Chapter 23
A
TRAVELLER.
(Traveling between Vance
Air Force Base, Enid, Oklahoma and Marine Corps Air Station Cherry Point,
Havelock, North Carolina. From the very last of March 1971 to late April 1971)
I
leave Gerry’s house in Owasso, Oklahoma in the early morning, and drive
all the way to Daddy’s house near Vernon, Alabama the same day. The trip takes
9 hours or so. My thoughts and feelings on that trip are similar to what my
thoughts and feelings had been as I drove from Quantico to Auburn after
graduating from TBS. ‘It sure feels good to have successfully completed
this difficult training, another scheduled step in my climb upward
to my desired goal. I am now certified as a pilot of fast military
jet aircraft!’
Such
vain pride fills my head much too fully. Also, I have now trained
with all 4 branches of our nation’s military, Navy (ROTC),
Army (Airborne Training at Ft. Benning), Marines (Quantico on 2 different
occasions), and Air Force (pilot training) (in that order). Tho I have trained
with the Navy on a university campus (wearing a Navy uniform), I have yet to
train on a naval base. But I will soon do so on about 3 separate occasions (and
will tell of that).
It
is somewhat rare for a person who serves only 1 term in the military to
train with all 4 branches of our nation’s military. Likely a good number of
career military personnel (who stay in 20 years or longer), never cross-train
(especially in all of the other 3 branches). I am glad I got the
chance to “sample” life in all 4 branches of our nation’s military. I gained valuable
experience from it, and enjoyed the variety.
Listen
to this amusing experience on this return trip to Daddy’s house (totally
unrelated to the military). I came to love the vast view available on
these treeless, wide-open, mostly flat, plains of Oklahoma and Texas (and
nearby states that I flew over). Driving along roads thru the fairly flat
plains, one can see “forever”. And I found that wide and vast view most
pleasant to me (being able to view much surrounding terrain to a far
distance on my many drives this year in Oklahoma).
Now
as I leave Oklahoma to drive across Arkansas and then across Mississippi to get
to Daddy’s house, as I come to forested areas bordering each side of the
highway, I feel so hemmed in and annoyed by it. I literally
find myself involuntarily “scrunching” down in the driver’s seat (trying to
make myself smaller) due to the “closed in” sensation.
As
I grew from a toddler into young adulthood, my own understanding of my nature
as a loner also steadily matured in my mind. From childhood I liked to have
plenty of “elbow room” and detested crowded conditions, a common trait in most
people, I suppose. During my 6 years of junior high and high school, often 7
family members crowded into Daddy’s 1940 Nash when we went to church or such.
We 4 siblings packed ourselves into the backseat, Daddy was driving, Lucille
sat next to Daddy, and either Rayburn or Lucille’s mother sat in the front by
the window.
We
4 kids abreast in the backseat were plenty tight, and it vexed me. I
mention such at this point to say that it was a relief to me to get my own car
upon finishing high school, and often being alone in my car from that time
until my Lord moved me to Japan. And that “relief” became much more pleasant upon buying this luxurious new
Thunderbird in May 1969, to travel in all alone (most all the time I drive it)
for many long miles till the end of November 1973. (As for the times that one
to 3 sweet girls are in the T-Bird with me, well… for some strange, unknown
reason, that doesn’t cramp me at all.)
(Now
back to my present travel.) I arrive at Daddy’s house in the late afternoon,
likely between 5 and 6 PM. It was good to see family members again. A
neighborhood lady and her daughter just happened to be at the house when I
arrive. As before, I spend about 8 days in the area of my boyhood home,
enjoying the time with family, relatives and friends. Many of them have come to
regard me with varying degrees of awe, now that I am a jet pilot. They brag
on me more than is pleasing in our Lord’s Sight. And I like
it more than is pleasing in our Lord’s Sight. May the Lord have
mercy on us all in our much vanity, to humble each of us accordingly.
Folks around my boyhood home are most kind to me with complimentary words that
warm my vain heart. I enjoy this visit at home!
When
it soon comes time to bid Farewell to hometown folks, I drive on to Birmingham.
I had been in touch with Mrs. Mars on the phone, and I probably drove directly
to the hospital in Birmingham where Mr. Mars is a patient. Various old age
maladies had hospitalized him. His sister and her husband (who live in Hawaii)
had recently flown to Birmingham to visit him because he was hospitalized. They
are present now. Mrs. Mars stays by his bedside each day, and goes home nights.
His one son that lives close comes to visit him much.
I
stay 3 days or so, sleeping nights at the Mars’ house and being in the hospital
during most of each day. Mr. Mars’ condition improves noticeably during the
short time I’m there, and Mrs. Mars told me privately that it was largely due
to my presence. I humbly thank God that I meant that much to Mr. Mars, who strongly
influenced my life for good. Each of his family members present here,
heartily thanks me for visiting. I consider it my privilege to do so. When I
bid them Farewell, I drive a long trip to Ft. Myers, Florida.
I
left the Mars’ house in Birmingham early on a morning, and drove all way to Ft.
Myers that day, arriving about midnight. The Tipton family from Fredericksburg,
Virginia had moved here while I was in Oklahoma. We corresponded regularly, and
they asked me to come visit them. So, I do. I stay at their Ft. Myers house
close to 2 weeks, greatly enjoying the semitropical climate, beach, ocean and
much lovely scenery. Mrs. Tipton introduces me to a young lady in their church
and urged me to spend time with her. So, I do, meeting her parents also and
spending time with them. I meet people in their church and other friends of the
Tiptons, making for a most pleasant and relaxing stay in scenic, subtropical, mid-Florida.
All
too soon, it comes time to again bid Farewell to friends. Upon doing so, I
drive north thru central Florida, enjoying beautiful scenery of vast orange
groves and such. I go on northeast thru the eastern edge of Georgia, South
Carolina and North Carolina to Marine Corps Air Station Cherry Point, near the
seacoast in North Carolina. The day I left the Tiptons’ house, I drove till
bedtime, spent the night in a motel, and traveled on to Cherry Point the 2nd
day.
During
the entire 12 months I went thru basic pilot training at Vance, a Marine major
(pilot) flew to Vance 3 times or so to co-ordinate Marine business matters with
us. It was always the same major that came, and that was one of his assigned
duties at that time. Likely it was back about December that I (along with Tom
P. and Tom M. in my class), filled out and sent off our official requests
to Headquarters Marine Corps in Washington, D.C. regarding 2 upcoming options.
First Option: “Request to be
stationed on the west coast or the east coast of
the U.S.”
Second
Option: “Request the Marine fixed-wing
aircraft that you desire to pilot, listing three different aircraft in the
order of your preference.”
We
called that “request application” a “dream sheet”, because our requests were
just as likely to be denied, as they were to be granted. The needs of
the Marine Corps held highest priority, of course. All you military
personnel are plenty familiar with those “dream sheets”.
Tom
P. ⑦ and I requested to go to the east coast of the U.S.
Tom M. requested to go to the west coast. All 3 of us were granted our requests
regarding location.
I
do not know what three aircraft my 2 Marine classmates each listed on their
dream sheets (nor the order of their preferences). But each of them was
assigned to the A-4 Skyhawk (likely each guy’s 1st preference). Tom
P. came to Cherry Point to train in the A-4, and Tom M. went west to do
likewise.
My
3 requests, in order of priority were: #1: F-4 Phantom fighter, #2: A-4 Skyhawk
attack aircraft, and #3: A-6 Intruder attack aircraft. At that time, these were
the only 3 jet aircraft the Marines had (I think). Other Marine fixed wing
aircraft were the C-130, 4-engine propeller cargo transport plane, and the
AV-10 propeller, spotter plane. (I hope I am correct with the “AV-10” name.)
“After
you pass 78 years of age, your memory just ain’t what it used to be, is it, Old
Man?”
‘It
certainly ain’t! I praise God I am journeying to God’s Perfect Heaven, and that
He will perfect my mind the instant I enter Glory Land! Unto where art thou
journeying?’
I
was assigned to fly my 3rd and last of my 3 choices,
the A-6 Intruder. I was only slightly disappointed not to get my
1st or 2nd choice. But God in His Perfect Wisdom overrode
my ignorant desires, to give me the airplane most suited to me, and
the one of those three that I will most enjoy flying. I will share details of
that blessing with you about 2 years from now when you are flying along with me
in an A-6.
Likely
it was in February when we 3 each received (in official writing on paper) our assignments,
and orders to report to our next duty station upon graduating from Vance. I was
to report to training flight squadron VMT 203 at Cherry Point to first
train in the T (Trainer) A-4 Skyhawk, because there were no A-6 trainer
aircraft in which an instructor pilot could sit in a cockpit at a separate
set of controls. Tom P. was also sent to VMT 203 at Cherry Point. So now,
we 2 are to soon meet again there.
As
you now ride along with me in my T-Bird as we are nearing my destination of
Cherry Point, N.C., listen to me reminisce briefly. The degree of
the misery, problems, inconvenience, embarrassment, and such that poverty
brings on, is in direct proportion to the severity of the
poverty. In the summer of 1967, upon receiving a financial settlement for my
severe injuries in a traffic accident that was not my fault, for the first
time in my short life (age 21), I rose above the discomforts
of poverty. That made life ever so much more
pleasant. You, who have been there, well understand that nice
relief.
Also,
from that date (summer 1967) up until now, my life has been void of major
vexing problems of any kind. I sailed Life’s Sea plenty peacefully,
happily accomplishing my goals in timely order; university
diploma, becoming a Marine Corps officer, being selected for jet pilot
training, successfully graduating from basic pilot training, and thus at this
point in life, wearing pilot wings on my Marine uniforms.
In
every aspect of my life, the Sea of Life has been sufficiently
calm for me, from summer 1967 until I check in to Marine Corps Air Station
Cherry Point, North Carolina in late April, 1971, at age 25. Regretfully,
the calm Sea of Life now soon turns plenty boisterous,
with one raging, vexing, or nagging storm after another. You please read on!
In
the afternoon of my 2nd day of travel from Ft. Myers, Florida, I
arrive at the gate of Marine Corps Air Staton Cherry Point, North Carolina, in
the little town of Havelock, North Carolina. I park and go into the Marine
police’s little hut at the gate, show my orders, and ask directions to VMT 203.
I
drive on to that A-4 Skyhawk training squadron, park in their lot, and turn in
copies of my orders in the squadron’s administration office, thus ending
my official leave. Flight training is ongoing. I talk with admin
personnel, a pilot instructor or 2, and a student pilot or 2, to glean as
best I can, needed information about Cherry Point. Basically, I receive
no official lecturing on the status of things here. That is a step
down from the sufficient indoctrination I received at all 4 base
locations thus far; Jump School at Ft. Benning, OCS and The Basic School at
Quantico, and Basic Pilot Training, Vance AFB. I ask directions to the BOQ
(Bachelor Officer Quarters). I soon drive on to the BOQ, seeking a place to lay
my weary head this night.
While still at Vance, I got word thru the Marine pilot’s
grapevine, that all the BOQ rooms at Cherry Point were full, and that I would
have to rent an apartment or such off base in which to live. If so, then I
would be paid a “housing” allowance each month. Thus far, I had not been paid
that allowance, because I lodged in a BOQ each place I trained. In order to
receive this allowance, I will have to obtain a document from base housing,
stating that no BOQ room was available for me. So, I thought I could get that
document from the BOQ office this evening, then go check into a motel off base,
and start looking for an apartment to rent the next day. The Restless Sea of
Unsettled Room and Board.
So,
when the young Marine corporal manning the BOQ office tells me that rooms
are available, I am plenty surprised. I ask to be assigned to a
room, receive my room key (to a single room that I am to occupy alone), and
take in a bag of just a few essentials. I eat a nice supper in the nearby
officer’s chow hall, and soon go on to Dreamland, upon arriving at my 4th
major relocation after departing from my earthly father’s house, after
a long day of driving. Once again, I start life in a new
environment, with new adventure, and to make new friends, ever so
bless-ed!
“Be with me, Lord, I plead, to perfect my every way, and to keep
me safe in these high skies, training to do advanced aerial maneuvers
that are more dangerous than my basic pilot training at
Vance Air Force Base.”
The End of Chapter 23