Wes Craiglow
Member
Nothing major today, just a fun day out with the dogs. Didn't even plan it, actually; I just figured it would be a nice "long way" home after my VA appt in Little Rock.
Here's my route
(just under 30 miles total)
Came up from main gate in the North Little Rock area, cruised around the old WWII barracks area, pushed through the CARP mtn bike area and
the old Newton Creek township (cool old schools and cemeteries), then finally up into the WMA. Popped out on Hwy 89 just east of Mayflower, AR.
Camp Robinson is where I learned my first lessons in off-road driving techniques from my big brother. I was 16, and I was in the process of buying his '87 Jeep Wrangler. He said, "I'm gonna take you out and teach you how to drive this thing in the woods so that you don't go breakin' stuff all the time." And so Camp Rob and I have a long history of wheelin'.
Now that I'm in the Army and train out there from time-to-time, I have learned of its own long history. This was quite a large training facility during WWII, and prepared many young men for the rigors of combat. As with many of these old posts, though, most of the cantonment areas have been disassembled or simply left for nature to reclaim them.
Clean Taco at the start... this would soon change.
I have no idea what most of this housed during the heyday of Camp Rob, but these old structure foundations are everywhere.
And there's remnants of the old sidewalks--sidewalks on which our grandfathers might have walked from chapel to chow.
And these old concrete slabs. Parking lots? Motor pools? Basketball courts? No telling.
I try and imagine these old streets lined with wooden barracks, chow halls, and admin bldgs... and formations of young Soldiers, all marching to Drill Sergeant's cadence, precisely moving from place to place. Every last one of them scared as hell, but loving every second of it. (At least that was my experience during basic training!)
Most of the men who trained here were issued a full kit of gear here and they boarded a train here bound for one of the the coasts. Once they crossed the pond, it was gametime. Many never made it back. Visiting these old training areas helps me remember them--to stay in touch with them.
May God rest you all, brothers.
Here's my route
(just under 30 miles total)
Came up from main gate in the North Little Rock area, cruised around the old WWII barracks area, pushed through the CARP mtn bike area and
the old Newton Creek township (cool old schools and cemeteries), then finally up into the WMA. Popped out on Hwy 89 just east of Mayflower, AR.
Camp Robinson is where I learned my first lessons in off-road driving techniques from my big brother. I was 16, and I was in the process of buying his '87 Jeep Wrangler. He said, "I'm gonna take you out and teach you how to drive this thing in the woods so that you don't go breakin' stuff all the time." And so Camp Rob and I have a long history of wheelin'.
Now that I'm in the Army and train out there from time-to-time, I have learned of its own long history. This was quite a large training facility during WWII, and prepared many young men for the rigors of combat. As with many of these old posts, though, most of the cantonment areas have been disassembled or simply left for nature to reclaim them.
Clean Taco at the start... this would soon change.
I have no idea what most of this housed during the heyday of Camp Rob, but these old structure foundations are everywhere.
And there's remnants of the old sidewalks--sidewalks on which our grandfathers might have walked from chapel to chow.
And these old concrete slabs. Parking lots? Motor pools? Basketball courts? No telling.
I try and imagine these old streets lined with wooden barracks, chow halls, and admin bldgs... and formations of young Soldiers, all marching to Drill Sergeant's cadence, precisely moving from place to place. Every last one of them scared as hell, but loving every second of it. (At least that was my experience during basic training!)
Most of the men who trained here were issued a full kit of gear here and they boarded a train here bound for one of the the coasts. Once they crossed the pond, it was gametime. Many never made it back. Visiting these old training areas helps me remember them--to stay in touch with them.
May God rest you all, brothers.
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Trust me though, the truck was muddy and the winch earned some money.)
