I grew up as an Air Force brat. Our travels took us to Germany shortly after WW-II, France in the mid-50s, and a number of states here and there. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t until I was in college that I actually started and completed two consecutive years in the same school.
The college I attended was a junior college. I was studying to be an electronics technician but didn’t graduate as I hadn’t taken all the required courses. I soon found that there was a recession going on and not a job of any kind to be found and the reality of the draft was a very serious part of every young man’s life. Volunteering for the military became the obvious next step, but which one?
I was hoping to get into a technical career field in the military. The Army and Marines seemed like I would have only two chances of a technical field. Slim and None. This left the Navy and Air Force as the obvious choices. I ruled out the Navy as I had no desire to spend any time at sea, let alone extended periods, so the Air Force was my choice.
At that time, my younger brother was out of high school and going nowhere with prospects that looked even less optimistic. I convinced him to go talk to the Air Force recruiter with me. After all the necessary paperwork, the recruiter told us we’d have to come back to take the AFQT (Armed Forces Qualification Test). He scheduled us for the afternoon of November 22, 1963. A historic date indeed. President Kennedy was assassinated that day in Dallas. The recruiters were all gathered around the TV which was playing quite loudly in the next room to where we were taking our tests. The glass partition between the test room and the TV didn’t muffle the sound at all. What a stressful afternoon that was.