Chapter 20
(The
Basic School for Marine Corps junior officers’ training, Quantico, Virginia
from late September 1969 to the end of February 1970)
2h No
daily commute.
Early
the following morning on Wednesday 24 September, I arose at the appointed time,
put on my uniform with gold 2nd lieutenant bars and walked to the
nearby chow hall for breakfast. At the prescribed time, we loaded onto “cattle
cars” and were hauled back to Camp Barrington for a whole day of orientation
lectures in that large auditorium. Officers lectured us on general things
we would need to know during the next 5 months we trained here.
We
ate lunch in the officers’ closed mess here. The Basic School Commander (a
colonel) was the last speaker in late afternoon, to climax the
many speeches of the day. He was high spirited and well suited for this job.
So, this day he gives us a hot pep talk to fire us up to fight
in Viet Nam. He told us that all his staff here at The Basic School (from
himself down to the lowest ranking enlisted man) was Viet Nam vets. While they
train and teach us, they will relate to us their “first hand” combat
experiences in Nam.
“We
don’t send you to war to die for your country! We send you to make the enemy
die for his country!” That colonel’s enthusiasm in saying that was matched
by the enthusiasm of our roaring yells and applause. Each of us was highly in
favor of that being the final outcome of us going to war.
At
the end of this day, we single lieutenants who lived in Camp Upshur rode back
there in cattle cars. The married men drove their cars home. There were only
2 or 3 times at The Basic School that I needed my car in the line of work. (And
I could have hitched a ride with a buddy those times.) The Marine Corps hauled
us around in those cattle cars when we had to go any distance on this training
base, just as they did last summer at OCS.
I immensely
like a life of working right where I reside with no daily commute. It saves
time, money, and the chance of getting killed or injured in a car wreck. Most
of my time on active duty in the Marines was a life of no daily commute. It
suited me perfectly. Doing that roofing job, I commuted much; some
commutes being long. I benefited from seeing many places. But long commutes are
weary. Remember, I told you of driving to Daddy’s house from Mr. Mars’ house
Saturday nights and leaving Daddy’s place for Mr. Mars’ place early Monday
mornings, about 110 miles each way. And I did most of a day’s work those
Saturdays and Mondays along with driving 110 miles.
A
side note of wisdom here, Mr. Mars traveled far and wide to drum up enough
income from roofing. The much money he paid for motel rooms and café meals for
him and me had to be passed on to the people who paid him to do their roofing
work. That is poor economics. If he had enough work within a short drive
of his house, it would have saved his customers considerably. I thank God for
causing me to keep such economics in mind. You also will do well to keep them
in mind.
2i A
squared away, tidy environment and uniform.
In
general, my Daddy was untidy by nature. For example, when I was small, our
buckets, tubs and similar vessels were made of tin or a similar metal. Plastic
ones had not yet come on the scene. Also aluminum vessels were most rare and
too expensive for us poor folks. When a hole rusted thru the bottom of a farm
bucket, foot tub, washtub or such and thus it would no longer hold water, Daddy
usually kept it because it could be used to carry dirt or such. In like manner,
Daddy kept most everything that wore out because it might come in handy
sometime for some secondary use. Such junk dotted the landscape around our
house, barn and other sheds. Also, plenty such junk items piled up inside each
of those buildings. Overall, to some degree, it was a depressing sight to
behold each day, worn out junk strewed, scattered randomly everywhere around.
For
maximum performance and efficiency, our nation’s military majors on strictly
maintaining all of its many physical things in clean condition, and
squared away in tidy array at all times. The same is required of me
regarding my grooming and the Marine uniforms I wear. From the time I entered
Navy ROTC, I frequently stood inspections regarding my haircut, grooming,
uniform and any military equipment (rifle, etc.) issued to me. I inherited much
of Daddy’s untidy nature. Thus I benefited greatly from the military requiring
me to be tidy, and thus training me to be tidy. A tidy environment gives
serenity of mind and greatly aids proficiency of work.
We
learn all about land mines and various booby trap devices. At the end of that
study, we go out into the field where each squad is assigned a roped off
section of ground. Within that plot, each squad plants mines underground. Above
ground we set booby trap devices with trip wires and such. We eat C-Rats for
supper and after dark, my squad is assigned a different plot of ground to inch
our way thru it searching for and disarming each explosive device rigged by
another squad.
Each
explosive device is inert, but the underground mines have live fuses.
If we fail attempting to disarm that fuse, it explodes with about the force of
a firecracker. Each time one of those fuses explodes, an instructor sets off a
large explosive in a special roped off area that no one is allowed into (for
safety reasons, obviously). Each of those explosives equal a small stick of
dynamite and shake the ground under us when they explode. That definitely plays
on one’s nerves. Fun and games!
That week, I call the lady BSU director to ask her for Brenda’s
phone number in her dorm. Because she likes “Boy meets girl, Girl meets boy”
episodes, she happily gives me the number. I happily call Brenda and ask her
for a date Saturday night. She happily says, “Yes.” I take her to the officers’
club near Quantico Marine Base headquarters for a nice supper and then to the
base theater for a movie. We both enjoy the evening immensely talking much on
the ride from and back to Fredericksburg. I’ve lived happily ever after. I hope
Brenda has also.
My training company (class) lodged at Camp Upshur for 4 or 5 weeks
till the most senior class graduated. Then we moved into the main BOQ at Camp
Barrington. Likely that was on a Monday. Likely it was the following day
(Tuesday) that my buddy Fred’s company reported for duty and they went to lodge
at Camp Upshur where we had been.
Camp
Barrington’s BOQ was 2 or 3 stories high and was quite a complex of several
wings of rooms, the wings extending like spokes from a partial hub which
contained the chow hall, classrooms, a library and likely a barber shop,
drycleaners, small BX (store) and such necessary facilities. In the cold
winter, I never had to walk out of this building and cross outside to a nearby
building for any of the above mentioned necessities. Each company was assigned
rooms together in 1 wing of the BOQ. I think we were on the 2nd
floor. Lt. Wright was my roommate and married Lt. Wooten had a locker in our
room. He would drive in early from his apartment and change into his uniform
and such in our room. At the end of the day he would shower in our “suite’s”
bathroom, change clothes and go home to his wife.
Likely
it was the following afternoon (after Sunday morning church service) that
Brenda was riding around with me in Civil War battlefields that are now
Virginia State Parks. Tree leaves were at their peak autumn colors and would
soon fall. Clear, crisp fall air added to God’s beauty in nature as we
leisurely chatted, kidded and laughed.
Tho
there was almost no traffic on those park roads, we met Lt. Willis who was in
my training platoon. With him was his date from the same college as Brenda.
Willis and I each stopped our cars so each pair of us could greet the other
pair basking in the beauty of nature and the nice company we each had in our
car. Then we went on our separate ways over battlegrounds where thousands of
Union and Confederate boys bled and died a most violent death about 104 years
before.
Willis
and I both knew the highly likelihood of each of us soon dying a bloody violent
death in the steaming jungles of Viet Nam. So, on this fine day in a
peaceful surrounding, we were making the most of enjoying fine pleasures of
life to the fullest while we were
still alive to enjoy them.
‘Thank
you!’
I
report for that duty at 7 AM Christmas morning at Marine Base Headquarters or
some such place apart from The Basic School. I sit at a desk in an office where
a captain is on duty along with a corporal “clerk”. We 3 do nothing most all
day. Our first major snow of the season starts falling early this morning,
right on Christmas Day. I’m required to eat in the enlisted men’s chow hall to
inspect their chow. Then in the night, I go out and inspect the duty guard
walking around patrolling. The snow’s a little deep by now. I wish the guard a
Merry Christmas and commend him for standing his post on a cold snowy Christmas
night. Then I’m allowed to turn in and sleep most of the night.
At 7
AM on December 26 I’m relieved from that 24 hours of duty. I drive carefully
thru the snow to my BOQ room, sleep a while, eat lunch in the almost empty
officers’ chow hall and drive cautiously down snowy I-95 to the Tiptons’. Upon
entering the gravel lane to their house, my car bogs down in the snow that was
getting deeper. I had neither snow tires nor chains for the tires. I walk on to
the Tiptons’ house. When Mr. Tipton comes home from work, he drives around my
snow-bound car with his snow tire equipped car and drives the lane a couple of
times to pack the snow. Then I’m able to drive my car on to their house.
I
stay 3 or 4 days at their house till we resume training at Quantico. Tho
Christmas Day had passed, it’s still the Christmas season. Extended family
members of the Tiptons come to their house almost daily. I so enjoy tasty
homemade fresh oyster stew and other delicious dishes of tidewater Virginia
that I had never eaten before. It’s pleasant to talk to and get acquainted with
various people I meet in the Tiptons’ house this Christmas season. I usually
sleep in an upstairs bedroom and on arising each morning I enjoy looking out on
the surrounding snow-white woods and fields. Brenda had gone home to Richmond
for Christmas. I would not see her again till early January. Just as Mr. and
Mrs. Mars in Birmingham, Alabama “adopted” me, so did the Tiptons here in
Fredericksburg, Virginia. Thank Thee, Lord Jesus, for blessing me
so richly.
Let
me back up to November when I got my 1st pay raise after starting
military active duty in late September. At that time, the U.S. usually gave all
government employees an annual “cost of living allowance” pay raise (called
COLA) in November. It was a 4 or 5% raise. I welcome it. Upon entering The
Basic School, we officers were required to buy 1 uniform after another at
regular intervals of 3 weeks or so till we bought all uniforms junior officers
were required to have: winter service, summer service, dress blues for winter,
(dress whites for summer, that I had previously bought at Pensacola while still
at Auburn), and a couple more uniforms I forgot the names of. We were required
to buy a Marine officers’ sword that we wore on very rare occasions with
our dress uniforms.
Very
soon after entering TBS, I join the base credit union at Quantico and had to
borrow money a time or two to pay for the uniforms. In no time at all, I was
surprised when a MasterCard credit card came to me in the mail. I did not have
to fill out an application for it, nor did I ask for it. They considered new
military officers a good enough risk to freely mail credit cards to us. To date
(2016), I still use that credit card when necessary and for many years I have
paid each bill in full upon receiving it, not living on credit.
We
Marines got New Years’ Day off from work when 1970 arrived. I’m glad when
Brenda soon returns to her dorm after Christmas break and we resume dating. I
turn 24 years old in January.
“Lieutenant
Yerby, isn’t that somewhat older than a college freshman co-ed?”
‘Yes,
somewhat.’
One
Saturday evening Mr. and Mrs. Tipton were going to some event, leaving their 3
boys at home to fix their own supper and eat in the dining room.
Mrs.
Tipton told me to bring Brenda out to their house, build a fire in the
fireplace in the basement and for Brenda and me to roast hotdogs over that fire
in the basement and prepare our supper there from things Mrs. Tipton would
prepare and leave for us to eat. Brenda and I did that and enjoyed a most
pleasant evening in front of that warm fireplace in the cozy basement. Never
before in my life had I had an opportunity to entertain a date in a house
like that. I am most thankful for the Tiptons’ much kindness to me and
for many
fond memories of Fredericksburg.
At
Quantico, from the end of Christmas vacation till we graduated at the end of
February, my company spent many days training out in the field, practicing
combat maneuvers while taking turns leading a fire team, squad, platoon and
even the whole company. I led a fire team of 3 other men once. I also was
designated to lead our platoon of about 40 men in an “attack” accompanied by an
armored personnel carrier and 2 tanks. That required precise co-ordination with
those big hunks of steel. This lieutenant commanded and led to the best of his
ability and got a kick out of it. Most classroom instruction was completed by
now, and it is time to put the instruction into practice out in the forests,
hills and fields “attacking the enemy”. So I went thru that training in the
cold snow.
Looking
back on this time, I thank God for the perfect timing of my training at The
Basic School. The lovely, mild autumn weather (when I was on the rifle and
pistol firing ranges, following my map and compass to find my “points” for the
mapping test, and such) seemed to fit those situations perfectly. Autumn made
that training a joy. During my time here at TBS, there is no hot and humid
fatiguing weather like I endured for 6 weeks last summer at OCS a few miles
from here. At this age, I prefer the extreme cold to the extreme heat.
2k
Proper cold weather apparel that kept me warm day and night in ice and snow.
In
November they issued us cold weather gear, insulated rubber boots to wear over our leather boots, insulated
mittens to wear over our
gloves, a warm “skull” cap for our head to wear under our helmet, and a
well-insulated sleeping bag for sleeping comfortably on snow and ice.
Growing
up, often I didn’t have sufficient warm clothing (especially for my feet and
hands) when I did outdoor farm work in the winter. I recall pulling corn in
December when my hands and toes grew numb from the cold. My hands would chafe,
chap, and turn raw from that work in the cold. And if our family was out of
glycerin or lotion to rub onto our hands after such a cold day’s work, my raw
and red, cracked-skin hands would “burn” with pain at night as I tried to
sleep. In our poverty, at times we had little or nothing with which to “doctor”
such hurting hands.
Let
me now contrast that misery of boyhood poverty to one time of training in
Quantico mid-winter cold (that was much colder than Alabama). We practice war
maneuvers all day out in the snow. Then we lay down to sleep in the snow all
night with no tent. Then we were to arise about 4 AM to carry out a pre-dawn
attack in the dark.
We
wore long underwear and the winter apparel I listed 2 paragraphs back. The
field pack on my back had my well-insulated sleeping bag strapped below it. We
were to sleep inside our sleeping bags that would keep us warm during this very
cold night. But to get into the sleeping bag I would have to take off my
insulated rubber boots, leather boots, mittens and gloves, and then put them
back on in the pitch black dark about 4 AM. The boots would be most cold at 4
AM.
I
opt to do differently. I unstrap my nylon poncho (normally used as a raincoat)
from my pack, unroll it onto the white ground and lay down on it. Perchance, my
body temperature melts the snow and ice under me as I sleep, the poncho will
prevent that water from reaching my clothing. I lie face-up on my back on that
poncho, wearing both pair of boots and both gloves and outer mittens, and my
warm skullcap. I put my rolled-up sleeping bag under my head for a pillow and
gaze up at lovely twinkling stars in a clear cold sky till I soon go to sleep
and sleep
quite well in the open cold on snow and ice.
Arising
about 4 AM, my buddies have to do much more than me in the dark; putting on
cold boots and gloves, rolling up sleeping bag and such. We’re not allowed to
use a flashlight or any small light because we pretend it’s war with the enemy
nearby.
We
attack the “enemy” in the predawn darkness, are debriefed by a colonel upon
completing the attack, ride back to the BOQ on the cattle cars as daylight
arrives, take hot showers, change into clean uniforms and head to the warm chow
hall for hot meals (all you want to eat). It was a good life! It was fun
playing soldier! I enjoyed it!
Adversity (like that cold night sleeping outdoors on the snow and ice)
can be endured much easier if we are equipped for it. Being properly equipped
and prepared for adversities in life often entails having enough money to buy
the necessary equipping. Oft-times during my boyhood, my family’s poverty
prevented us from being sufficiently equipped for adversities. Thus, we simply suffered. I
suffered doing outdoor farm work in the cold. Returning home, there was no
running hot water for a shower. I huddled near the wood burning stove or
fireplace to try to keep warm. It was a life filled with plenty of misery and
suffering.
Lord God, I thank Thee for helping me to be content with food, raiment, and with the least of necessities that make me somewhat comfortable in the heat, in the cold, and in such adversities. Thank Thee; Lord, for leading me to give (much of the resources and monies with which Thou doest bless me) to poor people thru out the world to help alleviate their sufferings from their poverty.
Likely
it was late January or early February (nearing graduation) when our company had
its Mess Night, a formal banquet to sort of celebrate our accomplishments. We
wore our dress blue uniforms. No wives or dates were allowed, just Marine men.
I look
at the several glasses of wine at my place setting at the banquet table and
each time a toast is made to the President of the U.S, the Commandant of the
Marine Corps, Quantico Base Commander, The Basic School Commander, our Company
Commander, (and possibly 1 or 2 more “big shots”), I hold up each designated
glass in the fashion of toasting and never once put a glass to my lips, thank
God. Then we have an extravagant banquet meal, after which we stand around
talking to our instructors and the few “big shots” (high ranking Marine and
Navy officers) that are present. Most Marines officers kept chugalugging wine
till they were sot drunk, a pitiful sight to see.
The
next morning my entire company loads onto buses that take us to Little Creek
Naval Amphibious Base right on the ocean between Norfolk and Virginia Beach,
Virginia. They well plan the drunken Mess Night so that we pass more than the 1st
half of the next day sitting on buses, allowing the drunks some time to recover
from their hangovers.
That
afternoon, we board 1 or more Navy ships that sail out a ways and back during
the night. The next morning we climb down the nets on the ship’s side into
amphibious vehicles that take us to shore where we disembark and attack the
“enemy” (practicing an amphibious landing on a “hostile” beach). Likely it was
that very afternoon that we ride on the buses back our BOQ at Quantico. Likely
that was a Saturday afternoon.
This
redneck country boy Marine lieutenant got a special honor while he was at The
Basic School. I was one of the very few chosen out of our company to attend the
Staff War College’s Mess Night along about now. I think I have the name
right: Staff War College at Quantico Marine Base.
It
was a school (college, training) for Marine field grade officers. Field grade
officers are majors and above, (majors, lieutenant colonels, colonels and
generals). Officers who had made field grade and were most serious about being
a career officer requested to train at this Staff War College or they were
appointed and ordered to do so. Most all were majors along with a few
lieutenant colonels. These men were slated to become top ranking Marine
officers to make war for our nation. They were elite Marines. They were in very
high level strategic training now, much of it Top Secret classroom instruction.
I
never really knew the reason they chose a few of us 2nd lieutenants
from The Basic School to attend as “guests”. Likely they let a few of us attend
to inspire us to stay in the Marines for a career. I think my platoon leader
chose me to attend because he knew I didn’t drink and therefore I wouldn’t get
skunk drunk and make a complete idiot out of myself in front of all those high
ranking officers, including the Commandant of the Marine Corps, 4 star General
Leonard F. Chapman, Jr., the highest ranking Marine. It was customary for the
Commandant to attend The Staff War College graduation and give the main speech.
This was the most elite
banquet I have ever attended. I dined amongst those
majors and lieutenant colonels that were attending the War College. I sat
amongst and stood and chatted with their instructors who were colonels and
likely a general or two. And I shook his hand, and stood and chatted with the
Commandant of The Marine Corps. A photographer took my picture with my
Commandant, just the 2 of us.
“Lt.
Yerby, can I p l e a s e have your autograph!”
‘Sure,
just get at the end of the long line and patiently wait. No pushing or shoving,
boy, or you won’t get an autograph.’
Seriously,
we few 2nd lieutenants who were invited as guests, had to be on our
best behavior. I was. And I was thankful for the privilege of attending this
high-ranking U.S. Marine Staff War College Mess Night at Quantico Marine Base,
meeting and chatting with the Commandant. Only a small percentage of Marines
ever see their Commandant in person from a distance. Likely only a tiny
fraction of a percent, ever get to shake hands with him and talk together
personally. This farm boy was one of that tiny fraction. I thank God for giving
me this special occasion while I was a Marine.
From
the time I arrived at The Basic School last September, I gave this tough
training the utmost of my
physical and mental abilities in order to place as high as possible in my
class. An upbringing of hard manual farm labor naturally trained me to work to
the extent of my ability. Another highly motivating factor at this critical
period of Marine training is that I want to be selected for pilot training
instead of being sent to Nam to lead a Marine infantry platoon in the enemy-infested
jungles.
Toward
the end of TBS we will be allowed to request the MOS (military occupational
skill) we desire to pursue. I intend to request “Pilot”. And I well know that
the higher I stand in my class, the better chance I’ll have of being granted my
first request. Thus I study hard to make high grades on all the written tests
on classroom instruction. I exert all my physical energy on the 2 or more PT
(physical training) tests we are graded on. And I give my utmost on the rifle
and pistol range, map and compass test, and all the training and leadership we
do out in the field.
Previously,
I wrote of being disappointed when Major Cleveland at Auburn ignored my request
to be sent directly from Auburn to pilot training at Navy Pensacola and he
instead got orders for me to come to Quantico for TBS. I was plenty sure this
route was heading me straight into the Marine infantry (foot soldier).
So
upon starting TBS training, I kept my eyes and ears keenly alert to all that
was said and done about our choice of a MOS. I was immensely relieved when a
major lectured us on choosing our MOS and said that all who request pilot
training (and who pass the physical medical exam for pilots) will be allowed to
go on to pilot training.
And
it was at this time that I first learn what I told you in Chapter 16. Because
the Marines need many pilots in the Viet Nam war, Pensacola Naval Air Station
cannot train them all. So the Marine Corps got quotas with the Air Force to
train jet pilots and quotas with the Army to train helicopter pilots. Here at
The Basic School, I’m permitted to request Air Force pilot training strictly
for jet pilots. At Auburn, I would not have been permitted to request jet
pilot training.
Here
at Quantico, I push myself to the limit of my ability, resulting in me ranking
quite high in my class. I report to the base hospital for a physical exam by a
Navy doctor. I pass it. By God’s Grace, my request for Air Force jet
pilot training is granted. My roommate in the BOQ (Lt. Wright) also
requests jet pilot training. He ranked somewhat lower in our class than I. He
was sent to Army chopper flight training instead. Soon I receive orders to
report to Vance Air Force Base, Enid, Oklahoma to start pilot training a month
after graduating from The Basic School at Quantico. Thank
Thee, Lord Jesus, for Thy Abundant Grace bestowed upon me.
About
this time, the Army sends my brother Joe to Viet Nam to be there one year.
As
time grows nigh for me to graduate and leave Quantico, one night I drop by
Fred’s room in the BOQ, chat with him a while and bid him Farewell. (He will
graduate from TBS about a month after me, he being the last of my Auburn class
to finish TBS.) Fred is gung ho and wants to be a platoon leader in Viet Nam. I
think of the likelihood of Fred being killed in Nam and me never seeing him
again. (I thank God that wasn’t the case.) Anyway, I bid this good buddy a warm
Farewell before leaving Quantico.
TBS
graduation day was a weekday right at the end of February. The previous
evening, I had packed and loaded my few belongings into the truck and back seat
of my Thunderbird, leaving the front seat empty for my 2 passengers. Brenda
skipped college classes today to attend my graduation. Early in the morning, I
drive to the Tipton house in my dress blue uniform, pick up Mrs. Tipton, then
stop by Brenda’s dorm, pick her up, and drive back to Quantico with those 2
friends.
I
think our graduation was held in the base theater with The Basic School
Commander (a colonel) shaking each of our hands and handing each a scroll as
each of us walked across the stage.
Our
Honor Graduate (the officer who placed 1st in our class) was a
captain with a high IQ. This day, he was handed the “honor scroll” and an officers’
sword (I think) as a reward. Also, this great achievement goes onto his record.
As best I recall of his history, upon graduating from the U.S. Naval Academy
with honors, he got permission to go on to law school before attending TBS.
Thus he had been promoted to 1st lieutenant and then to captain
(while in law school) before entering our TBS class. So I will call him Captain
“Law” ⑦.
He
was not in my platoon, so I wasn’t close around him much. What little I knew of
him, I perceived him to be conceited and aloof, wrapped up in his own
greatness. Later, he will crash the A-4 Sky Hawk he is piloting and die in the
crash. Likely he would still be alive today had he not been overconfident as a
pilot. I had no self-confidence as a pilot. I put my confidence in Jesus. And I’m
alive at 70 to tell you that.
Our
Graduation Ceremony was late in the morning. Wives of all the married men
attended. Several single guys had their girlfriends here, as I did. We had all
moved out of the BOQ. We had our written orders with our luggage in our
vehicles. Thus, upon the ceremony’s completion, we were totally dismissed from
TBS at Quantico. So I bade hurried Farewells to buddies in my platoon. (Since
that day, I have only seen about 6 of them.)
Back
in Chapter 15 as I told you of Officers’ Candidate School in a different area
at Quantico in the summer of 1968, I mentioned “kindred spirits” briefly in 1
sentence. Those “kindred spirits” were more concrete here in The Basic School,
now that we are “real” officers. There was much satisfaction in bonding with
fellow Marine officers during our intense training together. Thus emotions stir
to some degree as we now part. I now have all my belongings in my car (along
with orders to Air Force pilot training). It’s time to move on to new
adventures playing soldier high in the sky. This day is a highlight in my
life.
I
take Mrs. Tipton and Brenda to the officers’ club for lunch and some leisure
time in that area. Then I drive us 3 back to the Tiptons’ house. There I change
out of my stiff collar dress blues into comfortable civilian attire I have in
my car. Brenda and I have supper with the Tipton family and then we 2 go down
into the basement to sit together in front of the glowing fireplace, chatting a
while in an act of Farewell before I drive her back to her dorm. I haven’t seen
Brenda since. I pray that our Lord’s Most Abundant Blessings have been upon her
and all her family. Parting from Brenda at her dorm’s entrance, I drive back to
the Tiptons’ and spend the night there.
“Good
night, Marine Officers’ Basic School graduate.”
‘Thank
you.’
2nd
Major Change in life, from May 1969 thru January 1970
2a A
new, safe, nice looking car reliable for long trips. (Ch. 19)
2b
Finished with the dirty roofing job. (Chapter 19)
2c No
Job Search upon graduating from university. (Ch. 19)
2d
Now a Marine officer and a gentleman. (Ch. 19)
2e I
gain a regular paycheck with 30 days paid vacation per year. (Ch. 19)
2f
All necessary medical and dental treatment totally free. (Ch. 19)
2g I
start my desired “career”. (Ch. 19)
2h No
daily commute. (Chapter 20)
2i A
squared away, tidy environment and uniform. (Ch. 20)
2k
Cold weather apparel that kept me warm day and night in ice and snow. (Ch. 20)
Precious Lord Jesus, I am most grateful to Thee for these
betterments in life You sent my way in 1969 and 1970. Save me from living a
selfish life. Cause me to do all I can (with all the means Thou doest give unto
me) to relieve the suffering of precious human souls anywhere on this earth.