When I turned 17 in October of 1969, I hadn’t much going for me. In fact, I had nothing going for me except trouble. I dropped out of high school in my junior year. I had not held any job longer than receiving my first paycheck. I had been arrested for grand larceny and was given the chance to leave home by joining the Army.
I was released to my father’s custody to make my decision. While talking about it with one of my friends, we decided to visit the recruiting station on our own. We signed right up for the prospect of leaving our hometown, getting away, and starting a life on our own.
We joined on the buddy basic program for training as Cooks. e enlisted on the very last day of the ’60s, 31 December 1969. It was a special ceremony, and we spent the next five days on administrative leave, then reported for basic training. I like the old cadence song I joined the Army to, “Go to war or go to jail.” Who influenced them? Well, the Judge, my friend Mike Hoyden, and my Father. Then my Dad dropped me off and told me, “This is not just another job you can quit.” I didn’t…. for 29 years and two months.
