I got fired from my first job after high school, and made a life altering
decision that wasn't apparent for several years. After being sacked, I
joined the Navy in September, but that's not the story here.
After Boot Camp at Great Lakes Naval Training Center, I headed home from
Chicago, by train. I changed trains in Jacksonville, boarding the Silver
Meteor, for the west coast. There was one person in the car when I
boarded, a Marine, sitting in the last seat in the back. As I walked down
the isle, he looked up. It was Earl Palmer, fresh from Paris Island. It
was a very interesting trip home.
I was home for two weeks, Earl was going to Japan, so he had a month's leave
before going over. When my leave was up, I boarded the train back to Great
Lakes for training as a Radarman. The first letter I got from home included
the newspaper article about the accident that took Earl's life. The news
set a sad tone for my first holiday season away from home.
Note form John...Earl was a dear friend of mine. Earl spent part of his
leave with us. We went to the same party...Earl left alone and before me.
We discovered his car...upside down and surrounded by police cars...Earl
was gone and so was our reality that life was death-free.
The decision to join the Navy in '59, kept me out of Viet Nam. I separated
active duty in '62, and was discharged in '65, thanking my old boss, many
times in ensuing years, for being such a jerk.
