Fifty Years Ago Today
Joe_1961
Originally uploaded by zhuxiu63. It was fifty years ago today…
Originally Posted on April 4, 2011
April 4, 1961, I embarked on a journey that was to pretty much determine the rest of my life’s course up to now. I enlisted in the U.S. Navy as an eighteen-year-old high school graduate.
Very early that morning I said goodbye to my mom (dad was still at work), left our house on West Van Buren Street in Chicago with a small gym bag, and headed toward the “L” that would take me downtown to the induction center. I would not see home again for quite a while. It was a sunny morning, as I recall, but by the end of the day everything was pretty gray and gloomy. This was a big step into the unknown, on my own. I was little prepared for this entrance into a highly regimented existence that would last for nearly seven years.
Locked inside the windowless induction center, that first day of a new existence was filled with a maze of exam booklets, almost incomprehensible forms, strangers’ hands that poked and prodded, and bodiless booming voices that crashed against each individual’s fragile cocoon. We had not yet taken the oath, yet we all reacted to these voices of authority with herd-like instinct. For most of us, some kind of authority had always been there (family, school, etc.), and you either embraced, relented or you ran away. This day there was no place to run, and besides, everyone was going along with the program-we had voluntarily enlisted, after all. We were all ready to be magically transformed from boys to men.
Finally, as the induction processing came to an end, we took the oath of enlistment and were officially welcomed into the US Navy. We received our first travel orders to head North by train to Great Lakes Recruit Training Command (RTC). The orders arbitrarily placed my name at the top of the list of five recruits who would travel together (my first “command”). I was now introduced to the number that would be a part of me for the next seven years: 585 38 45. This number, along with my name, would eventually be placed on every piece of navy gear that I was issued, from socks to hats.
We arrived at Great Lakes in the early evening. The gray that had taken over the day now covered everything we could see. Low-slung buildings, wooden and brick, surrounded by an outer perimeter of heavy chain link fence, greeted us. This was it. This was where our new “journey” was to begin. Those buildings would serve as excellent echo chambers for the orders that were flung at us from all sides.
We spent our first night in one of those red brick buildings that looked a hell of a lot better outside than inside. It seemed as if the previous tenants moved out in a hurry, taking the furniture and bedding with them. Bare bunks (doubles) greeted our tired eyes, along with ratty tile floors that had seen better days. A chewed-up picnic table dominated the center of the room, and next to it, a huge metal trash can. All in all, this was an environment that worked well to rip from us any semblance of a home-like atmosphere that we left behind only that morning. “Mommy?”
Since we arrived so late in the day, nothing further could be done to us. (I cannot recall whether or not we managed to get fed-maybe I just blocked it out) So, we set about cleaning up and making up our bunks with linen provided for that night. Finally, about 10pm, we were allowed to go to sleep. I can clearly remember lying there, filled with a little excitement but no small amount of apprehension, thinking: “What have I let myself in for?”
Continuing the story:
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