Warts & All Ch. 01

His family lived at one end of the block and we lived at the other. We met about fourth grade and had been inseparable ever since. If he wasn't at our house I was at his. Not a week went by that one of us didn't spend at least one night at the other's house.

He was 'Mr. Personality', always joking, laughing, rarely taking anything seriously and always making friends where ever he went. I was more the quiet, thoughtful type. We complimented each other. As we grew up we played sports together, began to notice girls together and in fact often double-dated. While neither of us got very serious about any one girl we both managed to lose our virginity in the last few months leading up to our senior prom.

As students neither of us was outstanding but I usually got better grades than Jase. I did discover one thing about high school that I loved and that was drafting. By the time I was a senior I had taken every drafting class available and was having serious thoughts about being some kind of engineer.

After graduation I decided to attend the local junior college that had an Engineering Technology program. It was relatively cheap and close enough to live at home and commute. Jase didn't know what he wanted to do but he tagged along enrolled in general studies. The biggest benefit was it got us our student draft deferments.

Then toward the end of my freshman year I screwed up big time. Jase and I had been out to a college kegger on a Saturday night when I got pulled over on my way home. I flunked the breathalyzer and spent the night in the county jail.

Dad and Mom bailed me out the next morning and were justifiably pissed. After it was all said and done I used all my savings to pay the fines, legal fees and court costs and lost my driver's license for a year.

I moped around until the end of the semester hitching rides with Jase. Finally I thought 'screw this.' Broke with no driver's license gave me little incentive to go to school the next year. I decided to roll the dice and enlist in the army. I figured that with my drafting training I could get an engineering type job and avoid Vietnam. At least that's what the recruiter told me. Of course he lied.

When I told Jase my plans he immediately decided to join me. The recruiter said we could go in on the buddy plan and were guaranteed to go through training together. So off we went. Basic Training was a challenge but tolerable. Mid-way through the training we went through a battery of aptitude tests to see what jobs we were compatible with.

The Army in its infinite wisdom decided we could best serve the green machine as Fire Direction Control specialists. The job entailed operating what the Army called a FDC computer but was really a hopped up calculator that computed distances, azimuths and the amount of explosive charge to use for an artillery shell to hit a given target.

So after basic we were sent to Fort Sill to learn our new trade. Sill wasn't a very pleasant place but being with Jase we managed to have some fun. But that was nothing compared to the next booby prize we got, orders for Vietnam came along a couple of weeks before graduation.

After fifteen days leave, visiting the folks, drinking beer with our old buddies and chasing a couple of our old girlfriends we made the long flight to I Corps, Republic of Vietnam. After some finagling with the personnel pukes we managed to both get assigned to A Battery, 2nd Battalion, 11th Artillery Brigade. It was November 1969 and Nixon had already started to draw down the troop levels as the strategy to turn over the war to the South Vietnamese was getting traction. What a joke that was.

We didn't see a lot of action that first five or six months. We fired a lot of missions from fire support bases all over I Corps but only took incoming a couple of times. Up to then the highlight of our tour was taking R&R in Bangkok, Thailand. After fifteen days of whores and hooch Jase and I returned to our unit exhausted hoping to rest up.

The news that our unit had been attached to the 3rd Brigade, 101st Airborne while we were gone didn't excite much comment. But a couple of days later when our battery was airlifted onto a denuded hill in the middle of the deepest, darkest bush I'd ever seen since coming to 'Nam I got a bad feeling. Four months later I came home on a stretcher. Jase came home in a body bag.

I was pretty messed up, physically and mentally from the trauma I had received. I spent several weeks in a hospital and a couple of months in rehab. I also spent some time with a psychiatrist trying to get my ahead around everything that had happened. After they pronounced me marginally fit for duty again I was assigned back to Fort Sill to a training brigade to be an assistant instructor. I didn't feel like talking much to anyone anymore so I enrolled in some classes at the local college and spent my off duty hours buried in drafting assignments.

After a year there, I applied for an early out to go back to school. As Vietnam was winding down so was the size of the Army. I had applied for and been accepted into an engineering tech program at the university nearest home. The Army approved my request and I got released five months early after serving two years and seven months.

I moved back in with Mom and Dad and applied for my veteran's benefits. Living at home my needs were few. I had saved most of my money from 'Nam. And the education benefits and the income from a part-time job met all my expenses.

Looking back I was a typical, or maybe a stereotypical shell-shocked, messed up Vietnam vet. The public response to the war and those of us who fought it combined with my injuries and the things I had seen and done turned me into a bitter, introverted recluse.

I let my hair go and grew a beard. I schlepped around in hooded sweatshirts or my old beat up army field jacket most of the time. Ratty jeans and worn sneakers completed my ensemble.

I went to school, to work and to home. I know Mom, Dad and my sister, Terry worried about me. But I just didn't feel socially engaged anymore. I still saw a VA therapist about once a month but it wasn't doing much for me. About once a week I would visit Jase's parents and we would talk about him and the good times we had together. They seemed to enjoy it and it was the least I could do for them.

One afternoon I was sitting in the study hall of the International Center on campus. Several days a week I had a couple of hours between classes and I usually spent the time studying or reading. As I tried to ignore the noise of the crowd around me a voice broke my concentration.

"Mind if I sit here?"

I glanced up at the person standing on the other side of the table and did a double-take. Long red hair with the perfect pale complexion only a true redhead could achieve. Inquisitive brown eyes looked into mine waiting patiently for a response. I nervously licked my lips as I looked at her perfectly shaped red ones and wondered what they would feel like on mine.

I was lost in that thought when she repeated herself. "Do you, do you mind if I sit here?"

Tongue tied I manage to blurt out. "Uh, no, go ahead."

As she put her books down and pulled a chair out to sit I studied her out of the corner of my eye. Probably about seven, eight inches shorter than my six foot two and looked like she weighed about one twenty and very well put together.

For the next half hour she was immersed in her books and I pretended to be glued to mine. Every once in a while I found myself glancing at her and admiring her looks. After about the fifth or sixth time I did it I looked up to see her staring at me.

She pointed to my field jacket and said somewhat tentatively. "Are you a veteran?" I nodded yes and then she asked, "Vietnam?" I flinched when she said that as often the response I got wasn't pleasant. But I simply said, "Yes" and left it at that.

After a few minutes she said brightly, "My dad is a veteran. He served in the Korean War. He was a Marine."

I relaxed a little and thought maybe this wouldn't be too bad after all. Then she said, "He was even wounded." She said it like it was some kind of trivial thing. 'Civilians', I thought disgustingly. But I just nodded and explained to her that I had been in the Army for nearly three years but I avoided any further mention about 'Nam.

We started talking and we talked right up until the time she said she had to go to class. She gathered up her books, said good-bye and went out the door. I was sorry to see her go. She was the first women I'd really talked to since getting home.

A couple of days later I was sitting in nearly the same spot when I heard that familiar voice say, "Hey, mind if I sit here." This time I responded a little more coherently than the first time. I tried to lose myself in my book but she started talking to me like we were best friends.

After a bit she paused and blushing a bit said, "I just realized I've been babbling away and I don't even know your name?"

Somewhat embarrassedly I held out my hand and said "it's Phil, Phil Robinson."

She laughed and said, "Sally Baxter. Glad to meet you."

It turned out that we both had a long layover between classes every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Over the next couple of weeks we would visit for most of our break. I heard most of her life story, about her mom, dad, older sisters, her friends and career and school plans. Besides being beautiful, she was outgoing, gregarious and personable. Her personality reminded me a lot of Jase.

I found myself telling her about my family and classes but not much else. I deflected any questions about the Army. To be honest I preferred to listen to her. She could have read to me from the phonebook and I still would have listened. I was totally taken with her. Somehow she managed to draw me out, got me to take an interest in something besides just school again.

After our second visit I found myself shaving in the morning for the first time in weeks. After the third or fourth time I actually went and got my hair cut and started dressing a little less sloppily. Mom noticed the change in me right away and started in quizzing me. I sheepishly admitted I had met someone that interested me. She teased me a little but I could tell she was happy about it.

A few weeks after we had met I mustered up the courage to ask her for a date. She seemed pleased and immediately said yes. Like me she was commuting from home to classes. After she agreed to allow me to pick her up on Friday night she laughingly said, "Be warned, my Dad can sometimes be hard on the guys that ask me out. Are you sure you want to do this?"

I looked her right in the eye and said, "Sally, I think for the privilege of going out with you the least I can do is put up with your father for a few minutes." Or for a lifetime I thought to myself.

She blushed and said, "Oh-oh, what a flatterer." I was finding out she blushed easily.

On Friday night I knocked at her door and a woman with a warm smile answered it. Before I could even say anything she said, "You must be Phil, we've been expecting you. Come in please." And she took my hand and pulled me in.

As she did so she called over her shoulder, "Jack, Sally's date is here." She turned to me and said in a kindly voice, "Don't worry about Sally's father, he's really not as bad as she makes out. I'm Emily by the way." And she shook the hand she was still holding.

I was wondering how to react to all this when her father came around the corner from the kitchen. He was a big guy, about my height but outweighed my one eighty by probably thirty pounds. Not fat but solid.

"I'm Jack" he said in a deep voice as he held out his hand and looked at me intently.

"Phil Robinson" I answered as I shook his hand firmly.

"Come into the family room and we can talk for a few minutes while Sally is finishing up."

The three of us walked through the kitchen into a comfortably decorated wood paneled room with a television in one corner with a sofa and a couple of easy chairs arranged around it. One side of the room was taken up by a fireplace and hearth and a mantle that ran the length of the wall.

On one side of the mantle was a finished triangular wooden box with a folded American Flag. On the other side of the mantle was a glass fronted wooden shadow box, a type I had seen in several PX's during my army days. They were used to display military memorabilia, unit patches, ribbons and medals.

In between on a pedestal sat an M1 Garand Rifle. With a highly polished stock and a saddle-soaped leather sling, it looked very businesslike. Above the rifle was a framed Marine Corps flag. It was all very intimidating.

Jack saw me look at the mantel and he said proudly, "I was a Marine in Korea. I would have stayed in but I was wounded on the breakout from the Pusan perimeter and then wounded again during the retreat from the Chosin Reservoir. I couldn't pass the physical after that."

I nodded and said, "Yeah, Sally mentioned that, tough times."

"Sally says you're a Vietnam vet?" Jack said as the three of us sat down.

"I was there for awhile." I said uncomfortably.

"What did you do over there?"

"I was a fire direction control specialist in an artillery battery, one-five-fives." I said.

He nodded in agreement, "One-five-fives are the workhorses of the artillery. What part of Vietnam were you stationed in?"

Emily chimed in, "You have to forgive Jack. He is kind of a Military History buff. He follows everything on the war."

"Sure, I understand. Our battery was all over I Corps."

Jack kind of looked at me like he couldn't make up his mind if I had been a real soldier like him or some kind of rear-echelon motherfucker. But then the Marines never thought much of soldiers.

"I Corps, huh? That was Marine country."

"Well, the Marines had mostly been pulled out by the time I got there."

Jack snorted, "Yeah, Vietnamization! Nice term meaning 'take this country, it's yours'!"

"Now Jack, it's not over yet," said Emily.

"It's all over but the shouting, just you wait and see." He insisted looking at her.

I gave a sigh of relief as about that time Sally walked in. It was obvious this conversation could go on forever and the last thing I ever wanted to talk about was Vietnam. We talked for a few minutes about school and what we were going to do that evening and then we said our goodbyes and left.

That night we went to dinner and a movie. I can't say I remember much about it as I was totally absorbed with our conversation. We held hands in the theatre and sat close with our heads almost touching. After the movie neither of us wanted to end our evening yet so we stopped at a bar for drink. I ended up walking her up to her door just minutes before she had told her parents she would be home.

As I stood there awkwardly, wanting badly to touch her, to kiss her but also afraid of blowing the evening when she took the matter out of my hands. She reached up and wrapped both her arms around my neck and with her nose almost touching mine looked me in the eyes and whispered, "Thank you Phil, for the wonderful evening."

Time froze as I gazed into her deep brown eyes. I swear I could see all the way into her soul. Everything that she was and everything she would ever be was totally open to me. I knew at the moment I was in love with her. I put my hands around her waist and gently kissed her. From that day forward, at least a couple of times a week we would embrace like that. With her arms around my neck, my arms holding her tight, looking into each other's eyes, hiding nothing.

Reluctantly she pulled away from me and went into the house. The very next day I called her and we talked on the phone for an hour. We made another date for the middle of the week and just like that we were exclusive.

A few weeks later when I told her I had rented a motel room for the next Saturday night she blushed like she often did, but then just smiled and nodded. The evening was everything I could ever have asked for. Neither one of us was virgins, but neither of us was very experienced either.

There were a few awkward moments when she saw the scars Vietnam had left on me, but I assured her that the doctors had put everything back together and I felt fine.

As we lay together after that first time, my body still inside hers, her body still shuddering from the passion, I could feel the wetness of her tears from her face pressed tightly between my neck and my shoulder.

Quietly I said into her ear, "Sally, I love you. I know maybe you don't want to hear that yet, but I can't help it."

Sally pulled her face back and looked down at me. I could see the tears glistening in her eyes and her lips curled in a smile. "I love you too, Phil. I never knew it could be like this. I want to lie like this forever."

I laughed in relief and kissed the tip of her nose. "I don't know about that, but I do know I want to do this again and again and again."

This time she laughed and then groaned as still hard, I flexed myself in her. "God, Phil, anything you want, anything ..."

For the first time since losing Jase I felt at peace with the world. That life was going to work out. That there was a future for me with someone I loved and who loved me in return.

By the time we left the motel exhausted in the wee hours of the morning we knew we wanted to be together for the rest of our lives. We talked about everything that night. Sex, marriage, kids, where we wanted to live, what we wanted to do with our lives.

While Sally was a year younger than me, she was a year ahead of me in school. She was graduating at the end of this spring and I would graduate a year later. We decided Sally would go to work after her graduation and we would wait and get married right after I graduated. In the meantime I would get an apartment so we could be together until then.

A week later I took Sally home to meet my folks. My dad, Dave was a toolmaker at GM. My mom, Donna was a part-time teacher's aide and has been ever since my sister and I had gotten into high school.

Sally and my folks instantly fell in love with each other. Mom said later that they not only loved Sally for herself, but also for the way she had brought me out of my shell. And I had changed. I was happy. I couldn't stop smiling most of the time. I was so bad the next time I saw my therapist he kicked me out of his office and told me not to come back.

Sally's Dad and I continued to have a wary relationship. I'm sure he was concerned about the man who had swept his youngest daughter off her feet. And the fact that we were intimate didn't help. The look on his face when we started talking about moving in together before marriage was scary.

That all changed a couple of months later after Jack and Emily had invited us over for dinner one night. Jack and I wondered into the den afterwards while Sally and her mother stayed in the kitchen putting food away and talking.

After a few minutes of small talk about the usual topics, Jack hesitated for a moment then said, "Sally tells me you have some significant scars from Vietnam. She was asking me what could have caused them."

I looked away, feeling embarrassed for some reason. "Yeah, well it's not something I like to talk about, especially to her."

Jack smiled and said, "I know what you mean. Civilians don't usually understand."

After a moment he said, "Phil, you gave me the impression when we met you that you didn't see much action over there?"

Reluctantly I said, "I didn't really. Until the last firebase I was on."

After a moment of silence, he said, "Which firebase was that?"

Again I hesitated, "Ripcord."

Jack's eyes widened suddenly, "Ripcord? You were on Ripcord?"

I nodded.

"Summer of '70?" He asked with some intensity.

Again I nodded. I was somewhat surprised that he had even heard of Ripcord. The Army had done its best to minimize any news of the battle due to the high number of casualties we had incurred. It wasn't hard to do since President Nixon's Cambodian excursion was occurring at the same time.