The Sunbeam Alpine left behind

May 31 - June 1, 1967

140 days, 31 May, 1967

My flight left right on time with no problems except a tear or two watching Mom and Dad on top of the terminal trying to find where I was sitting on the plane. They’d wave at the front of the plane and then at the back but I know they didn’t see me ‘cause I was in the middle. I stuck my “Sports Car Graphic” up in my window but they didn’t see it.

The plane took off and before I knew it there was Hoover dam and Westerville right below. (I saw Marlynn walking home from school and waved but she didn’t see me either. I thought I heard the Alpine running though.)

The flight was rather dull until we lit in Chicago. All I can say about that is if the Chicago area is as magnificent as the airport it has to be great. You can walk for miles and still not get anywhere. Portable tunnels snake out to meet the plane and you just walk off, no stairs, it’s built on two levels.

The plane on to Oakland was about ¾ army men so I knew I wasn’t alone anyway. This was the fifth time I’ve been up and finally the stewardess asked me if I wanted coffee, tea, or mild. I was so thrilled I almost lost control and asked her to marry me. Of the 4 hours flying over ¾ of the country I saw about 5 minutes of Wyoming desert, The Great Salt Lake, and a couple of the Rocky Mountains (they’re really covered with snow still.) The rest was clouds and snow (yes snow at 35,000 feet). Above the clouds it’s really beautiful though like you’re out crawling over a box of cotton balls.

A few exciting moments as we came down through the fog in Oakland. We had circled out over the ocean for our approach and all I could see was water. Closer, closer, no landing in view. We got so close the fish were worried; my ears popped and we lit – boom! The runway extends out into the water to accommodate jets. I’m glad they have good pilots. By my time it was 11:00, by theirs it was only 8:00. I took a $1.90 cab to Oakland Army Base (about Ft. Hayes’s size). So this is California! –

141 days, 1 June, 1967

After signing 49 senseless forms, getting paid and finally going to bed my time 3:00 am (actually only 12:00 pm)

Fine sleeping quarters; a warehouse with beds about 3 feet apart, the warehouse about the size of the [Ohio] Statehouse parking garage, is completely filled with bunks. Talk about sardines in a can, this would give a sardine claustrophobia!

We got up at 5:30 their time (8:30 mine) and had our formation in the rain. That’s all we’ve done is have formations in the rain. While we stand there they call about 500 names of guys shipping out and then give the rest ridiculous little jobs like watering the grass with sprinkling cans after it has rained all day.

I haven’t ever seen the “warm California Sun” since we left it above the  cold California clouds and fog yesterday, I don’t even know which way is north yet, no shadows or anything, just drizzle, rain, and fog, and about 40 degrees, not to mention the wind. I’ve got to get up at 2:30 am tomorrow (tonight) for K.P. (oh, boy!) They’ll wake us by the harbor foghorn. I think there’s a harbor out there. When the fog lifts for a moment I can see a couple of large boats across the street at what appears to be a dock; there’s a couple of buildings in the way though so I can’t be sure. Maybe they just ran ashore in the fog.

I have no idea when I ship out. Probably in a few (2-3) days. I hope I can talk to someone about my physical and my orders.

This is California?

 

Trainee cartoon

Trainee cartoon, a photo by pmhux2 on Flickr.

About

This is a blog in memory of my brother. It consists of his letters home during 1967 - 1968. The letters began in May, and that is when they will begin to be posted - May 2011. For me personally, it's almost like being ferried by Charon across the River Styx......

As I recall, Robert was drafted, or had to report, on my birthday in January of 1967. Bummer. He had dropped out of the Ohio State University, and had expected to join up with a close buddy of his. The notice from the Army got there first.

(Sample notice, for those who will probably, prayerfully, never have to see one.)

We lived in a small college town in Ohio. Robert was 4 years younger than I was, and we were the only two little sprouts my parents had. We started out in Indiana, but moved in 1959.

These letters are not to my parents. Those letters have been lost - too painful to keep perhaps. My mother didn't know what Dad did with them, nor with a great many photos. Robert loved taking photos, shooting rolls and rolls of film. Only four or five slides remain. Who knows what happens? Dad lost most of my wedding slides, too.....

We had a neighbor, a school teacher, and mother of another of my brother's best friends. She saw the significance of the times, and an opportunity, and so Robert agreed to write a diary in letters, and send them to her. She was planning on publishing some of them, but Robert said not to, since it would only bring him problems from the Brass. And it's not without reason: he told it just the way he saw it.

The letters were lost for years, until I found the woman's daughter through an internet search. She unexpectedly sent them to me, but sadly not in time for Mom to see them. The daughter's name is mentioned often in the letters. Thank you, Marlynn! I love you!

Thanks also to the band of brothers who served with Robert. I am in contact with several and their input has been touching, invaluable, and accurate. They are my adopted brothers! They have encouraged me to publish the letters in their entirety and frankness. Thanks to all of you! The Mighty 10 will not be forgotten.