Growing Up, Travel (Not First Class)

"Bernie doesn't get ulcers. He gives them".

Words of wisdom from my first ex-wife, The Princess. A 10 year marriage that lasted 27 years.

At 20, when the bullet went through my leg my leg on Okinawa, in 1945, at 21 years of age, I grew up in one hell of a hurry. Realized that I was not going to gain immortality by living forever.

My life of travel, while in the Army, started with my going from Fort Dix in Jersey to Fort Sill in Oklahoma to Fort Worden in Washington State.12 weeks in the Army and I had already spent over a week on trains, aka 'fucking cattle cars'.

The Army moved me around a lot. After being transferred from Camp Hayden in Washington State to the 241st. Signal Corps Co., I became a man in motion.

With a general idea, based on rumors, that we were going to Hawaii, we shipped out from Seattle and headed West on a troop transport, aka 'merchant ship'. About one day out a wild ass storm broke out and the ship heaved and lurched like a whore on Saturday night. We fucking land lubbers did a lot of vomiting.

After a few days of feeling like shit we headed back to Seattle. The ship needed repairs. And so did we.

Discrimination was part of life on a troop ship with officers getting privileges and GI's like me getting bubkas. Hell, we had to scramble to get a seat for a movie aboard ship. The officers had a reserved section. The blacks were forced into their own segregated viewing section.

We made it to Hawaii and Schofield Barracks, then aboard a form of LST to Okinawa. Hello gun shot wound. Only hurt for a minute. Effects have lasted a fucking lifetime.

Landing Ship, Tank (LST)

Hospital ship to Saipan for a few days. First day aboard, in strolls a Navy Steward with a tray of orange juice.We all got jacked up until we found out that our ward was a short cut to to the officer's ward. For sure our recovery didn't need orange juice, even canned.

Another ship from Saipan, back to my outfit and Okinawa. Followed by yet another ship in a typhoon going to Seoul and for occupying Korea. Not quite as much vomiting.

Aborted hospital airplane ride to Yokohama and that theoretically was to take us Stateside. The wings of the airplane had, along with my ass, frozen over.

But God takes care of drunks and fools and they put my sorry ass on a hospital ship back to Wilmington, California and Camp Haan, with a drunken one day lay over in Hawaii. I had 45 days of shooting craps, playing cards for O'Henry bar slices and swapping bullshit 'How'd you get hit?' stories.

Actually the camaraderie of all of us gimpy, goofy, shot up, full of shit GI's is memorable. 45 days for that non-cruise like trip.

Four days of a dead sober, boring, fucking train ride to the Fort Devens, Mass Hospital from Camp Haan, California and eventual discharge from the Army.

Three years in the Service of continuing wandering and wondering, while having the privilege of serving my country and being rewarded with a head full of great experiences and the memories that go with them.

Redundantly: From Fiddler On The Roof: 'Those were the days my friend.We thought they'd never end.'
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