SMILINGEST KID

     During our tour of duty in Viet Nam, we pulled into Subic Bay, Philippines for some R&R. A few of my shipmates and I spent a night a Grande Island, in the middle of Subic Bay. As darkness engulfed the island we sat in the hut at golf tee number 7 on top of the hill. We told stories long into the night while watching storm clouds collide and generate lightning and thunder on the other side of the bay. It reminded me of camping when I was a boy. I told my shipmates about the award I received when I went camping with the Boys Club:

    Excited anticipation coursed through our 12-year-old bodies as the Boys Club bus climbed the San Bernadino Mountain, on our way to Camp Hihill. We would get to spend a whole week in the mountains, away from school, teachers, and, parents. The only adults were the camp counselors. 

     We spent the first evening around the swimming pool watching the bats catch flying bugs. The camp counselors had strung a white sheet onto a line that hung over the pool. They shined a light on it that brought the bugs for the bats to feast on. We all watched in amazement. 

     We spent the days hiking and exploring. The darkness of the nights created the backdrop for the stories we listened to while sitting around a campfire eating gooey and hot marshmallows. On the last day, the counselors passed out awards. I received the one for being the Smilingest Kid in camp.

     When I listed that award on my resume, my spouse told me it was not appropriate. I put in anyway.

My Parents Worried and Prayed

I know my parents worried and prayed that I would not come home in a body bag when the USS Trippe sailed along the coast of Viet Nam in 1972. They listened to the news every day and prayed that I would come home safe. 

After I returned home from my first tour of duty along the Vietnamese coast, my mother confessed that she hadn't read my letters. "I would hear the mail slot open," she said. "and when I saw your purple letter fall through, I would cry. I knew you were still alive, but I couldn't bear to read your accounts of the war. They only made me worry more."

Many years later, I worried for our sons when they were in their late teens and early twenties. I worried about them going to war. I feared, not only for their lives, I also feared for their sanity and their souls. 

I cried for our first son when his unit received orders for Desert Storm. His unit's helicopters crashed in training and his unit was disbanded. He was the only one in his unit not to go. I was grateful.

Little did I know that he would die while on a training weekend at the reserve center.