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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