Win, Lose Or Draw Or For Money, Marbles Or Chalk

Holy shit. In came, unannounced, via mail, in May of 1946 a government check for $16. About $200 in today's money.(A guess)

In 1946 a then big time government scandal revolved around people stealing (receiving and cashing) government checks that didn't belong to them. My paranoia (Paranoia improves peripheral vision.) caused me to question why the Federal government would send me a fucking check for anything. So in a drawer the check went.

When, after receiving three $16 checks and Purple Heart showed up in the mail, it became apparent that something was going on and it was time for me to find out what the hell it was. I'm slow but hopefully, not stupid.

In the olden days, 1946, you could make a phone call and talk to a living, human being. None of today's having to go from option to option, pressing buttons at least three fucking times before you get a recording that doesn't answer your question.

So, I dialed up information (Yet another almost lost in time option.Thank you Google.) and got a general government phone number from a living person and away I went. 

 

A woman answered the government phone (In those macho days men didn't answer phones.That was strictly woman's work). She patiently, asked me to read some stuff off a check and told me to call the VA. Even gave me the phone number.

The woman at the VA, after a few questions told me that the checks were disability checks. I didn't think that having a big time limp was a disability but the VA and Army thought that I was 30% disabled. I was grateful that the perceived disability wasn't mental.

 

The Princess took care of that option. She always believed that I was 'bizarre' and told me so too many times to count. A basic function of marriage, in the beginning, is to expect the unexpected. After a few years, I just tuned out. Turned my non-existent hearing aid off.

Then, I asked the VA woman about the Purple Heart.Why did I get it? And in the mail? She told me that the bullet that went through my leg on Okinawa, earned me the medal. Being a full time klutz, I pointed out that I was not a hero. Didn't kill a gazillion Japanese, raise the flag on Imo Jima or save lives.

When that bullet found me I was too stupid to be scared and was minding my own fucking business crouched in a fox hole, carbine at the ready, while all hell was breaking loose.

Mailing the Purple Heart was how it was done. The only ceremony (without a band involved) was opening the box in which it arrived. When the Princess threw me out she didn't include the medal. That went into a separate dust bin.

My disability checks and Purple Heart came about because a guy by the name of Woody Daher from Lansing, Michigan convinced me, while walking to a movie at the discharge facility in Fort Devons, Mass., to fill out forms listing problems developed while in the Army instead of going to the movie.

Walking was a problem, as was pleurisy and a touch of malaria.The walking problem was 'accepted', pleurisy and malaria were ignored. God bless Woody Daher.

My mental and emotional service related problems were subject to my first ex-wife's analysis. The VA didn't care. The Princess with the aid of shrinks thought that pills would solve my emotional problems. Booze was my choice of addiction.Thank God for Alcoholics Anonymous.

COLA(Cost Of Living Adjustments) started for the VA in the 60's and have jacked my disability check to $400 while my limp has grown worse. My kid, Kurt, suggested a lift in my shoe so my limp is neither as bad or as apparent.

No matter!!! Win, lose or draw or for money, marbles or chalk, I still look like shit.

 

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