Going Home - Stressful Times

'Very well. I'll have all the paperwork ready for your signatures Wednesday. Three o'clock?'

'That's fine. I'll see you then.' I got up, left immediately, and drove home.

Gwen, Mike, and the twins were playing on the front porch when I got home. I was greeted by cheerful faces, but I sensed both were still upset, just endeavoring to hide it. Edith and Betty were in the kitchen getting dinner together. Ian and Gary would join us around six. I was a little disappointed that we were having company. I needed to talk to Gwen. It would have to wait.

We all spent a relatively pleasant evening. My impending induction weighed heavily on everyone's spirits. Ian, Edith, and Gwen were especially troubled, having already lost a son and brother during WWII. Mike's parents left first, a little after eight. Ian and Edith stayed to play with the twins. We let them stay up well past their normal bedtime. Gwen and I carried two limp, surprisingly heavy little bodies up to bed a little after nine. They had fallen asleep sitting between their grandparents while Ian and Edith read to them in funny voices, playing the characters in a Dr. Seuss book. Gwen's parents left a few minutes after we put Seth and Sara down for the night. Edith was on the verge of tears when she hugged and kissed me goodnight. Ian was unable to speak when he shook my hand before leaving.

As soon as Ian and Edith were out of the driveway, Gwen and Mike pulled me toward the stairs. I resisted, telling them we needed to talk. I told them everything that had happened that day and that Gwen and I had to go into Boston on Wednesday to take care of some legal matters. I told Mike that Gwen and I would spend the night in Boston so she could drop me at the induction center by six Thursday morning. Before I asked, Mike volunteered to watch Seth and Sara for the night.

Once we were done talking, Gwen and Mike pulled me upstairs. It would be the last time the three of us would spend a night together for some time. To say it was memorable would be an understatement. I can't bring myself to describe the night. I'm not capable of finding words adequate to describe the range of emotions and sensations the three of us experienced that night.

We spent all day Tuesday with the twins. I wanted every minute with them while I could get it. Tuesday night with Gwen and Mike was spent much the same as Monday night. Wednesday morning, I was exhausted but spent it playing with the twins. I kissed them goodbye after lunch when Gwen and I had to leave for our appointments in Boston. It was all I could do not to cry as I held them.

Gwen and I took care of our business in Boston, found a quiet restaurant and had what might be our last romantic dinner. But of course, neither of us mentioned that. We just held each other that night. Gwen woke me at two. We made love one last time before having an early breakfast together. Gwen kissed me goodbye at the induction center and drove away with tears in her eyes. I felt like shit. I thought back to that first day Gwen and I met up with Mike in Paris. They were horribly upset as they grieved the death of Gwen's brother together, over three years earlier. Gwen and Mike were terrified that I might suffer they the same fate. And there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

I knew about the military tradition of hurry-up and wait. I found it humorous. Until I lived through it at the induction center. We were given black coffee and peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. They fed us a decent meal for dinner though it eating it was an exercise in misery. Everyone had sore arms from the shots we received that day. I was put in a seedy hotel room with three other draftees. Lights out was nine PM. We were up at three for a meal of room temperature, over-cooked eggs, stale donuts and more black coffee before we were loaded onto buses for the ride to Fort Dix.

The next eight weeks passed in a blur. We were up long before light for calisthenics, followed by breakfast and then a full day of activities that ended at eight PM. We were given an hour of personal time between eight and nine, unless the drill instructor decided we hadn't met his expectations that day. I tried to write to Gwen and Mike every day, and mostly succeeded. But there were some nights I was so exhausted I couldn't stay awake long enough to put words to paper. And there were nights when the DI was unhappy with us. But I always stayed awake long enough to read when I got something from home.

After graduation, I was detailed to Advanced Combat Training. I knew what that meant and wanted badly to avoid it but no one in my unit received a different assignment. I've tried to forget that eight-week nightmare but is still manages to pop into my head even now, more than fifty years later.

Once Advanced Combat Training was completed, my orders put me on a train with hundreds of other newly minted privates to the San Diego Naval Yard. I expected to board a troop ship for Korea. I admit I was terrified of what the future held for me. But I was more worried about Gwen and Mike.

The morning our ship was scheduled to leave, we were standing at ease awaiting orders to board. In another classic example of hurry up and wait, we were mustered in the boarding area by oh seven hundred. At thirteen hundred hours we were still awaiting orders to board. When the order finally came, we made our way toward the ship. I was halfway up the gangplank when two MPs arrived in a speeding Jeep and hurriedly rushed by us. They spoke to the officer at the top of the gangplank briefly and showed him some papers. The line stopped moving while the officer looked at his clipboard. The MPs and the officer spoke again briefly and the MP's started back down the gangplank.

One of the MP's a heavily muscled sergeant first class stripes walked past me and bellowed. 'I'm looking for one Private Jonas Taylor, I repeat Private Jonas Thomas Taylor.'

Everyone near me was looking at me, wondering why the hell two MPs were after my ass. I called out, 'Here Sergeant!'

He was already about forty feet past me. He stopped and turned around looking for me. 'Where are you Private?' He was already hustling back toward me.

I raised my hand and said, 'Here, Sergeant!' He was already nearly on top of me with his partner hot on his heels.

They each took an arm and roughly pulled me out of line and down the gangplank without explanation. They were far from gentle. The corporal nearly ripped my arm out of the socket he grabbed me so forcefully. They dragged me down to a waiting jeep and ordered me into the front passenger seat. The sergeant took my pack, tossed it into the back then climbed in behind me. The corporal started the engine and accelerated away rapidly. He took a left turn at the end of the wharf. I held on tightly so I didn't get thrown from the Jeep.

From behind me, the sergeant asked, 'What the fuck did you do, Private?

''Excuse me, Sergeant?' I asked, unsure what he wanted to know.

'I said, what the fuck did you do?' he repeated, much louder.

'I have no idea what you're talking about, Sergeant.'

'Yeah, right. I get dispatched all the time to collect soldiers that haven't done anything. Well, you're about to find out. I ain't never seen the Top Kick so pissed off as he was when he ordered me to take you into custody before the ship left. And I've seen him plenty pissed. I'm glad I'm not in your boots, Private. Whatever you did, you're in deep shit.'

I couldn't think of anything that I'd done that would send two MPs to collect me on orders from a first sergeant.