A Veteran's Journey

Trivia Questions (Answers @ end)

1. Who said, “You laugh at me because I’m different; I laugh at you because you’re all the same.”?
2. In what movie (and who said it) did we hear, “Nobody changes at summer camp. They merely find out who they are and become it more.”?
3. In what song (and who sang it) did we hear the following?
   Hot town, summer in the city
   Back of my neck gettin’ dirty and gritty
   Been down, isn’t it a pity?
   Doesn’t seem to be a shadow in the city
   All around, people lookin’ half dead
   Walkin’ on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head

---

May 1973–Tallahassee, Florida.

I’m sure the letter said something else, but the only thing I remember was the statement, “Dismissed for academic reasons.” I don’t know why… my GPA was a solid 0.7 (out of a 4.0).

I’d started Fall classes in 1972 at Florida State University, my mom’s old college, a mere three months after graduating from Gainesville High School (Class of ’72 – Go Canes!). When I left home for the first time, I carried my toothbrush, my “luggable” Motorola stereo, and proudly wore my “Billy Jack” Navajo hat. I had a hand full of record albums: Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, Merle Haggard, and… Herman’s Hermits, the last, compliments of my sister, Anne.

At six-foot four inches, blonde hair, and weighing a whopping 165 pounds, I was ready to tackle the world. I was 17 years old.

A year later, I was an accomplished scuba diver and worked part time at Barry’s North Central Florida Dive Center, owned by my friend and scuba instructor, Barry Kerley (ex-Army). I’d made A’s in Scuba Diving and First Aid.

But the rest of my classes—you know, those insignificant courses like Biology, Math, English, and WTF classes everyone needs to take during their first two years? Let’s just say I wasn’t a stellar student.

And I’ll leave it at that.

Beyond High School

Some of the high schoolers a few years before me knew what they were going to do when they graduated high school. They’d either be drafted or join one of the armed forces. There wasn’t a lot of choice back in the late 60s. But fortunately for “my” high school class in 1972, we had choices.

My mom had graduated from Florida State University in the mid-40s—back when it was known as Florida State College for Women. Before WWII, my dad had attended and graduated from The Citadel in Charleston, SC and commissioned an officer in the US Army. After the war, he attended the University of Florida College of Law and graduated with a law degree. He wanted to settle down with a wife and family and lead a quiet life as a “country lawyer” after what he’d been through in Europe.

There was a standing joke between my mom & dad… sort of a yearly rivalry, usually around Thanksgiving time when FSU Seminoles played UF Gators. One day every year, the house was “tense” and depending on who won the game (Seminoles or Gators), we’d either have fried chicken, complete with taters & gravy, greens, and mom’s “gut-bomb” biscuits, or if FSU lost, bologna sandwiches.

Yep, I lived in a “split” household. I’m sure I’m not the only one here that had that experience.

I had no clue what I wanted to do after high school, but I know I didn’t want to work at my Uncle Walter’s gas station for the rest of my life, though I loved being a “shade tree” mechanic. So, I decided I’d give college a try.

I chose FSU not because that’s where my mom went, but because I wanted to “experience life” away from home—2½ hours by highway, to be precise.

As an aside, I lived in the same dorm (Landis Hall) as my mother when she attended FSU. After the first quarter of school, I found out I stayed in the exact same room as she did, 27 years earlier. That was spooky.

About that First Year Away From Home…

Being away from home for the first time, on my own trying to figure out classes, homework, football, and fun, I think I did everything I wanted to do except for the things I needed to do.

After that first year at FSU and after I’d gotten my grades (my folks got them in the mail a day or two later), a thousand thoughts ran through my mind. I could always join the Army and follow in my dad’s footsteps. That’s probably what he might want me to do, even though we were still fighting a war in Vietnam.

But after talking with my scuba diving buddy, Ed Kelly, who’d served six years in the Navy and told me about all the great times he’d experienced, I thought I’d talk with the local Navy recruiter. He was a bike ride away from my campus dorm room in downtown Tallahassee.

I can’t remember the recruiter’s name, but he was very cordial, informative, and seemed trustworthy. He, of course, saw me as one more for his monthly quota. But at the time, I didn’t feel that at all.

Press Hard, the Third Copy is Yours

After we chatted a bit, he handed me a book of Navy jobs to thumb through—it was pretty thick. So much to read with so little time. Since I obviously didn’t have a long attention span, it didn’t take me long to point to the job I wanted. It was almost like spinning a globe, stopping it, and placing my finger on the page—this is what I want to do.

Actually, my thought process was very logical. I loved scuba diving, so that brought me to the Navy. Face it, there would be more opportunities to dive in the Navy than the Army. I loved being outdoors, and I’d always loved airplanes. In fact, when I was a kid, I probably put together every airplane model there was from the J.M. Fields department store a few blocks away from my house.

The Navy rating (job) I chose was Aviation Boatswain’s Mate Handler.

“No problem,” the recruiter smiled. “The Navy needs ABHs and you will probably be able to go anywhere in the world you want.” He probably said that to every Tom, Dick, & Harry who walked through his door.

I was 18 years old and legally able to sign documents. “Press hard, the third copy is yours.” And that was it.

Many people have asked me over the years if I enlisted in the Navy to really join—you know, “it’s not just a job it’s an adventure”—or if it was because I was worried about being drafted into the Army. It was 1973 and even though the Vietnam War was winding down, they were still fighting.

Honestly, I wanted to join the Navy. I don’t recall the thought of being drafted ever crossing my mind.

That Phone Call

A few days later, I was working at the dive shop when my mom and dad called me. We had land lines back then, no cell phones, no emails, no computers, and no texting.

When I answered the phone, my dad said in his slow, southern, calm, disappointed voice, “Son, we got your report card and wanted to talk with you about your grades.”

“Yeah. I know. I didn’t do as well as I should have.”

Before my dad or mom could say anything else, I blurted out, “I joined the Navy!”

There was a silence—a long, deafening silence. I think I heard a collective gasp from the other end of the phone. My mom said, “What?!” I told them again.

I forget whatever else was said during that phone call. But my mom told me years later that she and my dad were very proud of me at that moment. They said that I had made one of the most important decisions in my life.

More importantly, I stuck with it… all Three Years, Eleven Months, and 29 Days.

Looking Back

That was 48 years ago. Like many of my veteran friends—Navy, Army, Marine, Air Force, and Coast Guard—I never doubted that decision. That was the major cornerstone that set the foundation for the rest of my life.

Yeah… I flunked my first year in college. But after leaving the Navy, I went back—this time to the University of Florida—and graduated with a Bachelor’s Degree in Electronics Engineering and a few years later, while still in the work force, I graduated with a Master’s Degree in Engineering.

I know that World War II set the path for my father’s journey through his life, just as the Navy set the path for mine. I had two great duty stations: NAS Agana, Guam / Crash & Rescue and USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63) / Crash & Salvage. I honestly believe that journey gave me the confidence I needed to continue through my life and my careers.

I don’t know what drove other sailors and servicemen to join, but as I look back, for whatever reason, mine was the right decision for me.

Until we meet again,
Andy

---

Answers

1. This has been floating around as attributed to Kurt Cobain; it’s also attributed to Jonathan Davis.
2. Happy Campers (2001) – Wichita (Brad Renfro). [Ed. note: yeah, I had to look this one up, too.]
3. Summer in the City (1966) – The Lovin’ Spoonful; written by John Sebastian, Mark Sebastian, and Steve Boone.