You're In The (Air Force) Now

It was a time of war. In an effort to stop the spread of Communism in other parts of the world, the United States saw fit to enter the Vietnam conflict. President Nixon had just introduced the draft lottery, in order to provide an equitable distribution of the national conscription. I won. Since I didn’t particularly want to die in Southeast Asia as an Army soldier, I joined the Air Force.

I left for basic training in February of 1969. After shedding 15 pounds, I was sent to Biloxi, Mississippi for air traffic control training. I was insecure and still madly in love. So, I had my wife join me at tech school. We scraped and got by on my meager military pay. We also visited a few churches, but did not commit to one because we knew my assignment would be brief. After a visit with my folks in North Carolina and her folks in Florida, I shipped out for my overseas assignment. Neil Armstrong had just walked on the moon, and I was headed for the Philippine Islands.

My wife had gotten a good job back home and was living with her folks, so we could have saved a good amount to help us get established when I got back. But, once again, stupidity prevailed. I very soon got lonely and homesick. There were several of us married guys like that. The routine for getting a spouse to join you was to meet with the chaplain, get a note stating that your current mental state would be detrimental to your service and that it was necessary for your mate to come over on a temporary visa. You then presented this recommendation to the first sergeant, who, basically, had no other choice but to approve it.

So, after a lot of paperwork and more Filipino pesos than I would have liked to have spent, my wife arrived in Manila, terrified and tired. I rationalized that it would be good for her to experience a third world country, but, truth be known, I needed her. Now, almost 40 years later, I still have trouble being away from her for any length of time --- but I’m getting better.

Being a lower-ranked enlisted man, we were required to live off base. We found an apartment in nearby Angeles City, complete with little-to-no running water, no hot water, bats, pigs and cobras all about, and a view of Mount Pinatubo, an inactive volcano, which became VERY active in 1991. The heat and humidity were oppressive, the rain lasted forever, and the locals left a lot to be desired. But we were happy. At least I was.

We became friends with other couples in the compound, especially one pair from Ohio. One fellow we met had gotten a nearby apartment and arranged for his wife to join him. He shared a meal with us, and we talked about our faith. He was a devout Christian, and we thought we would be able to share that bond with him during our stay. However, he and his wife never seemed to get along with the other folks, and we soon came to realize that we were preferring our non-Christian friends to them. Looking back, I believe that we had not treated them with enough respect. And for that I am truly sorry.

I worked rotating 12-hour shifts, so we had good excuse not to go to church. We had picked up a used car, so on my time off we often escaped to Subic Bay on the coast or north to Baguio in the mountains. As I recall our adventures --- water-skiing in shark-infested waters, driving across rickety bridges suspended 1,000 feet above the nearest tree-top, being stopped by armed militia seeking “donations,” and wandering through underground Japanese tunnels --- I can now see God’s sparing hand upon us.

At the end of my overseas tour I was given opportunity of picking three possible locations for my next assignment. I had learned from seasoned veterans that you always made your preferred destination the third choice. Taking a chance, my choices were Minot, North Dakota (Thank the Lord I didn’t go there!), Naples, Italy (wouldn’t have minded looking up my wife’s relatives), and, finally, Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. The plan worked. For the next two years I would swim in the ocean, eat inexpensive lobster tails --- and become a desk jockey.

I would also return to some serious church-going.