A week or so before the end of basic training we got our orders to our next assignment. Most the guys went to their next training base but I was going DDA (direct duty assignment) to be trained on the job (OJT), at Norton AFB, CA, about 60 miles east of Los Angeles. Those going to other training bases went there directly, but I got to spend a couple of weeks at home first.
Obviously everyone was more than a little antsy by the time we left for the airport, For whatever reason the bus didn’t pick us up until almost noon, and by the time we got to the airport it was around 1pm. In those days the military usually gave you a standby ticket. Everybody with a regular ticket boarded first, and if there were seats left over, you could get on. When I walked into the San Antonio airport, I knew I was in for a very long day as there were hundreds of GIs waiting for flights.
After I found my gate, I put my ticket on the counter as instructed and found a seat. A few minutes later, the lady called me back up to the counter. They had forgotten to note the time I had dropped off my ticket, so when she asked me, “When did you get here this morning?” I thought about how long I was going to have to wait there and then lied through my teeth, “Oh, I’ve been here since about 9 this morning.”
Whether she believed me or not, she accepted it and I was on the next plane to Atlanta. Those were the days you went through Atlanta no matter where you flew, or as the old joke said, “When you die anywhere in the southeast, you have to go through Atlanta on your way to Heaven.” At any rate, the Trailways bus dropped me off at Richeson’s about dark.
It was a little odd being home. Even though I had only been gone six weeks it was the first indication to me that people go on with their lives. If you’re not around, you’re not a part of their lives, or at least not as much as you once was. In the beginning that irritated me a little, but then I realized that I was going on with my life too, and it didn't always include them, so it went both ways.
I walked around town in my uniform once. That’s and unwritten rule, at least for some of the relatives. Everybody wants to see you in your uniform, but after an hour or so, you want to take it off. You had just spent six weeks wearing one every day, so it didn’t carry the same significance for you. Before long, it was time to leave again. This time was scarier than the first time. This time I was going to be gone almost 4 years, if not longer, in a place that was physically and socially many, many miles away.
I got to LA International at about 8pm that night, well after my little puddle jumper connector flight had closed down for the day. I would have to wait for their first flight at 6am the next morning. There is nothing quite like spending the night in an airport, especially one as large as LAX. In the daytime, it’s bustling with a million people but at night, it’s almost a ghost town.
The next morning it was fun flying low over the big slab of concrete that was LA and its suburbs. There seemed to be streets, buildings and houses for as far as the eye could see. Imagine Loudon to Chattanooga covered with houses, streets, parking lots and shopping centers, and then every road bustling with traffic.
A little while later, I had the non-pleasure of being of taken in by a slick taxi driver for the first time. I flew into Riverside and had to catch a taxi to San Bernardino. I didn’t know it at the time, but he took me the longest way possible. He also lied to me and dropped me at the main gate, explaining that they wouldn’t let his taxi on base. But then, in an example of the old saying that God looks after fools and children, a GI pulled up and asked me where I was going. He ended up being part of the same unit I was reporting to and took me everywhere I needed to go. I guess for each bad person you meet, there’s at least one good one.
I was given a bunk in the barracks, sharing a room with 2 other guys. It worked out because one was rarely around and the other one liked the kind of music I did. When I got to my shop, it wasn’t so bad either. Yes, there were rafts, but also parachutes and a fabric section that did upholstery. I’m still a pretty fair country sewing machine operator and have done everything from headliners in cars to seats and benches, and even clothes. Plus, each year we helped set up the planes Bob Hope used for his Christmas Tour, so we got to hob nob a little.
So I was set. It was a little bit like the Clampetts going to Beverly Hills, but I was ready for anything. Wasn't i?
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