Memorial Day 2017
January 20, 1966, 5:am on the train
platform was a bitterly cold morning for several reasons. What else
could you expect from the Lake Erie shore than cold wind and snow
flakes. Add that to the fact that I, a 19 year old dreamer of
heroism in far off lands, was on my way to the induction center in a
major metropolitan city.
My father was sorry to see me go, the
way fathers are but had not offered any advice beyond a long previous
admonishment Not To Join the Marines! He had nothing against the Corp
except their nickname, Jar Heads. I think I remember jumping out a
first floor window with excitement after watching an exciting WWII
movie about Marines.
So, despite being extremely hung
over/drunk, I reaffirmed that vow as the train loaded with tomorrow's
leaders/heroic dead. We must have been a sight, 19 out of 20 weeping,
hugging, oath swearing I'll wait for you couples and me. So much
lying going on! Anyway, the Draft Board clerk picked me to carry the
records packet to the induction center. “Make sure no one gets off
this train and keep them in line!”
I passed out the minute I was warm and
seated on the train. I highly recommend drinking heavily with your
friends prior to such a trip, especially by train because there
aren't any stewardess' to glare down disapprovingly on you and you
can sleep all the way. Train, Bus and stand in line while being
probed and shot with fancy drug injecting guns was just about what I
expected.
Then I heard someone shouting my name.
“Blitzflix, Joe Blitzflix! Blitzflix, Joe Blitzflix!” So I
raised my hand and confessed I was he. The stern Army clerk informed
me I was in the wrong line. I followed his pointed finger to a much,
much shorter line. At the head of the line, after answering in the
affirmative to questions about my name and being told to keep it
moving, was a burly Marine Sargent who explained that I was theirs.
“The Marine Corp is an all volunteer
branch of our military,” I quoted John Wayne or some other movie
Marine. After being informed that I had no right to speak and my
wrist watch making a bad noise I spent the rest of the day whimpering
the oath to my Father under my breath. At this point you might be
considering me a coward but I wasn't scared of no Drill Instructors
or physical/mental challenges. I was a 19 fighter.
Just after chow and just before we were
asked to take one step forward, I heard my name shouted once again,
“Blitzflix, Joe Blitzflix! Blitzflix, Joe Blitzflix!” I was
told to REPORT to the burly Marine Sargent.
“There have been a number of you
maggots who have volunteered to be Marines so go back to them Army
pukes, NOW!” What a nice way to be given my destiny back. Had I
stayed I would have been a real killer but I'm happy not to have
disappointed my Father! Happy Memorial Day!
This blog/column is meant for educational purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All images are merely for humor and not meant to comment on subject. Void where prohibited. Some assembly required. Do not read while operating a vehicle or heavy machinery. Keep sending those great questions and comments! (Contact) boatguied@aol.com
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