That Time I Invaded The Island Of Grenada (In a Manner Of Speaking)
I was ready to make a career out of the army before I got home from Viet Nam and saw the peace-time army start ginning up. They were throwing out NCO’s left and right who were good enough to get shot at and shot up, but who also had a hiccup here and there on their record and so weren’t judged good enough for the “new” army.
One example was my platoon sergeant. He’d done three tours in Viet Nam, got shot up several times, had spent months in the hospital recuperating, and was Ranger, Pathfinder and a Master Parachutist and wore the Combat Infantryman’s Badge with one star because before Viet Nam, he had been to the Dominican Republic and got shot at there as well. God knows what all other awards, in addition to being the best troop leader I knew in the service. But he and another young paratrooper had gotten in trouble for fighting in 1960, and despite all that blood and good work afterwards, did not make the cut to be retained in the post-Viet Nam army. His replacement couldn’t lead a hamburger into a paper bag.
I was young and dumb and had made sergeant before my nineteenth birthday, and took all this personally, and decided I wasn’t gonna invest another ten or fifteen years of my life only to get tossed out with all retirement benefits cancelled, like his were. So, I got out and never really looked back, or so I thought. I was proud to have served but wanted no more of it. Fini Veet Nom, fini army, and good riddance, as far as I was concerned.
Then one day in October 1983, I got home from work, popped open a beer, flopped down on the couch, turned on the TV and started clicking through the channels. CNN came up and was going berserk because Regan had invaded Grenada. I leapt up off the couch and screamed “I’VE BEEN LEFT BEHIND!”
Where in the hell did THAT come from?
I have no idea.
WWW,
You have a few years on me although at 60+ I know I am in the fourth quarter. I have done a fair amount of reflection in the past year or so, acknowledging my age. Not proud of everything I have done, but I do not have a whole bunch of regrets. I do wish I had been in the service for at least a minimum enlistment period. I’ve chased some bad women but finally ended up with a really good one. 23 years married next month.
The body wears down. Until a few years ago I wrestled/grappled at a local club, often training with young military men from the local air base. I kept up with most of them, but no more. Surgery for a torn labrum, and a bulged disc told me to take up a new hobby.
When I was about 19 my Dad told me to “Go see the world”. I had no idea what he was talking about although in his youth he was a B47 mechanic in the USAF, went to Japan, Guam, Alaska, Texas. He did some cross country trips on his Matchless 650. Spent the night in a Tijuana jail getting bailed out the next day by MPs. He had an old scrap book wtih a picture of a very pretty Mexican gal. I wonder what that was all about. For whatever reason, he did not encourage the military for me. He never said why. Work took me to the Philippines for a few years and I got to see some chunks of Asia. Hunted in South Africa, and moving from engineering and manufacturting to sales has let me see most of the US and some of Europe. Maybe that is what Dad was talking about.
When you are young and working on a career, retirement seems an eternity away. Time is running out, and it always is. While young and dumb we do not think about it. Retirement is far in the distance. Right now, if I get on a hill can almost see it, and have good enough health to enjoy some of it.
I try to advise my two young adults to live with no regrets. Take some chances. See the world. Think big, then think bigger. Time is always running out.
Sergeant by 19. That is an accomplishment few can point to.