| View Blog
|
|
|
|
In June, 1960, I graduated from the University of Nebraska and accepted a commission in the Air Force. At that time, the "draft" was still in effect and any graduate who did not take ROTC would probably end up in an Army or Marine Corps foxhole. No hero, I opted for Air Force ROTC. I wasn't excited about becoming a pilot and, besides, my hearing was inadequate. So, because of my business degree, the made me a supply officer.
I was so proud of my new uniform and shiny brown bars that I put it on when back in Norfolk and called on an old girlfriend, Ann B. She was not only unimpressed; she refused to answer the doorbell and told me to "get lost". So much for the "brown bar" ego.
My orders were to report in September to Supply School at Amarillo AFB, Texas. I drove the old '56 Ford there and proceeded to be bored for the next three months. I did do one smart thing at that school, however, which was to endear me to every senior officer thereafter: I memorized all the regulations and manuals pertaining to supply. I met one unusual fellow "shavetail" Lieutenant there, named Randy. He was from Georgia, complete with drawl. And no matter what, he never got rattled. So one day, out of curiousity, I asked him, "Randy, how come nothing every upsets you?" He responded, "Hey, I justs does the bests I can...And then I justs lets it ALL hang out!
From Amarillo, I got orders to go to Geiger Field in Spokane Washington. So, I drove the old Ford from Amarillo to Norfolk and, after a brief stay, drove to the Black Hills (where I was unfortunately propositioned by a gay hotel manager, and could't get out of town fast enough!). I stopped for the night at Deadwood, SD, and meandered to the nearest bar. The bar was full, so I looked for an empty table. I spotted one in a corner and went and sat down. I was just going to order a beer when the bartender came over and gave me a bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey. The bottle and the beer were both free because, he told me, I was sitting where no local citizen would sit. It seems that I had seated myself in the very same chair that "Wild Bill" Hickock was seated when he was shot almost a hundred years earlier in this, the old #10 saloon.
I put the Jack Daniels in the trunk of the old Ford and went on my way to Washington State. When I got to the Montana-Idaho border, I ran into heavy snow. And I slid up the mountain curves to a place called "Lookout Pass", aptly named. An oncoming semi-truck nearly forced me off the cliff, but I managed to stop a foot from the edge! I carefully got out of the old Ford, went back to the trunk, and had a stiff shot of the Jack Daniels!
...More later.
|
|
Posted by Gabby on 2008-06-21 18:35:04 | Rating: | Views: 32
|
|
| |
|
|
Email This to a Friend 
