I will be posting one chapter per week of my latest book, ICE DREAMS. Please note that the numerical chapters are autobiographical. The alphabetical chapters are pure fiction.
At
the beginning of March, I was moved out of the makeshift barracks and into a
building that was like the trick barracks in that it had two man rooms. It
didn’t have the furniture that was in the rooms in the trick barracks. At first
I had a bench with a three shelf bookcase sort of affair on it and a basket
beside it. Next to the open closet (upright boards with a board on top and a
pole on which to hang clothes) there were three shelves and bag with three
pockets to hold such things as dirty clothes, cleaning supplies, etc.
Gradually, I was able to scrounge a dresser and a desk to replace these hobo
furnishings.
One
of the things I lost in moving from the makeshift barracks was the ability to
make coffee. There were two kerosene stoves in the makeshift barracks on which
we set our canteen cup filled with water and a couple spoonsful of coffee.
After the water came to a boil, it began making coffee. When we took the cup
off the stove, we put just a little cold water in it and all the coffee grounds
settled to the bottom. The new building had hot air heat.
Back
Home: Around the middle of March, someone broke into the garage and vandalized
our car. The windshield was broken and I don’t remember what other damage was
done to it. The responsibility for handling all this fell on Lorraine. There
was a lot of pressure put on her to just let the finance company repossess it
and let them handle fixing it up. She held firm that we wanted to fix it up so
that we would have a car when I returned. Also, if the car was repossessed, it
would ruin our credit at the beginning of our married life.
Our insurance agent had said that the
insurance we had from the finance company would have comprehensive coverage.
Lorraine had to find out if it did. She had to handle finding someplace to have
it repaired, submitting a claim, etc. Our brother-in-law who was a claims
adjuster for Liberty Mutual Insurance Company told her she might not be able to
sign the release forms or other legal papers because she was only 19, a minor
in Maryland. However, my minister, Dr. Reed, who was also a lawyer, reassured
her. He said that when I gave her a Power of Attorney she would be signing for
someone who was not a minor. (I was 22 years old.) As soon as I heard about the
car being vandalized, I had gone to the Orderly Room, filled out a Power of
Attorney, and put it in the mail to her
With
the help of the brother-in-law, my father, and Dr. Reed, the car was repaired
and locked away in the garage. I gained a lot of respect for Lorraine by the
business-like way she handled the whole affair, and the firm way she stood by
the decisions she made in our best interest. Also, I was proud of the way she
handled our money and business affairs. I told her in one letter, that it
wasn’t until this time apart that I began to see and appreciate her as a woman
and not as a girl. From my letter to her on 1 March 1960:
“It is difficult to explain to you the change that
began in my mind about you the day I left. I think that was the end of my
thinking of you as a girl. I think that is the day I became a man. Do you
understand? I think this was probably a tremendous step forward. I realized
with a shock one night that this portrait was that of a woman, a lady, a mature
adult. I can sense too the big responsibility you have shouldered has changed
you wonderfully. Now what do I mean by mature? I mean simply that you are no
longer a daughter living with Momma, but a wife who is away from her husband.
Do you see what I mean?
“I thrill to your growing self-confidence. Even
more to your capable way of handling things. Oh, honey, I don’t know how to
express what I mean. Each day I am more married to your every facet. How can I
say how much I love the way you can be so calm, efficient, and capable one
minute and full of fun and mischief the next?”
I
was putting in long hours at the radio station. Altogether, there were about
twenty men who worked at the radio station, but at least half only worked
occasionally. I would work six, eight, even ten hour shifts. In order to get a
certificate from Armed Forces Radio Service Bering Pacific Network, you had to
put in at least 200 hours. I was determined to put in enough hours to get a
certificate. At the end of my year on Shemya, I had logged 400 hours.
During
a long shift at the radio station, there were times when you could take a break
and go for a bite to eat, for instance when a half hour transcribed program was
being played. “Polka Party” was one such program. If a mail plane came in, one
of the other announcers would come and relieve me so I could pick up the mail,
go to the mail room, and “put up” the mail in the boxes.
There
were a few men who had reel-to-reel tape recorders. Occasionally, I would have
one of them tape me when I was D.J.ing my own show. The Base Exchange sold
small reel-to-reel tapes with mailers. I would send the tapes to Lorraine and
she knew several people with reel-to-reel players who let her play them.
I
was an Airman Second Class and I received $80 pay at the end of each month. I
would send $65 to Lorraine and she received $91.30 “Quarters Allowance” plus $60
allotment from my pay. Here is how I spent the $15 remaining from my March 31
pay:
1 box soap powder $ 0.37
1 bottle of starch 0.37
5 pkgs. cigarettes 1.00 (pay back pkgs I
borrowed)
3 bars Dial soap .18
1 ball point pen .70
1 box stationery .70
1 billfold (Lord Buxton) 3.08 (old one fell apart)
5 cigars
.50
1 Saturday Evening Post .15
Money order fee & 2 books of
Air Mail stamps
2.00
Lighter fluid .13
Used Zippo lighter 2.00
Mailable reel recording tape 2.00
½ pizza and a can of beer 1.14
By
March I wasn’t writing letters every day and the one I wrote were not long. In
addition to working eight hour shifts for six days and then two days off, many
hours at the radio station, working in the mailroom, I had to work on various
work “details” such as policing the outside, shoveling snow, cleaning up the
barracks (sweeping and mopping the hallway, cleaning the latrine, wash and
shower room, and laundry room). There were inspections, Commander’s Call, and
linen exchange. When the sergeant came through the barracks with fresh linen,
even if you had just gone to sleep after working all night, you had to get out
of bed, strip the sheets and pillow case off, make a bundle out of them, take
the fresh linen and make up your bed (even if you were going to get back into
it) and try to go back to sleep).
I
learned to shoot pool and spent some hours at it. I liked to walk when the
weather permitted. As anyone who has lived in a barracks will understand, I
also spent a lot of time “jaw-boning”, “shooting the bull.” In addition to all
that I was taking a correspondence course in Classical Greek through the
University of Kentucky.
Stemming
from the bull sessions, I tried to involve Lorraine in playing Cupid in a
couple instances. In one case, there was a young man who had been dating a girl
from Baltimore. He had a number of pictures of her which she had given him. On
the back, each one was signed “Love” and the girl’s name. She had promised to
write him and to wait for him. However, he had not received a single letter. He
wanted Lorraine to call her and find out if maybe she didn’t have his address
(in which case Lorraine could give her his address because it was the same as
mine) or if she was going with some other boy.
In
the other case, I must have told the young man about this friend of ours. He
wanted to write to her. She worked at a mental hospital. He had worked in
another mental hospital doing the same work she did. I asked Lorraine to call
Lee, find out if she was willing for him to write to her and, if so, to find
out what Lee’s mailing address was. I don’t know if Lorraine made either call.
She did try to contact a couple of the wives of my friends on Shemya. One of my
friends, Jon, had taken pictures when we were walking along the beach. I was in
a half dozen of the pictures. He sent the roll of film to his wife to develop.
Lorraine wanted to see if Jon’s wife would have copies made of the pictures I
was in or else send her the negatives of them.
Nearly
all the books I had on Shemya were cheap paperback editions, even if they were
literature. When I would read a chapter or a poem that piqued my interest, I
would tear it out and mail it to Lorraine. Then for several letters back and
forth we would discuss it. I even made a few attempts at writing poems about
her or our situation or our hopes and dreams.
There
were wild foxes on Shemya. You could hear them at night. In the winter
especially they were a nuisance. They would get into the trash cans looking for
food. In the process of looking for food, they scattered trash all over. Of
course, we had to clean it up. They tried all kinds of ways to secure the trash
cans so the foxes couldn’t get into them. Most methods would work for a while,
but then people would get careless, and it didn’t take the foxes long to
discover it.
Shemya
Island is called “the black pearl of the Aleutians.” A genuine black pearl is
produced by the black lipped oyster found only in Tahiti (which is a long way
from Shemya). I don’t know who gave Shemya that name or why. Maybe it is because
it was formed by a volcano erupting out of the ocean floor and is composed of
hard, black lava rock.
I
gave Lorraine an engagement ring on Christmas 1958. We had known each other for
most of 1958. We were both in a Sunday School class at Port Mission in
Baltimore and both of us went out on street meetings with the same team from
Port Mission. Our first date was on her eighteenth birthday. I didn’t know
beforehand that it was her birthday, but she came running down to my car with a
large slice of birthday cake. I had already enlisted in the Air Force, and I
shipped out a week after that.
I
called her on the phone from Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas
several times a week and then almost every evening. A month or so later, I was
transferred to Syracuse University. I had about ten days delay enroute and I
saw her every evening and most of the day on week ends. I was in love with her
from the beginning. She was so different from any girl that I had ever dated.
When I was with her, I felt at peace.
When
I came down to Baltimore from Syracuse, New York on a short Thanksgiving break,
I proposed to her and she accepted. We planned to be married the following
spring. Lorraine would save as much money as she could from her pay and I would
do the same. We did not want to burden her parents with an expensive wedding.
While in Baltimore, we went to see a jeweler who I knew. Lorraine told him what
style ring she liked and he measured her finger. Then he and I worked out the business
details. He was going to make the ring himself, using a diamond from a brooch
he bought in an estate sale.
After
I went back to Syracuse, I had an idea. What if we were quietly married at
Christmas time? I could put in the paperwork to the Air Force, Lorraine would
get quarters allowance each month which would be a big boost to the money being
saved for the wedding for family and friends. When I came home for Christmas
leave, Lorraine and I went to see Reverend Reed and told him about my idea. He
thought it was a fine idea and told us that there was going to be a wedding on
New Year’s Eve. We could come an hour or so after that wedding was over and
have our private wedding. The church would still be decorated for a wedding.
We
would need a marriage license and that would cost $20. I didn’t have $20. I
borrowed it from Lorraine’s mother. I lied and said that we were getting it now
so we would have it. When the time came for our wedding I might not be able to
get down from Syracuse in time to do it. On New Year’s Eve, I came for Lorraine
in my father’s car. She was dressed in a beautiful white dress trimmed with a
blue ribbon.
On
our way to the church there was an ominous thumping noise. We went on to the
church, but I was worried sick about that thumping noise. The only people who
attended our wedding were Dr. Reed, one of the elders he enlisted to act as
witness, Lorraine and I. After the wedding, we went on to my parents’ home. I
had borrowed the car ostensibly to bring Lorraine over for New Year’s Eve.
As
soon as I told them about the thumping, my father and brother hurried out to
examine the car. My brother discovered the cause of the sound. One of the tires
had a bulging knot the size of a lemon on the inside sidewall of a front tire.
While they were outside, my mother came up to Lorraine and asked, “Did you two
get married tonight?”
“Why,
no. What made you think that?”
“The
way you are dressed.”
“I
just wanted to look nice coming to see you.”
We
didn’t have a honeymoon. Lorraine came over to my parents’ house the next day
and helped me pack to go back to Syracuse. The next day I left and returned to
Syracuse University.
The
Air Force unit lived and had classes in a World War II married students housing
area called Skytop. The housing complex had been converted into barracks and
classrooms. The buildings were old and the wiring was old. The night after we
returned there was a ferocious wind. In one of the barracks buildings, a fire
started from the wiring over the ceiling. The wind whipped the fire into a
firestorm which roared down the hallway. Men who tried to escape by the hallway
were caught by the fire. Those who kept the door to their room closed had
better chances. The windows could not be opened, but some used their oak desk
chairs to bust out of the room. Altogether seven men died and many more were
hospitalized with burns, smoke inhalation, and injuries incurred in trying to
escape.
It
was the early hours of the morning when we were wakened by someone wanting
donations of clothes for the ones who had escaped into the bitter winter cold,
snow, and wind barefoot and wearing only their skivvies. That is when we
learned of the fire which was only about a quarter of a city block away from
our barracks.
Lorraine
and her family learned of the fire on the evening news, but they could not
reach the number in my barracks because the University had blocked all calls
into Skytop. They finally found out from the Red Cross that I was not one of the dead or injured in the
Skytop fire.
Lorraine
had been keeping a diary since her high school days. She wrote about our
marriage in her diary. Several days after the fire, she inadvertently left the
diary open on her dresser. Her mother went into her room and found the diary
and learned about our marriage. That night her mother called me on the phone in
the hall way of my barracks. She said, “Hello son-in-law! Are you surprised?” I
was speechless for a moment, then said, “Not as much as you were I’ll bet.” We
both had a good laugh.
Lorraine’s
family did not think much of our plan. They said that if she was married, it
would be a sham to have another wedding. So, we began to plan how and when she
could come to Syracuse and join me. Early March seemed the soonest we could
gather enough funds for her fare, to ship her clothes and other things, put down
a deposit and the first month’s rent on an apartment. That is what we planned.
Meanwhile, Lorraine’s friends and family had several showers for her.
When
I went into the Orderly Room to apply for Lorraine’s quarters allowance and get
papers for an I.D. card for her, the First Sergeant blew a gasket. “What do you
think you are, a civilian? You have to have the Commander’s approval to get
married and since you are an E-3, he would never approve it.” He sent me in to
the Commander who was equally stern. Finally, he said to the First Sergeant,
“The deed has been done. We can either kick him out of the Air Force or give
his wife a quarters allowance.”
Lorraine’s
mother was a long time forgiving Dr. Reed. It wasn’t until he helped Lorraine
with the car that she began to soften toward him.
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