Farewell PFC Polk: The End of a Nightmare (In the Valley of Hope Book 2)

by Richard Weirich

  Meet Your New Mama – October 1953

  On Monday, September 7, 1953, Buddy was back on a Greyhound Bus, this time, destined for Winchester where he would meet with a Marine Corps recruiter. As he stared out the window at the passing landscape, he observed that he was feeling better, certainly not healed from his heartbreak, but better. The possibility of a stint in the United States Marine Corps gave him something else to think about. This was a big-time, serious, gutsy move on his part, but he knew that he couldn’t take lying around at home much longer. His life needed meaning and purpose. Hopefully, this was it.

  Master Sergeant Christopher Hale was eating a burger when Buddy arrived at the recruiting office. “Be with you in a minute,” he said while leaning back in his chair. “Pick a seat.”

  Buddy scanned the room for chairs, but there was only one.

  “Like I said, pick a seat. In the Corps, we make the choices simple. Same creed, same uniform, same haircut…same chair.” The sergeant laughed, wadded the wrapper from his burger, and tossed it into a trashcan. “But we do have different jobs. What’s your name and your hometown?”

  “Charles Polk. Strasburg.”

  “Sgt. Hale’s my name. You lost or are you here to do something amazing with your life?” he said pointing to a poster of marines in action. Then he pulled open a desk drawer and pulled out a manila envelope and grabbed a pencil from his desk. “Did you finish high school?”

  “Yes, sir. My best friend came by here not long ago and he’s set to start Boot Camp on October 8th.”

  “Name?”

  “Charles Polk.”

  “Not your name. His name.”

  “Sorry. Donnie Turner.”

  “The Donnie Turner that talks a lot?”

  “That’s him.”

  The Marine laughed. “You interested in the buddy program? Basically just means you’ll go to boot together in the same platoon.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Fill out these papers and then I’ve got a little test for you to take to see if you’re Marine Corps material.”

  “I was kind of hoping to be a pilot,” said Buddy as a clipboard was slammed down on the desk in front of him. “Use this official Marine Corps pen. If you pass my test, I’ll let you take it home with you.”

  While Buddy worked on his assignment, Sgt. Hale excused himself. “Going next door for coffee. Want some?”

  “No, sir. I’m good. Thanks.”

  When Sgt. Hale returned, he abruptly snatched the clipboard from Buddy’s hands. “Times up. Got enough to know where you’ll fit in.” It took him less than a minute to review the document.

  “Pilot, huh?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then that’s what you shall be.”

  It bothered Buddy that the Sergeant only glanced at the test. “I’m going to be a Marine Corps pilot?”

  “Yep. Sign here. Just need your John Henry here…and here…and then here and then today’s date.”

  Buddy signed and the recruiter again opened the desk drawer. “Here’s a bus voucher for the 7th. It’ll cover your ticket to Washington. You’ll be traveling with Motor Mouth. The two of you will spend the night at the YMCA and next morning you will take a nice stroll through town where you’ll catch a Marine Corps bus for Quantico, and if you pass your physical, it’s on to Parris Island. Here are instructions and a map. Gave the same thing to Turner but he might be too busy yappin’ to get you where you need to go. Questions?”

  “I’m in?mp

  “Pending that physical and making it through boot camp. Then for the next 4 years, you belong to Uncle Sam.”

  “And I’m going to be a pilot?”

  “Absolutely.”

  It all happened so quickly that Buddy didn’t really know what happened to him until he began to walk back to the Winchester bus station. Then it hit him and his heart just about dropped in his socks. No more lamenting about no purpose or direction for his life. He was about to find out if he was made of the right stuff.

  The 30 minutes bus ride home provided Buddy an opportunity to plan a strategy for breaking the news to his mom and dad and to reflect on the significance of his decision. He didn’t know why, but it seemed that the more real estate he put between him and Sally, the better he felt. It was an awful thought, but distance was a way of fighting back, punishing her for what she had done to him. He imagined her having a change of heart, begging for reconciliation, only to discover that it was too late.

  Back in Strasburg, he stopped by Donnie’s house to share the good news which was received with shouts of joy. Donnie’s parents were thrilled to know that their son wouldn’t be facing Boot Camp alone. And Donnie was so excited that he made Buddy sit down while he called Bobbie Jean and Trudy to spread the cheer. Bobbie Jean, however, didn’t share his enthusiasm. She was still rattled by Lula Belle’s view of military service and, of greater significance, her hopes for marrying Buddy to get out of her mother’s house were now rendered impossible. Trudy, on the other hand, was happy to hear that Donnie and Buddy would serve together.

  Buddy’s next task was to break the news to his mom and dad. He couldn’t imagine that his announcement would be well received. He took a shortcut through the side yard to his parent’s house. The two giant trees by the entrance to the cellar had shed so many leaves that he kicked his way toward the front door. The rhythmical crunching and swishing underfoot reminded him of simpler times when, as a child, he loved to dive and roll in piles of the colorful leaves. But the innocence and simplicity of childhood were forever gone. Buddy was about to do something that only a real man could do.

  As usual, Mable was working in the kitchen and Charlie was in his recliner.

  “Dad, come on into the kitchen. I need to talk to you and mom.”

  “What’s going on?” asked his dad, concerned by the serious tone of Buddy’s request.

  “Supper’s not ready yet,” said his mother when he joined her in the kitchen. “Where you been all day?”

  “Might want to sit down for this.”

  Ever since Buddy returned from his summer job, Mable had suspected that something wasn’t right with her son. “Is this about the way you’ve been acting since you got back,” she said while taking her seat.

  “Went to Winchester today and met with a Marine Corps recruiter.”

  “Oh, no. That Donnie. I could ring his neck,” complained Mable.

  “He had nothing to do with it. It was totally my decision.”

  Mable began to cry, got up from her chair, and retrieved her medicine bottle from the top of the TV in the living room.

  “When do you leave?” asked his dad.

  “October 7. Catch a bus to Washington and from there to Parris Island for Boot Camp. He said I can be a pilot.”

  “A pilot?” said Mable after popping a glycerin pill in her mouth. “You’ve always wanted to do that.”

  “Well, at least, the war in Korea is over,” said his dad. “How long will you be in for?”

  “An enlistment is for 4 years.”

  His parents weren’t overjoyed with his decision, but they were supportive. Both expressed hope that the United States would stay out of war long enough to get him home safely.

  For the remainder of the month, Buddy worked hard at getting himself ready for Marine Boot Camp. Every day, he and Donnie walked to the high school football field and ran laps with the football team. Occasionally, he dated Bobbie Jean, and, as usual, showed no interest in advancing the relationship. She decided he was a lost cause and that she would have to settle for just being good friends.

  The month flew by smoothly until Saturday, October 3rd. That’s when Buddy received an unexpected phone call. He heard the telephone ring but ignored it. His friends knew better than to call him at home and he was surprised when his mother yelled up the stairs that he needed to come to the phone.

  “It’s a girl,” yelled Mable from the bottom of the stairs.

  Maybe Bobbie Jean was calling to tell him that s
he couldn’t make their date that evening. That was OK with him since she had gotten way too serious. He counteracted her romantic advances by joking around. Playfully he answered the telephone. “I’m smilin’ if you’re dialin’.”

  “What? Charles? Is that you?”

  A million butterflies churned in Buddy’s stomach. “Sally?”

  “How are you?”

  “I’m OK,” he said, completely blindsided by her call. “And you?”

  “Just wondering how you’ve been doing.”

  “Doing alright,” he said, which was a lie. He was actually beginning to get over her, but just hearing her voice sent him out of remission.

  “I’m going to be home next weekend and thought maybe you could come down and we could catch up. My parents said you can stay at our house. What do you think?”

  Whatever he thought didn’t matter. The following weekend was already marked on his calendar. “Well, I’m kind of tied up.”

  Sally figured he was just putting her off but he had a right to be mad at her. “I see. I just was hoping that…”

  Buddy interrupted. “I’ll be in Boot Camp.”

  “What?” she said and then there was a long silence.

  “Leaving Tuesday.”

  “Oh, my Lord. What have you done?”

  “Joined the Marines.”

  Again there was silence and when she spoke she was not happy. “I have missed you so much. I can’t believe you did this. I made a terrible mistake. I was hoping that you would give me another chance.”

  The first words that came to mind he dare not say. He wanted to tell her that she had her chance and blew it. He elected a more diplomatic response. “When I get settled I’ll send you my address. We can still stay in touch.”

  If nothing else, Sally’s call messed with his mind. There was some satisfaction in knowing that she still cared for him and even in giving her a dose of her own medicine. She dumped him once and she didn’t deserve the opportunity to do it again. Although he was unable to identify what he was feeling after the call, he took care of it by running faster and longer than ever on the football field. Coach Simpson was so impressed he jokingly asked if Buddy wanted to suit up and play against Luray on Saturday.

  On the morning of Wednesday, October 7, Buddy bid his family farewell. Just as before, when leaving for his summer job, he walked to the bus stop. His mother was heartbroken. When Buddy told her “goodbye,” she quickly corrected him.

  “We never say ‘goodbye’ in this family. Only, “see you later.”

  When Buddy and Donnie boarded the bus for Washington, they were both excited and apprehensive about the ordeal ahead. True to form, Donnie barely took a breath, talked all the way to the nation’s capital.

  The night at the YMCA was noisy and intimidating. Neither one of them were comfortable sleeping in a strange place with a bunch of strange men. They were so put out with the experience that they were the first to get out of bed and start their day.

  Buddy took charge of navigation while Donnie did his impression of a play be play announcer explaining in great detail all of the sites they passed. He was particularly expressive on Pennsylvania Avenue when they passed the White House.

  “Think Ike and Mamie would give us some breakfast if we stopped by?” asked Donnie. There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. To my right, behind that fence, is the giant white house that the United States of America is renting out to Dwight and Mamie Eisenhower.”

  “You ain’t right,” said Buddy while stopping to get a good look at the first family’s mansion.

  They both agreed that Washington had more concrete than they ever knew existed and that the people there weren’t very neighborly. After saying “good morning” to several passersby, only to be ignored, Donnie suggested that maybe living around a bunch of politicians was the cause for their unfriendliness.

  “Think they can tell that we’re from out of town?” asked Donnie.

  Buddy slapped his hand against the unfolded map in Donnie’s hand. “Well, we’re walking around while reading this thing. What do you think?”

  An hour after they began their journey they arrived at their destination where a small group of young men had already gathered outside the recruiting office. At least, these fellows were friendly and soon they were engaged in small talk about where they were from, who they were, and where they were headed.

  Just before 9:00 a Marine pushed through the crowd and unlocked the office door. “Stay where you are,” he said. “Bus is on the way.”

  Moments later the recruiter returned holding a clipboard. “When I call your name let me know you’re here, good and loud.” As he called roll, a chartered bus stopped across the street.

  “Bet that’s ours,” said Donnie.

  “Didn’t give anybody permission to talk,” shouted the Marine.

  Buddy wanted to laugh out loud at his friend’s indiscretion but refrained.

  “When the light changes I want you men to cross that street as if your life depends on it because it does. Them drivers don’t stop for nobody.” Seconds later he commanded, “Go, go, go!”

  Once on the bus, they watched as another Marine crossed the busy intersection and climbed the steps to join them.

  “Gunny Sgt. Early Johnson is my name and I’m your new Mama. In this here Corps you’re gonna have a lot of Mama’s. Forget everything you ever learned up until today because we’re gonna teach you how to eat, sleep, run, fight, and poop.”

  Donnie laughed which was his second miscue.

  “Sit down, sit still, look straight ahead, no laughing, no crying, no passing gas, and no talking. I don’t even want to hear you breathing. Am I perfectly clear?”

  Nobody responded.

  “I said, ‘am I clear?’”

  A few of the men shyly said ‘yes’ or ‘yes, sir.’

  “Just as I figured. You’re all a bunch of babies and we’re gonna have to teach you everything. The answer to my question is ‘yes, sir.” You say it loud and proud. Now, let’s try it again. Am I perfectly clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” the men yelled in unison.

  “I can’t hear you,” sang the sergeant. “Am I perfectly clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” came a more vocal reply.

  At the Quantico Marine base, they were ushered into a drill hall where they were ordered to strip down to their shorts. A Marine doctor took control with the help of an aid holding a box of rubber gloves. “When I come to your line you will drop your drawers on my command and keep them that way. When you hear me order you to bend over, I want you to spread your cheeks. I’ll take it from there.”

  After a seemingly unending barrage of physical tests, names were called of those who had passed. Donnie and Buddy were relieved that they were now cleared to take the oath of enlistment. Standing before an American flag, Buddy felt a sense of great pride as he joined with the others who were about to make the promise to defend their country. When commanded to raise his right hand he repeated these words:

  “I, Charles Polk, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God.”

  At the conclusion of the ceremony, an officer entered the room and welcomed them to the Marine Corps and then he introduced yet another sergeant who was as charming as the first.

  “My name is Sergeant Red Wood. I’m going to be your babysitter until we get to Parris Island. Now, some of you may have the mistaken idea that you are already a Marine. By tomorrow, you’ll have the uniform, but first you girls have to go through a little thing we call ‘boot.’ So, I would like to be the first to welcome you to hell. Not all of you will make it through hell but if you do, then you will officially be a member of the greatest fighting outfit the world has
ever known. First stop, the chow hall. You will not talk or make eye contact with any of the real Marines in the room. You will not get out of your seat until I say so and then you will all go to the head together. The head is what your mommy called a bathroom. From now you will call it the head. If you are ever heard calling it a bathroom, restroom, privy, outhouse, or anything other than ‘the head’ you will be required to get on all fours with a tooth brush and clean her until she sparkles. Then you will place your behinds in a seat of my choosing on a bus that will take you to the Marine Riviera. For that lovely little 9-hour ride, you will say nothing, speak nothing, and sit in an upright position looking only at the deck. We will go over these instructions again because I know you are too stupid to remember them. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” yelled the men.

  “Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The sergeant led his charges to the chow hall and sat with his friends who pointed and laughed at the new recruits. After the meal, he directed the men to the bus that would take them to Parris Island and just as they prepared to depart he repeated his earlier directives and closed with, “I know what you’re thinkin’. You think I’m an SOB. Wait ‘til you meet your drill sergeant. Then you’re gonna believe I'm the friendliest fella you ever met.” That said, the sergeant slumped into his seat and laughed and laughed. After a moment of silence, he chuckled again.

  The Swamp Dogs – October 1953 to January 1954

  The head on the Greyhound charter became a popular destination, both out of necessity and the fact that it was the only acceptable excuse for standing up and walking. Sitting still and staring at the floor for nine hours was a grueling task, so much so that one recruit decided to stroll to the front of the bus to have a chat with Sergeant Wood.

  “Hey, sergeant. How’s it going?” said the young man. “Speaking for all of the others, I was wondering if we might be allowed to talk to one another and move around a little bit. It would help us to bond and it would be so much more comfortable.”