CHAPTER 1

IN THE BEGINNING

I MUST START this part of my story with some facts about one of mybest friends, Dan. He and I had decided together to do the rightthing and volunteer for the draft in early 1967. We didn't have todo this, but it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time.Many friends and people our age were being drafted, yet we wereavoiding the draft through a 2-S school deferment from our localdraft board. We were in college primarily because it was the expectednorm among our friends and contemporaries. So by volunteering,we thought of it simply as doing our rightful duty.

This was not our first experience with the military. I had been inthe Reserve Officers' Training Corps (ROTC) at Jacksonville StateUniversity, and after high school Dan had attended the TennesseeMilitary Institute—so we understood the basics of what to expect. Uponarrival at the induction center on Ponce de Leon Avenue in Atlanta, wewere herded into a waiting area and told to take off everything but ourshorts and shoes. Then we were lined up and told to follow a specificcolored line until we got to the appropriate station. Dan and I (along withall the other draftees) obeyed and waited for the upcoming tests. Pissingin a cup, checking our vision, examining our medical records, turningour heads and coughing, and the famous "butt cheek spreading" examwere all part of the fun. Somewhere along the way, Dan was directed toanother line and I didn't see him again from that point on.

Meanwhile, I was stuck in a room where we were waiting forthe swearing in ceremony. Suddenly, a no-nonsense Marine CorpsDrill Instructor (DI) came into the room and shouted, "Line up intwo rows ladies!"

We all stood there kind of shocked, and then he grabbed the guyclosest to him and said, "You're number one!"

Then he pointed to the next guy who meekly said, "Two."

Then the next guy was number one, followed by number two.When everyone was finished, he shouted, "If you're number one, stepup. Number twos stand down!"

We watched as all the number ones stepped up. He looked at themand shouted, "Ladies, come with me. The Marine Corps wants you!"

With that he marched them out the door. I stood there with thenumber twos, watching. Then a collective sigh went through theroom when the last Marine draftee cleared the doorway. Gettingdrafted into the Marine Corps was simply not in our plans. Dan andI had visited some of our friends at Paris Island when they graduatedfrom Marine Corps boot camp. We didn't feel that doing the rightthing involved any part of the Marine Corps. That just seemed likehaving to endure far more hardship than was necessary and thereforedidn't seem like the prudent thing to do.

DAN

I never knew what a truly good friend Dan was until many yearslater at one of our high school reunions. A former girlfriend of histold me what had mysteriously happened to him all those years agowhen we became separated during the induction process.

I had processed through with no difficulty, passed the physicalwith flying colors, and then found myself on a bus headed for FortBenning in Columbus, Georgia for basic training. It all happened sofast I didn't even have time to think about it. However, I did realizethat Dan was not on the bus with me, and had assumed he would beon the next bus. But after the last bus arrived, everyone was orderedoff and lined up, and he was nowhere in sight. I wondered what theheck had happened to him. This was puzzling. There was no excusefor him not to be there—or so I thought.

As it turned out, they had sent him to another area for additionalprocessing where he flunked his physical due to an old knee injuryfrom high school football. This injury gave the doctors some seriousdoubts as to whether or not his knee would hold up under the rigorsof military training.

It was a so-called "million-dollar injury." We laughed about itlater on. Many draftees would have given almost anything to have aninjury like this and were trying every way they could to fake injuriesand stay out of the military. So the personnel at the draft board andthe induction center couldn't believe that someone with a legitimateinjury like this actually wanted to serve their country. In fact, whenDan told them he wanted to serve despite the injury, the examinersjoked that he needed to have "a second-go" with the psychiatrist.

The fact of the matter was that Dan just didn't want me to havethis experience alone. We had made a promise to each other, andhe was going to keep his end of the bargain. He was directed backdowntown to the draft board where he pleaded and cajoled anyonewho would listen; they finally told him the only way he would beallowed into the military was to sign a waiver. So he signed a waiverstating that the US Army was not liable for any harm that maybefall him as a result of his bad knee. This was a paradox because hecouldn't sue the government anyway.

The bottom line is that he wanted to be there for me, and withme. Dan was a true friend. Most people can go through a lifetimewithout having a friendship such as this—someone who is willingto put himself in harm's way for you when they don't have to. Thatgoes way beyond friendship, but that's the way Dan always was withme and the way I was with him.

Prior to our induction, we had heard of something called the"buddy plan"—a way for soldiers to stay together throughouttheir time in the military. So we asked the draft board if we couldvolunteer on the buddy plan. We were told they could not guaranteeit, but they would add the request to our records, giving us a goodchance of serving together.

And that's exactly what happened; we were together for the firstnine months of our time in the Army. We went through basic training,Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO) Leadership Preparation Course(LPC), Advanced Infantry Training (AIT), and Army ChemicalSchool (ACS) training with each other.

During basic training, Dan and I signed up for Officer CandidateSchool (OCS). The simple reason for this was that we wanted to giveorders, rather than take them. Plus, we figured the benefits of beingan officer far outweighed those of an enlisted man. At this point, wewere unaware that the life expectancy for US Army Infantry SecondLieutenants was rumored to be something like eight minutes in combat.

When we graduated from basic training, it...