So my senior year is coming to a close. My oh my it was a blast.
The turn of the year comes along and suddenly I come to the realization that after graduation I have no clue what my plan is.
I knew one thing for sure. I had a girlfriend and I had come to the conclusion that I was going to marry her at some point. I told Eddie Hosmer this the first day of school in our junior year. Now we had only been dating for about 6 months so she was completely unaware of my plans. No worries, I felt I had sufficient time to win her over and more importantly a more difficult task of winning over her mother.
There were a couple of barriers to overcome. First of all, I was unsure I was even going to graduate. My senior year was busy with everything but school work. It struck me that nobody would be happy (least of all Mom) if the guy who was giving the commencement address had flunked or even if they would allow me to. In those days you needed 20 points to graduate and I was only real sure about 10.
I had 5 in the bag for Boys chorus (really) and 5 for Problems of Democracy. That subject really interested me. The metal shop was a possibility if I showed up for a month or so at the end of the year. English was also a slim possibility because Mrs. Small liked me
Geometry was a far reach. I was in my fourth year of first-year geometry and things did not look good. I was working nights all through high school and geometry offered the perfect napping opportunity. It was so embarrassing that on my first day of that class senior year the freshman girls thought I was the teacher. I feel somewhat vindicated in my decision on Geometry because to this day I can't remember when I ever used the Pythagorean Theorem.
In the end, I squeaked through with Mrs. Small and Mr. Bezanson coming through after my desperate pleas to them.
Now comes the major problem. The war was in full progress and I knew I would be drafted. I knew I had to go but delaying it for a while was my preference. Paul Trabucco, Frankie Patierno, and Kevin Kelley were all enlisting in the Army and Walter Doyle had made up his mind he was going to be a Marine. I thought I would wait indefinitely if possible.
What to do??
Now Eddie Flynn RIP class of 67 was up at Umass and came home with stories of four classes a week, unlimited dating opportunities, endless flows of liquor, and weed. This was not an environment that I would flourish in.
This option (If I could get in) was snuffed out anyway when I slept through last chance SAT's. Besides my future bride was commuting to Boston to school and I had to be around!
Bobby Bogosh and Steve Stallings were sympathetic to my dilemma and said: “why not come with us to aircraft school?” It seemed to be the perfect answer. It was right over in Bedford and miraculously I got accepted!
A new barrier presented itself. They wanted the tuition all upfront in cash or bank check. My mother was struggling with my father's extremely serious medical issues so that was not an option. Besides I had been financially self-sufficient since my paper route and I had no intention of that changing. Money always means freedom.
Charlie Shea junior was in my class and he says to go see his father. Charles Sr. RIP was a prominent political and business figure in town and was a director of the local bank. So I show up unannounced on his doorstep this one Saturday morning. Talk about old school Burlington. I begin to tell him my story and he says how much do you need. I tell him and he replies, “see Bernie Murphy at the bank Monday morning and he will have a check waiting for you.” I god damned near genuflected and was on my way!!
In retrospect, I could have done a tad more research into aircraft school. Most of the instructors were ex-military and so were some of the students. They had finished their Viet Nam tours and were accustomed to discipline. Discipline was absolutely necessary because a few small moves and your head could be removed by a propeller, you could be electrocuted or overcome by vapors from some of the more dangerous chemicals. Add to that it was 8 hours a day of instruction and project work for 18 months after which you had FAA exams, paper, verbal and practical for your license. If you didn't pass, tough shit, no refunds. I suddenly became a student.
The war was coming ever closer to home. Burlington lost 6 boys in Viet Nam and we knew them all, Bill Campbell, Richard Harper, Gil Dashner, Harry Wallace, Paul McGinness, and Jimmy Ludwig were all lost to us. The loss of Jimmy was ever more keenly felt as my mom was friends with Mrs. Ludwig and Jimmy's sister Cathy was in our class.
All of this changed for most of our class when on December 1, 1969, the Selective Service system conducted a lottery to determine the order of call to military service in the Viet Nam War for men born between 1944 and December 1950. If you didn't get called in the first year the next's group all had to be called before it was your turn again.
My draft lottery number was 276. By a simple bouncing ball, I was spared the horrors of war. Nine months later I married the girl of my dreams. To quote Bob Dylan, “ A simple twist of fate.”
