The rest of 1978 was spent in something of a depressed fog. I still did my job with my best effort, but things like remedial physical training were not attended to with the gusto I once had. At Christmas I chose to stay behind and stand guard duty in the squadron armory. During my watches I practiced unlimbering the shotgun, a Remington 870 Riotmaster, from the sling position as rapidly and accurately as I could. If someone broke into the armory, a slung shotgun was as good as no shotgun.
On my third night of watch, the Officer of the Day told me not to load my shotgun. Two hours later the Sargent of the Guard came by and told me I was authorized to load three rounds in the magazine but not to have a round in the chamber unless I had cause to fire. Apparently, an argument came up over which was more important, protecting the weapons under my watch or keeping me form accidentally discharging my firearm. I never did an accidental discharge in my entire life. That’s because I take safety seriously.
The next week I received a six day pass to go home and visit my family for New Years Day. Eighteen hours by Trailways bus from Havelock to Ashville was a slow means of winding down from the stress and climbing out of the pit of depression. I arrived in Ashville an hour after the bus station closed and my connection to Franklin didn’t come through until morning. I was alone without enough money to rent a room in a town too far from my home to walk in one night.
I called my stepfather and the family came and got me in the pickup truck. It was after midnight when they arrived in Ashville, but it was a bright time for me to be around people who were not hostile or indifferent to me. I spent the time rebuilding my soul as well as reconnecting to my family. The last day before I was to return there were two buses scheduled to go back. I chose to take the early bus to avoid a possible snow storm that threatened to inundate the Eastern seaboard. That choice angered the senior NCOs who hated me.
I was the only Marine who had liberty that weekend that made it back to the squadron. No one knew what to make of a man who couldn’t get promoted due to his weight wanting to fulfill the mission so much he would give up the opportunity to extend his liberty for an extra two days while the roads were cleared through the mountains. I watched the snow fall behind the bus the whole way back to the coast.
I looked foreward to a better year in 1979, but the senior NCOs had other plans for me.
To be continued….
Ol’ Fuzzy is not employable and was denied for disability benefits. The only thing I have is the blogs. But I don’t qualify for ads on the blogs until September. If you like the scribbles I post, please help me keep it going. You can leave me a gratuity by dropping a buck or two in Ol' Fuzzy's Tip Jar. This is a PayPal account I opened on Wednesday, April 5, 2017.
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