Chapter Five: 1964
More Basic Training Light, Tech School,
A Holiday Project
As we begin this chapter, let's take a bit of a detour for a couple of paragraphs and dedicate it to all those of us who served in the military. regardless of the branch in which you served. It will be a trip down memory lane for many readers my age certainly and I am sure will bring a smile or two as the memories of your personal experience come floating back.
As mentioned and you all know if your over 40, there was a service back then. You were required to register for military service. You would be required to serve a minimum of two years if you chose or got drafted into the Army or Navy and four years in the Air Force. The drill instructors were meaner, leaner, tougher and the rules were unmovable, unshakeable and not open to discussion or negotiation of any kind, ever.
Some experiences were undoubtedly worse than others for sure.
Much of that depended on the branch of the military you selected or in many cases the branch that selected you if you waited to be drafted. Most all of us went through it back then.
We all survived although there were days when we all wondered about that as well. The "night before "the flight" if we were far from where we needed to be at the close of the very the next day, was a mix of nervousness, outright fear, mixed with a helping of pride, all while knowing you had no choice in the matter. I spoke about my last night of freedom two paragraphs before. There is one other related story further down the line but I'd rather not say any more about that "last night" right now. It was very emotional then and as I write, it still is over 50 years later. Be honest some of you have been there too.
The flight from Providence to San Antonio for me was eerily silent. When we arrived there were no jet ramps and the first effect of note was the hot and humid June evening in Texas. The terminal however was air conditioned and the first shock was met by the first bit of relief.
My group was met surprisingly by a clean shaven, mid - sized, polite and soft spoken man in uniform complete with the drill instructor hat or whatever they called it. That demeanor surprised all of us to be sure but it lasted all of 40 or 50 seconds.
Gentlemen, he said, welcome to San Antonio and the United States Air Force.
Those of you that smoke will be abstaining for quite some time in the foreseeable future so "light em up if you got em." We all thought, this might just be OK after all. No sooner were they lit when we heard a much different voice say "PUT EM OUT." Yes sir, we were in the military now.
Day one started with rise and shine very close to if not before at it was still dark outside at 5:30 AM. To the showers, make the beds, dress, an inspection of the bed, a march to breakfast, powdered scrambled eggs, some sort of meat, hours old toast, juice that looked orange and tasted like
Kool-aid. Then, the second march of the day, to the barbershop. We all envisioned what came next
Those of us that had a beautifully quaffed head of hair got the 23 second military style cut and the rest of the day was devoted by walking, drilling, learning which was the left and right foot and all that.
Day 5 was interesting. This is the day we'd all learn what our future military career job would be.
We had given our preferences a few times and we were sure the counselor would remember.
There were at least a dozen cubicles or booths. Then you heard, OK , Smith lane two, Gonzales lane 6, Murray lane 5 . Why did I think this might not go well.
So, confidence waning, just a little, I meet the counselor in booth 5. He's smiling, perhaps maybe grinning, and he says what would you like to do in the Air Force. My confidence returns.
So I told him I wanted to be in weather or in Armed Forces radio as I was quite experienced in both. Hmmm! Interesting he said, the grin widening.
Well, he said, you know the needs of the Air Force do take priority over everything else. My confidence disappears. Yeah I thought, this is not going to go well at all.
Here's what I can offer you and it's YOUR choice, how's that?
You can be an automatic flight control systems technician, a weapons loading technician or an MG-10 radar control systems technician. I didn't hear any of my choices mentioned and this sinking feeling told me I wasn't about to either.
Obviously I had been chosen to be some sort of technician until I learned later that in this exercise, technician is a word for just about everything.
So, taking a deep breath, I asked where I'd be going to school for this "training" figuring I'd get something out of this I might like, but I wasn't sure at all. His smile like grin returned. The choices were Keesler AFB, Biloxi, Mississippi, (Bomb loading technician) Rantoul, Illinois, Chanute AFB, for flight control technician, and Denver, Colorado, Lowry AFB, for MG-10 radar technician. I had actually heard of Denver and Aurora, Colorado so I picked that one. Then I heard, good choice….. NEXT !! and that as they say was that.
So there is the general trip down memory lane for you.
About 6 weeks later, a lot of us were on a train bound for Denver, Colorado, with a stop in Dallas, Texas to get what we perceived was real food and board another train with sleeping cars for Denver.
I remember looking out the train window as we left Dallas and were suddenly out in the country and the scene of flatland and still more flatlands were everywhere.
The next morning when I looked out the window again was the identical same scene, just 300 plus miles further into Texas.
So now it was going to be like 16 months of school, military training, and for the first 8 weeks, essentially "basic training light."
The uniqueness of my story was about to start again, not at all planned and in most cases not wanted or expected, but it all happened. Seems we had a couple of hours a day when after school we'd have "duties". That could be anything from sweeping sidewalks, to painting anything that moved, to grass cutting, pretty much anything.
I 'm not sure how exactly, but I found out that the local service club, an indoor air-conditioned duty, had two student assistant authorizations and I decided I wanted one.
So I spent my free time at the service club and worked my way up to meeting the director, a civilian named Joe Sparling.
We hit it off almost instantly. Joe introduced me to his wife Gwen, then the two of us would hit the bars and clubs on Colfax Avenue when we, well mostly me, had free time or time off.
My job at the club as part of the required extra service was to come up with some activities Joe said people my age might like and he said it can't be just girls, girls and more girls. Joe had an "off the wall sense of humor 99% of the time and knew all of us well from the moment he met us. I'd suggest some, he'd approve them, I'd then make the monthly calendar.
I spent pretty much all my free time in addition to the required duty time there or with Joe off the base. Yes, this supplemental basic training had some pretty good benefits.
On Tuesday's we go to this club called the Red Ram, a bar on Colfax avenue, Denver, for the Happy hour spaghetti Bolognese dinner which was a whopping 48 cents per person. I was having quite a time to be honest. The only tough thing was school, learning to be a radar technician. Weekdays, from 8AM to about 2:30 was boring to say the least, but I knew I had to endure the bad to have the good.
Two final things I totally recall is my friend and I, Howard, sitting out on the front lawn of the barracks, that first Christmas Day when the temperature went to 72 degrees. We decided to make it an evening by going to a movie downtown. It was about 60 degrees when we went into the theatre. At 10:30 we came out of the theatre, the temperature then had dropped just a bit. I think plummeted is a better word here. We found out the hard way. As we went down Colfax Avenue there was this sign that said ….. 9 degrees…..below zero. I was never so glad to get back to the barracks.
I was still "working" at the service club, we didn't have to anymore, that part of the training was over, it was just on our own free time.
Hey! Life was good and getting better every day it seemed. Then, this incredibly beautiful blond caught my eye as she was attending many of the Saturday night or Sunday afternoon dances at the service club. She was a vision to say the least. Several weekends pass and now it's late September and I am working on November activities to have.
November means Thanksgiving and we have like 14 more weeks at Lowry AFB before going on to my first as then said, permanent duty station.
I'm in the office one day and a happy go lucky club director, Joe comes in. Truth be known it was a small room just adjacent to his office.
He calls me over and says, the USO in downtown Denver is having a program called take a GI home for Thanksgiving dinner.
I could almost hear it coming in the distance. I want you to put it together here on the base. I said OK, sure. Then he said, you know, it would be great if the organizer of the event actually participated in it.
I said no thanks, Joe, I just can't see going to a stranger's home for a dinner and feeling that they feel sorry for a GI away from home. Joe didn't give up. I heard that refrain, almost every day for the next two weeks. My answer was always the same. Thanks but no thanks.
Finally, about three days before that famous Thursday, I heard it again. This time, I said, look Joe, there is this incredibly beautiful blond young woman that is here a lot. If you can arrange for me to go to her family's home for Thanksgiving dinner or anything else for that matter just to meet her, I'd be glad to participate. Hmmm, I've seen her too he said, I'll try.
The afternoon before Thanksgiving he again comes to his office, strolls over to my little section trying to hide an ear to ear grin and says, OK, be here in the morning at ten o'clock to get these families and GI's all paired up together, this is your project, I'll see you about 11 o'clock. He walks out then right back in.
He then said, Oh, and by the way, please wear a jacket and tie because you're all set. Joe was always pulling my chain. He was a practical joker, always smiling, but you never knew whether to believe him or not. I was about to learn.
So now it's Thanksgiving morning. I'm at his desk, with my lists. We had placed about 25 people with the locals. Joe walks in right at 11 and says, seems to be going well, good job. Nothing more was said. About 11:45 AM Joe walks back into the office with a big smile on his face and says, OK, your're relieved, your "date for dinner" is here to get you. I say, man you just never quit, do you?
He says, come on with me. I did. I walk to the outer office and froze in my tracks. There she was. I hear, hi Bob, I'm Cheryl, were going to my grandfather's house for dinner if you're ready.
I am still speechless, essentially numb from surprise, shock, a little fear maybe, you use your own adjective. But the fog is lifting. The emotions were weird combinations of happiness, dis-belief, and wonderment. How did he ever pull this off in so short a time? I managed a small almost inaudible, sure. I turned and looked at Joe. The smile like always was much wider now, kind of like the look of the cat that just ate the canary is a perfect description on his face.
He said, you two have fun, and off we went. Dinner was excellent. Cheryl, in addition to being beautiful was a great cook. Her grandfather's house in Aurora, was not far away from the main gate at the base.
As it turned out, that afternoon, the next day, and the weekend was even better. I remember it now like it was last week.
I will NOT go into detail but if you listen to the theme song from the movie "Dirty Dancing" you'll get the idea.
Next, it's close to Christmas and Howard, who lived in Chicago and I were planning to take the same flight east. It was an 8:00 AM departure from Denver, on TWA.
It stopped in Chicago where Howard would get off and then go on to Boston, where I would deplane. On December 22nd, we take our luggage to the airport about 1:00 AM to check it in early for the flight. Flying was fun in those days and the customer clerks were very friendly and helpful. There were no computers this or computer that. People actually spoke to each other.
The airline clerk was checking his list for our names since we both were on the then military standby list and space available, which it was 80% of the time meant a half priced ticket for men and women in the military. I was checking too when I happen to see another familiar name on the manifest.
I asked and the clerk said well yes it is. Is she a friend? I'll try and put you in adjoining seats. I'll let you guess who but suffice it to say I was about to get quite a surprise, had I showed up at the airport about 7:00 AM for my 8:00 AM departure. Howard thought it funny. I was undergoing a panic attack. I asked the clerk if there was an earlier flight since we were already at the airport.
He smiled, then said yes actually there is a United flight we could take since we were already here at the airport in about 90 minutes. I said it's not the same airline but I can change it and there are plenty of open seats. Today is your lucky day I guess. I wasn't sure exactly what he meant. I'm still not sure. In hindsight, that move to avoid a surprise I knew was coming was one of the dumbest things I have ever done.
You see, I had Judy, you remember her, on my mind. The letters were getting further and further apart over the last year or so and I hadn't gotten one in about two months. I needed to be confident, but truth be known, I wasn't very confident at all. This flight will be perfect. We get to Chicago at 6:30 AM local time there It would be 7:30 AM in Massachusetts. I have 90 minutes to change planes for Boston, she'll be just getting up to get ready for work and I'll surprise her with a phone call.
RIGHT !! Arriving in Chicago Howard and I said goodbye and I raced to a pay phone.
The number rang about ten or twelve times and finally I hear the gravelly voice of a fairly elderly woman say Hello, who's calling this early? I asked for Judy. She moved about 6 weeks ago, I think to Maine. If there's nothing else, goodbye….then a click.
I felt beaten up without a punch being thrown. When I arrived in Boston, my father mentioned, you look like you just lost your best friend. I had, once for certain and now maybe twice trying to be clever, avoiding the Christmas surprise that would probably be waiting for me in Denver. I thought I could always say that we found a better flight, were already at the airport and decided to take it.
But the story didn't end there. The next day, I was visiting a classmate or two, the old record store where Judy and I first met, still there at the time and the radio and TV stations where I used to work as well.
I got home and my father was already there. He took me aside and said, "some woman has been calling here for you all day but don't worry, I covered for you." I knew who of course, he gave me her number, it was a New York exchange, so sure I knew exactly who it was. What to do? I looked at my younger sister and said, "Hey after dinner let's go somewhere for ice cream.
There were way to many house phones and it was easy enough to be listening in and I wanted to avoid that at all costs. So off we went, after dinner, I finally found a place that sold Ice Cream and there was a public pay phone outside. I also remember it was freezing cold that night.
I gave my sister the money to buy the ice cream and I raced to the phone booth to call the number. She told me that she had told her family all about me and that her mom said, well if we were going back to Denver together (I think that was a plan at one time) why not come to New York, celebrate the New Year there and then fly back together. She would let us use the beach house on Long Island. In between shivers I agreed.
So I would leave on the 28th and fly from New Bedford to LaGuardia in New York, she'd meet me there and we'd spend a few days at their vacation home on Long Island and all go to the city for the New Year.
I told her I'd be on the late morning flight to LaGuardia. Plans no matter how well thought out or so you would think, have a way of going badly, very quickly. Murphy (law) had followed me home too.
It's Christmas morning and we are opening our presents. Usually the last present for each of us was a line of string or yarn we were supposed to follow to another location in the house.
At the end of it would be the main, major Christmas present, maybe a sled or a new bike something like that. When it came to me (oldest goes last) my string was attached to the Christmas tree like the others but it didn't go far.
It was slightly under and then around to the back of the tree. This is one of those things you never forget. The string was tied to a Northeast Airlines gym or light travel bag, something I'd wanted for years. That was enough for me until my father said, "well there is more, look inside."
I did and there was a pre-paid ticket back to Denver.
There was only one small problem. It was from Boston to Denver with a brief stop in Chicago. I had planned on purchasing my own ticket on the 26th at the local airport. Now what? I never got a chance to call because after I had called Cheryl from that phone booth I trashed the number. There were no computers or cell phones back then for e-mailing or texting so I had a real problem. I didn't want to tell my parents of my plans nor did I not want them to think I did not appreciate what they did for me.
The 28th arrived and we had all over slept, so we drove to Boston and had to change the ticket.
The only problem was that from there was no flight for hours to LaGuardia only to JFK and to Newark and they really would not work being way too late in arriving and at the wrong airports. I had no number to call her and by now she was probably on the way to LaGuardia in New York. So I went to Denver via Springfield Massachusetts. I never heard from her again.
I don't blame her a bit, I have owed her an apology and explanation now for nearly 50 years. So if she is still out there and in the oft chance she reads this or hears about it, there's the story and I really am sorry and do apologize. I feel better now, I think !!
We move forward