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Like most of my compatriots, I was born in the early
1940’s and was a child of the 50’s. Like most, we believed good guys all wore
white hates. Our favorite sports figures and actors were not simply heroes on
their fields’ of dreams and the silver screen but in real life. Getting a
six-shooter for Christmas therefore was simply a way to emulate our quick draw
heroes who always did away with the bad guys and who got the pretty girl in the
end. The six-shooter wasn’t a sinister toy that would harm our psyche and lead
to becoming killers. With WWII fresh in our minds, the moral values instilled in
us by our parents or families and the right of passage to bear arms had a deeper
meaning. With this as a backdrop and believing there is no better thing a man
can do than work for the defense of his country, I joined the Marine Corps.
Besides, prospects for a good job were non-existent and college was not an
option; only a distant hope.
In June 1961, I found my feet firmly affixed to those yellow footprints
at Parris Island, South Carolina. Several weeks before graduation into
the ranks of the Marines and moving to Camp Geiger for infantry
training, I was ushered to the administration building to fill out
family background paperwork. I didn’t learn until after leaving North
Carolina that I wasn’t going into an infantry unit but was scheduled for
training in Pensacola, Florida. Instead of ground pounding and slugging
through mud and the boonies, I found myself sitting in a room with other
Marines and sailors in what was lovingly called the Scream Room and
learning Morse code (.- Alpha,
-... Bravo, -.-. Charlie etc.). As I approached the end of school and
graduation from training and Corry Field, Pensacola, Florida I was given
a “dream sheet”. On that sheet were the names of such places as Germany,
England, Italy, Japan, Morocco, Hawaii, Alaska and other gardens spots.
The preceding list parallels my dream selections in the order on which I
placed them on the dream sheet. They gave me Hawaii.
I spent two years in 1st Composite Radio Company, Kaneohe, Hawaii. A lot
of that time was spent traveling to other Pacific spots as: Molokai,
Taiwan, Vietnam, Guam, Wake, Philippines, and Japan. I also spent a lot
of time while in Hawaii on Waikiki Beach. Following my Pacific tour, I
received orders for Ft. Meade, Maryland. That was great, I thought. I
would be very close to home in Baltimore and I would be continuing my
cryptologic skills at one of this nation’s better agencies. With eleven
months remaining, I began thinking about reenlisting, spending two years
at Fort Meade and maybe getting one of my dream choices on that
aforementioned list. That didn’t happen. After much debate with Marine
Barracks, Fort Meade’s leadership and trying to explain that the Marine
Corps couldn’t be that inept to assign me to the Marine Guard detachment
instead of the cryptologic group, I was ushered to a squad bay and rack
and locker with my name on it. (Continued)
For information about this site, contact:
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Rosy in
Pensacola - 1961 |
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