In the
summer of 1967 I went with my Naval Reserve Squadron to a Marine Base in Yuma,
Arizona.
When we
first stepped off the plane the dry heat felt very differently than our Georgia high humidity heat.
When we were
unloading our duffle bags, equipment, and things onto a tram the guy that drove the
tram to the plane was somebody I knew.
His last name was Moody. We both
were in the HU-4 Helicopter Utility Squadron.
He had just made first class before I went off active duty. I remembered he was from North Carolina. About ten years later (1976-7) when I started
doing genealogy research I found out
Moody is one of my surname lines. Oh
well, too late now to ask him about his roots.
I was a
personnelman, which included yeoman duties.
One of those duties was pick up the mail daily and bring it back and
sort it. I had to walk almost a mile,
there and back, to get office to get the mail. It was walking on a trail through the a little
piece of a desert. I could have got transportation but I
insisted on walking it every morning. It
was my daily solitude moment.
One night a
bunch of us somehow got one of the Marines stationed there to drive
us about 20 miles south to Saint Louise, Mexico. It was very interesting. I have no idea how we got back to the base
that night.
My immediate
supervisor was Chief Spg. I will give
him the name Spg because it is similar to his real name. The reason I don't want to use his real name
because he was a pain in the ass. He
wasn't a bad person, he meant well. He
was friendly but always was disorganized - he reminded me of Rodney
Dangerfield.
I found out
I could hop a free flight to Anaheim, California, free on a Marine helicopter,
Friday after we got off work. I made my
plans. I'll be packed, and I would slip
off early and hop a free flight to Anaheim.
And no Chief Spg for a couple of days.
Imagine my
surprise when I climbed aboard the helicopter and there was Chief Spg already
in a seat.
On the
flight we sort of avoided each other. I
think he thought I wanted to get away from him and he was right, I felt guilty.
We landed at
a Marine Base very near Disneyland.
I stood on
the edge of the highway just outside of Disneyland's gates and hitchhiked. It took a while to get a ride. I could hear loud music, oohs, and aahhs,
from the rides.
I was hitchhiking for down in the heart of Las
Angeles. I got a room in a hotel and
went bar hopping alone. I finally ended
up in a lonely bar called the Jungle Room.
I enjoyed walking around seeing all the strange L.A. people. I also went to a U.S.O. dance. It was the first and last time I went to a U.S.O.
dance.
Saturday was
more walking around L.A. sightseeing. I
was approached by several panhandlers and was sized up by several dubious
looking characters who looked to me like they would love to do me harm, size me
up.
I decided it
would be much safer and cheaper to sit in the window of the hotel lobby and watch interesting people pass.
After
sitting a while Chief Spg walked by the big window. I sat motionless hoping he would not see
me. He glanced my way, but kept on
moving his gaze and walked out of the window view.
"Whew!" I sighed.
Then in a
blink of the eye, there he was again, in the window looking at me waving.
I acted
surprised, which I wasn't really acting, I thought I got away with dodging him.
He came on
in and we talked. He asked if I would
mind if he shared my room for the night.
"Of
course not!" I lied.
We went out
and ate someplace, which I forgot, and
he paid the bill. This arrangement might
not be so bad after all.
Someplace that evening Chief Spg said the wrong thing to somebody and he almost
got pounced on but I sensed trouble brewing and we exited quickly... I remember
it like I just typed, but I don't remember the details.
That night
he slept on a couch in the room and I slept in the bed. He snored and kept me partially awake. The next morning he paid for breakfast at the
breakfast room in the hotel. We then
went back to the room and after we cleaned up he started making phone calls.
He was
searching for an old friend he was in the Navy friend and they kept up their
communications. He lived in Hollywood
Hills and he told the Chief if he was ever in town, call him.... which that was
what the Chief did.
The chief's
friend came and picked us up in front of the hotel. He was driving an expensive car. He took us through the winding roads of
Hollywood Hills. He pointed out several
famous people's houses. He lived in a nice house too. He was an executive engineer for Disney Studios.
His wife was
Asian and very friendly . While the
Disney Executive and Chief Spg were busy catching up with old times that left
the wife to entertain me. She was a
very good hostess and was very
interested in everything about me. We
spent three to four hours together talking about various experiences and
subjects.
She showed
me the house the back yard and over on one side was a tall chain-link fence and
two huge dogs barked and growled at me.
However, they liked her. she told
me the dogs belong to their neighbor Steve McQueen and that was his house behind
the bushes and trees. I suggested we
could climb a tee and wait on him to step out to tell the dogs to shut up and
then we could wave at him. She thought
that was funny and had several bursts of laughter over it.
It was a
very nice visit and it was worth putting up with Chief Spg.
The chief's
friend took us to the bus station. Sunday evening we took the bus back to
Yuma. I slept most the way I think.
The next
week one of our squadron's pilots went down in a jet and he was killed. It took a whole day of searching to find him
and a lot of the men in the squadron used desert vehicles all over the rocky
mountains looking for him and his plane.
Unfortunately, they found him and the plane. He was dead.
That was my
last two-week warrior weekend.
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