 An official television report of the United States Army produced for the armed forces and the American people. Now to show you part of the big picture, here is Master Sergeant Stuart Quain. To meet its responsibilities for safeguarding the peace and security of the United States, the Army sends many men overseas to the crucial defense positions of the free world. These men are trained both as combat soldiers and specialists. Possessors of special skills, talent and know how the Army needs in the right place at the right time. The modern Army is coming to be a union of specialized skills. The Army is devoting more and more attention to the intricate personnel problem of placing a man and his skill precisely where needed. Now how the Army does this job is the subject of the opening story of today's big picture, where we go first to Fort Ord, California, as an outfit prepares to leave for overseas duty. When a soldier ships out in peacetime, farewell scenes are very much the same. A trace of sadness, tears, stiff upper lips, tender promises to write letters sealed with kisses, and every day too, yes dear. You hear last minute talk about practical matters, but some do practically no talking at all. And who is there to blame them? Shutter's click and the big day is recorded for posterity and future family albums. Not long afterwards at the pier, the cool salt air is fragrant with the aroma of coffee and donuts served up by Red Cross volunteer workers, practically a tradition whenever American soldiers ship overseas. They load aboard the LCMs, which will take them out to the transport General Walker, anchored in Monterey Bay. Then on to Bremerhaben, Germany via the Panama Canal. As a Navy helicopter circles overhead to see that the embarkation goes smoothly, LCMs head out for the waiting transport. When a soldier ships out in peacetime, the farewell scenes are very much the same. But nowadays there is one significant difference from the embarkations of the past. Each of these men knows exactly where he is going, knows the job he will be doing when he reaches his overseas station. Long before the soldier boards the transport en route to his assignment, the process of placing him intelligently and systematically in the right slot has begun. Part of the new system is the assignment team at Fort Dix, New Jersey, which handles processing of troops for Euserer, U.S. Army forces in Europe. A carefully developed system follows through from the moment the report of current personnel vacancies throughout the Euserer command is received by the Department of the Army. Step by step, in a process accelerated by modern business machine technology, each vacancy is filled with the man best qualified to do the job. At the assignment team, while the soldier concerned is still on his final leave before going overseas, an introductory IBM card is made up on him from data contained in his orders to Fort Dix. By means of a sorting machine, the initial cards are arranged in accordance with the specialized skill of the soldier and his grade. Radar technicians, small weapons repairmen, linguists. Each specialty, broader specific, is grouped together within a slot. Meanwhile, other cards have been prepared for each vacancy or prospective vacancy in Euserer. The card indicates the specialty needed by the unit, the graded calls for, the priority sequence number, and the location of the unit. All this builds up a requirement file which is reproduced at Fort Dix into classified file cards of the expected arrivals. Orders can then be typed up on a cardotype machine for the soldier's air or water shipment. No touch typing here, the cards feed the information and the machine clatters away at high speed. The assignment team at Fort Dix is in direct contact with headquarters, Euserer by means of a transceiver, a machine which transmits data from the assignment-made cards to Germany. Euserer then can notify the unit's concern that replacements are our route. All good things must come to an end sometime. And so it is with a soldier's leave. The men assigned for duty in Europe report in to Fort Dix for final processing. Everything is set for them. The paperwork is finished. Their orders are ready. They will not be here long. Members of the assignment team have a standing motto, keep the line moving. Each man is handed his 201 file which contains his key Army records. Further down the line, each man draws his assignment. He is told what job he'll have, what unit he'll call his own. And there's even a chart available so he can see what patch he'll be wearing so proudly on his arm. The final station. The soldier's records are checked and taken by a clerk who will arrange for their shipment to Euserer. It is a fast process. But at every stage, there's an opportunity to say, whoa there, and ask some questions. Or, as has been known to happen in the Army, maybe even gripe a bit. The Army knows a machine is no substitute for a sympathetic ear. And more often than not, the difficulty is resolved and the soldier's worries are eased. Waiting for the bus to take them to McGuire Air Force Base, today's soldier knows what's ahead of him and talks up his outfit long before he arrives in the scene and meets his buddies. They load their heavy gear aboard the trucks. Next time they see their duffel bags will be in Germany. As they move on to the buses, the men receive tickets which show seat numbers they are to occupy aboard the plane. At McGuire Air Base, they go directly aboard as a stewardess checks off each man's name. It's a relaxed soldier who knows he's headed for the right job. He knows the time overseas will be well spent, not only for himself, but for the Army, which is airlifting him thousands of miles away to serve his country. And so the soldier goes overseas, heading for the job he's been trained for. When he arrives, his training will not stop. In fact, he will work to maintain at peak levels the skills he has and learn new ones. Just such an example of intensive overseas training can be seen in our next big picture story. As we go to Okinawa, and a special operation in amphibious training, the operation lasted for almost a week and it started off as most of them do with a briefing. A border navy craft cruising off Okinawa's White Beach, we received instructions from a naval lieutenant on the care and use of the latest life jackets. One thing about amphibious work, no matter how much you know, there's always more to learn from someone who's had a different kind of experience. Life jackets are an important part of our gear, and though all of us, if I must say so myself, are darn powerful swimmers, we never fail to take them along when we can. When the briefing was finished, life rafts play a big role in amphibious work. First we made some runs towed at high speed by an LCPR. In combat situations, towing can be used to move the life rafts within paddling distance of shore. We cut away from the towing boat and paddle in on our own. Hour after hour, as the sun mounted higher over the Pacific, we practiced stroking along through the bobbing, pitching ocean waves. Perhaps the combat situation calls for us to make a covert landing, where even small life rafts might be noticed by the enemy. So, a landing craft speeds our raft close to the enemy shore, and on signal, we go into the water to swim the rest of the way. The other side of the coin, recovery, is a lot trickier. From a speeding landing craft, it's like scooping up fish with an egg, and once in a while, one gets away. A coordination, a good eye, and a mighty strong back. Parachute recovery is another of our jobs. Caught in a sudden wind, two jumpers are carried out to sea. Go get them, is the order. One trooper landed not far from the LCPR, and almost immediately we were closing in on him. Paddling into position, one of us dove off the raft to swim the rest of the way to the chute. It takes a lot of know-how to help the paratrooper without becoming entangled in the sodden, water-soaked web of the chute. At the same time, a few hundred yards away, other special operations men were hauling in the second paratrooper. Outside of a saltwater dunking, he is none the worse for wear, and his chute, too, will live to fly again another day. All this rugged training spells out why amphibious forces are relied on for so many big jobs. Come along on a simulated mission against a mock enemy known as aggressor. Oh, 600 hours. We scrambled down to a landing craft a few miles offshore from an aggressor-held island. Oh, 615 hours. Abort a submarine nearing the island. More men from our group are ready for their part in the mission. Oh, 630 hours. The motors on the submarine are cut. Men of the Army's special operations detachment ascend the ladder to the decompression chamber. It's still early dawn as the submarine moves up to the surface. And one by one, the specially trained soldiers come out of the chamber on to the deck. And finally, the last of the amphibious detachment is out of the submarine. By oh, 645 hours, the party from the submarine is en route to a previously designated offshore point. There, a rendezvous will be made with the special operations men from the landing craft. Oh, 700 hours. Underwater demolition teams leave the landing craft. Nightmarish scene as, like strange giant fish, they glide gracefully in toward the aggressor-held island. No sign of the oncoming attack. No sign, no sound, no smell for the aggressor guard to notice. 715 depth charges are planted on the surf-covered beach. And the attacking unit jumps aboard life rafts to clear the island before the explosion. Oh, 730 hours. The ship is on board and right on schedule. It may still be early morning, but off the coast of Okinawa, a big day's work has been done by the fighting frogmen of the Army's special operations detachment. Off the coast of Okinawa, an underwater demolition work and parachute rescue. Men of the Army go all- Dory deals with a soldier's friend who has always gone all out to do a good job. And recently was retired with honors. But it wasn't unusual kind of retirement ceremony that took place not so long ago at Fort Carson, Colorado. High in the mountains of Colorado, sprawls a vast army post known to service men throughout the world. Fort Carson, home of mountain fighters second to none. And a friend of those fighters, the Army Mule. This day was a sad one for us all right because the last two Mule Pack units in the Army had to be retired. Maybe you can understand why, as I left headquarters for the last time, my mind sort of brooded on the glorious past when the Mule did itself proud. The Mule did itself proud in Italy, among many other places in World War II. The Pack animal is the oldest form of transportation utilized by a man other than personally carrying a load on his own back. Away back in Custer's time, we were using pack trains against the Indians. And those sure-footed fellas have been lugging our gear and our weapons ever since. You can bet they came in mighty handy in Italy when we were pushing up the boot against the Nazis. Food and ammunition up the steep slopes to the infantrymen and down into the valleys, the Mules clamored with the supplies we needed. Slippin' and slidein', but they got there. In the Italy fightin', we found out that a Mule could carry a 400-pound pack as far as 25 miles a day. Across the world, somewhere in World War II China, a plane has just landed on a strip near the front. Passengers? Pack Mules. Often hauled by air to the front, then led right into the heater thing. So maybe you can understand why those of us who served with pack units all over the globe in World War II were mighty attached to ham bone and trotter and all the rest. We always talk about how in Burma, Mules saved a surrounded unit of Merrill's Marauders. They braided so loudly, the enemy soldiers thought they were outnumbered and turned and fled. So even though it was a lot of work taking care of the Mules, we did it as more than just a job. We knew they had paid us many times over. When we had time, we manicured those fellas like we were running a beauty parlor for Mules. It's not a question of neatness. It's a question of preparing the hoof for the new shoe so it holds comfortably and well. I don't know in the course of my Army career working with pack Mules how many shoes I've put on how many hoops, but I do know of it. It's all in the past now. The Army has written the end to the pack Mules story. You know why? It boils down to numbers. Just before, a Mule could carry a 400-pound pack up to 25 miles a day. Great. The Mule should be proud. But a Helicopter, say, can tote the same load, 400 pounds, and move at 650 miles in a day's flight. 25 miles against 650 miles, that's the story right there. What's more, much as I hate to admit it, are whirly birds even more at home in mountainous and jungle terrain than a Mule is. It simply flies over it and pops down into position while old hand-bone and company have to plod along step by step. When you have a look at what the modern-day Helicopters can do and see the loads that can be carried, you have to admit the hard-working Mule no longer fits into the Army picture. The Army must be prepared to handle trouble in localized areas with hard-hitting units, fast-moving and far-moving. And the Mule just hasn't kept pace with this modern concept of warfare. Even without the Helicopter, the development of special vehicles for overland travel over rough terrain would have meant less call for the Mule. Recently developed for all terrain transportation is the so-called mechanical Mule, a four-wheel-drive vehicle that just eats up the rough going. It scoots over Hill and Dale without pausing for breath. Good roads or no roads, it just keeps rolling along. Yes, time has moved on. And our Army Mule has become a luxury we can no longer afford. So that's why they're all together on this day at Fort Carson. For today will be the ceremony that marks the retirement of the Mule from the United States Army. After 120 years of battle service in all quarters of the world, the Army's combat Mule attachments are being replaced. There's a final physical checkup for each one of the animals. After today's ceremony, they'll be turned over to Quartermaster for non-combat duties, meaning a contented, lazy life of nibbling on some grassy field lies ahead. The Mules are in top-grade shape, too, so it looks like a long life. Time for the retirement ceremony. The last review of Pack Battery A Fourth Field Artillery Battalion and the 35th Quartermaster Pack Company. The last day of glory for the combat Mule. The Mules heard out for the last time, heading for the final parade and review, and full military honors by officers and men whom they have served so well. With this passing review, the Fourth Field Artillery Battalion, Pack, organized almost half a century ago, becomes a part of Army history. Its designation will be moved to Fort Seale, Oklahoma, where the unit will be equipped with howitzers and rocket launchers transportable by helicopter. Instead of shooing the trusty pack animals and rushing them select, soldiers will be working with helicopters and experimental air-fibious units. But you know, that doesn't mean we can't all be a little sentimental about the last day of the Mule. Two veteran Oatburners, the famous Ham Bone, accompanied by his Sergeant Caretaker and the equally renowned Trotter. Both are awarded affectionately worded certificates of recognition for loyal, devoted service. For those who watch mixed feelings, awareness that time marches on is balanced against the attitude of the old Army Mountain Battery Song. That grand old fool of the Army Mule who is never known to fail. Maybe that's why, as afternoon faded to dusk, all of us wished we could get something across to Ham Bone and Trotter and all the rest. Well done, we wanted to tell them. Well done, thou good and faithful servant. And what more can we say to our faithful friend, the Army Mule, than that we hope he and his buddies enjoy the comfortable retirement they so richly deserve? Now this is Sergeant Stewart Queen. Invite you to be with us again next week for another look at your Army in Action on The Big Picture. The Big Picture is an official television report for the armed forces and the American people, produced by the Army Pictorial Center, presented by the United States Army in cooperation with this station.