck, and we were ordered not to let anybody get near the trailer while it was loaded.

I jumped out, sidearm still in my holster, but I tried to keep the holstered weapon in plain view of everyone on my side of the truck. I watched as these guys, trying to look slick, as they did an about-face and walked right back to where they were before.

“Easy day, easy day,” is all that floated through my head. Tolbert finished refueling. We both boarded our land yacht, and headed out. He just laughed as I told him what happened. “I got your back, man,” he said as I look at him.

There is not much immediately north of Batteravia; just vineyards and grassland. It was spring, which means the rains came and the grass was the most vibrant green I had ever seen. It was so pretty to look at. I would catch myself getting lost in those rolling hills, daydreaming of smoking dope and chasing girls. Snapping back into reality, I saw our exit to reach the base. This is just before Camp Roberts, a military processing center. This old base has seen better days, like during the Vietnam War. During that “police action,” this base was bustling with activity, sending thousands of soldiers from around the United States to Vietnam.

We exited Highway 101, almost flipping the trailer, since Tolbert is not exactly the world’s best tractor-trailer operator, but we made it. After only another 10 minutes of driving with this lunatic and we hit the firing range.