Fort Bragg, NC, 1967, was supposed to leave the field on Thursday, and we stayed until Sunday. I am tired and dirty driving up to my little trailer that housed my worldly belongings and my girlfriend. To my chagrin, all my clothes, boots, and belongings are in a bonfire in the middle of the yard. This 17-year-old realizes I haven’t ever hit a woman,” besides my sister,” but if I get out of this truck, they will go to jail or, worse, prison. I go to the barracks and pick out a bed, no sheets, no covers, find a locker and go to sleep with no shower, no changing of clothes, Nothing. This girl is gone.

A couple of weeks after I left my burning clothes and girlfriend, it was 9 or 10 O’clock at night in the barracks, “no vistor time” (no rooms open barracks, 45 double bunks on each side of the room.) I hear some catcalling, men saying hey baby, spend some time with me. I listen to this voice say where are Richard and four or five guys scream hey, I am Richard, “I hear her laugh,” I know what he looks like, my goodness, men. My girlfriend “no more” approached my bed and told me she was sorry and wanted to get back together. My reply was,” your nuts” no way. As she turned and headed away, she found the “four-letter words” to tell me how she felt. The men told her to the door that she needed a real man.

After a month or more, I got into trouble; they said I was responsible for causing a race riot, throwing a record and a record player out of a four-story building. I wrote that story a couple of years back. I ended up in the stockade for a couple of days. My Captain from Pennsylvania wanted to have me thrown under the jail, and the Major in charge of our battalion wanted to get rid of me. They decided to cut orders for me to go to Vietnam and give me a 45-day leave which would mean I leave in a few days.

My best friend in the army had his newly gotten wife; she came from South Carolina to live off post. He wanted me to go for dinner to meet her. I guess until you are living with someone, you don’t know their family type of life. She was gorgeous, and we became friends instantly. My friend became drunk and started pushing her around; I tried nicely to settle him down but to deal with a drunk, it got severe, and I hit him and knocked him out. I left hitched hike to the post. The following day I realized once I left, he ruffed her up pretty well. She went to our captain and told him her story; she had no money to go home and wasn’t staying with him anymore. I mentioned to the Captain I had a friend that would loan me 100 before payday at a high-interest rate, but that would get her home. I brought the money back, but she was gone with the MPs to get her clothes and belongings, so I was out 100 dollars and never saw or heard of her again.

In a matter of a few weeks lost one girlfriend, was blamed for a race riot, lost a hundred dollars, and lost another man’s wife, and now I am headed to Vietnam, not even 18. So I had no girlfriend the year I was away at war, my family moved, and I had no idea where they were; my mother had left years ago, and I had no one. My grandmother did find out where I was and sent me two small packages of white underwear that, in the heat, you couldn’t wear if you wanted to. At the mail call, I was silent and alone.

“Sometimes A moment in life is bigger then the event”