Reporting to The Induction Center

I was classified "1A: Registrant available for military service," had my Army Induction papers in hand, said my goodbyes to my parents and then dropped off at the induction center by my fiancé, Eileen; ready to serve my country. 

It wasn’t what I intended to do but forced into it by the draft because I had no more educational deferments. I had already been through college, hired by a big corporation, received 8 months of corporate training and ready for three more months of training when the induction papers arrived. 

About 14 inductees sat around a table waiting for directions when a Marine recruiter informed us that the Marines are running short of guys this month and asked us for volunteers. Nobody raised their hand so the recruiter said, "OK, we’ll do it the democratic way." I’m thinking--hmmm, Marines are dying so fast that they can’t replace them fast enough. 

After a long pause she let me have it. I apologized and off to California I went. 

After basic training, advanced infantry training, wiremen school, and Vietnamese Language School, I flew to Okinawa and stayed there for 10 days until the final flight to Da Nang. 

I remember the flight to Da Nang being very quiet. Upon touchdown, I noticed machine gun installations, red dust and diesel smoke filling the air from moving trucks. It was a very busy place.

The next day I rode out in the back of a truck to my assigned Platoon. Along the way, I saw rice paddies, water buffalo and people with oversized hats that looked like a pyramid. As we passed through the front gate of our battalion, I noticed a sign that read, "Gateway to Dodge." It was in an area of bamboo and banana trees surrounded by coiled razor wire, guard towers and guard shacks. Guys were wearing flak jackets (protective armor) and carrying M-16 rifles. Some were carrying M-60 machine guns over their shoulders. A helicopter was landing on the LZ; bringing back Marines from who knows where. 

Wow, I thought, this is like the wild west! Well, here is where I would be for the next 6 mos. before our whole battalion moved to Hill 10. 

Eileen and I communicated by letter and tape recorder throughout my tour. I was one of the lucky ones who didn’t receive a "dear John" letter. 8 days after coming home, Eileen and I were married, and after 47 years, we have 2 sons and now 3 grandchildren and another on the way. 

After 7 years of marriage, my 5 year old son asked me if I was in "The War." I said I was and he said, "Gee, Dad, I’m glad you made it back. Mom and I sure would have missed you."