A GLIMPSE INTO MY LIFE

I went to Navy boot camp in September of 1964. I joined with a high school friend, Henry McDevitt, on the buddy program. The buddy program allowed me and Henry to be stationed together after boot camp.

My fist airplane trip started in Columbia, South Carolina and ended in San Diego, California. A bus took me to the Naval Training Center where they started yelling at me and calling me a maggot. I was assigned to Company 522.

After 12 weeks of carrying around a rifle and marching all over hell and half of Georgia, I graduated somewhat the worse for learning how to fight fires and survive being gassed with tear gas. I qualified with the pistol and rifle. I even learned to throw a grenade as far as I could and get my ass low to the ground.

Well, Henry got orders to Naval Air Facility, Phoenix Arizona. My orders read the same. The Naval Facility was in a small town known as Goodyear or Avondale. I was advanced 2 weeks leave after graduating. I took my Navy pay that the Navy kept for me and bought an Airline ticket to Asheville, North Carolina. I landed in Asheville on a Sunday. I got a ride with an old geezer from the airport to downtown Asheville. I asked him where I could buy a beer and he looked at me kind of funny and said: “Son, don’t you know that today is Sunday?”  I walked the streets of Asheville for a while and found a Café that served coffee and grits and eggs. The cook was an old black man who gave me a big plate with a slab of pork tenderloin. Grits never tasted so good. I told him I wanted a beer, and he told me of a place din the bad side of town, a house, where I could pay double for a cold beer. It was a run-down house with a window that was open. I bought my beer and asked how I could get from Asheville to Rosman. The beer salesman told me to either hitchhike or ride the bus to Hendersonville. He gave me directions to the Greyhound bus station. I bought a $3.00 ticket to Hendersonville. The bus stopped at every crossroad to let people on or off.

When I got to Hendersonville, I walked to the edge of town and hitchhiked to Brevard. I walked to the edge of Brevard and hitchhiked to Rosman. In Rosman, I stopped at the Company store and bought a chili dog and a pint of chocolate milk. Then I walked the four or so miles to Frozen Creek Road. I walked about a mile up Frozen Creek Road and cut across Frozen Creek on a foot log. I walked up past my Daddy’s corn crib, up past the spout branch and entered the house by the kitchen door. I saw the familiar pot of soup beans (pinto beans) on the woodstove. I walked into the living room and there was my Mama. She jumped up from her chair by the wood heater and grabbed me and called me a little devil. That hug from my Mama was more valuable than gold. She had tears in her eyes as she welcomed me home. I will never forget that greeting.