"
An intimidating looking envelope with my name on it arrived in the mailbox
My heart sunk as I opened it to find the ominous content:
"GREETINGS FROM THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES"
Mr. President went on to extend his personal invitation for me to join him in the theatre of war.
The Draft Lottery was still a couple years away, so all able bodied young men were required to serve.
The VietNam fiasco was just going strong. As it was, kids from my town were being drafted directly into the Marines.
Damn. I knew I shoulda stayed in college.
My dad was a WWII Navy vet so I figured I'd just hit the high seas...anchors aweigh and all that shit...no luck.
My test scores were great but so was the number of applicants. The waiting list was ten months and I had ninety days till dreaded draft day.
I met up with a high school friend at a party. Winston had also received "the letter".
He was in the process of applying to the Air Force. He said that if I applied right away, we could enlist under the buddy system, insuring that we would go through basic training together.
Dude, that was easy. Now just sign on the dotted line and welcome to the war...er...circus.
It was a Wednesday in 1968. My dad drove me to the Greyhound station and we bid farewell.
As that bus pulled away from the curb it left my childhood in the gutter.
Winston and I were bound for San Antonio, Texas...home of The Alamo. It was also the home of Lackland Air Force Training Base...aka Bumfuck, Hell.
When we stepped off the plane into a 110 degree, 99% humidity hell hole, It was like a sauna with no escape. The air was so thick you you had to drink it.
They proceeded to shave our heads and strip us of all our individuality, then dress us up in full battle regalia: long sleeve fatigues over t-shirt and boxers. Two pairs of socks, combat boots and ever present hat and a big duffle bag full of surprises.
"Hi, I'm your friendly drill instructor, Sgt Fuckler...now get down and gimme 20!
You're all a bunch of pussy mama's boys and half of y'all won't make it and you'll end up back home on mommies tit".
Talk about a vote of confidence! Lets go march around in the sun!
Winston and I went on to endure basic training, my only drawback was I lost out on my opportunity for a town pass.
I was in charge of the storeroom in our barracks and I kept some toiletry items...toothpaste, shaving cream, etc. for communal use so everyone could keep their personal stuff in inspection order.
Good for everyone..except me. I got busted and lost my town pass!
While everyone else went to a Texas University football game and a visit to The Alamo, I was stuck in the barracks with Sgt. Fuckler.
Sarge told me that it was probably for the best that I stayed behind...I would have drank too much beer and got myself in a jamb...he was probably right.
What came next was a mindblower. I'm sitting on my bunk when Sgt.Fuckler walks up and asks me if I ever smoked pot. I was floored. He told me I had "the look". California and all that.
We headed to his office and fired one up.
Turns out the sarge wasn't such a prick after all .
We enjoyed the joint...Texas dirt weed, but better than the rest of my buddys were smokin'.
Nothing more was said. We bid farewell the following morning.
I got a lot of memories of San Antonio but I cant remember The Alamo....I never got the chance to see it.
Great story @careklevicci. Notice your Upvotes are increasing and you’re getting a bigger following? Stories just like this, the real ones, man we eat up.
Well done.
thanks homes
You got a plankton sized upvote from @worksinsane because your post appeared in the We Curate quality post search tool. It is a web art thingy thing that searches posts which fulfill predetermined rules. Upvoting isn't automated, @worksinsane reads posts before upvoting.
For more information read the latest post.
Awesome story @carklevicci. Before sgt. fuckler even lit up that joint with you, he was already a fun character. Thanks for sharing.
He still provides the occasional nightmare some 40 yrs later. Good to see ya.