Chapter 18

MUCH LEARNING.

(My university senior year. From the start of the Fall Quarter at Auburn in late September 1968 thru 23 August 1969, the day I graduate from Auburn University. I attend and study 4 academic terms “quarters” straight thru.)

After the strenuous roofing work and harsh, harassing Army and Marine Corps training in the humid summer heat (soaked with sweat much of that time), you can easily imagine it being most refreshing to me to return to pleasant, laid-back campus life at Auburn around September 21^st to start the fall quarter. Summer heat is waning. The autumn atmosphere and relaxed campus life feel most good after the various, rigorous physical torments I had endured in summer’s fatiguing heat. It’s a great relief and joy to be back in my comfortable, private room in Mrs. Taylor’s pleasant, lovely house, and back in gorgeous, sweet company in the girls’ cafeteria!

Of all my military time (ROTC on Auburn campus, followed by 5 and half years of active duty), the first 2 of the 3 weeks at Fort Benning was the most physically demanding period of time, and the 1^st five of Quantico’s 6 weeks OCS soon following, was the 2^nd most physically demanding. (At the time, I knew not that these 2 training periods would be the toughest, tho I suspected so.) Anyway, I’m greatly relieved to have done well in both, and to now have that rigor in fatiguing summer heat and high humidity behind me.

So now, the pleasant autumn campus life is a time to “lick my wounds”, recover from the fatigue, and a time of reflection, to be thankful that I came safely it thru all. (I related to you the rumor at Ft. Benning that one trainee was paralyzed the 1^st week I was there, and the tragic fact that 2 college boys like me, died at Quantico this summer in the training I went thru there.) It’s now time to give thanks that I safely graduated from both of those tough, and dangerous, military training sessions. Several in my company at Quantico failed, and thus did not become a Marine officer, one of them being “Stan” my classmate at Auburn.

It’s also a time of great relief that my injured back held up to all the strenuous physical exertion. After much thorough medical examination at Pensacola, the Navy doctors declared me fully fit for military duty. Still, the “road test” of how well my compressed vertebra held up under heavy physical stress would be the main deciding factor concerning that. Thank Thee; Lord, for healing and strengthening my back. Considering all these accomplishments that made me somewhat elated at this point in life, returning to “fun and pleasant” campus life at this time just feels downright good!

I’m back in the ladies’ dining hall around many sweet girls, instead of eating in a hot military chow hall with sweat dripping from my face into my plate of chow, and a sergeant yelling at me and cursing me much of the day. Previously, I wrote of 3 new dorms for girls in this complex, opening in the fall of 1965, Dorms D, E, and F, along with adding a 2^nd serving line in this cafeteria. A year or so later, they built Dorms G, H, and I, and built a 2^nd dining hall onto the backside of the present dining hall’s kitchen, adding a 3^rd serving line in that new dining hall. Lastly, just recently, they built Dorms J, K, and L, adding the 4^th serving line here, into that 2^nd dining hall.

So, when I return in September 1968, the cafeteria now employs 4 student cashiers (one for each serving line). I’m promoted to head cashier over the other 3, with a little increase in pay (which is a welcome help to my thin wallet). In 1967, the dining hall started paying all us workers by the hour, and selling us a quarterly meal ticket for the same price the dorm girls pay for their meal tickets. Likely my head cashier’s hourly wage was just a little higher than that of the other 3 cashiers. Also, I got more work time, because after supper each evening, the other 3 cashiers brought their cashboxes to me back in the office. There I counted the money in each of the 4 cashboxes, did the accounting bookwork on that money, and then locked all 4 cashboxes inside the safe. I was one of 2 or 3 student workers that had the combination to the office safe.

(None of the girls who eat regularly here pays cash for meals. Each has a meal ticket, which I punch. The rare times any of them bring a friend with them, like a family visitor on a weekend, that guest must pay. Thus, selling a meal is rare, and only a small amount of cash abides in our 4 cashboxes.)

My young friend, if you want the best jobs, you must be diligent, honest, and trustworthy with an employer’s resources, monies, and such.

I’m now a university senior Navy ROTC midshipman, and have been made a platoon leader on the drill field here at Auburn. Typically, we drill 1 hour 1 day a week. My Marine buddy, Fred, was promoted higher than I on this campus drill field. He’s a company commander of 3 platoons, and I’m the leader of 1 of Fred’s platoons. I like working under him.

Weekly at drill time, I inspect my platoon’s rifles, uniforms, brass, shoes, haircuts and such, and drill them. This drill field is not very large, and (I think) there are a total of 9 platoons (Companies A, B, and C of 3 platoons each), plus the Drill Team). Anyway, when all platoon leaders drill each of their platoons separately, practicing “To The Left Flank” or “To The Right Flank,” “Column Left” or “Column Right,” or “To The Rear,” we platoon leaders must keep our eyes peeled on other marching platoons all around us (going in all directions), and be ready to issue the command, “Ready, Halt,” or “In Place, March,” to keep from colliding with another marching platoon which would bring snickers of ridicule from the midshipmen in both platoons, snickers aimed at 1 or both platoon leaders for messing up.

During Fall Quarter, I take the written test the Navy ROTC gives to midshipmen desirous to become pilots. It’s about 4 hours long with questions about general math, science, flight (piloting), and such. I had never studied piloting, and had only flown on an airplane up to Oxford and back in April, and the 5 times this summer when planes took me up to parachute out.

All questions had multiple-choice answers that make for the possibility of a lucky guess. Several “questions” were each a simple drawing of a pilot’s forward view of the ground, horizon, and sky from his cockpit seat. Four multiple-choice answers were taken from the following list: “Straight and level.” “Straight and climbing.” “Straight and descending.” Banking left and climbing/or/descending. Banking right and climbing/or/ descending. I don’t recall all the possible answers. “Inverted Flight” may also have been one. Keep in mind that only 4 choices were presented with each question ((drawing) (“Backing Up in flight” was not among the answers. J)

Looking at the drawing of the pilot’s view, I had to choose the 1 correct answer out of 4. The horse-drawn wagon I was accustomed to riding in, did not go in nearly as many angles as an airplane flies. Nor did it lean up on one edge when making turns. I sat at that desk with both arms extended out like airplane wings, leaning left, right, forward, and back, while staring at the drawing of the pilot’s view, and then taking a lucky guess at the 1 correct answer out of the 4 listed.

I passed because Almighty God had mercy on a dumb farm boy. To God be the Glory, along with much thanksgiving.

“Watch out folks! Here comes another dumb pilot to make our skies more dangerous!”

This is my 5^th year at Auburn, and come January (1969), I will turn 23 years old.

“College Boy Richard, most university students earn a 4-year degree in 4 years, not 5 years.”

‘Hush now. I’m special.’

Tho I matured later in life than usual, I’m now catching up to the other students at Auburn, being a year older than most of the other seniors, and having been put thru the harshness of both an Army and a Marine Corps rigid and tough training camp this past summer.

This 5^th and final year at Auburn, is like icing on the cake, a most fulfilling and enjoyable time. I wrote of my higher status both in Navy ROTC, and in the dining hall. I continue hanging out at the Baptist Student Union, and joining their Friday night missions’ services at nursing homes and at a small church near campus. South Alabama’s mild and lovely autumn weather continues on into December, and I feel so blessed with such a pleasant, fulfilling life, and my accomplishments thus far. Thank Thee, Sweet Lord Jesus!

I guard against being presumptuous, as apprehension over being able to graduate from Auburn U. steadily recedes in my mind. Returning to Auburn U. in September 1968, I will study for four quarters straight and (by the grace of God) graduate on 23 August 1969, at the end of the summer quarter.

(Different subject) About 7 miles from Auburn is Lee County seat, the city of Opelika. On an afternoon in November (?), after my daily classes end, I drive over to Opelika, quietly enter and sit down an hour or so in the rear of the courtroom of the courthouse to observe the murder trial of fellow Auburn student Eddie S. So tragic, the wonderful lives (and family) that this deranged young murderer destroyed.

I had come to know only a scant small percentage of the 12,000 or so students presently at Auburn. But Eddie was a student with whom I previously had a psychology class, and thus got to know this crazy, outspoken guy all too well in that class. You can read details I wrote about that class in Chapter 2 of my book “Creature Versus Creator”, on my web site, about two-thirds into that chapter under the subheading:

“Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools”

That psychology professor would present imaginary situations that never occur in life. And we students were to discuss and debate what should be done, or what we would do in such situations. (Such vain foolishness!) I silently sat bored thru most such debates. Typically, Eddie jumped right into each debate with profound far-out opinions of his own, and would be as prominent and imposing in the discussions as the professor allowed him to be. Sometimes when class dismissed and I filed out the door near the prof’s lecture podium, Eddie would have already stalked up front and have gotten in the prof’s face to further expound his own deranged opinions.

Most students who had a class with Eddie just shook their heads thinking, “He’s a nut case.” Eddie’s defense lawyers entered a plea of “Not guilty, due to insanity”, and called this psychology professor to testify in court about Eddie’s behavior. This one time that I sit in briefly on Eddie’s trial for an hour or so, both the prosecution and defense have already rested their cases. On this day, one of Eddie’s lawyers is pleading with the jury not to put Eddie to death, even tho Eddie had murdered in pre-meditated cold blood, 2 or more innocent souls, young ladies.

One aspect of Eddie’s deranged mind was that of being outspoken with great swelling words. He had a great gift of gab (speech). The far-out thoughts and theories that lodged in his warped mind were astounding, actually alarming. When anyone first met Eddie, the impression was that he had a great mind. That attracted some people to him. Most of them quickly realized that he had a freaky mind. So, as if they were on a bungee cord, they withdrew from Eddie as quickly (or even more quickly) than they had been drawn to him.

Previously, Eddie had a girlfriend, a university student (I think). But she didn’t reside in a dorm because her fine upstanding family lived in Auburn, and she lived in her parents’ house. Possibly Eddie’s parents also lived in Auburn, and he too abode in his own parents’ home. (I’m not sure about that.) Tho I didn’t hear many details of his relationship with his girlfriend, likely that relationship followed the above typical bungee cord pattern of most people who came to know Eddie.

The time came when her parents told her to stay away from Eddie, and/or she made that decision on her own. Eddie vigorously tried to maintain their sweethearts’ relationship, causing her and her parents to more adamantly separate from Eddie, and to forbid him to come around them. That angered deranged Eddie.

The climax came one day this summer when angry Eddie rang their house’s doorbell holding a shotgun. I think it was a 12-guage automatic. Inside their house were his ex-girlfriend, one to 3 of her sisters, and her mom. I don’t think the dad was home at the time. When one of those fine ladies opened the front door, Eddie immediately blasted her with that shotgun, charged into the house going from room to room looking for that ex-girlfriend to kill, but also firing on everyone he saw. The ex-girlfriend was upstairs. She hid in a closet when she heard Eddie start his slaughter. Tho Eddie sought for her like a maniac (to kill her), he didn’t find her. Thus, she was not physically harmed.

But I think Eddie shot all the other people in the house, her mom and all her sisters, 3 to 4 souls in all. I think the mother, and at least 1 sister (maybe 2 sisters) were instantly killed. One or 2 survived their terrible wounds from Eddie’s shotgun. Truly, a tragic waste of fine human lives in a Southern U.S. small, quiet town with a university campus.

In 1968, such evil slaughter was most rare in our nation, especially in Alabama. Terribly grievous heartbreak it be, to all town’s residents, and to campus students, occurring back in the summer, (when I was at Quantico, I think). Tho his ex-girlfriend was not shot (not physically injured in his attack), how could she possibly ever after, pass a happy minute during the remainder of her life, knowing that “it was because of her”, that her beloved, happy, upright family was destroyed in such a horrible way? Mercy on her, Lord, I plead!

In that courtroom on this pleasant November (?) afternoon, I listen to the merciful defense lawyer plead with the jury of 12 for Eddie’s life. “Don’t give him Eddie S_______ justice. Of course I am not asking you to set him free. I assure you he will be put away in an institution where he can never harm anyone again.” With disgust, I listen to that lawyer’s repeated plea. “Don’t give him Eddie S_______ justice.” It turned my stomach. A fine, innocent family had been devastated by the murder and wounding of a majority of its beloved members. And that lawyer pleads, “Don’t do likewise, to the pre-meditating murderer of several innocent souls.”

“College Boy Richard, in the Bible when God decreed the death penalty for murder, He made no exceptions for the condition of the murderer’s mind. If all murderers were timely executed, no doubt the fear of that death penalty would cure many “criminally insane” murderers, before they commit that horrible sin of murdering a human being, a tragic sinful act in which that life cannot be restored.”

‘That is exactly what I believe too!’

I do not recall what punishment the jury finally gave Eddie.

During my time at Auburn U., I studied in all 4 yearly quarters (not each and every year of course.) The Fall Quarter was always the most pleasant and enjoyable to me. This last fall term for me ended in late December 1968. It was an especially rich time. Then I stayed in Mrs. Taylor’s house a few more days, reading, doing some paperwork, and such.

I drove on to Daddy’s house a few days before Christmas to spend that Christmas and New Years season in my hometown Vernon area with family and friends. Until now, I have spent every Christmas season of my short life “at home”. Little do I know now, that I will not spend another Christmas in my hometown until the Christmas of 1984 (16 long years later).

Likely it was the week between Christmas and New Years that I was deer hunting down past Adlow’s house with some of his family and neighbors. As I stood in the edge of the forest beside a narrow gravel road hoping a buck deer would show up for me to shoot, I thought: ‘This sure is boring.’ I reflected on how that I had enjoyed hunting much more, before I reached 20 years of age. My heart is changing from one that wants to be out in God’s nature much, hunting, fishing and such, to a heart that wants to be in a small town, sitting at a desk learning, studying, writing, and such.

Also, God is working in my soul, setting my affections on things above, and taking them off things on this earth, (especially worldly things I have desired most; like becoming a Marine officer and pilot). I still plan to pursue that goal. But this final year at the university, doing God’s Will and doing the Spiritual work He had ordained for my life, began to take 1^st place in my mind. That caused my prestigious aspirations to start fading. I thank Almighty God for changing me thus wise. I rejoice that such a change did not disappoint me. I didn’t fight against it. I heartily welcomed it. Thank God for instilling that proper attitude into my heart.

I come back to Auburn in early January 1969 at the start of the Winter Quarter. On a Friday afternoon in February, I ride in light blowing snow with a classmate midshipman in his car to Atlanta, Georgia. A carload of us midshipmen who desire to become pilots go to some military facility in Atlanta to take the thorough medical examination (on Saturday morning), to determine if we are physically fit to become Navy pilots.

They dilate my eyes for a lengthy, strict eye exam for vision, depth perception, and color blindness. I take the hearing test and pass it, thankfully (before 5 years as a jet pilot destroyed plenty of my hearing with those noisy jet engines). They take blood; check heart, lungs, and every embarrassing thing they normally check. They record my weight, height, sit me down and measure the distance between the back of my “seat” and the front of my knees because small military jets have very cramped cockpits (not like a spacious horse-drawn wagon). I must be of a specified size to fit inside them, not too large, but also not too small. I pass the physical exam on all points. Thank Thee, Lord, for creating me this size, and in good health.

My main interests on campus are my job at the dining hall, Navy ROTC, and fellowshipping at the Baptist Student Union.

All the ROTC units shut down each summer. This fall and winter I’m diligent in its classes, and on the drill field. All us Marines in the senior class pay much attention to the war in Viet Nam, and to news of our Marine buddies (former upper-class midshipmen here), who are now fighting in Viet Nam.

Last year (during Spring Quarter, I think), we got news that 2^nd Lt. McKnight ① had been killed in Viet Nam (reportedly by a land mine). I told you I had PE class with him my 1^st quarter at Auburn (Winter 1965). I recall holding down his ankles as that big man strained to do all the sit-ups he possibly could that day. A hard charging Marine he was, whose young life suddenly ended when he stepped on the wrong turf in South Viet Nam, and the earth blew up in his face.

This year (in Winter Term 1969, I think), we get the sad news that 2^nd Lt. Wright ③ had been killed (shot by a sniper supposedly). I previously wrote of him also. I recall when he stopped back by Auburn just before going to Viet Nam. As he told us Marines about being required to buy savings bonds when we go on active duty, he commented: “My wife can make use of my saving bonds.” The apparent premonition was sadly right on target, exactly as was the sniper who killed him.

Last summer’s 6 weeks of training at OCS in Quantico, was geared to prepare us to fight in Viet Nam. Thus, that war was the main topic of our training there, and is also a main topic in our Marine class here at Auburn. Soon-coming graduation from Auburn brings the reality of the battlefields closer in our minds. And news of these Auburn upper classmen buddies getting killed (with whom we had recently, happily trained here on this peaceful campus), brings the reality of KIA (killed in action) close home to our minds. How soon will it be my time to be blown up by a land mine, or zapped by a sniper, or such? Possibly my life on this earth will be just as short as that of these 2 fellow Marines with whom I had recently trained here on this pleasant, spacious, peaceful campus.

My heart’s desire is to draw closer to my Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Also, I naturally began to savor each moment of life, wanting to make the most of my time on earth, knowing the likelihood of it soon ending in like manner as the lives of these 2 Marine buddies.

With that mindset, each passing day of these last 4 quarters at Auburn (September 1968 thru August 1969) becomes sweeter than the day before. As I mature, more cafeteria girls and Baptist Student Union girls enjoy being around me.

“And no doubt, College Boy Richard, you milked that situation to the fullest.”

I did enjoy it! Linda (who went target shooting with me) has graduated. But there are many other nice girls around. “Let’s go ride around,” B.J. would occasionally say to me after Friday supper, or after Saturday lunch or supper at the dining hall. I never objected. I think her name was Betty Jo, and she didn’t like that name much. So she went by her initials, B.J. She lived in one of the dorms served by this dining hall. And she worked in the dining hall as I did.

She didn’t have a car. She enjoyed riding around. I enjoyed driving her around. In the car we would listen to the local radio station, stop at a pay phone, call the radio station, and request a certain song to be played, then get back into the car and listen for the DJ to soon play it, announcing that B.J. requested that song. We would stop at Dairy Queen for a sundae or such, and ride and talk. 1960s tame campus life. B.J. was also active at the BSU, attending First Baptist Church. We enjoyed being together. The feeling was mutual that we were just friends spending time together, and not dating. It was enjoyable.

At that time, my thoughts on marriage were something like this. ‘If someday I meet up with a young princess, and all the stars fall out of the sky when I look into her eyes, then we will both know assuredly that we are to marry each other.’ On a more practical level, if I were to marry, I thought it best to wait till I had served my year in the war in Viet Nam, to see if I would still be alive, and of sound mind and body after waging war. Thus, I didn’t want to get serious with a sweetheart now. This year, God gave me several nice girls on campus to date, and to be good friends with. It made for a pleasant campus life.

One by one my 3 siblings marry. This February (1969), my younger brother Joe married Mavis. They went to New Orleans on their honeymoon, and swung back by Auburn to see me before going on back home. I appreciate them doing that.

Short Winter Quarter soon passes, ending in late March. Likely I did roofing work for Mr. Mars a few days of spring break. (Don’t remember for sure.) The arrival of warm Spring Quarter was pleasant, with many lovely flowers and trees each blooming in their season. Mrs. Taylor’s yard at Auburn was lovely, as were the surrounding yards in that attractive neighborhood (especially the President’s lawn that I traipsed thru daily). It was such a joy to lodge at Mrs. Taylor’s house.

Shortly before my brother’s (Joe) wedding back in February, Joe got his draft notice from the U.S. Army. He had no plans to join the military, but Uncle Sam drafted him. Joe and Mavis went ahead with their wedding as planned, and he soon after reported for active duty in the Army. He was assigned to basic training at Ft. Benning, Georgia, only about 30 miles from Auburn. I was thrilled that he was so close to me. Joe called Mrs. Taylor’s phone from a pay phone one day in late April or early May, and told me he and a buddy wanted to catch the bus over to Auburn Saturday afternoon to spend a few hours here.

‘Come on, brother!’ I was delighted over the prospects of seeing Joe. (Likely he trained each Saturday till noon and then got liberty.) Mid-afternoon or so, on that Saturday, he called me from where the bus stopped in Auburn, I went there in my Falcon, picked up Joe and his Army buddy, drove them around some of the lovelier places in Auburn just to spend time together, and then took them to the dining hall to eat with me, and then to sit amidst the girls as I worked the supper meal.

Then I drove them to the “picture show” they chose, and returned to my room to study, while they enjoyed a reprieve (from hot Army basic training) in an air-conditioned movie theater. They called me after the movie, and I drove them all the way to their barracks at Ft. Benning (thinking back on my 3 weeks at Benning last summer). I returned to Mrs. Taylor’s house late at night, so glad I had gotten to spend a few hours here with my brother Joe, knowing that likely he will be sent to Viet Nam in due time. And that did come to pass.

(Brand New subject) My stepmother had brought the 1^st television set ever, into our house when she moved in, as I entered the 7^th grade. And thus, I began to watch TV at home as I entered my formative teen years.

“Route 66” was a favorite TV show of mine, enjoying the adventures of Buzz and Todd as they traveled that route in a snazzy Corvette. I began to dream about buying a new Corvette as soon as I became financially able. I steadily kept that goal in mind, until that driver in Tallassee hit us head on when I was riding with Justus. That made me consider the likelihood of being more seriously injured or even killed; if in the future, someone driving a larger size car (like that driver was driving) hit my small, low, fiberglass body Corvette head on. So, I erased my vain dream of driving a Corvette with wire spoke wheels. Thank God for that most wise change of heart, actually a benefit of the accident.

Still, I want to buy a brand-new car upon graduating from university, and am still vainly bent on luxury. But now, I wanted a “regular size” car for safety. So, I set my heart on a Ford Thunderbird. I had spotted the nearest Ford dealer 3 miles or so from Auburn on the main highway to Opelika, as I drove that way occasionally. Early in Spring Quarter I casually drop in there as I pass by one day, and tell the only man on location that I’m interested in ordering from the Ford factory the exact T-Bird I want; bucket seats in the front and a manual transmission with a stick shift in the floor. (both impractical).

Being a wise salesman, he is most kind in explaining to me the dumbness of my ideas. At that time, the Ford factory would not put a manual transmission into their T-Bird because of its large powerful 429 cubic inch engine. I will have to settle for an automatic transmission. Bucket seats are an option, but he briefly spoke of them being impractical at times. Only one passenger could ride up front. With a bench seat, 2 passengers could ride up front.

Only one, Brand New 1969 Thunderbird, chosen by God for me, sets on his car lot. He leads me over to it, and does the fine salesman’s work of showing me a new T-Bird, available now, right here. Two door. Diamond blue (sky blue, light blue) body, except for the dark blue vinyl that covered the metal top. Lovely color. Dark blue interior. Front bench seat. Automatic transmission with shift practically located on the steering column. “Get in the driver’s seat, and let’s go for a drive in it.”

“He’s reeling you in, College Boy Richard.”

‘He sure is!’ Temporary plastic covers cover the new seats. The new car smell is alluring. He sits beside me in the car, but doesn’t tell me which way to go or how far. I drive about a quarter mile out the hwy and turn back. It’s a well-built car that handles superbly, and is most comfortable and lovely. Tho some people might not deem it highly extravagant; it certainly is to this poor farm boy who had ridden more in horse-drawn wagons than in motor vehicles the first few years of his life.

I tell the dealer that I will not be graduating till late August, and am not interested in buying any car until just before then, in order to have a steady salary to make the expensive monthly payments on a new car. I tell him I’m in Navy ROTC, and am going right into the Marines as a 2^nd lieutenant upon graduating. He is pleased to hear that Uncle Sam’s job and salary, await me upon my soon-coming graduation.

“If you want to buy the car now, we can finance it for you. You can make small token monthly payments till your military salary starts in September.” That’s a pleasant surprise to hear. So, I lodge that offer firmly in my mind (lodge the T-Bird firmly in my heart, thank him, and drive away in my Falcon.

“He did an excellent job in reeling you in, Richard Boy!”

‘Truly so!’ I mull over that exciting prospect a month or so, during which time I leer at that T-Bird each of the few times I drive past there, admiring its beauty, and glad to see no one else had bought it (stolen it from me). In late May, I go back to him and ask him his best price, taking my Falcon as a trade-in. It was about $4,700. (Compare that to the cost of a new Ford Thunderbird today.)

I soon clean all my personal things out of the Falcon at Mrs. Taylor’s house. I drive my faithful little white 1963 Falcon to him, sign the paperwork the dealer has for me, leave my Falcon on his used car lot, and (almost in a daze) drive back to Auburn in the lovely new Thunderbird. Similar to the first time I ate to the full of everything, when I started working in the dining hall, I have to pinch myself now to see if I’m dreaming.

This T-Bird’s color and everything else about it was most favorable to me. God ordained that the one and only T-Bird on that car lot be the exact one I would like best, and the one most suitable for me. It felt so good driving it. Its interior “new car smell” was nice. Life on earth became much more pleasant!

“Let me guess, College Boy. Heads turned. Praise was heaped upon both you and shiny car. More lovely college girls are more willing and desirous to go for a ride with you now.

‘Correct on all counts!’

A most enjoyable Spring Quarter 1969 ends all too soon. I bid a final Farewell to several girls who eat in the dining hall who will not attend summer school. They know that I’m to graduate at the end of summer, and thus will not be here when they return in the fall. Their misty-eyed Farewells and hugs assure me that my friendship meant something to them. That blessed me and meant much to me!

I had made plans with Mr. Mars to start working for him as soon as Spring Quarter ended. Got a new expensive car to pay for now. So, I drive from Auburn to his house in Birmingham, arriving close to bedtime. I talk to both him and Mrs. Mars briefly, before we soon go to bed. But I say nothing about the new T-Bird. They are not aware of it yet. They are quite early risers each morning. So, when I arise and go into the kitchen for breakfast, they are both anxious to ask me, “Whose car is that out there in the yard?”

‘Mine!’

I work for Mr. Mars about 2 weeks between Spring and Summer Quarters, going home to Vernon each weekend where my T-Bird turns heads and produces comments.

Before buying these new wheels, I told no one, anywhere, of my plans to do so. Then upon getting this Bird, I just let them speak their mind about it, upon seeing me driving it.

When I arrive at Daddy’s house in my Bird, he is outside in front of the house doing some kind of work. Being a man of few words, he says little or nothing upon seeing my new car, a rare sight on that old farm. So, I simply tell him I bought a new car. He walks out close to it, walks around it looking at it briefly, and then gives me the same wise advice he had often given me down thru the years regarding some possession of mine, (usually an article of clothing or a pair of shoes).

“Take good care of it, and it should last you a long time.” So, I followed his wise advice.

Summer Quarter 1969 at Auburn (my last university term) started about 12 June. I told you that a quarter’s tuition was $75 when I entered Auburn University in early January 1965. Tuition slowly increased in 2 or 3 increments till I now pay $120 or $125 tuition for this final Summer Quarter. (Three quarters made an academic year at Auburn. So, in 1969, one academic year’s tuition was $360 or $375.) Concerning the cost of university tuition, truly those were the Good Ol’ Days.

I told you that this 5^th year at Auburn was like icing on the cake. Well, this 4^th and final quarter of my 5^th year was like sweet blueberries on top of that icing, the new T-Bird being a big part of this goodness. Also, I’m taking fewer courses than usual, only 2 five-hour courses and 1 three-hour course for 13 credit hours, the required hours remaining, in order for me to graduate. (I normally took 19 to 21 hours per quarter).

At the end of Winter Quarter, I had finished all my Navy ROTC courses. Tho it gave only 3 hours credit for the 3 classroom hours per week, we also met an hour the other 2 days for lab and drill. And I spent much time on Navy rifle and pistol team, sports, and choir. This summer, I have more free time than ever, with none of those activities now. I enjoy it!

Most of my midshipmen classmates graduated at the end of Spring Quarter. Fred did not. He is in school this summer and will graduate with me. I’m glad this buddy is around this summer. He and I occasionally spend time together, talking about military life and recent news of upperclassmen now fighting in Viet Nam. Fred’s dad is a Navy career officer, apparently an outstanding one. Fred also becomes an excellent Marine officer.

Coming from the farm, about the only thing I knew about the military was which end of the rifle to hold against my shoulder and which end to point at the enemy. Fred gave me specific pointers and advice that helped me in ROTC. His general talk about the military familiarized me more with it, which benefited me. I had scant few buddies at Auburn, and I enjoyed being with this buddy.

Graduation is to be the afternoon of 23 August. On that morning all Army, Air Force, Navy and Marine guys who are to become officers will be commissioned in a separate ceremony held on campus. We Marines will wear Marine officers’ dress white summer uniforms for that ceremony. One day I ride from Auburn with Fred in his little MG sports car to Pensacola, Florida. In a store there, we each order our Marine officers’ summer dress uniforms to wear on soon-coming Graduation Day. We arrive late in the day and meet up with several young guys Fred knew. They drink themselves drunk, and talk great things, as I sip cola and mostly listen (because I didn’t know any worldly great things to spout off about).

The next day, Fred and I go to a tailor shop in Pensacola that caters to Navy and Marine guys. They measure each of us for a tailor-made uniform. We pay up, and they soon ship those dazzling uniforms to each of us in Auburn upon making them. We enjoy Pensacola most of that day, and head back to Auburn late in the afternoon.

After dark, as we are zipping up a divided 4 lane hwy, we pass a car in the slow lane going about 50 miles an hour. One rear tire is flat, but the driver keeps driving, as pieces of the tire are breaking apart and flying off it. Fred and I both know the driver cannot continue driving long. Shortly, the entire tire will break apart piece by piece, and “fly away”.

Fred pulls alongside the driver, and we see it’s a woman alone. So, she is afraid of what some terrible driver might stop and do to her, if she stops to change that tire. Doing the best acting I’m capable of, and striving to appear kind and harmless, I wave at her as she looks at me, point toward that tire, and use gestures as best I can, trying to convey to her that we 2 boys will gladly change the tire for her, and never think of harming her. Likely she knows, that she cannot drive much farther with that problem. So, she takes a chance, pulls over onto the shoulder, and lets us change the tire for her. (Back then; the spare tire was a regular size tire, not a small “donut.”) Fred and I both notice the pistol beside her on the front passenger seat. I’m glad we were there to help her.

“Would-be Marines, playing hero!”

If you say so. Listen to another good deed. A certain popular vivacious, lovely, smart, and charming girl, who ate in my dining hall, was also most active in the Baptist Student Union, and somewhat the center of attention there. Being quite popular, she didn’t hang around me at either place. Being a “princess”, she was far “above me”. If I asked her for a date, likely she would turn me down flat. So, I never asked her.

She didn’t have a car on campus, and one day I heard her lamenting that she wanted to go home that weekend but couldn’t find a ride “going” home, even tho she had a ride “coming back” on Sunday. I offered to drive her home on Saturday. She was elated to get to go home. I was elated to get to chauffer that princess home.

It was a 2-hour or so drive. We chatted most of the way. She had a cheerful, optimistic nature. I enjoyed the 2 hours. She enjoyed getting a ride home. She liked the T-Bird, and tolerated me! Arriving at her house in south Alabama, she introduced me to her mom at the front door. Mom thanked me for kindly helping her daughter. And I drove back to Auburn, ruminating on the enjoyable time I passed with that princess.

“Nothing less than a knight in shining amour in a diamond blue T-Bird, always ready to rescue a damsel in distress!”

‘Well, say what you will.’ Now I’ll get dead serious, with emphasis on “dead”. I’m savoring every possible joy in my young life, before the likelihood of facing death in Viet Nam.

Jim T. is my age, and we were classmates in Navy ROTC till I got put back 1 year. This summer, he’s in Navy pilot training at Pensacola, having already graduated and becoming a Navy ensign (same rank as Marine 2^nd lieutenant). He often drives up to Auburn on weekends to date his girlfriend who eats in my dining hall. Two or 3 times, Mrs. Taylor agreed with my request for him to stay in the other (now vacant) bedroom at her house, when he came on the weekend. Jim T. is a close buddy to John ②, our mutual friend and classmate who is now a Marine Recon 2^nd lieutenant in Viet Nam leading a platoon of Recon Marines in battle.

I think it was the 2^nd time Jim stayed a weekend with me that he said to me, “I guess you heard about John?”

‘Yes, Fred recently told me of news coming here of John starting to conduct combat patrols, soon after arriving in Viet Nam.’

Jim sadly shook his head. “I’m not talking about that. John is dead.” That took me by surprise and shocked me. So soon after arriving in Nam, my classmate John is dead.

Jim told me what he knew, and over the next 3 weeks or so, I probed other “Marines” on campus who had heard about John’s death. Piecing each story together, it seems that John threw a hand grenade into a cave-like bunker. A Viet Cong inside quickly threw it back out, and it exploded near the side of John’s face, taking off part of the side of his face, and killing him instantly. John had been in Viet Nam only a few weeks.

“As John and I were talking together shortly before he left for Nam, he told me he would come back a hero or he would come back dead. Maybe he will come back both.” Jim lamented such to me about his close (but suddenly bygone), young buddy.

John was a few months younger than I. He was in the freshman ROTC class when I entered it in January 1965 (later than he and all the other classmates who started in September). At Auburn, I had trained closely with John thru May 1968. Now in July or early August 1969, I’m plenty shocked and saddened to learn that he has joined my list of KIA (killed in action) military buddies.

The Army will soon send my brother Joe to Viet Nam for a year. (Thanks be to our Gracious Lord for bringing Joe back home safely.) But at this point in time, looms the prospect of Daddy losing 2 sons (Joe & me), KIA in Viet Nam. Meanwhile, spending 2 hours on a leisurely Saturday, cruising open hwy in that new T-Bird with the nice young lady (whom I chauffeured to her house), was a most pleasant way to pass the short time intervening before likely entering the deadly hazards of war.

Several weeks in July and August 1969, after working the supper meal in the dining hall on Wednesday, I drive to Mr. Mars’ house in Birmingham that night, do roofing work for him Thursday, Friday and Saturday, and drive back to Auburn most tired on Saturday night. The math and zoology courses I took early on in my 1^st and 2^nd year at Auburn were generally the most difficult of all my courses. I previously mentioned I had a light study load this summer of only 3 courses, likely sociology, geography, and such.

None of my 3 professors this “lax” summer “docked” any student for missing class. (Facility and students alike shifted into “relaxed mode” during the summer term. That was most refreshing). So, the weeks that I had no tests scheduled on Thursday or Friday, I would go do roofing work to pay for my new shiny chariot, my Marine dress white uniform, a sundae at Dairy Queen with a princess from the dining hall, or other such important expenditures. On such weeks, I study most hard the 4 days of the week I’m at Auburn. Won’t do to fail a course this last quarter, and thus not graduate as planned this term.

The first time humans from earth paid a personal visit to the Man in the Moon (Friday 20 June 1969); I went to Daddy’s house that weekend. Rural Alabama elderly folks were plenty stunned by (and skeptical of) that feat. That Saturday evening, I stopped at Mrs. Rogers’ truck stop for a cheeseburger. She was about 64 years old. As she stared at the scene on her TV of men walking on the moon, she asked me seriously, “Do you think that is real?” With no fanfare or explaining, I calmly replied that I thought it was. “It’s just so far away that it’s hard to believe,” she said shaking her head in doubt.

Plenty of rural old folks refuted that news saying, “They filmed that out in the Arizona desert. The moon is too far for man to go there. Impossible!” Thru out the world, that feat filled many souls with joy over man’s vain greatness. I was plenty joyful simply driving a new Thunderbird on this earth, instead of driving some old, unsafe, unreliable jalopy.

Two options are available to me starting out as a Marine officer. 1. To go to The Basic School for new Marine officers in Quantico, Virginia; or 2. To go to Naval Air Station, Pensacola, Florida, to start pilot flight training.

I’m most desirous to go straight to Pensacola from Auburn, thinking that the “powers-to-be” in Quantico were highly likely to assign me to be an infantry platoon leader, because that was the training I would receive at Quantico, and because the Marines needed many platoon leaders in Nam to replace my dead buddies numbered here on my KIA list. While still at Auburn, I well knew that during my training at Quantico, I would be allowed to request to go into pilot training upon graduating at Quantico. But I thought that request would likely be denied. Therefore, I wanted to head straight down the aviation “pipeline” right from Auburn’s campus.

So, during this Spring Quarter, I clearly ask my instructor (Major Cleveland) to get orders for me to report to Pensacola, upon graduating from Auburn. He had it in his power to do so. I mentioned that to him more than once, because each time he didn’t seem to like my request, and thus gave uninterested acknowledgment that he heard me. In his non-committal response to my heart’s request, I smelled a rat.

It was typical for Navy ROTC instructors on a campus (like Major Cleveland) to spend much of the summer on duty elsewhere. Some of these Marine majors got tapped to be company commanders at OCS at Quantico (where I trained 6 weeks last summer). Thus, Major Cleveland was away from Auburn most of this summer. A skeleton crew manned the ROTC office, including the civilian secretary, Mrs. Davis. When my orders were ready at the ROTC office for me to pick up, I think Mrs. Davis handed them to me. It did not set well with me at all, to get a set of orders ordering me to The Basic School at Quantico. Frankly, I was quite devastated by that.

I told Mrs. Davis that I had asked Major Cleveland for orders to pilot training at NAS Pensacola. Holding those papers up to Mrs. Davis, I asked for those orders to be canceled, and for new orders to Pensacola issued. I tried to be firm and forceful to that civilian lady, the only office staff now available for me to plead my cause. She said that I would have to discuss that with Major Cleveland. He was due to return to Auburn a few days before my graduation day. I walked out of that office feeling like a most dirty deed had been done to me. In reality, it was a great (possibly a lifesaving) favor, from my Lord.

I inquired as to when Major Cleveland would be back at his Auburn office. Then, I immediately went to him. This was my 1^st time to see him after getting news of John’s death. We talked briefly of deceased John (in memorial like). Then I asked the major for orders to go to Pensacola instead of to Quantico, trying to be “demanding” to this high-ranking officer, because graduation day was ever so nigh now. The major put on a mild act of sympathizing with me in my great disappointment, thus speaking some nice words to me that ended with finality. “You will be going to Quantico.”

I walked away from Major Cleveland most disappointed over this change of direction in my military life. I was so certain it would send me to Nam as an infantry platoon leader. However, one and a half years later I came to see that this change of direction kept me out of Viet Nam, instead of sending me there. It was a Godsend, and I thank God for it.

“For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:9)

Going to Quantico (instead of going straight to Pensacola) added over 6 months to my training time. The result being that, when I became fully trained as a combat pilot, the Marine Corps had just recently ceased sending its pilots to Viet Nam. My Lord’s Perfect Timing, overriding my present desire!

Also, I placed high enough in my class of 2^nd lieutenants at Quantico to be chosen to go from there to an Air Force base to be trained as a “fixed wing” (jet planes or propeller planes) pilot, instead of a helicopter pilot. Had I gone straight from Auburn to pilot training at Navy Pensacola, there I would compete with fellow Marine pilots-to-be, to fly jets instead of choppers. That competition would hinge on aviation studies and pilot skills, both of which were new to me. At Pensacola, likely I would have gotten stuck in choppers. Also, I would have finished pilot training in time to be sent to Nam as a chopper pilot, possibly piloting the large, slow-flying CH-46 transport helicopter that made an easy target to the enemy on the ground below.

“I thank Thee, Almighty God, for overruling my ways and keeping me in Thy Perfect Way. Please always do that for me. Please save me from destroying my own self by going my way, instead of following Thy Perfect Way.”

Moreover, the time I spent at TBS in Quantico (just over 5 months) was one of the most enjoyable times of my life thus far. I heartily thank God for such cherished memories from Quantico, of which you can read 2 chapters later.

(Lovely New Subject) From Mrs. Taylor’s hallway phone outside my bedroom door, I call Beverly’s dorm. When the girl working the desk answers, I ask to speak to Beverly _____ in Room ___. Soon I hear Beverly’s nice voice from the phone near her room in the hall on her floor. “Hello.”

‘Yes, this is Richard Yerby. I work in your dining hall. You might not know me by name, but I am the cashier who usually punches your meal ticket.’

“Oh yes, I know who you are.” Thank God she still sounded friendly upon learning that it was I who was calling.

Beverly was altogether lovely, beautiful, elegant, refined, cultured, proper, poised, cheerful, radiant, confident, reserved, calm, and every other such good adjective in the largest dictionary on this planet.

“In short, Redneck Farm Boy, she was everything that you were not!”

‘Exactly!’

Her fair complexion, lovely smiling eyes, and beautiful shining long brown hair must have come directly from Heaven. Until this phone call (just days before I’m to graduate), our relationship had consisted only of me punching her meal ticket at the end of the serving line in the dining hall, while straining my feeble brain at short, meaningful conversation with her.

Upon seeing her each time, the mutual vibes that flowed between us were out of this world (at least they were to me). Without being too forward or outgoing, that lovely lady made it apparent that her smile and kind words to me were not given to just anyone. At each such meeting, tho I never observed any stars falling out of the sky, it stands to reason that many of them wobbled in their courses. Surely those vibes were strong enough to cause such simple commotion in this universe.

At times I would see Beverly at church, usually with a fellow. So, I asked a girl working in the dining hall about Beverly’s standing with that fellow. “I think they are going steady.” Later when I again talked of Beverly to that girl she said, “They may not be going steady any more. I’ve heard rumors to that effect.” Also, during this summer term I had not once seen Beverly with that fellow. That made me think that he probably was not attending summer school.

“Aha, Schemer Richard, when the cat’s away, the mice will play!”

‘You hush now!’

Having not seen him during the summer, and hearing that possibly they were not going steady now, I mustered up the courage to call Beverly before I left Auburn for good. I’m quite sure I waited till a Friday night to make this call, because if she went home to northern Alabama for the weekend, likely she would have left campus this afternoon. But there she was, in her dorm room on Friday night. And now she’s on the phone with me. Thru out the universe, stars were wobbling drastically in their courses.

You have read the short introduction I spoke to Beverly on the phone. As my heartbeat became faster and more irregularly, and with all 3 of my brain cells spinning wildly out of their assigned orbits inside my skull, I knew that the more conversation I attempted on the phone, that much more ground I stood to lose with Beverly. So I just got right to the point.

‘I was thinking that if you do not already have plans for Sunday evening, I would like to take you out to supper and then to the evening church service after that, if you are interested.’ (I thought it most likely that she would kindly turn me down.)

“Why yes. I think that would be nice.”

Tho she did not hesitate at all in returning such a kind agreeable answer, it seemed like both my heart and my head would completely melt down before she finished answering. I briefly thanked her, set the time with her that I would pick her up at her dorm, said Goodbye, and hung up the phone before I would need to put my foot into my mouth, or before the phone melted down in my hand or such. Then with my universe filled with joy, I tried to settle down enough to let each atom in my body return to its natural location and stable condition.

I don’t think I saw Beverly in the dining hall for any of the 3 meals the next day (Saturday), or for Sunday breakfast. That was a relief. At church Sunday morning, I spotted her in the large auditorium with 1 of her dorm mates. At the end of the morning service, I maneuvered to “accidentally” meet up with them just after they exited the church. Likely they had walked to church from their dorm, about half a mile away. I wanted to offer them a ride back to the dorm.

“Here he goes again, the knight in shining T-Bird amour.”

Outside the church, I walk up to the 2 ladies and greet them. ‘I would be glad to give you two a ride to the dorm.’ Beverly became their spokeslady, accepting without any fanfare. Such was her lovely nature. That made me happy. I don’t know if she ever knew what kind of car I had (past or present). But it was a joy to walk them to the T-Bird parked nearby, open the passenger door, and stand there holding it. Both of them being refined, calm, and reserved, neither girl made any remark about that nice car. I liked that about them. Being a 2-door car, one or both ladies could have gotten into the back seat from that door. I silently let them make the choice, which they silently made. Beverly got into the front seat first and slid to the center of it, allowing her friend to get into the front seat also.

“Made you glad you didn’t get front bucket seats as you had originally planned. Right?”

‘Absolutely Right!!!’

We made intermittent small talk during the short ride to their dorm. I opened the passenger door to let them exit. As they thanked me simply and were about to depart, I said to Beverly, ‘Five O’clock?’

She smiled and nodded, “Yes”.

I returned to the dorm’s front desk at 5 PM, asked for Beverly, and the girl at the desk called to her room on the intercom. When Beverly soon came downstairs and out to the desk, I had never before seen her fixed up so nicely. Her hairdo was most beautiful!

“Describe it to us, Boy!”

‘Most Beautiful!!’

Holding the diamond blue new T-Bird door open for her was like watching the loveliest princess getting into the most elegant coach. I was striving in vain to look more like a charming prince than a clod busting, barefoot, redneck, poor, uncouth farm boy.

“Talk about the most vain attempt of all the ages on earth!”

The restaurant meal was not much better than meals at the dining hall. But it was a thrill to sit at a table with Beverly for the meal. We each chose the same pie for dessert. It was so rich we could hardly eat it. Afterwards, church service was bless-ed, the 2 of us holding 1 hymnal from which we sang, tho several other hymnals were close by. On the way back to the dorm, I swung past Mrs. Taylor’s house to show Beverly where I lived. I told her I was to graduate in just a few days at the end of summer term. She had little verbal response to these things. At her dorm, I walked her to the door, thanked her for an enjoyable evening, and drove back to Mrs. Taylor’s house, so thankful for a most bless-ed Lord’s Day.

Wanda didn’t attend this Summer Term. If she had, likely I would have asked her for a date also, after I got my T-Bird. Wanda was a sweet Southern belle from Georgia, possibly the sweetest Southern belle of all ages. As with Beverly, all the good adjectives in the largest dictionary describe Wanda also. She was somewhat higher society than Beverly. She was in a sorority here at Auburn, and dated prince-like guys. Tho high society, Wanda was a down-to-earth girl, and upon coming to know me somewhat as the dining hall cashier, I was most happy to see that she was attracted to me. She discreetly flirted with me to let me know she cared about me. I was amazed at her natural ability to discreetly and lovingly convey to me (right there in the dining hall) that she liked me.

“And the mutual vibes between you 2 were more powerful than atomic bombs! And many major stars and even constellations wobbled madly in their courses when your eyes met with Wanda’s eyes! Right!?”

‘Now, you are exaggerating just a tiny bit!’

I had known both Wanda and Beverly in the dining hall for 2 or 3 years. Wanda was a member of a Methodist church. I didn’t discuss religion with either girl. I think both were true Christians. If I had asked Wanda for a date, I think she would have accepted. One reason I did not ever ask her was because of my humble little car. Wanda did not attend this summer’s term, and I did not get my fancy T-Bird till right at the end of Spring Quarter. But I was to see Wanda again in the dining hall, upon visiting Auburn after Quantico.

My Lord blessed me with several nice Christian girls to socialize with during my 5 years at Auburn. Wanda and Beverly were foremost. I thank God for them, and often pray for God’s abundant blessings upon them, and upon their extended families. Afterwards, each of these ladies soon married. I pray their families will be richly blessed upon this earth, and that all their family members will be in Heaven.

You have seen my numbered list of my KIA dead Marine buddies. I squarely faced the reality of me possibly being killed in Nam ever so soon, and thus taking the next number on that list. Therefore, after a somewhat harsh and impoverished upbringing with somewhat “cold” parents who did little to make my friends welcome to our poor house, and before going to war in Viet Nam, I presently majored on making such sweet and fond memories on campus. My 5 years at Auburn did much to brighten my life that had experienced plenty of gloom, darkness, poverty and hardship from early on. This bright period of my life felt like the calm before the approaching storm of bloody battlefield life in Viet Nam’s steaming jungles, with me responsible for the lives of the 50 enlisted Marines in the infantry platoon I would be commanding there.

Thank Thee, My Precious Sweet Lord Jesus, for making my college days of young adulthood vim and vitality, one of the happiest and brightest periods of my entire life on earth.

Parent, listen to me now! Possibly my Daddy didn’t have the ability or opportunity to bring our family out of poverty. Possibly he saw no need to be any more cordial to friends I might want to bring to our house, and saw no need to put forth any effort to make our house a cheerful place for my friends to come visit. That is all past history that cannot be changed.

But Present-Day Parent, right now you can keenly listen to what God The Holy Spirit is speaking to you regarding these matters, and you can cry out to God to enable you to do His Perfect Will regarding similar situations. Tho regretfully the past is loss that cannot be recovered, from this minute on you can start doing the exact things God is telling you that you should do regarding these matters to make life brighter for your children. (And each of you readers can tell every parent on Planet Earth, that they just might profit from reading this autobiography. Please do that for me.)

When Amy Carmichael was an adult, she commented on the first 12 years of her life. “I don’t think there could have been a happier child than I was.” (Reader Friend, that is Superb! Few souls say such.) Her own happy nature contributed much to that feeling. The joy and cheer that her parents bestowed upon her was also an important factor in making Amy the happiest child on earth, in her own eyes.

Parents, no matter how poor you are in earthly goods, you can be filled to the fullest with The Holy Spirit’s Gifts of Love, Joy, and Peace. And using these three wonderful gifts from God, you can make your home the happiest home on the face of this earth, if only you so desire to do so. So please don’t fail to do that which you are well able to do, to instill true happiness and joy into your offspring. The fleeting chances to do so pass away ever so soon.

My Graduation Day fell on a Saturday. Likely it was the Monday before, when my sister rode buses from Vernon to Auburn. She then stayed in the empty bedroom in Mrs. Taylor’s house, and ate her meals free as my guest in the dining hall until graduation day. I was taking final exams this last week, but showed her around the area in my free time.

Very early Saturday morning, my brother Sidney picked up Daddy and Granddad Yerby at their respective houses, and drove them to Mrs. Taylor’s house by mid-morning or so. Kind Mrs. Taylor invited them into her living room to chat a while. Janiece was already there. Mrs. Taylor showed such joy over me graduating that she seemed like my own grandmother, “inspecting” my Marine Dress White uniform I had put on, and making the adjustments to it that she deemed necessary.

I then drove my family around campus briefly before my commissioning ceremony to make me a United States Marine Corps Second Lieutenant. Likely this ceremony began at 10:30 or 11 AM. In my Marine officers’ dress white uniform, I walked across the stage up front, and received two gold 2^nd lieutenant bars. After the ceremony ended, Janiece pinned a gold bar onto each shoulder “flap” on my uniform. We took pictures. My orders from Headquarters Marine Corps in Washington, D.C. stated the exact date and time frame on that day, that I was to report to TBS in Quantico. That date was about a month in the future, in late September this year.

My buddy, Fred, became a 2^nd Lieutenant this morning also. Red-haired Wayne ⑥ from Georgia was another. He didn’t go thru ROTC to get his commission. I think he went thru the Marines’ Platoon Leaders’ Class (PLC) program, to become an officer. Years later at Cherry Point, I will fly in the same A-6 Intruder with Wayne a time or two. He will later die piloting a plane that crashed shortly after takeoff at Marine Corps Air Station, Cherry Point, North Carolina.

Because the last day of final exams had passed (likely a day ago), my dining hall had closed at that time. So today, my family members and I eat lunch in the cafeteria in the basement of the Student Union Building, paying for it. In the afternoon, I walk across a stage in a large auditorium to shake hands with University President Philpot as he hands me my diploma. I graduated with a low C average, but the first 2 words in this sentence are the bottom line. I graduated!

“Graduate Richard, are you going to tell everybody that you failed 2 or 3 courses along the way and had to take them over?”

‘I certainly ain’t! And don’t you tell a single soul either!’

Many people who desire to study at a university, never even get to enter a university. Many who enter, fail to graduate.

Thank Thee, Lord Jesus, for enabling me to accomplish this desired goal of mine.

After it was all over, all 4 of my family who attended, went back to Mrs. Taylor’s house, and thanked her for her much kindness. Sid, Dad and Grandpa Yerby soon left in Sid’s car. I cleared all my belongings out of my bedroom for the last and final time. That act tugged at my sentimental heartstrings. I loaded my things into the T-Bird, and gave Mrs. Taylor the kindest hug and Farewell I could. Then Janiece left Auburn campus and town with me to return to Daddy’s house. It was ever so pleasant, attending a somewhat renowned university in a small town as opposed to a city, especially a large city. Auburn’s lovely small-town atmosphere suited me perfectly.

On this Graduation Day, it seemed as if it was a million light years ago, when I arrived in Auburn the first week in January 1965, with a few cardboard boxes of my belongings in my 1955 Bel Air Chevy, and spent the very first night of my university life sleeping in that cold car in a parking lot. Throughout the night as I awoke from time to time, being too chilled to sleep well, I was plenty apprehensive about being able to finance four years of college, and being able to pass all the courses to graduate, and to become a Marine officer. Along the way, I was seriously injured in the car wreck, and had another close call with death or grave injury on a high roof.

Now, I drive away from this university in a new luxury car, with my diploma and my commission as a Marine second lieutenant, and with more rich and fond memories than my head and heart can hold.

Heavenly Father, thank Thee for making my years at Auburn ever so rich and blessed!

It behooves each of us to shun the vanity of daydreaming about, fantasizing on, and wishing for things in life that are not to be. But university campus life was the one stage of my life I regretted to see come to an end. I just wish this senior year at Auburn could have gone on and on, with time standing still.

Janiece and I reminisced during the 4 and half hour drive to Vernon, and arrived at Daddy’s house about bedtime. It was a monumental day of my life! Ever since she graduated from high school, Janiece (in her poverty and low paying job) did ever so much for me financially, and in any and every other way that she could. I owe much to Sis.

“Goodnight, University Graduate and U.S. Marine Corps Second Lieutenant.”

‘Sweet dreams to you also.’

The End of Chapter 18

On to Chapter 19

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